I Hope I'm In Your Dreams (The Way You Are In All Of My Mine) - M.g.

☾ † “You’re pretty, but not too pretty to get facefucked.” Frank + werewolf au

𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝓀 | ᠻ.ᥴ.

fandom marvel

featuring alpha!werewolf!frank castle x bratty!omega!reader (f)

rating NSFW / MINORS DNI

content warning A/B/O dynamics, dubcon, facefucking, knotting, Frank’s an asshole, slight hatefucking, suggested age gap (reader is 18+)

summary your alpha’s got an interesting way to keep the pack in line.

word count 1.6k / mini musing

attention part of my fright nights event! not proofread; do not copy/repost/translate. please reblog ❤️

you can hear him from outside, the baritone reverberating as he tears into the betas and you find yourself fidgeting. he’s hollering so loud that his voice sounds like thunder, and you can envision the bulging vein on the side of his throat and the look in his dangerous gaze, the fire and fury that must be there.

you don’t move a muscle when he stomps inside, the heavy door slamming against the wall as he does so— your eyes cast down to avoid his glaring, though you can feel it burning through you.

the betas were all retreating with their tails tucked between their legs after their reaming, and you were next in line to be torn apart.

maybe you deserved it.

“Y’aint got anything to say?” Frank challenges as he steps close to you, chest puffed and heaving. his breathing is already ragged, like chewing out the betas had riled him into a feral state. “That’s a fuckin’ first.”

inhale. exhale. you tried to keep your heart from pounding and your breathing steady, but he was so close that you were taking in his warmth. hold your ground. “Do you want me to repeat myself?” you reply, acid dripping from your tongue as your eyes flicker up to meet his. any time the pack had a rally, it seemed that you always had a problem with at least one thing Frank had to say, a vision he has for the pack or a new stipulation he was implementing. everyone else did, too, but you were the only one brave or stupid enough to call him out.

“Nah, i don’t wantcha to repeat yourself—“ grinding his teeth, Frank reaches out and grabs your face with one hand, the pads of his fingers hollowing your cheeks as they press into them, and you wince, brows knitting together, “I want you to show me some Goddamn respect,” he hisses, leaning in close, “Learn your place, Omega.”

your eyes narrow, your pride getting the better of you, and against every ounce of common sense in your body, your lips part to speak again. “You have enough of the pack kissing your ass, I’m not going to be one of them.”

for several seconds following the quip, Frank only glares. his jaw is tight and working, fingers squeezing your face to the point of aching, before he releases you, shoving your head back as he does so. the force is so great that you stagger a couple of steps back to keep yourself upright. “I’m gettin’ real sick of that mouth of yours, someone’s gotta teach you to keep it shut.” as he speaks, he paces the room, both hands finding his belt. the leather shrieks as he yanks it free from the loops. “I got just the thing for you, puppy, now get on your fucking knees.”

you’re too busy massaging your sore jaw that you’re almost certain you mishear him. your countenance twists into one of distaste and you take a step back, “What? What are you going to do?”

“Teach you a very important lesson,” he insists as he steps closer, cracking the belt like a whip against the floor by his feet, “from now on, when you open that mouth, I’m gonna stuff it full of cock. Maybe it’ll teach you to think twice about saying anything at all.”

“You can’t—“

Frank’s brow quirks, “Oh yeah? Why not?” he scoffs, wrapping one end of the leather around his powerful hand. “Think you’re too good for it? I gotta tell you, little girl, you’re pretty, but not too pretty to get facefucked. On your knees. Don’t make me ask you again.”

this time, you knew better than to test him. it might’ve been the first time since he took over that you didn’t push your luck, but his eyes were wild and furious; you were never the type to pick your battles, but you found yourself avoiding this one as you drop to your knees— reluctantly obedient.

“Good. Open wide, pup.”

you do as instructed, albeit whilst also glaring up at him. your tongue hangs over the cusp of your bottom lip as an invitation. you find yourself salivating as you watch him undo his fly and do away with the pesky garments all together, the faded denim bunching up around his ankles, spilling over worn combat boots. his member, when pulled from a fabric prison, is already twitching and hardening in his palm, which he greases with spit and pumps himself to full attention. you soak through your panties in anticipation, shifting on your knees. he’s damn thick, with throbbing veins etching over his mighty inches, and a broad, red tip.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” he taunts, slapping the underside of his tool against your waiting tongue a couple of times with a tight-lipped grin. your breath on him, the stimulation from your nubbed tongue was enough to coax a hungry growl from deep within his throat. “What’s the matter, huh? Got one look at this fat cock and now you know I’m the one in charge? Or maybe you’re just all kinds ‘a content now, because this is exactly what you wanted in the first place.”

there’s a glimmer in your hues, a sparkle of loathing, of anger at his words. your pride getting the best of you, maybe, but he catches it, anyways. hooking the belt around the back of your head, he grips either side and urges his manhood beyond the threshold of your cavern with a powerful thrust of his hips. “Stare daggers all ya want for as long as you have any fuckin’ dignity, pup, because your alpha’s about to fuck it out of ya.”

you wouldn’t admit it, but there was an inkling of excitement within you, anticipating that the alpha would make good on his word.

his pace is not an easy one to adjust to, quick and sharp bucking that drives his the better half of his cock deep into your mouth, threatening to prod the back of your throat, already. regardless of the way you gargle, he doesn’t ease up. the belt working in tandem with his rhythm, forcing you to take as much as he wants, not as much as you think you can take.

“Tell you what,” he grunts, brows furrowed with his chin jabbing into his heaving chest so he can watch you gag on his girth, the imprint of his size bulging from your cheek when he shifts the angle— every time you whine, his lips threaten a proud curve, “I like you a whole lot more when your mouth is too full of dick to say a word, those pretty lips ‘a yours stretched around my fucking cock, you make a damn good little sheath, dontcha?”

if you could form anything coherent, you would’ve unleashed a verbal barrage Frank couldn’t even begin to expect— but your hatred for your alpha wanes in comparison to the arousal you feel when getting him off, the obscene and delicious flavor of his musk on your tongue, the way his thickness has your tiers pulled taut around it, oozing drool from the corners of your mouth to glaze your chin and drip a cocktail of spit and precum on to your top. so you furrow your brows, fiery gaze the best you could muster, and nod anyways. nod because you know that it’s true, you were being abused by the beast above you, and you were eating it up.

“Good pup.” he moans, knuckles white against the belt as he pulls you down further. far enough to feel the bulbous knot pop behind your teeth, essentially locking his cock in place in your cavern. maximum capacity, that’s what you’re thinking— his tip is nudging the back of your throat, his girth keeps your mouth extended until your jaw aches. and the pulsating knot ensures he won’t be pulling out until he cums. “You know what good pups get? Big, fuckin’ loads down their throats.” as if to punctuate his statement, Frank braces his feet against the floor, and jackhammer himself into you, his heavy balls slapping your chin and dragging strings of gooey spit like spider webs back from it. his knot hits the back of your teeth over and over, keeping him from pulling out in his furious rutting. you choke on him as he spears your throat with the engorged head until one final and cruel thrust buries him to the hilt into your mouth. a flood of warmth pours into your gorge. at first, you gag, pushing his seed to spill on to your tongue and leak along the distended seam of your sore couplet.

“Ah, fuck.” he exhales, cock twitching as it expels the final wave of ejaculate, that last, pent up, shaking climax before the pesky knot has all but disappeared into his sex, allowing him to pull himself free.

you sputter when finally granted the emptiness your aching maw craved, his cum staining your top and leaving flyaway hairs sticking to your shiny chin. “S—satisfied, now?” it was meant to sound sarcastic, but instead came out meek and hopeful. instantly, you cursed yourself.

Frank smirks, wrenching the belt from your head and fastening his pants around his waist, tucking himself back inside. “You want me to tell you that you’re good at getting that mug fucked?” he scoffs, amused, and squats in front of you, eye level with you for the first time tonight. you swallow hard, tasting his cum in your saliva. dark eyes flicker, admiring your soiled countenance, before he cocks his head, “Next time, it’ll be your sweet, little cunt that I fuck into submission, pup.”

what has miguel done to me??? i’m primarily a fluff writer yet i’m working on my third and fourth smut for this man,, someone sedate me!

I think monsterfucking is about vulnerability. When you think about it

another miguel thought has entered my mind but I’m gonna finish my request first and then write this new one

nooooo haha don’t choke me while you’re inside of me 👀👀 ahaha oh nooo it’ll make me feel all tight around your cock if you wrap your hand around my throat to steady yourself while you keep thrusting 👀👀👀

The way that I wanna dom the shit out of Steven Grant…

🥹🥹🥹 <- that’s me bc you called this a piece of art

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader (actually really happy ab it bc I always wanted to write latina!reader for myself 😊).

Translation Reblog

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darling i love you so much for making this man into an OC and i loved this fic so much!! you did a wonderful job <333

“A Changed Man” – Henry Wilson (Shivering Soldier) x Reader (”Dunkirk”)

[ MASTERLIST ]

SUMMARY: Henry’s not the same man as he used to be before the war. He’s cold, distant and rarely at home in the evening. One night your husband surprises you in the bedroom as well.

REQUEST: Well, the idea was mine, but some of you really liked it, so… 👀 Blame it on @haileyybird​ tho 🤭

AUTHOR’S NOTE: You will probably notice that it’s much better than my usual stories. It’s because @tommydoesntpayforsuits​ was my Beta Reader and at this point she basically co-wrote this. We spent almost 9 hours on it… Yes, we need help. 🤣 Honestly, though, I can’t express how thankful I am for her help. 🥰

WHO IS HENRY WILSON?: Basically, he’s an OC based on Shivering Soldier from “Dunkirk”. He’s an old-fashioned gentleman from rural England and a family man with a sense of duty. He’s also interested in botany.

CONTAINS: dom Henry, traditional husband / wife dynamics, oral sex, breeding kink

WARNING: English is my second language.

WORD COUNT: 3,480

🔞 NSFW UNDER THE CUT AND 18+

Keep reading

Come Away With Me

Come Away With Me

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Kink: Anasteemaphilia - a sexual preference for partners of a vastly different height than oneself. It can present as a preference for partners who are significantly shorter or partners who are significantly taller.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, murder, blood, gore, kidnapping, noncon (like for real dark shit), dirty talk, light praise

Relationships: Troll!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2162

A/N: Troll - a dwarf or giant in Scandinavian folklore inhabiting caves or hills. We have gone with LARGE for this one pals... an uh he makes it fit. You can thank my 2am stomach ache for this one.

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. I have discontinued my taglist - follow @slothspaghettilibrary to be notified of when I post new fics.

You crossed the bridge every day. A song quietly falling from your lips as you pushed your small cart to the market and then home again in the evening. It was tiring work; the load was heavy, and the coin never truly enough, but you didn’t quit. It was too safe a job for someone like you to give up on. The stories you’d heard about women working outside the market always sent a shiver down your spine. You were safer out in the open than you would in a pub or a dark bookstore.

You would also miss your friend.

He’s shy, doesn’t really say much of anything, but he’s sweet. Well, you assume it’s a he, and that he is real and not just some coyotes in the woods or local kids being mean. You leave small amounts of fruits and vegetables and flowers for him, nothing special. The bridge between the village and your cottage is old and magic, or so your grandmother told you. It just became a habit when you took over the cart to leave an offering of sorts on the bridge.

Each evening you'd leave what you could afford and each morning it would be gone. Sometimes certain vegetables were left behind, carrots in particular. Your friend seemed to really enjoy when you left plums. Though the tree was still young, it bore small amounts of fruit this season. When you left one behind, a little bruised and misshapen, the next morning you found an old hat where you always left your offering.

The cap was battered and worn, a small emblem on it had been ripped off and there was a hole in it, but the plum pit that sat on top told you it was the bridge, or the spirit of the bridge thanking you for your offering. You didn't want to question it, didn't think about it, because suddenly the long days and early mornings were just a little better. You wore the old hat from that day on.

But the villagers they didn't like that. When you explained to the fishmonger how you came across it, one morning after he'd asked, he sneered and turned up his nose. The cobbler did the same, as did the entire market thereafter. Rumors spread that you were some heretic, not to be spoken to or to have dealings with. On the busiest day of the week, you sold barely anything. And that pattern continued, your cart just as heavy as it had been at the start of the day.

Your offering grew smaller, unable to afford to give any more. But still you weren’t making ends meet. So you did something you promised your grandmother you wouldn’t do. You got a job at the pub as a barmaid. Guilt swirled in your belly that first evening when you had nothing to offer the bridge. The handful of coins you had earned were carefully stashed in the lining of your coat since it was so late at night. There were no lovely plums or flowers to be offered. You stood in the middle of it, trying to decide what to do. Did you leave a coin and risk it being stolen, or do you leave nothing and hope that misfortune doesn’t befall you further?

“Oi, bridge bitch,” someone shouted in the darkness, their voice slurring into the cool night air. “Y-ou wanna give me an off-erring?”

You clutched your coat tighter around your chest, frozen in fear as the burly man stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. You pressed yourself into the stone railing as he approached you, a breath trapped in your chest. He plucked your hat off your head and tossed it over the side. You felt the tears burn your eyes, your voice lost on your tongue.

“You wanna offer me-me that-”

The sentence was never finished. A giant, scarred hand grabbed his head, crushing his skull with a simple squeeze. Blood and visceral spewed from between the meaty fingers, spraying across your front. Every part of you shook, a heavy breath nearly blowing you over as the hand released the lifeless body. The hand shook off the bits carelessly, flinging chunks across the bridge and making bile ride in your throat.

A rush of cool air behind you and suddenly you were standing face to face with… with a…

"T-tr-troll," you squeaked, head tilted all the way back to look at his scarred features. "I-I-I-I-"

You were caught in a loop, unable to scream in terror, unable to run, just a stuttering mess standing before one of the most feared creatures in the world. You dropped your gaze when his piercing blue eyes became too much. In his clean hand, your cap was pinched between two fingers.

"Here, plum," he set the hat back on your head. "Hafta make sure everyone knows you're Bucky's."

"Bucky?" Your lips trembled as the large fingers caressed your face, tracing your cheek and sliding down to your throat. His big thumb pulled at your bottom lip.

"Yeah, me, this is my bridge and you are my precious… tiny… plum."

Fat tears slipped down your cheek. Your body trembled under the immense weight of his stare, blue eyes being swallowed up by his pupils. The heat radiating from his tarnish body caused sweat to form under your thick coat. Every part of him was built to stomp and crush and kill.

What had you done?

"No, no, no little plum, no tears. I've been dreaming about this night." He tried to smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth, but all you could think of was how they'd feel ripping your flesh from the bones. A sob rattled your chest. "I rescued you, l-like a knight, and I'm gonna take you away from all of this. I used all your gifts, I planted a garden for-for us and-and-”

He yanked you into his chest, crushing your cheek into the worn and sweaty material of his shirt. Hands, terrifyingly large and strong, roamed over your body, felt your body tremble under him, but they didn’t stop. Bucky lifted you into the air until your face nearly touched his, more hiccuped cries pouring from your mouth.

“P-puh-please,” you sobbed. "I just wanna go home."

"Shh, it's okay, plum, we'll go home," he whispered, rubbing his nose against yours, like he was trying to soothe you.

You didn't fight as the troll carried you away, leaping over the bridge and causing you to shriek in terror. Whatever life you had before was dead, either because of your own doings leading up to this point or from the monster now taking control. If you survived, made it back to the village somehow, you would no doubt be blamed for murder. Your luck had truly soured. The gods had turned their backs on you. You’d never see your grandmother again.

Bucky’s barbarous steps shook the trees and made the ground quake as he crouched under the bridge.

“Watch this,” he murmured, shrugging his shoulder to force your head up.

Your weak sniffle echoed around the arch. You stared at the dry stone wall, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes to try and stop the tears. A nervous smile spread across his barrelled towards the wall. Before the choked sound could pass your lips, the wall shimmered into nothing, revealing a lush valley that practically glowed in the moonlight. Your heart leapt into your throat.

At the center of the valley was a stone hut, a blazing fire crackled and crickets chirped. Bucky walked down the short hill talking the whole way about plans he had for you, for him, for both of you. He kicked open the door, and you were struck by how massive everything was. It was all troll size, of course, from the pans that hung over the fireplace to the washbasin to the bed that was tucked into the far corner of the room. Dried flowers and sprigs of herbs you had left as offerings hung on one fall, as did a ribbon you’d lost on a windy day a few weeks ago. Though it was stained with something now, the satin ruined.

He was still holding you.

“I-I-I had a lots a plans, was going to add more to the house, this wasn’t h-how I wanted it to look when you got here, but I couldn’t not save you. Nobody hurts my plum.” He squeezed you, forcing the air from your lungs when his fingered curled so tightly together they almost touched.

“Bucky,” you said, gasping for air and clawing at his hands.

He looked down at you. Your pleading gaze meeting the same strange one from the bridge. His eyes dilated as they flicked from his hold around your waist to your face. A tight knot formed in your chest as the hunger you saw in his gaze. The harder you tried to breathe, the more your vision blurred.

“Lotta plans, little plum, but they-they don’t really matter anymore.”

Just when you thought you might explode or pass out, his grip released. You collapsed onto the bed and ragged, quaking breaths tearing your throat apart. The sheet smelled surprisingly fresh, like roses and violets you’d grow at home. A hand wrapped around your leg, pulled you to the edge harshly. Bucky snapped and tore at your clothes, tossing the shreds to the far side of the room until you were left naked and shivering below him. You begged him to stop, but he refused to listen.

"Every part of you is so… tiny." He breathed, hands dragging up your legs, your hips, all the way to your face. "I could crush you, rip you right in half."

He brought his weight down to your pelvis when you tried to squirm away, heavy cock pressed against your tummy

"No," you sobbed, fresh tears burning your eyes. "Please, I haven't-"

"Plum," he groaned, biting off the end of your confession. His lips crashed down on yours, devoured and consumed your cries. "Knew you were going to be the one, knew you'd be so sweet and ripe for me."

With your body still pinned beneath him, he removed his clothes. More scars were revealed, old jagged marks that had long since healed but looked so angry, showed what damage he could do and take. You refused to look lower than his chest, terrified of what you'd find. The trembling returned to your body as you tried to hold back your tears. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and you squeezed your eyes shut.

It felt bigger, hotter, harder outside of his trousers. He rubbed his cock against your stomach, whimpering at the friction against your soft skin. Precum flowed from his cock, soaking your skin in his slimy essence.

"S-s-so beautiful, little plum. Just like I dreamed about. So perfect. Fuck, g-gon-na fill you up so good. Promise I'll be as gentle."

His hands easily wrapped around your thighs, spreading them to the point of pain until he could fit his hips between them.

A scream, filled with anguish and defeat, tore through your throat when he prodded at your dry cunt. He stopped almost instantly, not removing what little of himself he'd shoved into you, but not going any further. You couldn't see his face, couldn't tell if he was enjoying your pain or taking greater pleasure in it. His monstrous thumb traced patterns against the inside of your thighs, moving higher and higher until he was stroking your clit.

"Stay still plum, this will m-make it better, easier. Just let me take care of you."

He forced pleasure on to you. Bucky pressed kisses against your tear-stained cheeks, licked and sucked at the skin around your neck and shoulder. Shocks and shivers rained down your spine, the tension building in the base of your neck made your muscles shake. His thumbs kept toying with your body, swirling and rubbing and pinching. Your hands twisted the sheets beside you, heat rolled through your body. His cock eased deeper into you, your traitorous body sucking him the slicker your pussy got.

"That's it, plum, doing so good. Kn-knew you could take it, fit my cock in your b-b-bitty body. Just need to c-cum and I'll be able to slide right in."

You shook your head, even as your body seemed to agree with his words. The tension inside you wound tighter and tighter, forcing your back off the bed until it snapped. Your vision swam as your pussy fluttered around the tip of his cock. Bucky bit down hard into your shoulder, his hips trying to pulse forward to fully enjoy your wet heat.

"I can't," you whimpered as he pushed in deeper. "I can't, I can't. Please, Bucky, no more."

"Plum, don't fight, promi-ise it'll fit. Promise, I'm gonna make it fit. Cause you're my little, tiny precious plum."

hii friend, i read your tom grant fic and i’m obsessed with it!! would you ever write for joseph quinn the actor? if you can could you maybe write something about joe and reader trying for a baby? if not it’s totally fine :) have a great day or night <333

trying ~ joseph quinn x reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut ofc, 18+ only please <3, breeding kink, unprotected sex (duh), breeding press (aka my weakness), EXTREMELY fluffy and mushy, discussions of pregnancy, multiple orgasms, joe steals the reader's birth control for like 4 seconds, reader is into it but acting neutral because she wants him to beg more lmao, joe makes reader come up with baby names during sex... it's freaky guys

As you turned your head to the side to look at him— laughing gently as he raised his glass to his lips, listening to a friend's story about how she got kicked out of a pub over a complicated misunderstanding— you smiled, too, and reached to give his knee a quick squeeze through his jeans.  He looked back at you, offering a little smile just for you, and the conversation continued.

Later, when dinner was completed and the conversation had moved from the outdoor patio back to inside the flat, you were helping with dishes when the baby monitor went off.  It was just a little at first, just a strange groaning noise coming through it, and then you saw the lights flash brighter and heard a proper cry between bouts of static.  Drying your hands quickly, you popped your head out of the kitchen and saw the hostess first, thankfully.

"Jess, the monitor?" you informed her, interrupting a conversation as she turned.  

"Oh, thank you," she sighed, excusing herself and slipping down the hall.

Joe, a member of the abandoned discussion, gave you a little cringe: "I hope we didn't wake her," he said.

"Oh, I doubt it," you assured him, "babies just wake up often."

Jess came back a few minutes later, and to everyone's pleasant surprise, she brought baby Cleo with her.  Everyone was already in a chorus of "aww"s before she'd even explained why she was bringing her out; "I think she just wants some attention," Jess explained, and dinner guests began to gather around where Jess was standing with Cleo on her hip.

You waited until all the dishes were done to go out there and see the baby yourself, but by the time you came out, you were surprised to see her on Joe's knee— or maybe you were more surprised to see Joe acting a complete fool, making silly faces and noises at her to get her to smile.  

"Oh, just in time," someone else noticed your arrival, "your boyfriend's fallen madly in love with this baby."

"That's a shame," you joked as you sat down next to him, "he was supposed to come home with me tonight."

You gave Joseph a kiss on the cheek, noticing Cleo's massive blue eyes on you as you leaned in closer to him.  You mouthed hi! and waved at her, as she continued to examine you.

Her eyes followed your hand as you reached forward and hesitantly tickled her belly through the star-dotted onesie she had on, and she finally gave you a smile; you'd earned approval, for now.  "Hi Cleo!" you greeted her aloud, tickling her tummy again, and she kicked her legs as Joe held her up on his knee.

"How old did you say she was again?" Joe asked Jess, without looking away from Cleo until he actually heard her answering.

"Seven months," Jess replied.

"Oh," Joe nodded, "is it easier now than when she was born?"

"She sleeps longer," Jess decided, "and I actually have some vague idea of what I'm doing, so that's nice."

Joe smiled and looked back at Cleo, who was looking at you as you talked to her about whatever you could think of.  He moved her in closer to his lap, where her attention was suddenly taken by his necklace; he let her grab and tug on it for a while, until she yanked hard enough to be able to reach up and start pulling on his hair next.

"Ow," Joe frowned, and you laughed at his predicament— he was forced to stay hunched over in his own lap as she balled her fists in his curls.

"Oh, sorry, she's really into hair pulling right now," Jess cringed, reaching forward to try to help unlatch those little chubby hands.  Eventually she was able to get her free, but of course, like anyone forced to stop touching Joseph's curls, she started to get upset.  Just a little pout at first, then a whimper, then a proper cry.  "Oh no," Jess mumbled, lifting her out of Joe's lap— though he started to reach for her again, before he stopped himself.

"Did I make her cry?" Joe asked, the genuine heartbreak in his voice making your own chest tighten.

"No, no, she's just fussy," Jess promised, "she's probably wet— I'll go change her."

Joe turned back to you and you reached up to brush your hand over his hair.  "Looked like she was really going for it there," you noticed.  "She didn't actually manage to rip any out, did she?"

But he didn't answer your question, instead blurting out, "I want one."

You laughed a little.  "Well, when someone picks it up and takes it away to change the diaper, I'm sure it seems very appealing," you noticed.

He pouted a little, but the conversation changed before you could really press him on it— and all too soon, the evening came to a close.  Jess thanked you for your help with everything, you insisted you wouldn’t let her host a dinner party on her own when she had a baby to take care of; Joe asked if he could say goodbye to her, but Jess explained that she was down for hopefully the entire night but promised they’d have another playdate soon.

You could tell Joe really was enamored by Cleo, due in part to how silent he was on the ride home.  Then you got home, and he tolerated you making conversation about the party and the other guests, but there was that distance in his eyes.

“You’re still thinking about Cleo, aren’t you?” you noticed.

“Hm?  Oh,” he sighed, sitting down on the couch.  “Yeah, I am.  She was so little!”

You laughed.  “Yeah, I hear most babies are like that.”

“But she was so cute, god, you saw she looks just like Jess already,” he described, laying his head back on the couch, “but, you know, all fat and adorable.”

“Those blue eyes are her dad’s, though,” you recalled.

“Really?” Joe smiled— his cheeks seemed a little flushed, suddenly.

“C’mon, let’s get our teeth brushed and all so we can go to sleep,” you insisted, grabbing Joe’s hand and pulling him up off the couch, “some of us had a little more work to do tonight than just playing around with a baby.”

~

He was doing that thing he did, where he wanted to say something but he hadn't found either the words or the nerve yet.  But you could never get him to spit it out until he was ready, so you just sighed and let him stare at you as you got ready for bed.

Eventually he got in bed by himself, where he liked to wait for you until you were done with your routine, but you were having a hard time wrapping up since you couldn't find the final step.  I swear I left them right here…

You rifled through the medicine cabinet for a bit, frowning.  "Babe, have you seen my pills?"

"Um, yeah," he called back, "they're right here."

You came out to the bedroom to find him sitting up in the bed, holding the pack in his hand.  "Give me those," you instructed.

"I will— I just wanna talk first."

"Joseph."

He frowned and tossed you the packet, which landed in your hands with a rattle.  Before you'd even started to pop one out, he was jumping up to give you a tight hug.  "Please, darling?" he whined, bending down and laying his head on your chest.  "Please, please please—"

A second later, he was literally on his knees before you, clutching your legs, his chin resting on your hip as you looked down at him.  "You're serious?" you noticed.

"It'll be so great, won't it?  Our baby.  You and me."

"It'll be great—"

"Yes!"

"— and incredibly difficult!  You realize that they just keep growing up, right?"

"That's the best part!" he beamed.  "Kids are even better than babies!"

"And teenagers?" you prompted crossing your arms.

"No no, don't do that," he pouted, reaching up to gently pull your arms open again, "you do that when you're about to say no to me."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, letting him hold your hands down by his face as he squeezed them a little.

"Yeah, teenagers can be annoying, sure," he continued, "but they're fun— you can really talk with them then.  C'mon, I know you think I'm crazy but I really mean it.  I wanna have a family."

"It's all pretty sudden, Joe… you saw one baby today for, like, an hour— and then you stole my pills!"

"Okay, first of all,” he defended, “I just… borrowed them.”

“Right.”

“And second of all, it’s not as sudden as you think.  I've wanted this for so long, you have no idea,” he admitted.  “I mean, really— since we met, I've been thinking about this."

You raised your eyebrows.  "Really?  And did you plan to ever make me privy to those thoughts?"

"Well… I am now!" he smiled, batting his eyelashes up at you.  You sighed, and he stood up again, still clutching your hands.  "It's okay if you don't want this, but seeing Cleo just made me wonder why I've been waiting so long.  If I had it my way, you'd already be pregnant."

And it was impossible to keep hiding your smile when he said that.  "I've been thinking about it too, Joe."

"Really?" he whispered, and you nodded.  He hummed and gave you a kiss on the forehead; you wrapped your arms around his torso, laughing as he pulled you back onto the bed.  "What did you think about?" he asked as he started to kiss down to your neck.

"Well— I mean, I just thought about it sometimes," you sighed.  "What it would be like if you and I…"

"Yeah?"

"But it was just a fantasy!" you interrupted yourself.

"Let's make fantasy a reality, darling,” he purred, “don't take your pills tonight.  Actually, you can just throw them out."

You whined as he rolled you onto your back, pressing his weight into you.

"Please, love?  I want a baby so bad…" he whispered.

"I know," you breathed.

"You want it too, right?  I know you do."

"And you do understand I'm not going to get pregnant tonight just because I'm not taking the pill?" you pointed out.

"So you're gonna stop taking them?" he grinned.

"I mean… I'm thinking about it," you admitted.

"Yeah, it won't be right away— that's the fun part, right?  Trying.  We can tell people we’re trying."

"Ew," you frowned, "let's not tell people that.  It's just a socially-appropriate way of saying that we're constantly fucking."

"Yeah!  That's why it's fun to say," he laughed.  "Even if it won't happen tonight… we can still start practicing for when it really happens."

"Are you out of practice, suddenly?" you snorted.  "Seems like you've been getting some practice in a couple times a week for the last— how long's it been, two years?"

"No, darling, this is different," he explained.  "This isn't just fucking.  It's… making love."

You rolled your eyes.  "Oh, that's ridiculous."

"It's not!  It's supposed to be special, making a baby and all," he whispered.  "It won't be like what we usually do— no… hair-pulling, or anything…"

You frowned.  "Well what's the fun in that?"

"The fun is that I'm going to get you pregnant," he explained, lowering his voice.  "And it's gonna be my baby in you."

You bit your lip.  He smiled, tapping you on the end of your nose with his finger.

“Gimme those pills, love, I’ll go chuck them for you now.”

“Joeeyyy,” you whined, the way you only did when he was doing something that made you wet against your better judgment.

He reached for your hand to take them away, but you laughed as you turned on your side and curled up so he couldn’t get to them.  “You’re not going to make me take them from you, are you, sweetheart?”

“I mean, how bad do you want me off of them?” you challenged.

“Oh, don’t play with me now,” he warned with a purr, “you know I’m dead serious.”

You shrugged.  “Are you though, really?”

He growled and started to 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

“Then why don’t we go ahead and make a baby about it?” he encouraged.

You laughed, but nodded.  “Okay.”

“Okay?” he beamed.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you decided.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, kissing you hard as you kept smiling, “oh god, angel— I love you so much.”

He helped strip you of your pajamas— gently, but efficiently— as he kissed all over your heated skin.  He continued whispering praises and thank yous and promises to get you pregnant as soon as he could

“I can’t wait, I really can’t wait,” he rushed against your neck, hands tight on your waist, “can you?”

You shook your head.

“I just know you’re gonna look so pretty pregnant,” he breathed, one hand ghosting over your stomach.  “My baby, right here, making you all big— you’re gonna be fucking gorgeous.”

That was bad enough, and then his hand started moving lower and lower; of course you spread your legs for him right away, why wouldn’t you?  He still mocked you quietly, though, asking if you really needed him that bad.  You really did.

He just teased your aching pussy with his fingers for a moment, before he honed in on your clit and gave it a few slow circles.  You hummed, letting your head fall to the side.  “You feel ready for me,” he announced as pushed two fingers into you, making you whine and arch your back.  

“God, Joe, I am,” you agreed, “need you inside me.”

“Soon,” he promised.  “Gonna open you up a little more first, love, just be patient.”

He twisted his fingers around, curling them into your spot only for a moment at a time before pulling back and making you sigh in frustration

“Should I make you come on my fingers once, just to get you nice and soaked for me?” he wondered.

“N-no, fuck, wanna come on your cock,” you pleaded.

“Yeah?  You want me to feel it when you come for me, right?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “please… please fuck me.”

“Now, what did I tell you?” he grinned.  “It’s not fucking, darling.”

Funny how you were more embarrassed to say it the other way: “Please m-make love to me,” you whispered.

“That’s better, love,” he cooed as he kissed your cheek before climbing up on top of you; he was still wearing his thin golden chain, and it swung over your face.  “I’ll do more than that— I’ll give you a baby.  You want that?”

You smiled.  “I think I’m the one giving you a baby.”

“Fair,” he chuckled, “okay— I’ll make love to you, and come inside you, and you’ll give me a baby.  How does that sound?”

“Hmm,” you considered, “I mean, it sounds good, but—”

“Oh god—” he dropped his head onto your chest— “love, you’re driving me mad now…”

“I just want to make sure this is what you want,” you teased— and he knew exactly how full of shit you were, but he must have realized that he would have to play along anyway.

“C’mon, darling, I want this more than anything,” he breathed, lifting his head up again to look down at you closely.  One of his hands found the top of your head and stroked your hair, keeping you from looking away.  “I’ve never wanted anything like I want this— like I want our baby inside you now.  Something made from how much we love each other, isn’t it perfect?  And everyone will see us together and know that we’re in love, that we’re a family.”

You sighed a little, appreciating what that would be like; taking such a huge step from being partners, being boyfriend and girlfriend, to being parents together.  It was obviously daunting, but it made you feel all warm and happy inside.

“When it’s here, I can carry it on my shoulders in the park, or you can push the pram, won’t that be nice?” he imagined with a wistful smile.  “And our child will always know how loved it is, how much we wanted them— how desperate Daddy was that he told Mummy he’d do anything if they could have a baby together.”

“Anything?”

“Of course— you’re doing the most incredible thing for me,” he explained, grabbing one of your hands and squeezing it, before he pulled it closer and kissed your fingers.  “We can get married first, if you’d rather do it all in the normal order.  But that doesn’t really matter to me, if I’m honest— we’re a family either way.”

“You’re really into this whole ‘baby makes three’ thing, huh?” you chuckled, but he cut you off with a slow, gentle kiss.  It changed the mood entirely, especially once you relented to it and reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he finally agreed when he pulled away, leaving you blinking and trying to catch your breath after a kiss like that.  “I’m really into it.”

You only gave him a little breathless nod, but that was enough of an approval for him: he pressed himself into you, watching your face as your body gave way and took him inside.  He was as deep as possible in less than a second, keeping a focused expression as you moaned and wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Darling,” he breathed, “you feel so perfect— doesn’t it feel different, knowing it’ll really mean something?”

You nodded again, keeping your eyes shut as you focused on the feeling, on how perfectly he fit inside you, on how his hands felt holding you tightly and keeping you close.

He kissed you again, just for a second before he started to kiss different places on your face, moving his hips (finally) though keeping you on edge with how slow he was going.  “D’you want a boy or a girl?” he asked, pressing his smile against the side of your face.

“Boy,” you blurted out— something about the way he was moving inside you made all pretense fall away, and you could speak purely on instinct.

“No, no way,” he laughed, “our first has got to be a girl.  Think of all the sweet little things we can dress her in!”

“Our first?  There’s more?” you gasped— partially because of what he said, mostly because he was holding your hips tight and keeping you close so you had to feel every thrust in the deepest parts of you.  You could barely believe he was keeping up conversation this well while fucking you like this…

“At least two more,” he announced.

“Fuck, and who’s having the other two?  ‘Cause I only signed up for one,” you countered.

“I think you’re going to like it,” he decided, “and you’ll be the one begging me for a second.  For your little boy you apparently want.”

“I just said that randomly,” you insisted, feeling your cheeks heat up.  “Don’t read into it.”

“Yeah?  What would you name a boy, then?”

“Daniel,” you answered far too quickly.  “O-or James…”

“Hm,” he smiled, “I like James better.  They’re both pretty traditional— why not something a little more adventurous?”

“Such as…?”

“I dunno… Wolfgang,” he offered, seemingly off the top of his head, and you snorted.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were having a German baby,” you laughed.

“Doesn’t matter ‘cause we’re having a girl anyways,” he decided, kissing you just beside your ear, picking up his pace inside you just a bit.  “I know it.  I already know it.”

“Could always name the girl Wolfgang,” you panted, hoping to sound composed even though you were on fire inside.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he warned, gently biting on your earlobe for a moment.  “I always wanted to call a girl Agatha.”

“You’re joking,” you hoped, flatly.

“Or Penelope,” he added.

“We’ll go with that one,” you decided, whimpering when one of his hands grabbed your thighs and held your leg at a deeper angle— it made everything more intense all of a sudden.  You gasped and grabbed his shoulders tighter, digging your nails in, and heard him hum proudly.

“Do you just really like that name, or do you like what I’m doing to you?” he asked playfully.

“Please, just a little faster,” you begged, “jus’ need a little more, Joe, please, please…”

“Shh,” he soothed quietly, moving to hover above you again and lifting both of your legs this time, “m’gonna give you want you need, darling, if you just trust me, okay?”

He lifted your legs onto his shoulders, and leaned down over you— he hadn’t even moved yet and your whole body tensed up, your back arching and your eyes rolling back.  

“How’s that feel?” he asked with a knowing grin as you reached down to grab the sheets under you for dear life.  “It’s not too deep, is it?”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I— Joe!”

You couldn’t say anything else because he gave you a sudden, sharp thrust that made you feel like his cock was in your chest or something.  How could it be this deep, how could anything be this deep?

“Fuck,” you cried, toes curling where they were suspended in the air behind his head.  Apparently you were more flexible than you realized— and closer to coming, too.

“You’re so wet,” he noticed with a sigh, “my god, darling, you’ve really soaked my cock, just because I said I was going to get you pregnant?  That’s all it takes?”

Whimpering, you nodded while holding your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I will,” he promised, his own voice finally showing signs of his desperation— he could only keep his cool for so long.  “I will, love, I promise.”

His hands found yours, and pinned them to each side of your head as your fingers weaved together.  It didn’t take much more of that for you to come— intense and nearly overwhelming, yes, but sort of… comfortable, too.  Not as harsh and sudden as it had been with him before, not the kind to make you scream or sob or anything.  Those were like being thrown into the deep end; this one was more like laying on the beach and feeling each wave slide over the sand and wash higher and higher up your body until you were immersed in it— but without that pesky drowning thing.  It was much more pleasant than that.

“Beautiful,” he whispered to you as he watched you go under, “so fucking beautiful— I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Love you too,” you gasped out.

He choked a little on his groan; “Again,” he demanded, “say it again.”

“I love you,” you promised, “Joe, I love you so so much…”

He squeezed your hands, and you were too weak and limp now to properly squeeze them back.  “I-I’m gonna come,” he stammered between heavy breaths, “please, darling— I can come inside, right?  Let me come inside you, love, I need to…”

“Yes,” you breathed, back arching deeper, “yes, fuck, of course you can.”

He bit his lip, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes that captured you completely.  “I’m gonna come inside you,” he promised, speaking in a low voice that made a shiver run up your spine, “but I’m not gonna stop.  Okay?”

Fuck.  Was that even physically possible?

“Can you take it, love?”

You whimpered, but nodded confidently.  You could hardly tell he was coming when he did it while still fucking you just as fast— his hips rutted into yours and each flex of his cock seemed to be timed just right with when he was deepest inside you.  Even when you thought you were totally spent, you managed to arch your back a bit more without even meaning to.

He’d been putting more effort into keeping himself partially upright than you realized, because when his strength gave out and he partially collapsed onto you, it forced your legs even closer to your chest— and then you were both delirious from the feeling.

He was just as loud as you, moaning into your neck and the pillow under you as he moved way faster than before, letting go of one of your hands so he could grab your thigh instead to keep you still.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “fuck, darling— I can’t stop until I give you everything.”

“Don’t,” you agreed, “don’t stop… that’s what I want, I want everything.  I want e-every drop of you inside me…”

He hissed through his teeth briefly before he kissed you again; this kiss was a lot more feverish than the last, so much more desperate and filled with moans and gasping breaths against each other.

“Oh, fuck!” you whined when he shifted his hips a little lower and forced his cock right into that spot— the one that was all swollen and sensitive from the last time you came.  “Fuck, baby, please—”

Maybe if he were a little more conscious he would say something all witty and mocking like, is that a pet name or a request?  But he was fighting to keep from falling apart already, fucking into you desperately and quickly even though you were both overstimulated and there was a mix of your and his come starting to make a patch on the silk sheets.

His mouth was slack and open right above yours, and he was getting louder and louder as his hands held yours so tight it was almost painful— it would’ve been very painful, actually, if your hands and feet weren’t already going numb.

When you came again, it was the last straw for him— he let go of your hands to grab onto your shoulders, for some reason, and let out a shaky whining sort of noise; he stopped moving and you really felt it now, the pulsing of his cock inside your sore channel.  You felt full and dizzy and sleepy, the outside of your body entirely limp while your insides kept flexing in spite of the exhaustion.

He let go of your hands, slowly, and used his new freedom to carefully guide your legs down— around his waist, instead, and not held up on his shoulders.  You hissed from the soreness in your hips, but relaxed as he trailed slow, gentle kisses along your cheek.

“So,” he began with a sigh, “that was…”

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement.

You both returned to catching your breath for a moment, while his thumb stroked the upper part of your thigh gently— it did more to soothe you than you expected.

“You came twice,” you noticed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“H-how…?”

His face came back up so you could get a proper look at him— flushed and sweating, a loose curl sticking to his forehead, glassy-eyed and wearing a tilted smile— and you felt yourself clench inside again at just how pretty he was.  “I guess I was just feeling… extra inspired,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose as he brushed hair away from your face with his hand.  “Did you like it?”

“Like it?!  Fuck, it was so hot,” you laughed.  “I mean, you barely even slowed down…”

“What can I say?  I really, really want to get you pregnant.”

You shivered.  “Well now I really, really want to be pregnant.”

“I bet it won’t take us too long,” he decided.  “But we should start tracking your cycle and everything, make sure we’re doing everything right… here, while I’m at it—”

He reached past your head and grabbed a pillow, lifting your hips to slide it underneath them before he set you back down— all without pulling out.

“I’ve heard it helps it all stay inside,” he explained.

“You’ve really prepared for this, haven’t you?” you noticed, and he looked at your face carefully.

“If you’re really not sure, it’s not too late to just take the pill tonight and go back to normal,” he reminded you, leaning down closer again.  “I won’t be mad or anything.”

“No, this is what I want,” you promised.  “So, so much.”

He smiled and kissed you quickly, though you reached up and weaved your fingers into his curls so you could pull him back down for more.  “Are we trying again tomorrow?” he wondered, speaking quietly into the kiss.

“First thing,” you smiled.