baby daddy- a.m
description: its mother's day in manning household, and arch cant help but want to make another little manning. his wife cant help how sexy her husband is.
warnings ✉️ྀི ⋮ nsfw. minors do not interact !! wife!reader. emotionally established relationship. marriage. sexual tension. possessive dynamics. adult language. kissing. public intimacy. explicit sexual content. oral sex. penetrative sex. dirty talk. husband!arch.
🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤🀢🀣🀦🀤
arch pov-
i wake up to a hand in my face and a whisper that’s trying very hard not to be loud and failing miserably.
“daddy.”
i don’t move at first. just crack one eye open, because i already know.
lilah is perched right on my chest, knees digging in like she weighs nothing at all. her hair is everywhere, pajama shirt twisted sideways. aj stands at the foot of the bed like this is a meeting and i’m late.
“what,” i mumble.
“it’s mother’s day,” aj says, serious. “we have to cook.”
lilah nods emphatically. “we can’t cook without you.”
i glance to my left. she’s still asleep, curled up on her side, hair fanned across the pillow, breathing slow and even. the kind of sleep you only get when you don’t know you’re about to be loved on.
“okay,” i whisper. “okay. but we have to be quiet.”
i say “meet me down stairs, go,”
lilah slides off me immediately, landing on the floor with a soft thud. aj already turns toward the door like we’re on a timer.
i sit up, rubbing my face, reaching for the shorts at the foot of the bed. lilah pauses in the doorway, looks back at me like she just remembered something important.
“daddy,” she says quietly, “don’t forget your glasses.”
i freeze for half a second, then grab them off the nightstand.
“you’re right,” i say, slipping them on. “almost forgot.”
she smiles like she’s pleased with herself and disappears down the hall.
and i think, not for the first time, thank you.
——
i decided last minute that we were gonna need to step up our game so we left to hit the local market and grab flowers, coffee, and her favorite bagel from the shop by the house.
“do you think mom will like it,” lilah asks, quieter now.
i look at her,confidence wavering just a little. “she’s gonna love it.”
and i mean that.
we load everything onto a tray that’s definitely not meant for all of this. aj insists on carrying it. lilah insists on helping even though she can’t really see over the edge.
we move slow down the hallway. the house still feels sleepy, like it hasn’t caught on yet.
our bedroom door creaks.
lilah freezes.
“it’s okay,” i whisper.
she’s still asleep.
i set the tray on the nightstand and aj clears his throat.
“happy mother’s day,” he says, soft but proud.
she stirs, blinking, confused, then sits up when she sees them.
“what is all this,” she laughs quietly, voice already thick.
“we got you breakfast and coffee” lilah says, climbing onto the bed and immediately hugging her. “dad helped.”
“and we got you these,” aj adds pulling flowers out from behind his back.
she kisses them both, eyes shining now. “this is perfect.”
she balances the tray on her lap, still half-asleep, hair everywhere, shoulders bare. she takes a sip of coffee, hums.
“this is perfect,” she says.
aj lights up like he just won something.
they hang around for a minute—pointing out what they did, correcting each other—until i clap my hands.
“alright,” i say. “go clean up downstairs. the kitchen is mess from whatever you guys were doing before you woke up me” a small laughter following
aj nods and hops off the bed. lilah leans in for one more kiss.
they take off, already arguing, voices drifting down the stairs. the door stays open.
quiet doesn’t rush in this time—it just settles.
i lean back against the headboard and prop myself up on one arm, stretching like i’ve got nowhere else to be. she notices. of course she does.
her eyes lift to mine.
then drift.
slowly.
my chest. my arm. my shorts. my glasses.
she doesn’t even try to hide it.
“you look rather handsome mr. manning” she says.
“oh is that right mrs. manning?” i ask. “i will have to say you look rather beautiful yourself,”
she smiles into her coffee. “you know exactly what you’re doing don’t you?”
i shrug. “i woke up like this.”
“you did not.”
i shift closer, “it’s mother’s day baby. i’m allowed to want to give my wife and mother of my children a damn show,”
she laughs, but her eyes stay on me. linger. deliberate.
“thank you,” she says softly. “not just for breakfast. for everything.”
i reach out, thumb tracing slow circles on her face. “you’re the reason any of this exists.”
she looks up at me then, really looks at me, and something warm pulls tight in my chest.
i lean in and kiss her—slowly.
she kisses me back just as easily.
she moves the tray quickly to the ground moving down to my level.
my hands fly up to her waist pulling her closer feeling her warmth. her hands tracing their own map on my body,
and then—
laughter.
loud. fast. getting closer.
“LILAH—”
the chaos barrels in anyway. lilah skids into the room, aj right behind her with a nerf gun, both of them laughing like they forgot how doors work.
“OUT,” i say immediately, pointing.
they stop, still laughing.
“sorry,” lilah giggles.
“downstairs,” i repeat, smiling despite myself.
they disappear again.
she’s laughing now too, shaking her head.
“happy mother’s day baby ,” i mutter.
she reaches for my hand, squeezing it once. “best one yet.”
and i believe her.
—————-
the towel hangs loose around my waist, damp and barely doing its job. i wanted to take a shower with y/n—wanted it badly—but we were on a clock. kids needed dinner. kids needed baths. my parents were expecting them. the night was already moving faster than either of us planned.
i handled dinner. she took bath time.
fair trade. barely.
i’m stepping into my underwear when she comes in, hair still wet, pajamas on, skin warm from the steam. she looks tired in that soft way that makes her even harder to look away from.
“how was bath time?” i ask, a quiet laugh slipping out.
“never ending,” she says, rolling her eyes. “but they’re in the game room now. movie’s on.”
i cross the bathroom before she can turn away, fingers already finding her waist. “so that means we can finish what we started this morning.”
my mouth finds her neck.
she tilts her head back on instinct, giving me more space, more skin—then laughs, breathy and knowing. “you wish.”
she tries to step away. i don’t let her.
“no,” i murmur, holding her closer. “you don’t get to be this beautiful.”
a kiss.
“and distracting.”
another.
“and perfect,” i add, softer now, pressing my forehead to hers.
she smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. “oh, i do,” she teases. “it’s my day.”
that confidence—that ease—gets me every time.
i kiss her once more, slower this time, then force myself to step back before i forget what time it is. i move into the closet, pretending i need distance when really i need restraint.
her dress is hanging there, waiting.
backless. low. loose in all the right places. the kind of dress that looks effortless on her and wrecks me anyway. the kind that leaves nothing to the imagination without trying.
my jaw tightens as i picture her in it. the way other men will look. the way i’ll notice. the way i always do.
i’ve been like this since college—quietly possessive, dangerously sure. the idea of a life without her has never made sense to me. never will.
the sound of her blow dryer snaps me back.
i get dressed fast, buttoning my shirt on autopilot. when i step back into the bedroom, i stop short.
she’s standing at the vanity, bare skin catching the light, completely unbothered by the fact that i’m watching. she takes one last look at herself, then straightens when she sees me.
“hey, sexy,” she says lightly, brushing past me. her perfume lingers as she pulls the dress on, fabric sliding into place like it was made for her.
she faces the mirror, adjusting it, checking herself. meanwhile, i’m just standing there, staring, biting the inside of my cheek like it’ll help.
“earth to arch,” she says, slipping in the earrings i gave her for our anniversary.
“hm?” i mutter.
she turns, steps into me, lips brushing my ear. her voice drops—low, deliberate. “i swear you’ll get what you want,” she promises. “wherever. whenever. however.”
that does it.
the door shuts behind us without thought. i crowd her back, hands firm at her waist, burying my face against her, breathing her in like i need to remember how to function.
she cups my jaw, grounding me. “baby,” she says gently, smiling against my skin. “we have reservations. and parents waiting.”
i let out a groan that’s half frustration, half surrender, resting my forehead against her shoulder for a second longer than necessary.
“you’re cruel,” i mutter.
she laughs softly, kisses my cheek. “get your keys.”
i step back, exhale once, and remind myself—
later.
——
my parents’ driveway is already lit up when we pull in. the house looks awake in a way it never does for us anymore — too bright, too ready.
which tells me everything i need to know.
we barely roll to a stop before the front door opens.
my mom, ellen, steps out first, hands already clapping together, smile wide enough to be seen from the street. my dad’s right behind her, slower, steadier, but smiling all the same — the kind of smile he pretends he doesn’t have.
“there they are,” my mom calls, already halfway down the steps. “my babies!”
lilah doesn’t even wait for the engine to shut off. she fumbles with her seatbelt, nearly tangling herself in it before she finally breaks free and launches out of the car.
“grandma!” she yells, sprinting across the driveway like she’s been counting down to this moment all day.
ellen scoops her up easily, like lilah still weighs nothing at all. “oh, i missed you,” she gushes, kissing her cheek, her forehead, her hair. “ so much that i made cookies!”
lilah squeals at the word cookies like it’s the best news she’s heard all week.
aj is calmer about it, but not by much. he opens his door and steps out like he knows exactly where he’s headed, walking straight toward cooper without looking back.
“grandpa,” he says, already grinning. “can we finish watching that movie tonight?”
cooper nods, pointing toward the door like this was always the plan. “you got it bud, and we’ll see if grandma will give up some cookies,” he nudges aj,
he doesn’t even glance at us. not once.
i shut my door and look over at her. she’s already smiling, watching it all unfold like she expected exactly this.
“hi,” she says to my mom, warm and easy, like she’s still trying to be polite.
ellen barely registers her, too busy looking at lilah’s hair. “hi sweetheart—oh my goodness, lilah, your hair is so cute—aj, let me see you, come here—”
she reaches out and grabs aj’s face between her hands, studying him like she’s checking his growth with her eyes alone. cooper’s already ushering both kids toward the door, one hand on aj’s shoulder, the other holding lilah’s backpack like it belongs to him now.
we’re left standing on the porch, overnight bag hanging from my hand, suddenly very aware that we’re no longer part of the main event.
ellen pauses halfway inside, turning back like she just remembered something.
“oh,” she says, blinking at us. “you two. have fun. don’t rush. we’ve got them.”
cooper nods turning around and grabbing the bag. “we’ve got them.”
and just like that—
dismissed.
she bites her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.
“we’re not even people anymore,” she murmurs.
“we stopped being relevant the second aj was born,” i say quietly.
ellen calls from the kitchen, voice drifting out, “that is not true!”
it absolutely is.
lilah yells something about cookies from inside. aj yells something back about picking the movie. the volume of the house jumps instantly, like it’s feeding off their energy.
i squeeze her hand, grounding us back together. “ready?”
that slow, dangerous smile returns, the one that means she’s already shifted gears.
“yeah,” she says. “i’m ready.”
——
dinner barely registers.
corner booth. low light. one glass of wine each. her knee presses into mine under the table and doesn’t move. we exchange a few words — nothing important, nothing memorable. the kind of conversation that exists just to pass time.
i pay as soon as the check hits the table.
she doesn’t argue.
outside, the night air feels sharper, colder, like it knows we’re not staying out long. she slides into the car, dress shifting, perfume filling the space between us. the drive home is quiet and fast. my hand grips the wheel harder than necessary. hers rests on her thigh, fingers tracing slow, lazy lines like she’s got all the time in the world.
we don’t.
the house is dark when we walk in — quiet in a way that feels intentional. she kicks off her heels without stopping, already moving down the hall. i shut the door behind us, lock it, keys forgotten on the counter.
she turns just once, eyes on me, smile small and dangerous.
“you coming?” she asks.
———————
i follow her into the bedroom without hesitation.
the door closes behind me. the lock clicks.
she's already moving toward the bed, that dress sliding against her skin with every step. i watch the way it catches the light, the way her body moves underneath it—effortless, deliberate, like she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
“a promise is a promise,” she says, not turning around.
she reaches the bed and turns to face me. the dress gapes slightly where it's backless, skin exposed, vulnerable in a way that makes my chest tight.
"come here," she says softly.
i cross the room in three strides. my hands find her waist before i even think about it—muscle memory, need, the kind of certainty that only comes from knowing someone's body like it's your own.
she reaches up, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me down to her level. our foreheads touch first. breathing syncs. then her lips find mine—slow, deliberate, like she's reminding me how this works.
i kiss her like i've been waiting all day for this. because i have.
my hands slide up her back, feeling the bare skin, the warmth of her. she tastes like wine and want. her fingers work at my shirt buttons, impatient now, pulling the fabric open and pushing it off my shoulders.
"off," she murmurs against my mouth
i shrug it away without breaking the kiss, letting it fall somewhere behind me. her hands are already on my chest, palms flat. she traces the lines of muscle, deliberate and slow, and i feel it everywhere—in my chest, my stomach, lower.
"god, i love you,” she whispers, pulling back just enough to look at me. her eyes are dark, pupils blown, and she's smiling like she knows exactly what she's doing.
i grip her jaw gently, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "you're not allowed to tease me tonight."
"why not?" she asks, that dangerous edge creeping back into her voice.
"because i've been waiting all day," i say, and i mean it. "and i'm not in the mood to wait anymore baby.”
she laughs—breathy, knowing—and reaches for my belt. her fingers work the buckle open, then the button, then the zipper. she's slow about it, deliberate, watching my face the whole time like she's enjoying the torture. she kneels down, never breaking eye contact. my breath hitches. she pulls me out of my boxer slowly. my brown eyes staring up at me innocently as you takes me in her mouth. i groan letting her work her magic on me. her mouth felt good but she feels like heaven. she feels me twitch in her mouth and stops.
i let her stand up for exactly three seconds before i grab her wrist.
"my turn," i say.
i pull her closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other finding the zipper of that dress. it slides down easy, fabric pooling at her feet like it was never there at all. she's bare underneath—no bra, no underwear, just skin and curves and the kind of confidence that makes my mouth go dry.
"fuck," i breathe.
she steps out of the dress, completely naked now, and doesn't even try to hide the satisfaction on her face. she knows what she does to me. has always known.
i pull her against me, skin to skin, and the contact is almost too much. she's warm and soft and mine, and the possessiveness that's been simmering all day suddenly boils over.
i kiss her hard—not gentle anymore, not slow. my hands grip her waist, pulling her closer, and she responds immediately, meeting me with the same intensity. her fingers dig into my shoulders, her nails leaving marks i'll feel tomorrow.
"bed," she gasps against my mouth.
i don't argue. i guide her back, letting her fall onto the mattress, and she pulls me down with her. i'm still half-dressed—pants hanging low, underwear still on—and she fixes that immediately, pushing the fabric down my hips. i kick them off, and then there's nothing between us.
she's already reaching for me, pulling me down, and i settle between her thighs like i belong there. because i do.
"i love you," she says, and it's not what i expected to hear right now, but it hits different. it always does.
"i love you too," i murmur, and then i'm kissing her again, deep and slow, while my hand slides between her legs.
she's already wet, already ready, and the knowledge of that—the fact that she wants me this badly—sends a surge of heat through my entire body. i stroke her slowly, feeling her arch into my touch, hearing the small sounds she makes in the back of her throat.
“archie baby please,” she breathes, and it's a plea.
i don't make her wait. i position myself at her entrance and push inside slowly, watching her face as i do. her eyes flutter closed, her mouth falls open, and she's so tight around me that i have to pause for a second just to breathe.
she nods, eyes opening to meet mine. "more."
i pull back and thrust deeper, setting a rhythm that's slow and deliberate at first. her hands grip my back, nails dragging down my spine, and she's meeting me thrust for thrust. the sounds she makes—small gasps, breathy moans—are driving me crazy.
"you feel so good," i murmur against her neck, kissing the soft skin there. "so fucking good."
she tilts her head back, giving me more access, and i take it. i kiss and bite and suck at her neck, her collarbone, anywhere i can reach. she's mine. every inch of her is mine, and i need her to remember that.
my pace picks up, getting harder, faster, and she's right there with me. her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and i can feel her getting close—the way her breathing changes, the way her muscles tighten around me.
“oh fuck baby,” i murmur, “hold it, i know you want to cum,”
and she does. “please let me cum daddy,” she pleaded, “no im not done with you,” i say pulling out, she whimpers at the loss. i pull her into the closet and push her over our island again,
“you wanted to tease me,” i say slamming back into her, “now i’m going to fuck you senseless,” i say through gritted teeth.
her moans are loud and needy. she’s is fighting her orgasm so hard and i was too, “come for daddy baby,” my thrust starting to get sloppy and desperate.
“oh fuck— don’t stop there archie bab—,” she was cut off by the wave crashing over her, her whole body clenched around me. she's said my name like it's the only word she knows. the feeling of her coming around me is almost too much—the clenching, the heat, the absolute surrender of it.
i follow her over the edge seconds later, burying myself deep inside her as i come, my entire body shaking with the force of it. i bury my face in her neck, breathing hard, and she's holding me like she'll never let go.
we stay like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing in sync. her fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and i press a kiss to her shoulder.
"happy mother's day," i murmur.
she laughs, breathless and satisfied. “i’m going to drive you mad on father’s day,”
---------------------------
author note: if you have any requests, send em my way!
