#lovely anons

[sansaorgana]

Oh my God, would you write a little something about their little daughter/son or (twins?) walking in on reader and Buck? Pretty please? 😅🫠

hi, sugar! 🍬 thank you for your request, it's such a cute idea. 🥺 I love imagining Buck as a husband and a father and all these domestic things. 🏡

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

You hadn’t been intimate with your husband for a long while now. Taking care of energetic twin preschoolers was taking up most of your time and even when you happened to have free time at the end of the day, you were often too tired to start anything. Which was a misfortune because you wanted at least one more child with Buck. You dreaded the day your son and daughter would go to school – you wanted to be busy with another little baby in the meantime.

You gave it a try tonight because after a long day spent in the park, running around the playground, your twins had fallen asleep very quickly. So, there you were, laying under your husband’s warm and strong body, with your thighs around his waist pushing him deeper and deeper as your back arched and his full lips were muffling your soft moans with a kiss. Your hands were squeezing his biceps as his were cupping your face; the rhythm of his hips was steady but not too fast and not too rough. Buck Cleven was not the type to fuck. He was making love to you.

After a few weeks of no intimacy at all, you could feel your release coming very fast and you only hoped you’d have more than one round on that night. So lost in pleasure and chasing the high, enamoured by your husband’s flushed cheeks, a single golden hair strand falling down on his forehead and his beautiful blue eyes staring at you lovingly whenever he’d break the passionate kiss to catch a breath… you simply didn’t hear the noise in the corridor.

“Mummy, daddy…!” Your little girl’s whine interrupted you as she pushed the door open without knocking. Her twin brother followed and you froze with widened eyes as you panicked.

But Buck never panicked. That man was always calm and always knew what to do, it was impressive. No matter what the situation was, his calmness was working miracles to make you feel safe and taken care of. He made sure that you were both covered with the blanket and turned around to look at your children.

“Minnie, I’ve been telling you to always knock,” Buck scolded her gently. Her lower lip trembled as she squeezed tighter the teddy bear she was holding.

“But daddy, Bobby is mean to me! He says there is a monster under my bed…” She was on the verge of tears.

“I really saw him!” Bobby denied the accusations. “I wasn’t trying to scare her! There is a monster under her bed.”

“Funny!” Minnie faced him. “Why under mine and not yours then?”

You took a deep breath in and sighed. They were only children and it was difficult to be angry at them for this but you weren’t pleased either.

“And what are you doing?” Bobby squinted his eyes at his parents.

“We… We are talking,” Buck answered awkwardly, his cheeks flushing even more. However, your little boy didn’t seem to be convinced. “And cuddling,” Buck added quickly so the answer was more believable.

“Why are you naked?” Minnie asked and you furrowed your brows at her.

“How do you know?” You asked and she pointed at your nightgown on the floor. “Well, it’s hot here,” you quickly made up an excuse and rubbed your sweaty forehead. “Go back to sleep, darlings, there are no monsters under any bed in this house. Monsters are too scared of daddy,” you tried to make them go away as quickly as possible.

“Then daddy should inspect,” Bobby crossed his hands.

You looked up at Buck’s face and he sighed with a gentle smile. He was a big softie for his children and that was one of the reasons why you loved him so much. He moved away delicately, making sure you were still both covered with a blanket.

“Can you hand me that, love?” You pointed at your nightgown and your daughter picked it up to give it to you. You put it on over your head and let it fall down, allowing Buck to take more of the blanket for himself. He left the bed with it around his waist as if it was a towel and he picked up his own underwear from the carpet.

“I’ll go and inspect in a moment, “ he winked at Bobby and went to the bathroom.

When he left the bed with the blanket, you spotted your panties scattered somewhere down the mattress. You quickly grabbed them before the kids could notice and you turned your back on them on the edge of the bed to put them back on.

When you were completely dressed up again, you spotted that Minnie was already in the middle of your bed, laying her head on your pillow and cuddling her teddy bear.

“What are you doing, Minnie?” You asked her and caressed her hair.

“I want to sleep here tonight,” she gave you puppy eyes.

“But daddy will go there and show you that there are no monsters,” you assured her.

Gale left the bathroom at that very moment, already in his pyjamas. He carefully put the blanket over you and Minnie as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

“You coming with me, young man?” He asked Bobby and the boy nodded, feeling important as he followed his father out of the bedroom.

Minnie moved closer to you and put her tiny arms around your waist. You sighed and kissed the top of her head with a smile. You already knew there would be no way you’d go back to your lovemaking tonight. Minnie was starting to doze off in your arms and you watched her sweet angel face lovingly. 

Buck and Bobby came back to your bedroom. Your husband had a playful smile on his lips and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. He was so adorable, you were so happy to be his wife.

“There are no monsters under the bed,” Gale ruffled his son’s hair as he stated. Then he raised an eyebrow at half-asleep Minnie.

“I guess she stays here tonight,” you whispered.

“Me too, then!” Bobby jumped inside the bed and laid beside his sister.

Minnie turned around and clinged to him adorably. Buck joined you all in bed and adjusted the blanket over you.

“You okay, baby?” He asked as he caressed your cheek.

“Yeah,” you nodded. The heat was long gone now, you were mostly sleepy. “And you, sweetheart?”

“Perfectly fine,” Buck assured you. He turned off the light on the bedside table and put his arm around his wife and babies, curled up together between their parents as they fell asleep; feeling safe and loved. Like you always wanted them to feel. It was the most important thing in the world for you.

When you woke up, the bed was already empty. You rubbed your eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nine already and you wondered how it was possible that you had been allowed to sleep for so long and no one had been trying to wake you up to prepare breakfast. The mystery was solved soon enough when Buck entered the bedroom quietly. He was still wearing pyjamas as well.

“Oh, you’re awake now,” he pointed out as he got under the blanket to greet you with a kiss. “You were sleeping so peacefully. I made them breakfast and now they’re watching the kids’ program on TV. That gives us about half an hour,” he pointed out in a whisper as he smirked.

“You’re so needy, Major Cleven,” you giggled and cupped his face.

“I’m starving, Mrs. Cleven,” he admitted before peppering your face with tiny sweet kisses. Once he was done, he focused on your exposed neck as his hips lowered down and you felt his erection between your legs already.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you lifted yourself up and joined your lips together in a heated kiss as you got rid of each other’s clothes. You knew that you had no time to waste if you wanted to finally get the job done.

When you were both naked, hands wandering all around each other’s bodies while kissing and shushing each other, Gale pushed you down softly and positioned himself above you with his elbows on both sides of your head as you raised your thighs to put them around his waist and impatiently guide him inside you. He pressed his forehead to yours with a hiss at the feeling of your warm, wet and pulsating pussy. 

Your back arched as you threw your head back, exposing your neck even further for your husband’s sweet and needy kisses as his hips thrusted into you firmly, hitting all the right spots with military precision.

Just like on the night before, it didn’t take long for you to feel the reaching peak overtaking you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you gasped and dug your fingernails in his shoulders. Buck grunted softly and picked up his pace.

You came with a soft moan and he joined your lips together quickly to muffle the sounds leaving your mouth. He needed a few more chaotic thrusts before spilling himself inside of you as his eyes shut close and his sweaty forehead pressed to yours.

“God, finally,” you sighed with a chuckle and he smirked. You raised your hands to caress the scars on his cheeks gently.

“You better find them a nanny for the weekend,” he rubbed your nose with his, “because I don’t want you out of this bed for hours, Mrs. Cleven.”

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his words.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you nodded.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #*buck #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

[sweetercalypso]

Abby’s so pretty and her muscles look so yummy I just want to bite her arm (as a treat)

Okay but you’re sitting with Abby on the couch and you’re playing with her fingers in your lap so her arm is just right there and you can’t get the idea out of your head.

She’s so pretty and so strong, and the warm freckles smattered over her shoulder are practically calling to you. It feels like you’re gonna burst if you don’t do something about the love you feel swarming in your chest, so without any type of warning you lean your head onto her arm and sink your teeth into her thick bicep.

“Ah- hey!”

She jerks her arm out of your grasp and you’re both equally startled by the sudden action. You know you should be embarrassed, but the little indents you left on her skin just look so perfect, like you’ve made your mark on her for everyone to see.

You run your fingers over the imprint of your teeth and murmur “Sorry, Abs. Got carried away.”

And she’s grabbing your hand in hers and dragging it up to her mouth to nip playfully at your fingers with a warning – “Careful baby, I bite back.”

#lovely anons #you’re so real for this anon #I love cute aggression #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou #tlou abby #tlou x reader #abby anderson fluff

[ladytauria]

"tell me a secret" with jaytim if youre still taking prompts, been enjoying all of the snippets!

um.

so.

this one ran away with me. a little bit.

it's. it feels very messy. but i like the direction i ended up going with it. i think--- i think i might revisit this premise again. but for now, nonny, i hope you like it!

(also, i'm glad you enjoyed my snippets~)

There are few things worse than truth pollen, in Tim’s opinion. Give him fear gas or sex pollen any day of the week. Losing control of his tongue, confessions spilling from his mouth, helpless to do anything to stop it… It makes him shudder just to think about.

However—

He would gladly have taken a blast of truth pollen right to the face, if it meant Jason wouldn’t have.

Jason’s locked himself in an isolation cell, now, while Tim synthesizes an antidote. The general pollen vaccine had done little to help the effects of this strain. Confessions had tumbled from Jason’s lips all the way home, all through the blood draw. Tim tries hard not to think about them, to forget them completely, but they linger in the back of his mind. Whether he wants them to be or not, he knows they’ve been imprinted in the back of his mind, where they’ll be sorted and cataloged, brought out later if ever he needs them.

He never forgets. It’s something of a curse.

As soon as the antidote finishes, Tim sends it to Jason through a panel in the isolation cell. It should take an hour for it to kick in—Tim will be upstairs, whenever Jason is ready.

~

Two hours pass before Jason joins him. Tim sits at the kitchen island, hands around a mug. Steam still wafts up from it; his face warm and damp where it caresses his skin.

“That better not be coffee,” Jason says. He sounds even grumpier than usual—not that Tim can blame him.

He chooses not to comment on his mood, for the moment.

“It’s not,” he says. “It’s tea.” He pauses. “Herbal tea.”

Jason grunts. 

“There’s some for you on the counter.” He gestures.

Jason rounds the counter, finally coming into view. Tim’s shoulders loosen a little at the sight of him; curls and skin damp from a shower, cotton tee sticking to him. Sweatpants ride low on his hips. His socks have little gray cats on them.

“Did your cameras alert you I was coming up?”

Tim ignores the confrontational sneer in his tone. “No.”

For a moment, Jason’s body tenses like he’s going to challenge him on it—turn it into a fight, until one of them storms out or ends up sleeping in the guest room. Then he finds his tea, in a thermal traveling cup. The tension drains from him, then; weariness in the bow of his shoulders. He takes the cup and joins Tim at the island, settling onto the stool next to his.

Their shoulders brush. Tim knows it’s as close to an apology as he’ll get right now. He brushes against him again when he raises his mug to his mouth; a silent forgiveness.

Jason drinks his tea. He hums softly; a quiet, pleased noise.

They drink in silence. Tim wouldn’t describe it as comfortable, but the air isn’t as thick with tension as it could have been. He knew they would have to address it before they went to sleep; knew, for a while at least, that things would be… delicate. He’s not looking forward to walking on tiptoes—but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than Jason leaving.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim murmurs, finally. “I’m not— I won’t ask. We can pretend like you never said anything.”

Jason is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. Tim isn’t sure he would have heard it, if he hadn’t been listening for it.

He brushes against him again, as he gets up to put his mug in the sink. He smooths his hand over Jason’s back; from one shoulder to the other as he walks by—both touches a silent reassurance.

He puts his mug in the sink and stops by Jason again. This time, he kisses his temple. “I’m going to bed,” he murmurs. “Join me when you’re ready.”

Jason leans into his touch—turning, when Tim pulls away, to catch around the waist and pull him close. He kisses the corner of Tim’s eye. “I love you,” he murmurs.

Tim squeezes his forearm. “I love you too,” he breathes.

They stay like that for a moment—a long moment. And then, finally, Jason lets him go, smearing another kiss against his skin when he does. Tim lingers a moment more, and then he heads off to their bedroom.

It’s maybe ten, fifteen minutes before Jason joins him, curling up in Tim’s arms; letting Tim plaster himself against his back, sighing sweetly when Tim’s chin rests atop his curls. He tangles their fingers together over their stomach.

Tim falls asleep knowing everything is going to be okay.

~

Tim doesn’t just forget about it. He can’t—though he tries. The things Jason said turn over and over in his mind, every time there’s a lull at work, on patrol, in the quiet moments he spends with Jason. He keeps his word. He doesn’t ask about them. He doesn’t even go digging through Batman’s files, or the city’s files—although the temptation sits heavy on his shoulders.

Instead—he ends up thinking, again and again, about secrets.

About Jason’s. About his own. About all the things that sit, buried deep under his tongue, where he would never dare to speak them aloud. But the more he thinks about the more he sees them as cracks—fissures, things not sitting quietly in himself but things keeping them apart.

He finds himself wanting to dig them up. To look at them in the light, offer them to Jason; see if he finds even those parts of him worth loving.

He wants to do the same to Jason. To look at the ugliest parts of him again—this time without the wrongness of pollen coating them—and cradle them in his hands, tuck them in the spaces between his ribs. Soothe the hurts they left behind.

Tim knows Jason won’t let him.

But.

Tim has never needed reciprocation.

~

He starts offering them, impromptu, in their quiet moments.

“Sometimes I feel more like myself in a dress and heels than I do in a suit,” he confesses, while Jason is reading; Tim’s head in his lap while he plays on his switch. “I’ve thought about looking into it—but honestly. Exploring... that on top of everything else just sounds exhausting.” 

Jason pauses, fingers in Tim’s hair, and says, “If you ever want to, I’ll support you. I’ll love you, no matter what you decide.” 

Tim turns and kisses his stomach.

~

A few days later, they’re cooking together. Tim stirs noodles, while Jason chops vegetables. “The first time I dressed up as a woman, I looked so much like my mother I almost couldn’t leave the manor. I don't think I would have, if not for the mission.”

The knife pauses; the sound of chopping stops. “That must have been a lot,” Jason says, tentatively. 

Tim doesn’t have to look over to know Jason is giving him a weird look. He can feel it on the back of his head.

“It was,” he agrees. “Are you sure I salted this enough?”

~

His next confession is delivered when Tim is donning one of his aliases for an undercover job. Jason is sweet enough to do up his zipper for him.

“I created my first alias when I was seven. I mean, I guess it was more playing pretend, but... I dunno. It felt more serious than that, even then. I kept making more as I got older, trying them on... whenever I felt like it. Now it’s something I do as a hobby, to keep my skills sharp, but there was a time when I wanted to be anyone other than Tim Drake.”

Jason meets his eyes in the mirror; gaze unfathomable. “What changed?”

Tim’s lips quirk. “It’s hard to fall in love as anyone but yourself.”

The flush on Jason’s face is vivid red. Tim is helpless to do anything but turn and kiss him.

~

After a fight, Tim calls Jason. It goes straight to voicemail—not unexpected. It still makes his heart clench. He ignores it, instead offering, 

“Jason… I’m sorry, for what I said, earlier. It— It wasn’t true. I meant it when I said I can live with you killing. I don’t—I don’t… The truth is, I don’t disagree with your methods. I’m tempted to join you, sometimes. A lot of times. I’m tempted to go even further, too. I… Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me from going bad is Dick’s disappointment. Bruce’s, too, but. I don’t care what he thinks as much anymore.

“Some days the temptation is stronger than others, though. And that— It scares me. I cling tighter to the rules in response. I… It’s not an excuse for me to hurt you, though. I’m sorry. I love you. Come home whenever you’re ready.” He’s crying when he finishes, hanging up the phone. Thinks about staying in the basement; distracting himself with cold cases instead of going to bed.

He decides he’s disappointed Jason enough.

Jason comes home that night. Slips into their bed, gathering Tim in his arms. 

“You could never go bad,” he whispers. “You’re too fucking good, Tim.”

Tim shakes his head, burying his face in Jason’s neck. “If I convinced myself it was right, or for a good cause…” He holds him tighter.

Jason is quiet. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Tim doesn’t even hesitate.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t let you.”

Tim knows Jason has broken his own moral code more than once.

He also knows that Jason is far more careful with the people he loves than he is himself.

It’s a trait they share.

So he nods. “Okay.” 

“And you’ll do the same for me,” he says, softly—almost tentatively.

Tim holds him tighter. “Yes.”

He’s quiet for so long Tim thinks he falls asleep. Then, he offers, quietly, “Sometimes I think I’ll go too far, and— You’ll leave. Or that you’ll wake up one day, and realize I’m not going to change, that… That you can’t handle the killing after all. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.” He doesn’t say, I thought I was losing you tonight, but Tim hears it anyway.

He kisses Jason’s neck. “You won’t,” he says, confidently. “But— If you ever do, or if it looks like you’re going to— I promise I’ll tell you. Warn you. I won’t just disappear without giving you a chance.”

Jason shudders in his arms. He tucks his face in Tim’s hair—Tim cups the back of his neck in response. “Feels like all you’ve given me a hundred second chances,” he whispers.

Tim nuzzles him. “I’ll give you a hundred more. You’re worth it.”

~

Jason starts making his own confessions, after that.

He lights a candle on the coffee table, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood. Then he stops. Turns his lighter over in his hand—flicks it on, then off again.

“I didn’t stop smoking because of how I died, or the Pit, or Talia, or for my health, or—any of the bullshit reasons I told everyone else. Sheila— Cigarettes remind me of her. The way she just sat there and watched.”

Tim stands, stepping into his space. He winds his arms around Jason’s waist. “You deserved better,” he says, quietly.

“We both did.”

‘We’ means Tim and Jason. It also means Sheila and Jason. Tim doesn’t know if he agrees with the latter—but. Whatever else she was, she was Jason’s mother, and that means something to Jason. So, he says nothing. Just presses a kiss to Jason’s shoulder.

~

After a rough patrol, another argument between Jason and Bruce—one that took both Nightwing and Red Robin to break up—Jason sits in the medbay of Tim’s nest, letting him stitch up his arm.

Tim is almost done, when Jason says, “I’ve given up on Bruce killing the Joker for me. I wish he’d let me do it. More than that—I just. I want him to tell me, to my face, that he missed me. That he loved me. That the loss of me was something painful. That—That he still loves me. I don’t. I don’t want to hear it from someone else. But I know— I know he won’t. The man who would have died with me, and sometimes I think that’s the worst of it all.”

Tim snips the thread, laying the needle down. He kisses the skin just above the wound, and lingers there. “I’m sorry.”

Jason is quiet. Then he turns, pressing his nose into Tim’s hair. He doubts it smells great—he hasn’t had time to hit the showers yet—but Jason doesn’t seem to care. “Me too,” he whispers.

~

Tim gets a box of cologne samples in the mail. He’s going through them, just for fun—handing the ones he likes best to Jason. As he passes over the third, Jason says,

“I don’t remember what Mom’s voice sounded like anymore—but. I found the perfume she loved. It was one of the most expensive things we owned. She only got it out for special occasions, or—or when she was sad, and needed something to help remind her of the good times. I— When I smell it, I can almost hear her again. Singing in the kitchen, or… Reading with me on the couch.”

Tim puts the cologne samples down. He tucks himself against Jason’s side and holds him tight. The vulnerability in Jason’s voice, in his expression… It scares Tim almost as much as it awes him. He just— He wants to protect him, to hold the softest parts of Jason close, where nothing and no one can hurt him again.

It’s an impossible wish, but. That won’t stop him from trying.

“Tell me about her?” he asks softly, laying his cheek over Jason’s heart. The steady beat is calming.

Hesitatingly—haltingly—

Jason does.

~

It keeps going. Back and forth.

“Sometimes I think no one actually wants me around—that people are happier when I’m not there.” 

“I think I left a piece of myself in the grave. It hurts less that it’s missing these days, but. It still hurts.”

“I never felt like I was alive until I became Robin. That’s part of why losing it hurt so much.”

“Sometimes Bruce and Dick will mention things—and I don’t remember them. They sound like happy memories, but, when I go poking around, all I can find are blank spaces. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“In the early days—sometimes Bruce would forget, and call me by your name. I… It feels awful to admit, but. Those nights were my favorite.”

“I hate looking in the mirror. For—for a million fucking reasons, but one of ‘em is how much I look like my dad. Like Willis. He wasn’t a bad man, except when he drank. He just… he drank a lot. I don’t want to be him.”

Secrets traded, back and forth. A lot of them big, some of them small. Always in the quietest moments, in the carefullest tones. Each one met with acceptance, with love.

Tim feels freer than he ever has. Not even swinging between buildings leaves his step so light.

He thinks Jason feels the same; thinks he smiles more, now. Tim has caught him humming in the kitchen more than once—finds himself humming the same tune.

Tim has never needed reciprocation to love someone.

Jason has given it to him anyway.

~

Ivy’s not done with truth pollen—determined to perfect this strain. This time, Tim is on the other side of the city when Jason catches a face full. He doesn’t miss a beat; working with Spoiler to wrangle her back to Arkham. As soon as it’s handled, he beelines back to the Nest.

Tim meets him there.

Jason doesn’t lock himself in an isolation cell, this time. He works with Tim to distill the antidote. Tim isn’t foolish enough to believe that all of the secrets Jason has buried in the recesses of his mind have come to light. He knows his haven’t. He knows, too, that for both of them, there are some which never will. That's okay. Jason has shared enough that the pollen’s compulsion has little to cling to; little to nourish its roots.

So this time—he doesn’t talk as much, this time; only the occasional confession spilling from his lips.

Most of them make Tim blush.

It’s a torturous hour—albeit for entirely different reasons than last time—and it ends not with a shared cup of tea but Tim pinned to the wall in the Nest shower, Jason on his knees, worshiping him until stars burst behind his eyes.

Tim turns the tables on him as soon as he remembers which way is up—and then they stumble upstairs, to bed, curling into one another like two mis-matched halves.

Jason tangles their fingers together. “Tell me a secret,” he whispers, to the darkness of the room.

Tim does.

#jaytim #timjay #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #asks and answers #lovely anons #this is almost 3k <3

[casuallyawkardd]

Hi dear, how are you?, could you write a imagine where reader offered to be a nanny for mayday and the newest member of the HQ, jess's son, and when Miguel arrives home, he can't take his eyes off reader as she puts the children to bed slept. And I couldn't get out of Miguelito's mind when he wants to put a baby in you, please.

Hello! I am well! Just got some good news in my personal life so even better than usual 🥰 Anywho I think this idea is so cute so let's dive in

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes but mostly PG, not fluent in spanish so plz correct grammar/spelling errors

"What the hell is this?"

Your head whips around to see your husband's figure in the entryway of the apartment. Miguel had just gotten off work, it had been a long day and he was hoping to just spend the rest of his afternoon at home; followed by curling up in bed with his arms wrapped around you. Maybe even do a little more than sleep once the two of you got under the covers.

Instead, he comes home to find you sitting on the floor surrounded by baby blocks and plastic animals. Miguel immediately recognized your little guests. Mayday, who was currently crawling her way over to greet him, and Gerry, Jess's new baby, who you were burping over your shoulder.

You, having ignored Miguel's initial comment, somehow made it to your feet without using your hands, which were occupied with Gerry, taking a few steps in his direction. "Jess and Peter stopped by and said they needed a sitter while they were training," you explain like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Last I checked, they were both married," Miguel's arm scooped up Mayday, who had already crawled halfway up his leg, "Can't MJ or Jess's husband watch them?"

"I don't know, I saw cute babies and said yes," you shrugged simply. The deadpan look Miguel gives you makes you chuckle softly, "C'mon, don't be like that. It's only for a few hours. Besides, it'll give you some practice."

"Practice for what?" You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, planting Gerry on one hip to make room for Mayday on the other, taking both babies to the kitchen for a snack. "....¿Mi amor?"

It took some convincing, but eventually Miguel was aboard the babysitter train. In a way, you felt like it was like you were playing house with him, a few hours of simulated family time. Playing pretend with the little toys Peter had brought with him, bouncing the little ones in your lap and pretending they were flying as you maneuvered them through the air. Something about the domesticity of it was charming to you, watching Miguel trying to fetch Mayday after she had crawled up onto the ceiling. She didn't make it easy for him, but seeing your husband's face shift from annoyed to amused once she fell into his arms warmed your heart.

The four of you were now sitting on the couch. It had gotten late, the two little ones having fallen asleep while watching some random kids movie you had thrown on. You looked between the baby boy in your arms and your husband, who currently had Mayday passed out on his chest.

"This is nice," you say, Miguel glancing at you once you have his attention. It makes you suppress a giggle, knowing he's probably trying to move as little as possible so as not to wake Mayday.

"S'pose it is," he begrudgingly agrees. looking back at the television. "Although, the science in this movie is completely unfounded. I don't think you can bring someone back from the dead with the power of love."

His commentary has you scoffing, "It's about the message, Miguelito, not the science."

"...Well it's a pretty shity message."

"Are you saying you don't think love conquers all?"

"Ye-" the words die on Miguel's tongue when he notices how your eyes narrow and the corners of your mouth turn down, "No? No. I'm not saying that."

Your expression softens, but only slightly, turning your attention to Gerry who's tiny hand is wrapped around your pointer finger. "I love baby hands. They're so chunky and small," you voice your thoughts, absentmindedly pressing down on Gerry's hand with your thumb, "Aww, squishy, little humans."

"Oh, you've got it bad," Miguel chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, "Cómo se dice...oh yeah, baby fever." How do you say...

You shoot him a smirk, sitting a little straighter, "Maybe I do, what about it?"

Something in the way he looks at you shifts, the glimmer of admiration turning into something much darker. The kind of look that makes you hot under the collar, "Maybe I'll have to find the cure."

A knock at the door pulls you from the conversation, face red as if you just got caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. There's an internal sigh of relief when you see it's only Jess and Peter coming to pick up the kids. In all honesty, you only half pay attention to the small talk that ensues, your answers simple and brief when they ask how the kids were and if they had gotten dinner.

As the door shuts, the three of you exchanging your final farewells, a familiar arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into your husband's firm chest. His lips tickle your ear, making you jump as a chill goes down your spine.

"Let's go to bed, mi amor. I think I know just the thing to make you feel better," he's uncharacteristically playful with his words, adjusting his hold so his hand rests on your stomach. "te verás tan bonita con mi bebé dentro de ti." You'll look so pretty with my baby inside you.

Tags:

@prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #lovely anons #anon ask

[hockeyboysimagines]

Practice makes perfect

Warnings: Unprotected sex, please be responsible (that’s all this is really haha)

Ask and ye shall receive. A fun little Matt and Hallie piece for you guys, inspired by the last game. Expect chapter 3 of Fuck me like I’m famous to be out in. Day or so.

Enjoy!

“Does it hurt?” Hallie asked, leaning down to peer at his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose. There was little blood and the beginnings of a bruise but he seeemed fine otherwise.

“Nah. You’ve hit me harder than this before.” He said with a smile, eyes twinkling.

She rolled her eyes, embarrassed and crossed her arms watching as he got it cleaned and butterfly stitched.

Fighting in hockey never bothered Hallie, but watching him get jumped like that wasn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world either. She and Chantal had immediately grabbed hands when they saw him fall to the ice, and she hadn’t breathed until he was back up and yelling at Brady from center ice.

She hadn’t even planned on going to this game, but had been talked into it last minute, and was able to find care for the kids. She’d not expected the game to explode the way it did and she was a little surprised. She’d watched Matthew and Brady play one another before but this game was a little different. They both had the unique ability to agitate the other team but sometimes it just went too far.

Either way she was glad he was okay.

Especially after what happened during playoffs.

Watching him go down after the hit during the finals, and then stumble when he tried to get back up was probably the scariest thing that had ever happened to her. She was frozen in her seat, unable to move and when he didn’t return to the bench immediately she knew something was wrong. Though she argued with him, she couldn’t stop him from playing in the next game, and a huge blowout resulted when she found it was a broken sternum, and not a broken arm like he told her it was.

It was the first and only time since the first time that she considered leaving him and taking the kids. But then Hallie remembered what her life was like without him and she definitely didn’t want to go back to living that way, but he’d promised her that he would never do that again.

This thankfully was only two small cuts to the face and nothing more. He hopped off the table, gave everyone a small wave goodbye and they headed out of the medical room and down the hall.

“Who has the kids?” He asked after a second, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Carly. She’s visiting for the week.”

“Oh so the kids are at home.”

“That’s what I said. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering if you wanted to make another one is all.”

Hallie’s mouth fell open and she let out a breath “Matthew-“

“Great. Glad we’re on the same page. Your hotel room or mine?”

Hallie spent the short ride from the arena squirming in the backseat of a cab. She’d jumped and gasped a little when she felt Matthew’s hand slide between her legs, fingers moving over the paper thin fabric of her leggings.

“What are you-?” She hissed eyes moving towards the cab driver, but Matthew refused to look at her. He was smiling a little, eyes not moving from the window as they drove.

She was biting her lip so hard she was sure it was bleeding as they pulled up to the steps on the hotel she was in, and he waved pleasantly to the driver and they walked in together. Her heart was in her ears as he stared at her from across the elevator, almost unblinking.

“Stop.” She said finally, eyeing him as the elevator moved agonizingly slow.

“Stop what?”

“Having eye sex with me from across the elevator. That’s what.”

He chuckled “Don’t worry. There will regular sex to be had soon, and if it wasn’t for that.” He nodded above her head at the camera “We’d be having it now.”

Hallie felt redness come to her face and coughed “In an elevator? What do you take me for.”

“What I take you for.” He said pushing off the wall and taking a slow step forward “Is the same girl who once let me fuck her in a bar bathroom, and then went back out like nothing ever happened. And that same girl also stuck my hand under her dress at the winter gala surrounded by important executives.” He same to stopping in front of her “Should I keep going?” He leaned down so he was eye level with her. He was giving her one of those nasty smirks he always did right before he ruined her.

She opened her mouth to respond and then closed it, shaking her head.

“That’s what I thought. After you.” He waved a hand forward towards the elevator door, which had now opened, and followed her out, down the hall and towards her hotel room door. She stopped and turned to pull out her key card, when she felt a hand slide across her abdomen, and warm breath under her ear. Hallie nearly dropped the key twice as his lips ghosted over the skin of her neck.

“The key won’t work.” Hallie said smacking it against the sensor on the door, sucking in a breath as his hand sank below the waistband of her leggings “I can’t get it to unlock-“

“I’ve got a key for your lock right here.” He whispered in her ear, body pushing her up against the door, sensor beeping as they almost fell in when the door unlocked suddenly. He had one hand on either side of her waist, spinning her to face him as he kicked the door shut and pulled her forward, lips finding hers in the dark.

Kissing her never got old, like each time was the first. He yanked her jacket off, tossing it away as she pulled off his tie and suit jacket.

“Take this off.” He breathed out against her mouth, pulling at the jersey she was wearing. As much as he loved seeing her in that Tkachuk jersey, he needed to see her in nothing. He couldn’t get her out of her clothing fast enough, ripping the jersey over her head and then tossing her down on the mattress. He grabbed the waistband of her leggings and pulled, yanking them down before he pulled his own dress shirt off, surprised when he felt her hands on his arms and she quickly spun him, seating him down on the bed.

“What-“

“Shhhhhhh.” She said holding a finger up to quiet him “Let me take care of you.”

She reached forward, eyes still on his and slowly unbuttoned his suit pants, before removing them, his shoes and socks, and then leaned him backwards. He felt his heart rate pick up a little. Usually after a particularly rough game, Hallie let him get a little wild. It wasn’t often she took control but when she did.

It was always fun.

She was half in shadow as she stood, adjusting the band on her underwear and nodding for him to move up the bed. When he did, she reached forward, eyes flicking up to meet his as she leaned down and pressed a wet open mouth kiss on his lower abdomen. She gave him a better head rush than any fight or elbow ever could.

“Hallie I-“

But he was silenced when she stretched the length of his body and moved her mouth across his jaw and down his neck. She had one hand splayed across his chest and used the other one to tilt his chin back.

“So about that baby…” she whispered in his ear.

He had her flipped over on her own back before she could even finish her sentence. He was smiling, pinning each of her arms by her head and leaned into her face.

“Oh is that what you want.” He ran his hand down her arm, and across her stomach, and down into her underwear.

She jumped, back arching up and smiled a little with a shrug “I mean if you wanna give me one.”

“Another one?”

“How about we just maybe get some practice is?” She said tugging her hand free and running them down his back to the lower part, nails digging into his skin.

“Good plan. You can never have too much practice.” He whispered leaning down to kiss her.

She opened her mouth allowing him to push his tongue inside and she felt a heat erupt in her stomach that started to creep through her as he pushed her underwear down her legs and settled in between them. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as he pushed inside of her, for probably the 200th time, but the feeling it gave her never got old. His tongue slid across her neck, teeth biting down on her skin as his hand moved up her waist, fingers splaying across her ribcage. He pulled out and pushed back in, his own head falling forward into the crook of her neck.

He ran his hand under her knee and pulled her leg up, hitching it around his hip, pushing deeper as he did. She gasped and let out a moan. Her nails drug across the skin of his forearms, as she watched the muscles begin working in his abdomen. There was nothing in the world quite like him. “That’s the prettiest noise I’ve ever heard.” He whispered.

He pulled her up by the back of the neck to kiss him, crushing her mouth with his own. He threaded his hand through her hair, the thick silky strands wrapping around his fingers. Her body felt hot and tight and she was a little bit dazed when he pulled away to look at her.

“God you’re beautiful.” He whispered, eyes never leaving hers. He’d been saying that to her since day 1 and it never failed to make her melt into a puddle of goo, and today was no different.

She watched as he leaned forward resting his forehead on her chest and pushed inside her again this time deeper and faster than before. Her head fell back as she pushed her hips up to meet his, legs spreading wider. He had a firm grip on her left hip as he started thrusting harder, and faster. She felt white heat building between her legs and her body was tired and felt heavy. It she never wanted him to stop. He braced an elbow on the mattress next to her head and started to push faster.

“Matty oh my g-“ but her words became jumbled and she felt herself fall apart as she got hit with an orgasm that made her toes curl.

“Shhh kiss me.” He pulled her forward hurriedly, kissing her right through both of their orgasms until their breath had slowed, and she had no more air to give to him. He finally pulled away and let his head fall into the crook of her neck, trying to slow his breathing down. He gave a little shiver as he pulled out of her and laid next to her in silence.

“Well you’re welcome for the baby.” He said after a few minutes of the sounds of breathing filling the room.

Hallie started laughing and he smiled at the sound. He could only see her profile silhouetted against the lights coming from behind the curtain, but he had seen her smile at him enough to know what she looked like.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself on the first try.”

“I’m 2 for 2 babe. It’s not confidence, it’s just skill.”

“Well since you’re so skilled, I guess we don’t need anymore practice.” Hallie pulled the blanket up and turned from him.

“Woah whoa whoa, now hold on.” He reached across her to turn on the lamp “I’m confident in my abilities but that doesn’t mean mistakes can’t be made. We could always do it again, to be on the safe side.”

She smiled and looked at the ceiling in thought “Well. If you really think so then I guess we should. You know…for the safe side. You’re the expert after all.”

He reached forward and ran a hand over her collarbone, thumb stroking the base of her neck “What’s that saying? Practice makes perfect?”

“Yes.”

“Well since we’re already perfect…” he said with a large cheesey smile.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the chain “Shut up and kiss me you idiot.”

He reached past her and grabbed the pull chain on the lamp, intending to spend the rest of the night doing just that.

#matthew tkachuk #hockey fanfiction #hockey tumblr #nhl fanfiction #hockeyblr #nhl fic #lovely anons #lets chat #hockey fic #hockey imagine #my asks #nhl fanfic #nhl writing #nhl oneshot #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #hockey fandom #hockey blurb #hockey writing #hockey tag #hockey smut #hockey romance #hockey x reader

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Why yes, your Honour, I would like to lick Jake Seresin’s abs. Each and every one of them. Trace them with my tongue. If that’s a crime throw me in jail.

Well, congratulations, lovely anon. You've inspired something that no one ever thought possible -- Rae writing for a BLONDE MAN, of all people. Pls enjoy this little blurb. Even though it's probably not the greatest thing I've ever written --

--

your name (on that coffee cup)

warnings: none, just bad flirting.

pairing: jake jortles "hangman" seresin x fem!civilian reader

word count: 2.3k (you've gotta be fucking kidding me) of sweet, if not stilted, flirtation and whatever the fuck this is...

Reblogs make the world go 'round! 🌿💜

--

The coffee shop was more crowded than usual today. You supposed it might have something to do with the fact that today, the weather gods had decided that it would be the one, annual rainy day, forcing commuters to seek shelter indoors from the "deluge" (but what you considered to be, at most, a decent sprinkle). Southern Californians were decidedly not built for the rain.

You casually observed the casuals and regulars alike filtering in and out from your chosen table adjacent to the pickup counter. Your usual table, from where you'd set up shop, plinking away at your novel with your playlist and the welcome, muffled bustle of customers as backdrop busy-noise that filtered through your headphones for company. 

People-watching was uniquely inspirational whenever you were facing a bit of writer's block, so you had opted for leaving the relative coziness of your nearby apartment – content to perch on at this table and allow the quirks of strangers to serve as fodder for your novel.

Except that today, it was more overstuffed than your favorite blue-velvet chair in your apartment. The queue of bodies waiting for their cups of caffeine and their matcha lattes causing the already-warm interior of the shop to fog the windows. 

You'd just finished a particularly troublesome paragraph – How your two stubborn protagonists were ever going to set aside their differences as they made their way through the enchanted wood, you weren't one hundred percent clear on. But sometimes it was best to skip the mental obfuscation and jump straight into a part you were excited to write … their eventual love scene was beckoning you.

You worried your drink's straw between your teeth, eyes unfocused, pondering how to get Ser Marcus out of his shirt and beneath Lady Lucy, when he walked in. 

Him.

The tall drink of water with broad shoulders and dirty-blonde hair. With a million-watt smile he graced to whichever barista happened to be handing him his coffee that day.

He looked like a Ken-doll, if you were honest. But not in a bad (junkless) way. More of an All-American, conventionally attractive way, if he'd asked you. Not that he had. You had certainly seen him here before. But you weren't sure the same could be said of him. 

You watched idly as he breezed past you to place his order in a damp shirt that was veritably plastered to his torso, and running shoes that squeaked with rainwater, the noise making its way over the dull din of the shop. 

Perhaps he'd been out for a run when the rain had started.

He spoke to Monica the barista at the counter, out of earshot, though the easy way he leaned against the counter and smiled at her made it clear he didn't mind his own state of dress. The sort of easy handsome of an Eastwood.

You had turned back to the blinking cursor of your doc, thoughts buzzing with handsomely tanned skin and wet clothes, when the unmistakable shadow of a person loomed over you.

You glanced up, only to be simultaneously thankful for your screen protector and greeted with –

"Hi there," he breezed. 

It was Ken. In the perfect plastic flesh.

And, really, it was the fact that his torso was directly in your seated eyeline (and no other reason, you swear) that allowed you to notice (appreciate) that his already-rainwet and plastered shirt hugged his torso in such a way that allowed you to observe (appreciate) that you could see the outline of every. single. one. of his abdominal muscles, as though his shirt was made of flimsy tissue paper that might tear away beneath your touch.

No, this was fine.

"Uhhh." You were articulate, you swear. "Hi."

"Would it be alright if I sat with you while I wait?" He gestured over his shoulder with a pointed thumb vaguely in the direction of the pickup counter. "It's a little crowded in here today, and this is the only open seat."

Ah. An arrangement of convenience, and not that he wanted to sit with you.

You bit down your disappointment long enough to ease your lips into what you hoped resembled a smile, gesturing openly to the seat.

"By all means."

He shot a grateful–if not cheeky– wink your way as he pulled the seat out, angling himself to maintain eye contact with you, while still keeping one ear open for his name.

"Thank you, ma'am," he conceded politely, voice still warm and easy, as though no one had ever refused him a paltry request in his life. (And maybe they hadn't.) "I didn't exactly want to stand there in my wet clothes."

"No," you agreed. "Sitting in wet clothes is much more pleasant. Especially in those tight, Baby Gap-sized t-shirts. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone," he agreed, eyes twinkling and allowing you to appreciate just how green they were, glimmering, verdant and mossy, like the forest bedecked with fresh rainfall. How fortuitous, then, that he'd choose to sit with you on San Diego's one rainy day per year. "Teacher? Grading?" He nodded at your laptop, gem eyes flitting over the fading, curled stickers slapped onto the back.

You couldn't help yourself. You giggled.

"No," you shook your head. "Novelist."

"Ah," he conceded. "So whatcha writing?" 

And as you made to open your mouth to tell him that he shouldn't really ask a writer those types of question, he perked, and held up a finger as if to say "hold that thought," as he shot up to retrieve his beverage from the counter.

He must've heard his name. Ah well, it was nice while it lasted. You tried not to feel disappointed that your one encounter with hot coffee shop guy had come and gone in the blink of an eye. And tried not to beat yourself up that you hadn't caught the name when it had been called…

To your surprise, he turned back and plopped himself back into the seat opposite you, expectant eyes awaiting your answer as he blew into the small hole at the lid of his coffee cup.

"Ehm," you continued. "It's… a … novel," you finished, lamely. Flushed with the prospect of having to admit to this guy that you wrote high-fantasy erotica for a living, your self-preservation instincts kicking in before you admitted something you wouldn't necessarily have the chance to come back from if he decided to make fun of you for.

And he was ridiculously handsome. The sort of guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of the type of book you were writing, billowing unbuttoned shirt, and all... Maybe he'd pose if you asked?

If he was annoyed or put off by your evasiveness, Ken-doll didn't show it, that million-watt grin easing its way back onto his very pleasing face, prominent jaw and white teeth on full display as he played along.

"I might've guessed," he said. "I'm Jake, by the way." 

He held out his hand for you to shake. You responded in kind, allowing his hand to envelop yours with both size and warmth as you pumped your arm in a firm, decided handshake.

"I might've guessed," you parroted. 

He shot you a quizzical look; brows furrowed.

"It's on your cup," you nodded in the direction of the cup clutched in his other hand, the corner of your mouth titling into a smile. 

"A dead giveaway," he agreed, pleased that you had thought to make the observation. Maybe you were this way with everyone, he thought. All sweet smiles and starry, foxlike eyes, discerning but decidedly available. Selfishly, perhaps — he hoped that wasn't the case.

"Unless of course they had gotten the wrong name, and it's really, like, Jack, or James, or something," the fizzling pleasure of his hand on yours and the swelter of this coffee shop was really doing a number on your head, because now you were rambling. "Then if I had called you Jake based on the cup, I would've been both presumptuous and stupid. Like a 'Mark-with-a-C situation… Cark," you finished, unhelpfully.

"Now that's just unlikely, sweetheart," he disagreed. "You're clearly too sharp for that… Bridget." He squinted at your cup, greeting you with a name that was not your own.

"Oh, no…" you laughed, the pleased sound meeting his ears despite the relative staticky-din of the late-morning rush around him, "My name isn't Bridget," you explained, sheepish about the relative silliness of the game of being friends with one of the workers. "Uh, Monica likes to give me a new name every day I come in. Sort of to mock me for how often I come, I guess? We've known each other awhile. So, she's allowed."

If Jake thought it was childish or silly, he didn't let on, instead nodding and smiling at your explanation, still incomprehensibly interested in what you had to say…

"So that's why I see you in here so often," he conceded. "A novelist who writes in a coffee shop, where she knows everyone. Cute."

Out of any other mouth, it might have sounded condescending. But there was no hint of condescension in his honey-smooth voice. Only the facile twang of Southern charm and genuine earnestness. 

But all you heard was that he'd seen you before. He had seen you.

And you must've asked this out loud, because the next thing you knew, he was all smooth laughter and glimmering teeth,

"Yeah, I've seen you," he agreed. "You always look so concentrated, I never want to interrupt. My mama raised me better than that. But today I actually had the chance to say hello. So, uh, thank the rain, I guess…" he eased.

And you'd really hoped that the pleased warmth of flirtatious embarrassment wasn't inclined to show itself in any way, across your face or the exposed skin of your shoulders. Because you were certain those sparkling eyes of his were shrewd enough to tell. And how could a guy like this not be aware of his effect on women? So, you pressed on, closing your laptop lid, the better to focus on him with.

"And what do you do, Jake? If you're out for a run in the rain, you're clearly committed. Let me guess," you tapped your chin in mock-consternation, voice trailing in thought. "Model? Please say no because that would be a lot for me."

Jake barked a laugh at this. And perhaps you'd incidentally, dangerously boosted what was already a high ego. But he continued in good humor –

"No, sweetheart. Not a model. Naval aviator," and he'd actually shrugged at that, like it was no big deal. "I'm at the base down the way. So, yeah, I guess you can say I'm dedicated."

You groaned, teasingly, fucking your head into your arms, "Oh fuck, no. So just a civil servant who looks like a model. You can get the fuck outta here with that." You leaned across the table to teasingly shove one of his (ridiculously sculpted) shoulders, pleased at the feel of him beneath your fingertips.

"It's my honor to serve you, ma'am," he straightened in his seat, taking on his best "official" voice. (Oh, god, this was doing a number on you.) He continued,

"In fact, I think you should let me take you to dinner…?" He trailed off, perhaps in realization that he still didn't know your name.

You twisted in your seat to pluck a pen from the messenger bag hanging from the back of your chair, turning back to pluck his cup from his very hands in a move so cheeky you would swear you were having some kind of out-of-body experience. You were never this bold.

But the attentions of this, okay, let's be real… this veritable Adonis before you was likely doing something dangerous to your own ego, never mind his. Your head was somewhere in the clouds (a place he was clearly comfortable, being a "naval aviator, ma'am," and all)..

You tugged the pen cap off with your teeth, your attention fixed on the label.

Huh. Vanilla soy latte. 

You didn't comment on his drink of choice, choosing instead to strike through his name with the pen, and ink your own, your phone number printed clearly and neatly beneath it. Handing the cup back to him when you'd finished, recapping the pen as he twirled the cup in his hands to read what you'd put on the label.

He parroted your name back to you, the way his mouth worked out the letters an image you'd likely think about for a little too long, ya know, later... and the sound of it from his throat ringing in your ears.

"I'll text you," he assured, winking at you as he made to stand, rapping his knuckles on the corner of your table before mock-saluting you with two fingers to his forehead and an easy, charming grin on his lips. "I look forward to hearing about that novel over dinner, ma'am." 

With that, he walked out of the shop, taking with him the air in your lungs and your certainty that that had actually just happened, and leaving you with the faintly buzzing feeling of lofty flirtation and the blooming promise of a fucking date!

Eager to capitalize on the fizzy feelings, you opened your laptop lid and turned back to your unfinished section now, wan smile borne of fresh flirtation affixed to your lips, your thoughts swimming in a seafoam green ocean of emerald eyes, breezy flirtation, and, yeah, tight t-shirts...

"It was then that Lady Lucy swung her leg astride Ser Marcus, devilish fingers peeling his tunic from his toned stomach. With a smirk painted across her features, she dipped her head, allowing herself to trace her tongue along the ridges and planes of her lover's stomach, reveling in the feel of each prominent abdominal muscle beneath her tongue. Greeted with the delightful sound of her beloved's surprised gasps, manifestations of pleasure at her attentions…"

And no, you reasoned with yourself as you typed. You totally weren't thinking of green-eyed, handsome Jake as you wrote. These desires were your character's, not yours – you swear.

And no, your thoughts also were definitely not on his promised text message, either, that lit up your phone as you glanced at it. Greeted with the proposition of "Dinner Thursday?" No, you totally weren't thinking of him…

It's life that imitates art, after all... (Or was it the other way around?) And you hadn't had the chance to taste those abs for yourself. (But hope springs eternal...)

--

Tagging:  @withahappyrefrain @thegirlwhowritesfics @xbamboowishesx @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @abibliophobiaa @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @thematthewmurdock @mrshipsmcgee @p3mybeloved @decadentpaperduck @letmeplaytheliontoo @vestrangel @moonlight-prose @aphrogeneias @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @2clones-1kamino @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @shakira-sasha @siriusfahey @joaquinwhorres @jakexfmc @the-navistar-carol  @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid  @maxmayfield @drew-garfi @eagerforthesky

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake 'hangman' seresin x you #my writing #tgm fic #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin imagine #glen powell #glen powell x reader #lovely anons #hangman fluff #jake seresin fluff #isn't it just like me to write for the white boy of the month several months too late #flopcity usa here we come #pls reblog

[your-fave-is-being-blended]

not a request but your account brings me a silly joy and I hope the blender stays plugged in for a long while

Three Very Lovely and Appreciated Anons from Tumblr are being blended!!

You cannot save them.

#( <3 ) #your fave is being blended #you cannot save them #personal blending #lovely anons #tumblr user

[liminalpebble]

Hi ya, my ask would be for Loki....

For some reason his magic is glitching. He needs to understand why before anyone finds out.

Oddly, when he's around [insert character name] the effect is better/worse*

*delete as appropriate

Hello dear nonny!

Sorry it has taken me a thousand years to write this. It's kind of a long one but I hope it warms your heart. It's kind of silly and fluffy but unexpectedly emotionally real. I hope you enjoy.

CW: Fluff, all fluff. Loki x gn reader, surprisingly wholesome, just bit of cussing.

----

The Glitch

“DAMN!” Loki screamed for the tenth time that morning, smacking his fist against the kitchen counter. In the privacy of his quarters at Avengers Tower, the god of mischief was having a horrible morning.

He woke up as usual and tried to spark up the green glow of his magic to help him get ready more quickly for the day. Although long hot showers were pleasant to him, so was sleeping in after reading late into the night. Being able to magic oneself clean and ready for the day in seconds was a major convenience...one he had always taken for granted.

Although his fist was no longer magically charged, the strength of his hand still left divots in the counter top, frustrating him further. Finally the god of mischief screamed so loudly and smacked the wall so hard in rage that it was a miracle the whole building didn't hear it.

He was very lucky, in that case, that there was only one person walking quietly through the hall to the morning meeting (something Steve cutely called the “Superhero Roundtable”). You rolled your eyes thinking of the name, but Steve was too much of a sweetheart to burst his bubble about it. As your steps clicked over the polished floors you were feeling a bit proud of yourself that you would actually be early for once.

“DAMMIT!! NORNS SPIT UPON YOU, YOU HORRIBLE FICKLE FORCES.”

You jumped at the sudden avalanche of sound. His biting baritone tirade crashed into the hall from behind Loki's door. Your superhuman reflexes were the only thing keeping your files and your coffee from hitting the floor. Sighing in exasperation, you considered whether or not to get involved with whatever the hell this was. Ever since you joined the team a few days ago, your dramatic Asgardian coworker was none too thrilled to have another non-human demigod on the roster. Sharing the spotlight was never his forte and he made it everyone's problem, especially yours.

But...you were kind, sometimes to a fault. The idea of simply waking by and ignoring him, of enjoying some schadenfreude as this arrogant ass was finally being inconvenienced by something, was incredibly tempting. But pity welled up in your heart, knowing what it's like to be a stranger in a strange land, to feel alone and angry, so you knocked on the door despite being afraid of whatever hurricane was behind it.

Loud steps trudged closer, then the door swung open as Loki barked, “WHAT do you WANT?!”

You took a step back, eyes wide and coffee still death-gripped in one hand.

“I...uh...I heard you screaming, and breaking things. You know, you'll never get your deposit back if you keep it up,” you attempted to joke, painting an uncertain smile across your face, brows peaked in concern.

His aquamarine eyes stared down, boring into yours as he clenched his jaw, then said dryly, “How very perceptive of you.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “God, you're such a bellend.”

He flinched at the insult. He didn't know what “bellend” meant, but he could infer from your tone that it was not a compliment. As he tried to swing the door shut again, you slapped it back open, “But! I really am concerned about you, so can you please let me know what's wrong?”

“Nothing!” he growled out, chest heaving.

Your eyes scanned him up and down, taking in his disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and the slew of objects strewn across his living room. “I'm not an idiot, Loki. I can see the obvious. Will you please just talk to me?”

He flinched again, this time struck by the genuine care in your voice and in your eyes. It rendered him uncharacteristically unsure of what to say or do. As he paused and you stepped closer, he could feel the surge of his magical energy building back up within him. Loki's face suddenly cracked into an unnerving gleeful grin. He hastily cast a green glow over his body, rendering himself dressed, scrubbed, and ready for the day. Although he knew he might be stretching his luck, he waved a hand behind him to reset the apartment back to its immaculate order. To his delight, it worked. “I'm ready, your highness. Let's go, shall we,” he said lightly, as if he wasn't in a tyrannical rage moments earlier.

You stared, eyes and mouth wide open in confusion, then shook your head and shrugged. “Whatever, Vlad the Complainer. Let's just go,” you said, striding quickly down the hall towards the conference room.

The demigod strutted after you, in much less of a hurry, until he felt the magic within him wither and shrink as the distance between you increased. He gingerly tested a theory, picking up his pace so he gained on you. As he suspected, each step closer caused his magic to re-energize within him.

Damn he thought with a huff, as the two of you entered the conference room, just in time. You settled in the only two seats left at the table, next to each other.

Great. You thought, realizing that at least for the next few hours, you would be stuck next to the intergalactic diva. That's what I get for being nice.

-------

The meeting went on far too long, but while Steve droned on, you turned the issue of Loki around in your mind. He sat next to you, not bothering to hide his boredom; arms crossed, chin tilted haughtily and legs spread wide. By the end of the first hour, you finally couldn't stand his long limbs sprawled out into your own space, so you swiftly kicked his shin under the table. He glared, but the message was received, loud and clear, as he wheeled his chair slightly away from you and crossed his legs.

As you touched, it happened yet again, the flaring of your own magic levels and a definite feeling of transfer to him. You could sense it ever since he answered his door this morning; the fluctuating magic. It didn't take you long to put two and two together. His magic was faltering, and for no reason you could discern, your proximity was jump-starting it again. You made a mental note to immediately drag Loki with you to Bruce to get this all sorted out.

You're welcome, Loki. You thought to yourself, considering that you could have just brought it up here in the larger group to get everyone working on the problem, but you instead decided to preserve his fragile pride. Finally, Steve dismissed everyone and you waited until the room was completely empty with a hand on Loki's arm, urging him to stay seated as well.

When you were alone, Loki took the opportunity to speak first. “Well, well, wellll,” he teased, “eager to prolong my charming presence, darling, and just the two of us, no less.” He winked and smiled. And although it was corny it was also devastatingly sexy coming from his stupid handsome face.

“Can you, for once, cut the crap? Just tell me what the fuck is going on with your powers.”

Those gorgeous icy eyes went even wider than usual, as he forced out a breathy chuckle while saying, “Why, what ever do you mean?”

Your expression remained knowing and unamused as you explained. “I know, Loki, I can feel the movement of my magic in my body, just like you can, and I can tell when someone's siphoning off of it like a gas tank. We have to go to Bruce, see if he can sort it...”

“NO.” he growled, deep and articulate, close to your face, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can you put your enormous ego on a shelf for a few moments and just go with me? This won't just fix itself, you know.”

He sighed. “Very well.”

“You're welcome,” you quipped as you already left your chair and made your way to the lift. Loki was dragging his feet until he felt the magic seep away as you left. Reminded of his predicament, he jumped up and followed closely.

------

Several hours later you were sitting in a strange plastic shell of an observation room with Loki, a transparent, zipped divider between you. You sat in opposite corners trying to get comfortable while Bruce ran his tests, sometimes unzipping the middle panel, and sometimes closing it again to isolate each of you. Dr. Banner's warm voice rang in through the intercom as he looked through the observation window, “You okay in there, kid? Got everything you need for awhile?”

You laughed. “I'm 100 years old, Bruce, and I'm totally fine,” you said gesturing to your comfortable pajamas, piles of books, laptop, pillows and blankets. “It's...uh...it's like a slumber party. I'm doing great.”

“Except for the company,” Loki quipped under his breath, as he sat against the wall reading, not raising his eyes for a moment. Unlike you, Loki refused any creature comforts besides a book to keep him occupied over what would probably be long hours of testing.

---

When you arrived at the lab earlier that day, Bruce welcomed you warmly with a kind hug and chit chat. He definitely did not do the same for Loki. Instead he frowned warily and gave him a wide berth. After a few initial tests you asked, “What's the verdict?”

“Well, it looks like you two have powers that behave on similar principles but for some reason, they're interfering with each other like when radio signals cross...or maybe more like magnetic fields...still figuring that out...anyway. We never knew about this problem before because we never had two...uh...similar beings living in the same building. To bring it all back to normal, I need to find a way to separate the signals and keep it that way...some device to wear or even a nano device planted under the skin.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki said, brows furrowed and expression indignant. “You want to cut open my skin and implant something?”

Bruce smiled wryly. “You're making it sound medieval. I'm not chopping anyone open. It would be a tiny laparoscopic incision. It would take seconds and then you'd be back to normal.”

“That's great news!” you chirped.

Dr. Banner, held up his hand. “but I have to keep you both here for an extended period of time to collect enough data...eight hours or more. It might be best if you come in the evening and just sleep overnight. That way I can take readings and it won't interfere with whatever else you have to do today. It might not be the most comfortable sleeping ara...”

You put a hand on Bruce's arm. “It's fine, Bruce. I just appreciate your help.”

Loki was still glaring, arms crossed, but nodded his reluctant agreement to the arrangement.

-----

So now, here you were, locked in a bubble with Loki until morning. You almost wished the divider in the middle were opaque, so it could block his moody glares and sidelong glances. Although you bristled at his comment, you made the best of things, arranging your blankets and pillows and reading a book just as you would if you were in your own bed, in your own quarters.

Before long you heard huffs of annoyance and shuffling coming from the other side. You ignored him until you found yourself reading the same page three times because of the interruption. Finally, you gave in.

You looked over to your cellmate and asked blandly, “Can I help you?”

He grunted. “I can't get comfortable.”

“Yeah. You didn't bring a sleeping bag or blanket or pillow or anything.”

He stepped closer to the divider, as did you. “Well, I thought I could conjure what I needed. I didn't think the good doctor would ask us not to actively use our powers.”

You tutted. “A remarkable lack of foresight from the god of cunning.”

He put his hands on his hips and be began to rush his words out, “And I should have...what? Made my side look like a damn nursery as yours does? With those bizarre creatures, and that atrocious nightwear. I am a god, not a toddler.”

You braced yourself, responding as he paced. “Well, for one fucking thing those creatures are called Squishmallows and they are incredibly comfortable as pillows...and they're cute. They make me smile, Loki.”

The god of mischief raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically and derisively at a large plushy winking mango you had been using as a pillow. He asked, “And what is this apparel you have donned for your captivity.”

You blushed, looking at the zip-up hooded onesie you were wearing, and mumbled, “Shut up. It's warm and very soft on the inside.”

“In the semblance of what? A bear?”

“A capybara.”

“A what?”

“A capybara. They're cute and peaceful...look a bit like overgrown guinea pigs?”

His face screwed up into a a cringe. “I wouldn't know. I haven't been spending my long godly lifespan on a silly little eternal holiday, playing with midgardians and forsaking my dignity,” he pronounced loudly, in his most aristocratic tone.

You were now facing each other only inches apart, breaths fogging the plastic divider, arms crossed pugnaciously. You paused, gathering what little patience and compassion you had left to muster, then asked. “And which of us seems happier, Loki? Hmm?”

You didn't wait for a reply, knowing it would just raise your dander even more. Loki, however, found he didn't have any rebuttal. He watched, puzzled, as you crossed the room and spoke something Loki couldn't hear into the intercom. He watched curiously, as a lab technician took several pillows and blankets from you and brought them to Loki in the other compartment.

He held them, staring blankly at the pile in his arms. You held back a chuckle at the incongruity of the scene; the proud ancient god in his regal clothes holding a pile of soft, pastel-colored material.

To your surprise, he spread them out very carefully, returned to the divider and said quietly, “Thank you.”

As he was turning to resume his pacing at the far end, you finally asked, “Loki. Why do you hate me so much? What do you have against me? I've been nothing but kind to you...even kinder because I know what it is to be like us...to be the only ones like us, alone and misunderstood in a foreign world.”

You tried to keep the hurt from your voice, but it seeped in, and the perceptive Asgardian saw it easily. Loki's stony face softened unexpectedly, eyebrows peaked in concern and a little shame at his behavior.

“Look...I...I don't hate you. I just....I took me years...years to gain the midgardians' trust after...everything. And then it took so much time and so much effort for these Avengers in particular to accept me, respect me, acknowledge me as someone other than Thor's little bastard brother and a nuisance to the planet. But eventually, finally, I had my identity as unique and glorious and a vital member of the team and finally...finally even, perhaps, gaining friends here.”

His voice dropped to an angrier growl, “But then there was you, and in mere days...days...all of that had unraveled because of you; because of your understanding of their ways, and your intelligence and your skills and....and your kindness...your incredible, unwavering kindness.”

He sat down heavily, slouching with a bowed head, as a barely perceptible tear rolled down his cheek.

There were a few moments of silence as you came closer to the divider sitting down to match him on the other side of the plastic wall. “Loki,” you said so softly, putting your hand up on the divider.

He raised his head and met your eyes, this time not bothering to hide his tears as he barked, “Spare me your pity!”

“I don't pity you,” you said, and he could see you were telling the truth. “But I do feel for you because I have been where you are. I'm sure none of it has been easy for you, but Loki, I've wanted to be your friend since I arrived here. I'd heard all about you...all those good things you said they finally thought and felt about you were the things I heard. I was honestly, a little star-struck over you.”

He chuckled at that. “Really? Star-struck?”

“Yeah. You seemed so fascinating, and bright, and...well...and handsome obviously.”

He smiled broadly at that.

“Yeah. Yeah. Don't let it go to your head. I know everyone says that about you.”

He looked puzzled. “Actually, no one has said that to me.”

“Well. I assure you, they all think it.”

He smiled, looking you up and down in your ridiculous plush onesie and said, “And you're very...I don't remember their word for it...yndig in your...your....”

You smiled and chuckled, “In English the word is 'adorable' and I think this thing is called a onesie...which..actually is also what they call the ones babies wear so I guess you're a bit right.”

Now he was laughing too and neither of you could stop.

----

In the morning Dr. Banner smiled triumphantly as he strode into the isolation room. He held up two little syringes and said, “I've got it, you two! I hope you haven't torn each other's throats out after we unzipped the barrier.”

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the two of you curled up together in a pile of blankets and pillows. The laptop was still streaming movies you had long since fallen asleep during. Loki's hand was around your shoulders and your sleepy head was resting in the crook of his neck. Sometime during the night, you had even convinced Loki to don your extra onesie (a black cat). Then, dressed up like animals, you had snuggled together and drifted off that way.

Bruce smiled, chuckled and walked right back out, deciding to let you both sleep a little longer.

He shrugged and quipped, “Guess it was a good slumber party.”

@goblingirlsarah @lokihiddleston @lokisgoodgirl @unlucky-number-13 @thedistractedagglomeration @gigglingtiggerv2 @muddyorbs @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @joyful-enchantress @marcotheflychair @mischief2sarawr @icytrickster17 @loz-3 @loopsisloops @peachyjinx @peaches1958 @lokischambermaid @ladyofthestayingpower @sweetsigyn @november-rayne @little-wormwood @littlespaceyelf @mochie85 @sarahscribbles @alexakeyloveloki @holdmytesseract

#loki fanfic #loki asks #loki x gender neutral reader #loki #lovely fanfic friends #sas #mcu loki #loki fluff #lovely asks #lovely anons

[cambion-companion]

Is it possible that Raphael is fond of Tav because…his wet dreams/masturbation of them makes him last longer than two minutes without the need of the Amulet of Greater Health (and for the first time in centuries!)?

HAH! The range of emotions you made me experience just now, lovely anon XD

I think Raphael is "fond" of Tav mostly because they are his surest ticket to getting a certain crown he's been coveting for centuries.

BUT yes. Perhaps he does last longer thinking of Tav "tossing and turning" than he lasts under a literal sex demon who possesses aphrodisiac spittle. Wild.

(Also, Larian...that spider carcass scene was nasty. Haunts my nightmares.)

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #haarlep #lovely anons #bg3 headcanons

[baronessblixen]

gillian is so pretty with her hair up in the bathtub ^^<3

She is 😍 it's like DD made sure she looked pretty and soft in his episodes. I love that.

#lovely anons #imagine he'd write a romcom with himself and gillian #it could be so great #maybe when he's in his 70s #a girl can dream

[sansaorgana]

I don't quite understand if the requests are open, but I can't get it out of my head. Can you write something ​​about Gale Cleven/reader ovulating? (with smut please 🙏🏻🙏🏻)

I really love your writing!!!😭💗

hello, babes! 😊 I tried to write the first request of the Reader ovulating and them trying for a baby with Buck being some sort of a soft!dom and I hope he's soft!dom enough in this fic haha I always imagine him super sweet and vanilla personally tbh 🙈

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

You had a busy day running errands all around town since early morning so you sighed with relief when the evening finally came and you could take a long, relaxing bath before putting on a nightgown and go to bed to read a magazine. Your husband was in his study room downstairs where he was working on some papers for his work but he would usually join you in bed an hour before midnight to read a book as well. You enjoyed those quiet evenings the most out of the whole day.

You sat comfortably with your back resting on the pillow and opened the magazine to look for interesting articles. On one of the pages you spotted a nice advert of a new cosmetic brand. You tilted your head and bit on your lower lip, deciding you would like to try it. So, you opened the drawer of your bedside table and took out your small calendar to write down the brand’s name.

It opened on today’s date and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of a little heart that you had drawn there some time ago. That little heart could mean only one thing – you were ovulating. And because of all your errands on that day, you had completely forgotten about it.

You were actively trying for a baby with Buck. You had wanted a baby before his departure to Europe, actually – you had wanted to have his child in case he wouldn't come back. You hadn’t succeeded back then but in the end it had been for the best. If you had gotten pregnant then, Buck would have missed all of your pregnancy and the first year of your child’s life. But now he was back and the war was over. It was the best time to have a baby and you were determined; tracking your cycle, marking the fertile days in your calendar and following your doctor’s advice about the diet to increase your chances.

You put the calendar and magazine down before jumping out of the bed and fixing your hair quickly in the mirror; taking the rollers out as fast as possible and brushing the waves. Then you put some perfume on and caressed the slight creases on the nightgown’s fabric as you put on a gentle smile and walked out of the bedroom.

You went downstairs and knocked slightly upon the door leading to your husband’s study room. However, you didn’t wait for his reply because you only knocked to announce your arrival so he wouldn’t be startled – you didn’t do that to actually wait for his permission to enter. You pushed the door open and saw Buck sitting by the desk as he sighed at some paperwork in front of him.

“Baby,” you called for him softly and he raised his tired eyes at you.

“What is it, love?” He asked, gently.

“How busy are you?” You stood behind him and put your hands upon his tense shoulders to give them a quick massage. He hummed to himself at the feeling of your soft fingers squeezing all the muscle knots.

“Pretty busy,” he answered and you pouted. “What is it, sugar?”

“I’ve just realised that today’s the best day to make a baby this month,” you whispered, a little shyly. Buck looked up at you with a soft smile and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Really?” He asked and you nodded. “Oh, well, then that is more important. Come here,” he invited you to sit on his lap as he moved away from the desk to make some space.

You sat across his thighs and threw your arms around his neck to clasp your hands behind his head. Buck pulled you closer by your hips and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon your lips. When you broke the kiss, you pressed your forehead to his and rubbed your noses together. You moved your hands to his cheeks as your fingertips caressed the thin scars scattered on his face.

“I want to have your baby,” you breathed out. “Please, I want to make you a daddy,” you pleaded.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Buck kissed your lips again, “I’ll give my wife anything she wants,” he promised with a playful smile. “Come, sweetheart, let me put a baby in you,” he lifted you up as you squealed with a giggle.

Buck moved all the papers to the side in one swift move of his hand before placing you gently on the top of his desk.

“You want to make our baby here?” Your eyes widened at him and he froze with his hands on his belt as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me upstairs, baby,” you whined and put your foot on his chest playfully as he grabbed you by your ankle.

“You’re being a brat, Mrs. Cleven,” he warned and you chuckled. “You’re lucky that I’m so in love with you, you know that?”

“Sure, I do, Major,” you saluted and he rolled his eyes before lifting you up bridal style. You threw your arms around him and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

Buck opened the door of his study room with his shoe before taking you upstairs, taking each step very carefully because he didn’t want to drop you or fall down with you on top of him. You took that time to suck on the soft flesh below his ear.

When you finally reached the bedroom, Buck laid you down on the bed gently and admired you for a while.

“You’re glowing, baby,” he admitted.

“Yes, I am,” you nodded, “because it’s time for you to put a baby in me,” you reminded him. “So, what are you waiting for?” You panted and reached out for him as he shook his head and chuckled softly.

“I should teach you some patience,” he took his shirt off and put it neatly on the chair by the vanity table. A Major indeed – he would never just throw it on the floor.

“Perhaps. But we know you won’t because you love to spoil me,” you giggled as Buck took his belt off and put it on top of his shirt. “God, you’re taking so long,” you whined. The idea of him putting a baby in you was exciting enough but seeing him undress was making it worse.

“Alright, come here, little mama,” he finally joined you in bed as he positioned himself above you, wearing nothing but his underwear. “So impatient for your husband to take care of you?” He teased and caressed your face to get your hair out of the way.

“Just want my man to put a baby in me,” you crossed your legs behind his back as your nightgown pulled up and revealed your panties.

“Oh, I’m gonna. I’m gonna make love to you all night long,” he promised and put his big, warm hand on your womb. It made you giggle as you already imagined yourself swollen with his baby. He’d be the best father in the world just like he was the best husband and you wanted nothing more than to give him a child. It would make your family complete.

Buck joined your lips together in a sweet and gentle yet passionate kiss as he allowed his fingertips to run freely all around your body, making you shiver as goosebumps appeared on your skin. You pressed your hands to his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. You loved him so much that it was making you dizzy to have him so close and all yours – after all those long months of him being so far away from you… you had been starting to forget that your husband was a real person made out of flesh and with a heart pumping his blood, with beautiful blue eyes and golden hair, those pretty long eyelashes and an adorable smile that reminded you of a little boy. You hoped your child would have the same.

But now he was back, he was here. You hadn’t made him up, he wasn’t a make-believe lover. He was real and he was yours and yours only.

You arched your back to give him better access to your breasts as he sucked on them gently and hummed to himself as he was holding you by your ribs.

“They’re gonna swell soon, little mama,” he murmured while he kissed you all around one of your nipples and then he moved to another. “Gonna be full of sweet milk for my baby.”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you tangled one of your hands in his golden hair to pull on it gently and caress it.

Buck looked up at you with his beautiful eyes as one golden hair strand fell down on his forehead and you gasped at how pretty he looked. It made him blush a little but also smirk. His hands moved down and slid your panties off of you easily. He tossed them aside on the bed and opened your legs further as you revealed to him your glistening womanhood. You would always get so much wetter than usual during your fertile days. And so much more needy for your husband.

You reached your hands out to the outline of his hard cock, desperately wanting him inside of you already. You pulled his underwear down clumsily before he shushed you softly and pushed your hands away. He took it off on his own as it joined your panties on the side of the bed.

Gently, he grabbed you by your thighs and moved you closer to him as easily as if you were light as a feather. He was strong and you loved it – especially the way he was able to make you feel so small and vulnerable under him. Your nightgown pushed nearly all the way up while you were being pulled down to line your entrance up with his cock, revealing your abdomen to him. You moved the sheer fabric of the nightgown out of your face and watched him carefully pressing the tip of his cock to your swollen and wet clit.

A shiver went down your body at the feeling as you moaned. Your fingernails digged into his bicep as the other hand tugged on the sheets.

Buck would always take his time with preparing you for his fat cock. He never wanted to cause you any pain or discomfort. He would rub circles on your clit with his tip as your muscles relaxed and only then he would slowly start to push the length inside, inch by inch, watching carefully your every facial expression and every sigh, every moan, every eye-roll. He savoured them but he also stopped all his movement whenever he’d notice you were in any amount of pain.

Breathing heavily, he lowered himself down as he finally pushed all of his length inside and gave you a while to adjust to his size. Your thighs were surrounding his waist, pulling him even closer as if it was possible. His face loomed over yours and he put his hands on both sides of your head.

“Open your eyes, baby, keep looking at me when I make you a mama,” he whispered and you followed as your eyelids fluttered open. You gasped at the sight of his face so close, his beautiful eyes looking deep into yours as he began to thrust his hips, rutting as deep into you as he could, determined to put a baby inside of you.

You moaned and moved your hands to his muscular shoulders, digging your nails deep into his flesh at the overwhelming sensation of his fat cock stretching you out and making you feel full. You looked down for a brief moment and got dizzy at the sight of your belly bulge and his cock’s outline so deep inside of your pussy. With each thrust he was hitting a spot that was making your toes curl and tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

“Eyes up, baby,” he crooned and you looked at his face again. “Good girl,” he praised and your walls squeezed around his cock. “My good girl,” he added, knowing perfectly well how his words were making you feel. “I’m gonna fill you up with my baby, you’re gonna be all swollen and sweet for me, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered his promises but with time his words were getting less coherent and audible as they were turning into grunts of pleasure.

Buck pressed his forehead to yours as his golden hair strands stuck to his sweaty forehead and you felt his body tensing while his hips’ movement became chaotic. He was close and you cupped his face; his cheeks pink and his full, soft lips slightly parted. He was a sight.

“That’s right, baby, just like that,” you encouraged him, “give me that, all of that, baby,” you pleaded as his spasmodic thrusts were bringing you closer to your own peak, too. “Make me a mama and I’m gonna grow your baby, I’m gonna make you a daddy,” you promised.

Buck moved one of his hands down and put it on your womb, pressing on it gently as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you could no longer force yourself to keep them open at the overwhelming feeling and a knot in your lower abdomen finally relaxing as you reached your high with a loud moan of your husband’s name. He spilled himself deep inside of you with a groan into your ear but he didn’t move an inch once your highs were gone. Still inside of you, he grabbed your thighs and moved them up to press them to your chest before joining your lips together in a sloppy kiss.

After a while you felt him softening and that was when he finally slowly pulled out but he kept your bent legs pressed to your chest in a steady grip as he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. He would usually keep you like this for at least five minutes for his seed to take.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he cooed to you. “Gonna be even more beautiful carrying my baby, you know that?”

“Why would I want it so bad if I didn’t?” You chuckled and he shook his head with a soft laughter. He let go of your thighs and you sat up to cling to him and pepper his blushing and sweaty face with soft kisses as your hands moved across his chest and arms to caress them. Buck put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to kiss you all over your cheeks as well. Both of your naked and exhausted, sweaty bodies were tangled with each other as you were sitting on your bed and sharing dozens of sweet little kisses.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whispered.

“For what, sugar?” Buck moved away slightly as he cupped your cheek with his hand and raised his eyebrow at you. “We don’t know yet if we’ve made our little baby,” he smiled softly.

“No, I know. But thank you for coming home to me,” you caressed his ruffled hair to move it away from his forehead. “Thank you for being such a good husband to me.”

“You make loving you so easy, sweetheart,” he assured you. “You were right. I love spoiling you because you deserve the world.”

“I don’t want it,” you shook your head as your eyes widened. “I only want you, Major Cleven. You are my whole world.”

Visibly moved by your words, Buck laid you down carefully as if you were made of glass. He lowered himself as well, pressing a kiss to your womb and laying his head on top of it while his arms hugged your waist.You played with his hair and smiled softly at your husband.

“I hope you hear me if you’re there, little one,” he whispered into your abdomen. “You are so loved already,” Buck assured. “And so lucky to spend the next nine months under your sweet mama’s heart,” he added.

“And to have a daddy like Major Cleven,” you played along as you caressed Buck’s cheek. “I chose you the best daddy you could ask for, little bean.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #*buck #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

[sweetercalypso]

Bodyguard!Abby would look so good in a suit omf 🤩 I want her to fuck me in the backseat after a red carpet or smth

༘⋆ abby masterlist 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ tlou masterlist ˎˊ˗

You’re not sure what time it is when you finally clamber into the backseat of the limo, but you’re grateful that the hoard of paparazzi waiting outside seems to have missed your exit.

Abby follows closely behind you and shuts the door once you’re both inside, heaving a sigh that makes you shudder. It’s been a long, tedious night filled with fleeting conversation and a constant barrage of flashing cameras, and Abby hasn’t left your side once.

She’s wearing her standard three-piece suit and shiny black shoes, outfit completed by the polished cufflinks she wears with your initials etched into the metal. You don’t own her, but she wants you to.

“Did so good tonight baby,” she whispers into your ear, trying not to draw the attention of your driver as he blends into the nighttime traffic with practiced ease.

You glance towards the rolled-down partition, trying to think of a subtle way to ask for some privacy without him realizing what’s happening in the backseat.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” Abby continues, her fingers tracing patterned circles over your thigh. “Kept thinking about how good this dress is gonna look on my bedroom floor.”

Your lips part with an audible gasp as Abby slides her hand under the fabric and nudges your legs apart at the knees. Her stiff suit jacket pulls taut around her shoulders as she leans in close to press her mouth to the side of your neck.

“ssh, gotta stay quiet baby – s’just the two of us now.”

#lovely anons #bodyguard!abby #abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #tlou abby #abby smut #abby x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #tlou smut

[ladytauria]

Jaytim for 38?

thank you for the prompt!!!

i took it in a bit of a different direction—i was a little stuck on what to do, actually, lol. @waffleinator-inator made a suggestion they got the wheels turning, though, even if i didn’t end up going in that direction either! <3

it’s also a little bit inspired by this series which is among my favorite jaytim fics ever lol. the inspiration was mostly the tim driving bits; i don’t remember which fic it’s in, but there’s a line in jason’s pov abt tim driving that just… gets me

this is… either a no capes or jason lives au, w/ a side of possible hs au xD

posted & half-written on mobile so pardon any mistakes <3

i hope you enjoy!!

There is nothing hotter than watching Tim drive.

Well—

Alright.

That isn’t true. But something about watching how calm and confident he is in the driver’s seat is… intoxicating. Maybe it’s the way his long fingers wrap around the gearshift, or the steady grip he has on the wheel. Maybe it’s the way his sleeves are rolled up; exposing the corded muscle of his forearm, and the leather bracelet Jason wove for him tied around the sharp bones of his wrist. Maybe it’s the control he has, coolly certain that the vehicle will do exactly as he tells it to.

It’s enough to make his mouth dry.

Cool blue eyes glance his way. “Can’t get comfortable?” Tim asks, the dry humor in his tone bringing a flush to Jason’s cheeks.

“I—uh.” He has to stop and raise his green tea to his mouth, taking a few sips to wet his throat before he can continue. “I’m plenty comfortable, thanks. Just—a little lost in enjoying the view.” Fuck. Normally he’s more suave than this. Or he thinks he is, anyway. He can’t really say for certain. He doesn’t—do this much. Date. Most of the people in Gotham’s upper crust wouldn’t sully themselves with dating a street rat—except for those who can look past it to get at Bruce’s money.

Tim’s—different.

Jason watches his lips quirk—though, gratifyingly, there’s a bit of pink to his cheeks. “What, Mr. Wayne doesn’t take you out of the city much?” he asks.

“It’s different with you,” Jason says—and he. The cheesy romance of the line makes his stomach flip, but it’s true. Everything is different with Tim. There’s a diner he goes to with Dick and Cass, and Damian if they buy him something vegetarian first, but. He took Tim the other day and— It was almost like going somewhere entirely new.

The blush on Tim’s face gets a little brighter. “We’re almost there,” he says, instead of replying to that. Which suits Jason just fine—he likes when they flirt, but it also leaves his insides squirmy, and skin tight and tingly.

Today was a more—spontaneous date than Jason was used to. Tim was like that sometimes; he’d get an idea in his head and then just decide to act on it. An impulsivity that Jason… well. He wouldn’t say he lacked it, he was plenty impulsive but—

He liked plans.

But it was nice, following Tim’s lead, even when Tim was just making it up as he went along. He had a way of seeming so confident and assured in his plans that Jason couldn’t even tell he was improvising.

Today, Tim had decided the plan of the day was to ‘go fast.’ There was a stretch of road between Gotham and Bludhaven that almost no one used—a place Tim liked to go and see just how fast his car could really go.

Jason is excited. It’s one thing to watch Tim drive in the city. It’s going to be another thing to watch him out here. Couple that with the privacy—the lack of cameras or nosy siblings or overprotective fathers…

His heart thrums in his chest. He doesn’t know how far he’s ready to go, but… It’ll be nice to find out, maybe.

Tim turns onto another road. “Ready?” he asks, rolling the windows down.

Jason grins. “Yeah,” he says; wrapping one arm around the door handle. “Let’s go.”

Tim presses harder on the gas pedal. The engine rumbles, no longer whisper-quiet but a low, rolling growl Jason feels in his belly.

The wind whips through his hair, mussing his carefully styled curls. It brings more color to his cheeks, and roars in his ears. The scenery begins to blur together.

Jason’s grin widens. The wind steals the saliva from his mouth, leaving it dry again, but he doesn’t care.

He glances over at Tim—

He’s gorgeous, a crooked grin on his face; eyes bright and shining. The wind pulls his hair from where he tied it back; the feathery strands whipping around his face, some of them getting in his mouth and sticking to his cheeks. He looks— just as calm and relaxed as he does on the freeway, driving down a neighborhood, rolling his eyes at main street traffic.

Jason wants to kiss him.

He wants—he wants to climb over the glovebox and straddle his thighs, wants to feel Tim’s hands on his hair, splayed over his ribs, on the back of his neck. Wherever he wants, as long as they’re on Jason.

He wants—

He wants.

Tim glances his way. His eyes widen a moment, like he can see Jason’s desire written on his face. Maybe he can.

“Do you want to—“ Tim has to shout to be heard over the wind. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, though, before sirens blare behind him.

“Shit,” Jason says, as he watches Tim’s mouth form a similar word. Both expletives are stolen, though.

Tim’s mouth twists as he slows down, pulling onto the shoulder as soon as it’s safe. “Sorry,” he murmurs to Jason as he rolls down his window. “There usually aren’t any policemen here.” He reaches into his pocket.

“It’s fine,” Jason says, waving his hand. He’s still not the biggest fan of cops—avoids them, if he can get away with it. But the instant paranoia they cause is easier to swallow these days, if only because he trusts that Bruce would raise hell if any of ‘em tried anything.

He glances in the rear view—and swears.

“Motherfucker.”

A very familiar figure steps out of the vehicle behind them. Jason didn’t talk to Dick for a week when he announced he was going to the police academy. He should have held his tongue for longer.

Tim glances up at the vitriol in his tone, license now clutched between his fingers. He glances in his mirror, and Jason can tell the moment he recognizes Dick. Unlike Jason, though, Tim breathes a soft sigh of relief.

Jason doesn’t have enough time to tell him his relief is premature before Dick approaches the window.

He flashes them both a bright, sunny grin. Jason wants to punch him.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” Dick asks, politely.

Of all the stupid fucking—

“Because you’re an asshole you—“

Tim cuts him off with a gentle touch to his knee. “No, Officer, I don’t,” Tim says; and Jason knows, despite Tim facing away from him, that he’s wearing his polite gala smile.

Dick’s smile dims a bit, but he holds it in place. “This is a forty mile-per-hour zone,” he says. “Wanna tell me why you were doing over a hundred?”

Jason looks in Tim’s mirror; biting his lip to hold back his smile when he sees Tim’s eyes widen, mouth parting. He looks like the picture of innocence.

“Was I? Sorry, Officer, I’ve been meaning to get this looked at,” Tim says, nodding towards his speedometer. “Part of why I drive on back roads; according to it, I was only doing fifty.” He glances at Jason. “Right, baby?”

Jason nods immediately, his shoulders starting to shake.

“Uh-huh,” Dick drawls. “You know it’s a two-hundred sixty dollar fine, right?” He pauses and glances at Jason. “Not to mention the aneurysm Bruce’ll have when he finds out.”

“I think you mean *if* he finds out,” Jason says. “Since, y’know, you’re a cool older brother and will let us off with a warning?”

Dick snorts. “But then how will I know you’ve learned your lesson?” he raises his brows. “It’s a backroad, not a speedway.”

“Like you didn’t do way worse at our age!” Jason has heard the stories. Some of them he wishes he hadn’t.

Dick snorts. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he relents. “But, seriously. If you want to speed, I know of a couple places you can go. No more speeding on the backroad.”

Tim nods seriously.

Dick gives him a pink slip. “Alright, you two. Have fun, be safe, don’t do anything Uncle Clark wouldn’t do. I’ll see you at dinner, Jason—Tim?”

Tim shrugs.

“Probably,” Jason answers for him.

Dick nods, and walks back to his car. Jason pauses, then unbuckles his seatbelt to lean out the window and shout, “And stop following us, asshole!”

Dick gives him a lazy salute before slipping into his car. Jason doesn’t trust him a bit.

He flops back in the seat, buckling himself back in. “Sorry my brother is such a dick,” he says.

Tim smiles at him. “Don’t worry about it, Jay,” he says, leaning over the console. Jason meets him halfway, receiving a short, sweet kiss for his trouble. Both of them linger, breath mingling.

“Sorry your plans are ruined,” Jason murmurs.

Tim hums. “I wouldn’t say they’re ruined. I’d be happy just to drive with you.”

The flush is back in Jason’s cheek. “I, uh. That sounds nice. Maybe, uh. Maybe we could find a nice place to park, too?”

Tim turns cherry red. “I— Yeah. Um. We could. Probably do that.”

Jason grins.

If Dick tries to get them for public indecency, Jason’s going to commit fratricide. Hopefully Tim will be willing to go on the run with him.

#is it obvious i didn’t decide they were teenagers until 3 paragraphs in? #jaytim #timjay #dcu #lovely anons #asks and answers #tauriawritesfanfic

[casuallyawkardd]

Hi! Can you do a Miguel x f!reader fic where they're dating? It's expensive to live in Nueva York and the reader overworks herself at a thankless job with a pervy boss but she can't find work anywhere else. She doesn't tell Miguel about her bosses advances because she doesn't want him to worry about her but the signs are getting harder to hide.

This request sparks joy, I enjoy all the fluff I've been writing lately, but deep down I'm just an angsty little bean who likes sprinkling trauma into my writing 😇

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Warnings: MATURE THEMES MINORS DNI! Not explicit but noncon so deaddove?, sexual themes, Miguel does a no-no but it's an accident, angst, hurt/comfort

Everything had started out so promising. It was your first 'big girl' job. Well, technically not, but it was your first job in which your degree actually came in handy. It seemed like a dream come true when looking through rose colored glasses. A salary paying job at a respectable company, the annual income promising that you wouldn't have to be living paycheck to paycheck, the days of barely paying rent on time a distant memory.

The first month was the honeymoon phase, your new team being extremely helpful in showing you the ropes and helping you to establish a new routine. After being in a year-long rut, things finally seemed to be going your way. With the new job and a loving boyfriend, what could go wrong?

You didn't notice the red flags right away when you met your boss. In all honesty, he reminded you of Miguel, making you feel at ease around him. Like Miguel, he was tall and well built, tanned skin and dark hair. However, at the same time, the two had their differences. Your boss, though he had his own charms, wasn't as handsome as Miguel; he was also much more jovial than him. Everyone in the office seemed to like him, the young interns and some of the older office ladies gushing over him in secret. At the time, you had even joked that you'd shoot your shot with him if you weren't already in a happy relationship.

It was a gradual change. He had always been friendly with you, hell he was friendly with everyone, going out of his way to make conversation with you and bring you a cup of coffee when he came in in the morning. Then came the touching, his hand lingering longer than they should on your shoulders or resting on the small of your back to guide you closer to him. You thought it was weird, that feeling in your gut telling you something was wrong, but his casual nature and pearly whites would have you second guessing yourself. Maybe you were overthinking things?

Your answer came after a company dinner. It was late and he had offered to walk you home. Miguel was busy with work and the coworkers that were still there were people you didn't know very well, so you took him up on the offer. Everything seemed fine, the two of you walking side by side, keeping up friendly conversation and even sharing a few laughs. When you arrived at your apartment building, turning to say thank you and goodnight, that hand was at your waist once again. Pulling you to him, his head lowering to meet yours and your eyes widened in horror at what was clearly about to happen.

Quickly, you stiff armed him, creating much needed distance, the hand on your back seeming to hold on a little tighter. "I have a boyfriend," you reminded him, a fact you knew he was aware of.

He had just shrugged, "Who says he has to know?" your boss replies in that same, casual tone. When he doesn't see an inkling of humor cross your face, he backpedals, releasing you and holding his hands up in surrender. "Kidding, kidding, have a good night," the asshole tries to laugh it off, retreating back the way he had come. You return to the safety of your building, which doesn't feel as safe as it used to, now that he knew where you lived.

That was around the time your life at work started to go downhill as well. Your coworkers weren't as friendly, whispering behind their hands and throwing dirty looks in your direction. Your boss seemed to become more and more aggressive with his advances. Quite literally backing you into a corner when you're sitting at your desk or in the breakroom. He continuously asked you out, which you resorted to flat out telling him 'no' after multiple attempts of being polite about it. Everytime you reject him, it felt like he expected you to work later or show up earlier, scolding you when you don't comply.

It felt like it's you against the company. The work losing its enjoyment and the people who you thought were your friends now the bane of your existence. Why was this happening? What had you done wrong?

"Why don't you talk to HR?" your best friend suggests one night while you're venting.

"I did about some people, the ones who were real nasty at least," you reply with a heavy sigh, "but it feels like it's everyone. And my boss?" you groan woefully, "I get the feeling he'd just fire HR if they said someone reported him."

The frown on your friend's face deepens, a look of pity in their eye. "Well, what about your boyfriend? Does he know?"

You don't respond right away, pursing your lips a moment, "No, he doesn't."

"You should tell him!" your friend snaps at you, lightly slapping your shoulder, "He's scary right? I bet your boss would think twice about looking your way if he got his ass kicked."

"Yeah, maybe..." you don't doubt it. There had been times when you had thought about it, maybe even fantasized about Miguel showing up at your work and pummeling your boss in his stupid, charming face; and yet you haven't breathed a word about it to your other half. But, you already know why you haven't.

When Miguel and you had first started dating, he had been closed off. Understandably so, given the brief background he had told you about himself, it didn't surprise you that he had a hard time trusting people. Then one day, there was a shift, as if a switch had been flipped. He was happier around you, more affectionate. A soft smile on his face whenever you caught him staring at you, a gentle chuckle even if you weren't trying to be funny.

"Is everything...okay?" you ask him one night, the two of you lying in bed. Miguel has his head on your chest, a large arm lazily slung over your middle while you absentmindedly played with his hair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he responds, lifting his head enough to glance up at you.

"You're just...different."

"Is it a good different?"

You smile at his change in expression. How he reminds you of a child worried they had done something wrong. "Yeah, it is good," you agree, bringing his face closer to kiss the spot between his brows. When you pull back, he moves closer. Shifting so he's above you, lips searching for yours. When they connect, it's electric. A buzz promising what's to come.

He pulls away enough to speak, "Works been a pain," he confesses, "between my duties as Spider-Man and maintaining the peace with the other universes, I can't seem to catch a break," there's a hint of annoyance in how he speaks that seems to grow the longer he thinks about it, but he catches himself. Taking a deep breath through his nose and letting out the same way, "But it's different with you. I feel like I can finally be at ease with you."

And there it is. The reason you've kept your mouth shut for months. The preservation of the little bubble Miguel and you have created. You were finally his safe space, someone he could relax around. Someone to provide a much needed calm to his already hectic life. It was something you had found in him months ago, but now the feeling was mutual, and you didn't want to ruin it.

It's not that bad, you told yourself, I can handle myself. That's what you tell yourself, after every lingering look from your boss and every snide comment your other coworkers give you. Miguel always said you were tough, joking that you'd have to be to date someone like him.

You didn't feel so tough tonight.

Work had been hard, with deadlines just around the corner, everyone was on edge. A little more venom behind their biting words, but that's not what led you to where you were now. Standing outside your apartment door, trembling as you fiddle with your keys and trying to hold back the tears until you were safely inside.

It was that asshole boss of yours again, only this time he had gone too far. Well, tried to at least. You had already come to terms with the fact he'd make you stay later than everyone else, working until the streetlights flicked on and even a little after. He had come over to your desk as you were putting your things in your bag, half paying attention to what he was saying. You were tired, ready to call it for the day, ready to go home and rest and-

Strong arms wrapped around you, making you stiffen in fear as what occurred a little over an hour ago replays in your head. The smell of takeout from your favorite Thai place brings you back and you're able to breathe a sigh of relief when you hear a familiar chuckle fill the air.

"Did I scare you, amor?" Miguel teases, releasing you and coming to stand at your side.

You crane your neck to look up at him, the look of fear now dissipated to one of surprise, "I thought we agreed to reschedule?" You had. While taking the train, clearly still shaken as you struggled to text him that your date would have to be another night. 'Had a rough day at work,' was your excuse. It wasn't a lie, just the truth with a few crucial details plucked out.

Miguel shrugged, taking your keys from your hand so he could pick out the right one for the front door. "I know," he explained, twisting the lock, "but I figured we could have a night in. Some takeout, maybe some episodes of that show you like-oh, baby you ripped your skirt," the small smile on his face drops as he spots the said rip, calloused fingers pinching the fabric before letting it go and heading inside the apartment.

It's your turn to look down at it, the urge to cry only growing at the sight, thinking it must have been torn by the metal desk in your struggles. This was your favorite skirt, Miguel's too from how he couldn't keep his hands off you when you wore it. You had planned on meeting up for your date right after work, so you had decided to wear your date night outfit to the office to save yourself a trip. It seemed like a harmless idea at first, but it turns out Miguel wasn't the only one who noticed you wearing it.

You followed at a slower pace, shutting and locking the door behind you. Including the deadbolt, something you did on occasion when you felt like you needed it. With a heavy sigh, you perked up as best you could and went to the living room; Miguel was already there on the couch waiting.

The evening went just as Miguel had suggested, your new show had a couple new episodes for you to catch up on, all while nibbling on the greasy food your partner had brought over. Under different circumstances, you would have considered tonight to be a perfect night in. A part of you felt bad, curled up on the opposite end of the couch from Miguel. Your appetite wasn't all there, only eating some of the steamed vegetables at the top of the box before setting it on the coffee table. Miguel had taken notice, of course he did, but as to why you were acting so strange he had no clue.

"Just been a long day," was all you said, forcing a smile to which he returned. When you had run out of episodes, you stood to take the leftovers to the fridge. Falling into routine gave you a sense of security, moving to start your evening chores next. Miguel called out, asking if you wanted help, but you turned him down. Wanting some time alone.

It turned out to be both a good thing and a bad one as well. The good being you were finally able to decompress, have some time to yourself where you didn't have to pretend to be okay. However, that meant you were left alone with your thoughts. The only ones in your head being about your boss. What he did...or rather tried to do.

You felt stuck, not sure if speaking up would make things worse. Your coworkers already hated you, talking bad about your 'perfect' boss would probably only make things worse. How could he even do that? To think you used to compare him to Miguel of all people. Miguel would never make you feel the way he did. Embarrass you, degrade you, hurt you-

The clinking of dishes brought you back to yourself, looking down at your shaking hands. You picked up the glass you had dropped in the sink, finishing up the last of the dishes and putting them aside to dry. Once done, you leaned against the counter, hands pressed into the hard edge of it. You blinked back the tears, trying to shake the dark thoughts from your mind. You weren't gonna cry, not again, not because of him.

"It feels like you've been in here forever, cariño," Miguel's baritone purrs in your ear out of the blue, a sort of warning as his arms wrap themselves around you again. And yet you still jumped, Miguel chuckling against your ear. "You're so jumpy tonight," he hummed, "I think you're letting work stress you out too much." Well that was an understatement.

"You're not one to talk," you reply, a bit more bite to your tone than intended, but Miguel seems too distracted to notice.

"Hmm, I think we both are due for some destressing," he murmured, fingers gliding your hair aside to plant some gentle kisses along your neck. It was a familiar dance with him, his lips trailing across your skin while his hands roamed elsewhere, alluding to what was to come. Normally, it was something you'd eagerly lean into, but today had been far from normal.

"Honey..." you tell him softly, trying to nudge him back with your shoulders, but it only seemed to make him want to be closer.

"Shh, I'll take care of you, mi amor," he soothed, planting a kiss on your cheek before coming down to resume nipping at your jawline.

"Miguel, come on," you tried to laugh it off, tried to keep your cool, but the tremor in your hands seemed to only worsen. It wasn't him, your feelings right now weren't because of him, but every touch brought you back to the office. Just tell him, the thought crosses your mind, but the stubborn part of you holds your tongue. Miguel hadn't done anything out of your usual comfort zone, even now he probably assumed you were playing coy like usual, not understanding the gravity of the situation. Why did he have to feel just like him? Firm body on your back pressing you into a hard surface, lips ghosting over your neck, teeth teasingly biting at the flesh, one hand untucking your shirt and sliding underneath the fabric to grope at your breast, the other hand gliding up your thigh, palming you from behind before migrating to the front, fingers inches closer to your center...

"Miguel, stop!" your mouth moves of its own accord. Adrenaline gives you the strength to push him back, the kitchen becoming almost deadly quiet. Your eyes are locked on the tile floor, not looking him in the eye. You couldn't look him in the eye, the thought alone of what face he was making causing your chest to tighten. The confusion, surprise, maybe even heartbreak.

The silence is broken as a sob rips from your throat, your hands covering your mouth to quiet the ones that follow. The tears are flowing freely now, wetting your cheeks and softly landing on the ground. "I...I'm sorry," Miguel's voice sounds so far away. "I didn't..I thought-"

"You didn't do anything," you speak and he goes quiet immediately. He's patient, waiting for you to continue. It's almost like an out of body experience, you lashing out seeming to open the flood gates. You tell him everything, how things at work had been going downhill for months after your boss tried to kiss you, your asshole coworkers turning on you and your even bigger asshole of a boss not taking no for an answer. The expectations of working longer hours than you were paid for. The stress, the frustration, the feeling of preservation so as not to ruin the dynamic you two had created. Your gibberish eventually leading into what had happened earlier that night.

"...I had to stay late, a-and my boss said he needed to talk and-and-"

"What did he do?" Miguel interjects and your mouth clamps shut. Tongue feeling too big to even get the words out, "Mi amor, look at me," he doesn't demand it, he pleads, the unexpectedness of it making you look up. When your eyes meet, something seems to click for him, realization flickering in his eyes. There's anger, the kind you never would want directed at you, but then they soften. As if realizing the fury he wanted to unleash wasn't meant for you. Never for you. "Y/N..."

"Don't touch me," you snap at him, regretting it immediately after. Miguel had only taken half a step, but stopped immediately at your command. It hurt him and you could tell, wanting to hold you and comfort you, but unable to. Not when his touch made the memories all the more fresh.

"Ay dios mío..." he mutters, hands going to his hips as he doesn't know what to do with them now. The kitchen goes quiet again, aside from your small sobs. Miguel sets his jaw, something he does when he has something to say, but doesn't know how to. "Did he..?"

"Miguel, please-"

"I know, amor, I know. I don't want to make you talk about it if you're not ready to, but-" he pauses, lips pressed in a fine line, pain etched into his expression. "I just-I have to know. The thought of you getting hurt and I wasn't there to stop it..baby please, for me. I feel like I'm being eaten up from the inside."

You believe him, every word. He was used to being the one to save the day, you couldn't imagine how he felt knowing he wasn't there for who he cared for most. You let out a deep breath to calm down, "No, he didn't," you answer and you can almost see the tension leave his body. At least some of it.

"What do you need? Anything. Let me help you, don't shut me out, please...You've been there for me when I needed you, please let me be there for you, please?" he almost tries to step closer to you, stopping himself like it's the hardest thing he's ever done.

You bite your lip in thought, contemplating what to suggest. Not just for you, but him as well. Miguel was always the one who knew what to do, so the feeling of being unsure was clearly foreign to him. "Honestly, I just want to take a bath."

"A bath? I can do that. Just..give me a minute," he's scrambling, it's a side of him you'd never seen. Miguel shuffling as he remembers how to move, practically running to the bathroom with unnecessary vigor, hissing out some Spanish curses when he clips himself in the side with the island counter. His eagerness has you laughing softly, momentary joy fluttering through you before the weight of your evening sets back in.

The sound of the tub filling, along with the sound of Miguel moving about the bathroom is endearing, the man himself returning to you quickly to let you know it was ready. The set up alone is a comforting sight, the scent of lavender coming from the water, one of your incense candles gently burning. The mirror was fogged up, letting you know that the water was just the right temperature. It was all so simple and yet just what you needed.

Miguel waits beside you with bated breath, the small smile you give him a sign of reassurance. He offers to wait in the living room, hoping you don't send him away to be alone like you had originally intended when you got home, but you stop him.

"I don't want to be alone."

It's contradictory, but he doesn't question it. Doesn't even furrow his brow in confusion like he usually would. The two of you don't speak, Miguel sitting on the floor, back resting against the side of the tub, all while you undress and slip into the welcoming water. You let out an audible sigh of relief, letting the suds surround you as you lie back. After a moment, you glance Miguel's way, seeing that his eyes are glued to the far wall. He's trying to be respectful, you acknowledge, trying to be there for you while also not making you feel even more uncomfortable.

His presence alone is a comfort, the image of an overprotective guard dog making you smile once more. It's a moment filled with comfortable silence, the kind you only ever seemed to find with him. You almost don't want it to end, but the cooling of the water and the pruning on your fingertips lets you know it's time to get out.

"Hey," you say, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and making him jerk slightly in surprise. He looks over at you expectantly, eyes averting to the side so he doesn't seem like he's staring. "I think calling it early for the night would be good. Put this shitty day behind me."

"Yeah, I agree," he nods slowly, getting to his feet and heading to the door. "I put some clothes on the counter for you, I'll give you some privacy," he points to the said folded clothes, your gaze following his finger.

"Thanks," you smiled at him and he hummed in response. Miguel was being distant, but you knew the intent was to be for your benefit. Give you the space you had asked for earlier and being there when requested. "I'll meet you in the bedroom." It's more of a way to clarify than anything, you were sure Miguel had already resolved to sleeping on the couch tonight. His wariness seems to lessen, stepping a little lighter as he leaves the bathroom.

You take your time with draining the tub, drying off with a towel and slipping into your pajamas. They're comfortable, baggy and soft on your skin. You fall back into your nightly routine of brushing your teeth, washing your face and even popping a melatonin gummy in your mouth just in case.

Miguel is sitting stiffly in your bed, propped up, under the covers and hands folded together in his lap. It's almost comical, how he looks like a teenage boy awaiting the moment he finally loses his V card, but you don't dare tease him about it. Not when he's been so understanding all evening.

Sliding in beside him, you scoot until your thigh touches his, "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," you tell him, not sure what else to say.

He doesn't miss a beat, "You have nothing to be sorry for, cariño," he reassures you with ease, hesitantly placing a hand on your thigh over the sheets. When you don't flinch away, he gives it a comforting squeeze. "What're you thinking right now? I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours," he attempts to lighten the mood, something you also appreciate.

You scoff, rolling your eyes tiredly, "I don't even know anymore. Everything feels so unreal," you run a hand through your hair, sighing. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. What I'm going to do now, how I'm going to even face him, what's gonna happen at work..."

"Don't worry about that right now," he interjects, "let's just go to bed, like you wanted to. Do you...want me to hold you?"

You nod, Miguel kissing your hairline as the two of you silently adjust until you're in your usual sleeping positions. Miguel on his back, while you slept on your side with one arm and one leg draped over him. One of his arms wrapped under you, a hand resting on your lower back so his thumb could trace small circles into the muscles there. As your body relaxed into his, fitting against his side like it was meant to be there, you felt at peace. At home even.

The firmness of him against your side didn't seem to trigger your traumas anymore, the idea that Miguel and your boss were similar now a distant memory. The fact you had thought of them as so alike seemed silly now. Your boss may be tall, tanned and well built like Miguel, but he wasn't warm like him. His hands had been cold when they violated you, something Miguel's never were. The kind of warmth that seemed to make everything else go away, even if for a moment. The kind that made you feel safe and loved, everything you needed and more. When you needed it most.

Tags: @prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @qiaipia @melovetitties @thedevax @erissco @leo-lvr@stqrlightrs

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #anon ask #lovely anons

[jamesunderwater]

Just found your page and I’m in looveee can I request number 15 with Jily and lily distracting james? tyy xx

Hello anon! I'm glad you're enjoying it here at my chaotic little blog, lol. I also found it very entertaining to still be receiving smut requests xD I wasn't in the mood to write anything too smutty, but I loved the prompt, so I hope you'll still enjoy this little microfic...which in a meta way is also something of a tease (;

Distractions

“Stop distracting me,” he grumbled, tongue returning to its spot sticking out of his mouth. He’d been trying to get the wrapping paper to stay put long enough for him to tape it down for several minutes now, constantly losing one of the sides and inevitably having to work on the fold all over again. Meanwhile his fiance seemed absolutely set on causing his failure. 

Her tongue flicked out over his earlobe again, and James felt the whole right side of his body burst with goosebumps. “This is how you best learn, though,” she teased, taking the soft skin between her teeth, “under pressure.”

He huffed, because she wasn’t wrong, but his determination to succeed was slipping the longer she toyed with him. “You said Petunia’s presents were always so meticulously wrapped it was practically an insult,” he was grumbling again, but it was nearly a pout, “and so here I am, trying to make sure ours are even more insultingly meticulous, and you’re sabotaging the endeavor!”

The bit of tape he’d been trying to use wrapped around his finger as she answered, “Mmhmm…” her lips now moving down to his neck.

“Lily…” James sighed, grip on the wrapping loosening. Suddenly, he winced. “Bugger all!” Pulling away from her, he brought his middle finger to his lips. “Now you’ve gone and gotten me a paper cut. Are you happy?”

It certainly seemed that she was, given that she was now laughing at him. “Oh, poor man. How ever will you survive it?”

“You’re infuriating. Are you aware of that?”

She grinned wickedly, because of course she was aware, and of course she delighted in it. Her expression turned serious, then, and he was sure it was a ruse, but when she reached out and took his finger, he still gave it to her. “Let me see…” She said tenderly. “Oh, this little nick here?” She pulled his finger toward her, kissing the spot softly, and he groaned in anticipation for where this was headed. “Oh, well we can fix that…” 

Lily pressed her lips against his finger, once, twice, then licked across the pad of it slowly, her green eyes staring into his. James shuddered, biting his lip, dropping his gaze to where she was now taking the tip of his finger into her mouth. He groaned as her tongue swirled around it, felt his cock twitch as she let out the softest moan. “Fucking hell…” James breathed, and then she was pulling her head back, smiling at him.

“There. All better.”

“I fucking hate you.”

She laughed, throwing her head back, and the sound of it was more captivating than anything she’d done before. 

“Well, then, you might hate this…” Lily smirked, and James didn’t know what to expect next, but his stomach flipped at the way she was looking at him. 

She pounced, sending him crashing to the floor, her body flush against his in a moment. As he fell, James accidentally kicked the present across the room, sending it crashing into the wall. He imaged the lovely glass ornament shattering in its box, but his hands were on her hips and Lily was biting his bottom lip, slipping her tongue inside his mouth, moaning as she rocked her body into his, and James forgot all about presents and wrapping and paper cuts, even the time of year or the room he was in or what day it was. 

She could, without fail, distract him from everything. 

#jily #jily smut #jily fic #jily microfic #my writing #jily microfic* #james potter #lily evans #lily evans potter #jple #jple smut #smut prompts #lovely anons #jily* #smut*

[v3nusxsky]

Id like to use this to request any fic that you have that you want to publish for your own personal needs, because i vaguely remember you mentioning that whenever you dont publish specifically for us first, you feel guilty. I dont want you to feel guilty for writing and publishing for yourself when you feel like you need to, so thats what this request is for. And it has infinite uses, so if you feel bad for posting something nobody requested, i requested it. 😌🫶🏻

- 🪩

Thank you darling this was a self indulgent fic so I felt like this was the perfect one for your request ♥️

Innocent dove 18+

*A/n I had actually planned a cute fluffy update but this one would not leave my head. Something that I hadn't actually planned on writing ever but let's move on. This is an extra post I'll still be posting later on*

Warnings~ corruption k!nk, dominant Larissa sub reader language? F!ngering strap on! Light Degrading? first time! Mommy kink

Prompt~ see ask^^^

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Larissa Weems, headmistress of Nevermore Academy watched you from afar for years. You intrigued her in a way no one else could. Of course she knew of her staff's personal lives, after all they all spent so much time together it was only natural to work out who was seeing who. Expect for you. Larissa couldn't work out anything about you. And that's what made you even more interesting. Now she knew the basic information, of course she did it was on your file. But anything personal? Not a clue. It was like you locked it away and buried the key. This is what spurred her to try and befriend you. Your dedication to your job was admirable so she started by offering you to her office.

The meeting in the office soon migrated to Larissa coming to you quarters for a class of wine. You began to look forward to those nights. Your first friend of so you thought. Through these meetings Larissa got to know more about you and in return allowed you to know her. One evening on the way to your office with a coffee in hand, a student rushed passed spilling it all down your front. A frustrated sigh left your lips. Today was not your day. Luckily the principles office was a few doors down, this led you to knocking in hopes she could help you. And that she did. She leant you a t-shirt. Not something you imagined the classy women owning but loving how it hung loosely off your frame. Larissa told you to keep it due to it suiting you more than her. And that was how you came to having her shirt. Little did you know Larissa had grown feelings for you that you couldn't even comprehend.

Religion. What a funny thing. You believed you were strong in your faith. But how could you be if you were having the most sinful dreams that you didn't quite understand, about the taller women. Those dreams came to head the one night where you had drank through a little more wine that would be your normal.

Unsure if it was the wine or if it was the tension that had build between you both, Larissa leaned over to your ear and whispered " darling, may I kiss you"

Your face flushed. You'd never been kissed before. Would she find that an odd fact? "I uh I haven't um" you trailed off looking embarrassed. A mischievous glint remained in her eyes as she whispered "I'll be your first then my dear" before she leant in to capture your lips gently. Stunned for a few seconds you just let her kiss you, only then did you gingerly respond moving your lips against hers. You knew this was wrong. Your whole religion frowned upon this. But why did it feel so good? This undeniable feeling of want and desire.

You pulled away, eyes wide with panic, what was god going to thing. You'd have to pray extra hard tonight. Unknowingly in your panicked state you voiced those opinions out loud. "Stay on the ground until your knees hurt, no more praying to a god baby, I'll be your preacher." The blonde women murmured watching your reactions carefully. Delighting in the fact that your eye's darkened with lust for a second.

"La-Larissa? What? Uh this can't it's not right " you mumbled trailing off. This is so confusing after all you want her? But it's not what you've been taught to allow? Sinning was bad. But why did she feel so right?

"Oh my darling, it's more than right. It's perfect. I know you want me Y/n. Your body language practically screams that message. And if this god tells you it's bad what would he say if I admitted my true feelings and desires? Hmm?"

"But my faith is all I have?" You mumbled sounding as if you were questioning yourself.

"Darling your faith is yours. It's up to you to decide what you believe in, but there is nothing wrong with feeling love for anyone. And that's my personal belief. After all doesn't God tell you to love everyone?" She quizzed never removing herself from your personal space.

Maybe it was the wine, you subconsciously followed your deep desires. You launched yourself at her once more. Lips finding hers, the need and desperation evident. Only pulling back when your need for oxygen became apparent. "I want you" you mumbled against her lips, oh if only you knew what you'd just asked for.

Smirking she held your gaze wanting to know you really understood her here. "Darling, you've never done anything like this and believe me I long to be your first but I don't want to pressure you here. I need to know you want this" her tone left no room for any argument. You nodded giving In totally to your own instinct.

"Words my darling" she reminded you in which you quickly responded "please" in a whine you'd never even knew you could create. In a foggy haze you were led back to Larissa's quarters. Almost on autopilot. What were you doing? How could someone have such an effect on you?

You were laid back on the bed, looking up at the older women, her lips moving but the words not really sinking in. "Darling you need to listen to me" was what snapped you back into the reality. This isn't a dream? "You are so innocent my little dove. So here is how this works. I'll help you. Oh baby I'll take you back to church, you'll be mine. All you have to do is be a good girl for me can you do that?" She all but purred out watching as you shivered in excitement before whimpering out a yes.

"Red means stop I want you to say it whenever you don't feel safe or what to stop, it's your first and although i want you as mine doesn't mean I desire to hurt you. Yellow means you have a question or want to change something but not stop completely okay? Yellow will open up the line of communication to allow me to adjust whatever you need. You being comfortable will always be at the top of my list okay dove?" Larissa explained to you wanting you to understand this was all under your control.

"Wh- uh can you- do you get to say them" you mumbled out confused. "Oh my dove I won't need to use them but yes it would extend to me too." She reassured, "now darling can we start?"

"Yes" was all you managed before her lips once again found yours. More demanding this time. Lust finally taking over you both. Wandering hands made quick work of your clothing until you were bare and at her mercy. She watched as you squirmed against her lingering gaze, allowing your insecurities to show. After all this is the first time you'd ever been this vulnerable and on show. Larissa was enjoying watching you squirm for her. "Oh pretty girl, don't be shy you're beautiful baby" was whispered against your skin as she trailed kisses down your neck before making her way to your breast. Only then did she take the perky bud into her lips. The sounds you were making were ones so pure spurring your older women on. You were so innocent and she craved to destroy it.

After lavishing your breasts with attention Larissa dragged her attention south. "What's the colour pretty one?" She murmured against your stomach.

"Gr-een please" was all it took for her to continue her journey. "Pretty one I'm going to baptise in your thighs till I can't breathe." And with that Larissa focused her attention your aching core. Absolutely soaked for her. Of course taking it slowly, wanting to savour the feeling of breaking down your innocence. You're moans of delight we're filling the room as she worked between your thighs. Slowly exploring your soaked folds. Your whimpers and whines of delight following freely as you chased whatever unfamiliar feeling was burning within you. Your thighs shaking as they closed in around her head. All tale tale signs that you were very much enjoying her ministrations. However enjoyable this was the older women craved to see the change in your eyes as she ruined you. That was the one desire and reason why she pulled away from your drenched core. You whimpered out of need and displeasure at the sensation leaving you.

"Rissa? No please I god please I need..." you trailed off not knowing what you needed. "Oh my pretty one you enjoyed that hmm?" Causing you to whimper out and nod in confrontation unable to word what you wanted to say.

"Oh darling don't you worry I'm not done with you. That was just the start my love. Would you like to continue?" She questioned as she walked round her room looking for her chosen item. Once you confirmed that you wanted her only then did Larissa strip down to match your level of clothing. You watched through half lidded eyes, the sight aiding your arousal that was now soaking your thighs.

Larissa quickly adorned her favourite strap on which would pleasure the both of you simultaneously. She delighted in your little scared gasp, eyes blown wide open just looking at the sheer sight of her. "Rissa? That's not gonna fit" you blurted out panic evident in your voice.

"Hush pretty one it will fit you're more than capable of taking all of me. In fact you will take it all bc your my good girl hmm" she all but purred at you hoping to ease some of the tension. You seemed to respond marvellously well to her praise and touch so it was only natural you whined at the good girl part.

Larissa settled herself between your thighs once more. Her hand coming up to hold yours as she lined herself up effectively coating the fake cock in your slickness, watching as you held your breath. You'd heard stories of course. And you heard it would hurt but you were unsure how much? "Darling you need to breathe for me" Larissa reminded you and you took a shaky breath. "Pretty one keep your eyes open I want to see the innocence drain from your beautiful irises as I take you. You'll never belong to anyone but me and we both know you'd love that hmm?" Doing as you were instructed you kept your eyes trained on the women who was now gently slipping into your soaked core. The cry tore from your lips as you felt a stinging burning pain. Tears filled your eyes as you desperately tried to keep them open. Once in Larissa stilled, allowing you adjust to her intrusion and whispering comforting words into your ear. "Such a good girl for me y/n. You're okay darling it won't last long. Such a good girl. You're mine now y/n. I'm so proud of you. That's it baby relax for me"

The pain defused into pleasure causing a loud moan to rip through you. "Mommy oh-" you whined. "Sorry sorry I don't know why I said that oh fuck please I'm sorry" you whimpered out your apologies.

"Oh my pretty baby I know why you said that. And I loved it. Say it again" she growled into your ear.

"Mommy please fuck I don't know what but please" you whined now only feeling the pleasure of being so deliciously filled.

"Such a good slut for mommy" was the final sentence whispered before Larissa withdrew just to the tip before pushing back in. Still mindful that it could still hurt. But if your moans were any indication to go by the painful part was over. You were hers. And who would've knew you had a mommy kink?

There was that feeling again. You found yourself chasing it. The curiosity of not understanding what was happening but knowing whatever it was felt amazing souring you on alongside the moans of the older women. It didn't take Larissa long to have you a whimpering mess below her. The tale tale signs of a climax painfully close were obvious to her yet you had no clue. Begging and pleading for the unknown. "Mommy please fuck god please I need something" you whined causing her to snake her hand between you both and circle your clit. That was all it took to throw you off the edge.  " oh my god o irrumabo mammam i deus larisaa" you all but screamed out at the overwhelming new sensations. (oh fuck mommy i god Larissa) you had switched languages half way through due to the strong waves of pleasure clouding your mind. The perk of being the language professor meant you knew a fair few languages but Latin being one of your favourites, so it wasn't surprising that's what you swapped to. The Latin mixing with your mewls of pleasure is what threw Larissa over the edge alongside you.

Once you'd both calmed down, she slipped out of you causing a whine of discomfort. "Oh my pretty girl did mommy make you sore?" She questioned with a caring tone. You just whimpered in response. Exhaustion clouding your mind. You almost missed when she asked if you needed something. You just reached your arms outwards and did the grabby hands signalling for a cuddle which was happily given. "Rest now pretty one, if your agreeable mommy would like to play with her good girl in a few hours." She whispered pressing light kisses to your head as you snuggled onto her chest. A sleepy hum of agreement was all you managed before sleep claimed you.

Word count ~ 2504

#fanfic #anon answered #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa x you #larissa weems smut #principal larissa weems x reader #lovely anons #love you all