#{ pride lands : everything the light touches }

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn your first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[wordsinhaled]

People call Charles Edwin’s guard dog and Edwin thinks it’s going to offend him, getting more up in arms about it than Charles ever does. But it doesn’t seem to bother Charles at all. And Edwin doesn’t understand, not at first, not until Charles tells him, “So what if they think I’ll bite if they lay a finger on you? Not exactly wrong, are they?”

Suddenly, it makes sense. Why Charles takes the comments in stride. Why he seems to take pride in the suggestion.

Charles feels like Edwin should have someone who is willing to do all that for him, go that far for him—and of course that someone’ll be Charles himself. Edwin reflects that he’d never had that sort of fervent devotion from anyone, certainly not when he was alive, and no one has come close since but Charles. He reflects on how good it feels to be fundamentally seen, valued in such a way.

Still, Edwin worries—does Charles know that Edwin is just as dedicated to keeping him safe, his heart and his spectral body and his soul? That Charles is the most precious gift Edwin never dreamt to be given, and—

Does Charles know that, every day? That he’s more than his teeth? That he’s more than everything Edwin could want? That he’s sweetness and light?

It’s Charles’ loving touch that Edwin yearns for and craves, when he’s laughing harder than he ever has, in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is asleep and it’s just him and Charles in the warmly-lit office, tipping against each other on the tiny sofa that never feels cramped when it’s keeping the two of them near. The actual joke goes forgotten in the self-replenishing haze of their giggles, their shoulders knocking together, Charles’ ankle hooked around Edwin’s.

Edwin’s hand lands on Charles’ jaw, barely-there fingertips turning Charles’ head, easy, so easy, to look at him. To catch Charles’ gaze, deep and shining and—they’re so close to each other, a bit heady with leftover mirth, and Edwin will never forget that it’s Charles who moves first to press his smiling lips to Edwin’s, simple as ever, like it’s the next line in their conversation.

It knocks the breath straight out of Edwin: the breath he hasn’t needed in three-odd decades. But it’s all right because Charles’ mouth is opening against his, so right and inviting, and Charles is gasping too like he’s in the same dizzy predicament, and Edwin never wants it to end.

“Charles,” he says, “Charles, my darling, are you…?”

Charles’ eyes are dark as ink when he pulls back, only far enough to nudge his nose against Edwin’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, smile flashing bright like a slice of the moon. He closes his eyes, a flutter of lashes Edwin can feel against his own cheekbone, followed by the soft drag of a kiss. Then another. “Should’ve seen it, really,” Charles goes on, in between still more kisses, words said into Edwin’s skin. “‘Cause you’re it for me, Edwin, aren’t you, love? I just didn’t see. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you first—”

“Never mind,” Edwin says, “tell me now,” and then they’re kissing once more. The testing scrape of Charles’ teeth over Edwin’s lower lip, the nibble on his upper, is tentative, too tentative, and Edwin ought to have known, he ought to have suspected… but still he doesn’t, doesn’t expect the keening, tremulous moan that tumbles out of him at the promise of it all.

Charles chuckles, the sound settling in Edwin’s belly, making a home in his chest. “You like that?” he asks. Awed. Still hesitant. The laughter from earlier still layered in Charles’ voice, along with a new sort of hoarseness, a new sort of rasp Edwin could listen to forever. “Don’t wanna put you off, do I, love…”

“I will hardly be put off, Charles. In fact, I—” Edwin swallows, convulsive and wanting, sees Charles’ focus drop to his throat, find the soft underside of his jaw as he tips his chin up. “I would not have you hold back with me. Set your hands where you wish. Your mouth—where you wish. Your…” It is his turn to close his eyes.

“My teeth,” Charles finishes for him softly. “Wherever I…?”

“Yes,” Edwin says. “Yes.”

[marysfics]

First Steps, First Touch

Your baby daughter is determined to set her first steps.

Fluff, pure fluff

You were sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged, casually flipping through a magazine, but your eyes kept darting up every few seconds to where Alexia was playing with your daughter on the other side of the room. The bright afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene. Your baby girl, just over a year old, was on her knees, rocking back and forth in that wobbly way she always did when she was trying to figure something out.

Alexia sat behind her, hands outstretched but hovering just an inch away, ready to catch her if she stumbled. You could tell from her expression that she was holding her breath, watching your daughter with intense focus. The two of you had been waiting for this moment for weeks now—those first, precious steps.

Then, without warning, your little one grabbed onto the edge of the coffee table. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the edge as she pulled herself up with a shaky determination. She stood, her tiny legs trembling as if they weren’t quite sure what they were supposed to do. You gasped softly, and Alexia’s eyes went wide.

“¡Mira! Look at her!” Alexia’s voice was hushed but filled with excitement, as if speaking too loudly would break the magic of the moment.

You set the magazine aside, shifting to your knees so you could watch more closely. Your daughter wobbled a bit, holding onto the table for dear life, but she was standing—standing on her own little feet.

Alexia’s eyes sparkled with joy, her hand brushing the small of your back as she whispered, “She’s doing it, cariño.”

Your heart swelled with pride and love, seeing the way Alexia's face lit up. Then, as if your daughter knew she had her audience captivated, she let go of the coffee table. For a split second, she stood without support, her little arms flailing out to balance herself, before she took one, two... three tiny steps toward Alexia, her giggle breaking the silence of the room.

Alexia gasped, a sound of pure joy escaping her as she quickly grabbed a tiny football from the toy basket nearby. "Mira, princesa, your first ball!" she said with laughter, holding it out, her excitement bubbling over.

Your daughter, still unsteady, took one more step, reaching out for the ball as if it was the only thing in the world she wanted. She stumbled, and you both lunged forward to catch her, but she landed on her padded bottom with a giggle, looking up at the two of you like she’d just conquered the world.

"She’s going to be just like you," you said softly, leaning into Alexia’s side, feeling the warmth of her happiness radiating off her.

"She’s going to be better," Alexia replied, her voice thick with emotion as she placed the tiny football into your daughter’s lap.

Your baby girl grabbed at the ball with her little hands, her face lighting up with delight, as if she already knew what to do with it. Alexia looked at her, then at you, her eyes brimming with love.

“We’re so lucky,” she murmured, pulling you closer with one arm, while the other hand gently caressed your daughter’s curls. You nodded, feeling that same sense of wonder. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—watching your family grow, step by tiny step.

[targaryenimagines]

My Khaleesi

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,586

Summary: Daenerys claims more than the Iron Throne on the day she takes King’s Landing.

Warning(s): Smut and G!P Daenerys.

Notes: Wasn’t sure if you wanted Dark!Dany (in a sense) or not, but decided to just do it that way for this one shot! If you’d like another one with a non dark Dany, I’ll be more than happy to do that. Also, this is definitely the most graphic smut I’ve written… I apologize if it’s bad.

Series Masterlist

Ash still falls from the sky like distorted flecks of snow— rubble shifts under foot as you make your way through the courtyard of the Red Keep. You didn’t have to turn your head far to see the destruction that had been wrought across King’s Landing, a destruction that had come at the hands of the woman you love the most in this world.

Fire and blood had come to Westeros, you think, side-stepping a charred corpse. And penance seemed to have been paid in full.

The sights, along with the smells, that assault you the farther you trek into the once great city aren’t something that sits well with you, nor does the knowledge that Westeros had pushed Daenerys, your Dany, to this point. That all of her grief: Viserion, Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missandei, along with all of her men that she lost in the North, had forced her spirit into shattering so completely.

I don’t want to be Queen of the Ashes…

A saying that had constantly been thrown towards Daenerys, that had been used as a means to control her, keep her in line, and what better way to do that then remind her of her father’s legacy, a tale that’s haunted her ever since she discovered it, and had been continually repeated until Daenerys spouted it out as if she was simply talking about the weather. Her drive, the passion that had carried her through Essos, slowly being driven out of her the longer she spent in the toxic landscape that is Westeros; forever surrounded by the tales of her ancestors, by the fear and hatred that the people she saved showed her, at the clear refusal to ever accept her as anything more than a Targaryen Whore.

Rounding the corner of yet another hallway, you pause just outside of the throne room, or what you believe to be anyway, and think over everything that had transpired. Think of the darkness that had seemed to have only grown in intensity since the Night King had been dealt with. Would Daenerys, after all of this, still wish to see you? Would you still have a place by her side?

Only one way to find out…

With a deep intake of breath, you step fully into the debilitated area that had once been a source of great pride— at the head of it all being the almost legendary throne itself, a mass of melted together swords, and standing before it?

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daenerys turns from her perusal of the throne, and a warm smile quirks her lips at your nearing form.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” she murmurs, adoration clear within violet eyes. Slim arms wrapping around your middle the moment your close enough for her to grab. A single gloved finger gently tracing down the expanse of your cheek, rubbing away the hints of ash that still remained. “I’m glad to see you unharmed. I don’t know what I would have done if that hadn’t been the case.”

You lean into the hand still resting on your cheek, a happy smile of your own making an appearance. “Burn down the rest of Westeros?” A dark look flashes through violet eyes, your joke suddenly taking on an all too serious light that you desperately wanted to veer away from. Bumping into her slightly, you disentangle from slim arms, warmed by the smallest bit of hesitance she had at letting you go, you step closer to the throne. “This is it? The Iron Throne?”

Daenerys settles next to you. “It is.” She touches the arm of it with an almost reverent air. “After all these years, all the trials and tribulations that I went through, I’m finally here. A Targaryen is finally the holder of the Iron Throne once more. I’ve brought honor back to my family.”

“You’ve honored them for years already, Dany. You simply being alive is honor by itself.” You angle your head, not surprised at all to see that she had already been looking at you. “This just exemplifies you into the ranks of Aegon.”

Violet eyes gleam with an almost childlike wonder, the hand closest to you touching your cheek with the same reverence she had shown the throne. “Aegon had his wives, he had his queens.” She steps away from you, taking her rightful seat on the throne. “Something that I’ll be in need of moving forward.”

Your head dips. “Anything I can help you with?”

Daenerys chuckles lightly, the sound rumbling from deep within her chest like one of Drogon’s roars. “There is, Y/N.” Gesturing for you to come closer, a command that you listen to without question, she gently maneuvers you into a kneeling position before her, slender fingers tangling themselves within the strands of your hair. “Say yes.”

“Your Grace?”

“Say yes to marrying me, to becoming my wife and queen.” Her holds tightens, forcing your head to tilt back. “Say yes to becoming mine and I’ll make sure everything you could ever want becomes yours.”

A small smile twists your lips upward. “Everything that I could ever want already is.”

At the words a small growl escapes Daenerys, her head dipping downward to press a heated kiss to your lips, maintaining that you’re kept in place by the iron-clad hold she still has on your hair. And, like with everything else, Daenerys didn’t hesitate in conquering what is hers, tongue barely brushing over your bottom lip before she plunders into your mouth, taking you for everything you have. The taste of you, the submission in which you’re showing her, along with the location no doubt, makes Daenerys almost frantic in her need for you.

Barely pulling away, giving you both a moment to breathe, before she’s claiming your lips once more— it’s wet, filthy in a way that makes your mind fog over in lust, and you can’t quite get enough air into your lungs through your nose, something that constantly ensures her scent is all that you’re surrounded by, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to be in any other position than where you are now; kneeling in front of your Khaleesi, her pleasure becoming yours.

Finally, with a ragged breath, Daenerys fully pulls away from you, a thin trail of saliva still connecting you both, before she shifts too far back and it snaps in half. Violet eyes, blown nearly black in lust, pin you in place as Daenerys slowly undoes the buckle of her pants, and jerks it down, the actions clear on what she expected from you. And, without preamble, or any sort of prompting, you help Daenerys with removing them, gently taking off her boots, before pulling her tight-fitting pants off her slim legs. The sight that greets you once you look up almost causing your mouth to dry up completely.

Daenerys Targaryen sat in all of her glory, bare from the waist down, her thick member jutting out from the apex of her thighs. The look in her eyes, in the darkness that lurks just out of reach, tells you all that you need to know, how your Khaleesi wished for you to service her next. Something you didn’t have a problem with doing, damn the consequences of potentially being caught in the wide open throne room.

Taking her into your hands, feeling her warmth, and the way that she twitches ever-so-slightly at your touch, is a heady sort of power that you’re never going to get used to.

Taking her into your mouth, jaw stretched wide to accommodate her girth, feeling the way she arches into the wetness it provides, hands tightening even further into your hair, the wonderful concoction of pain and pleasure, fuels you more than anything ever could.

Bobbing up and down, taking her deeper and deeper into your throat, listening to the breathy sighs she lets loose whenever she completely bottoms out, is a drug you never want to get off of. Her flavor— musky with just the barest hint of sweetness and something spicy— spreads across your tastebuds, your tongue lovingly swirling around the tip of her cock, taking in as much of her as you possibly could.

“Iksā doing sīr sȳz syt nyke.” The Valyrian praise escapes her in a low snarl, hands now guiding you in the exact way she wanted, your own simply being braced on her thighs as you let her use you. “Issare iā sȳz riña syt nyke. Ñuha sȳz riña.”

All you can do is moan in response, mouth completely stuffed full of her, but the vibrations makes her tense even further, another snarl rumbling from deep within her. You know that she’s close, can tell by the way her thighs were beginning to tremble underneath your touch, and the quickening of her thrusts, and your head moves even faster because of it— wanting nothing more than to feel her release down your throat, for your tongue to be coated by her cum.

“Issi ao jāre naejot gūrogon ziry mirre? Gūrogon everything bona nyke tepagon ao?” Daenerys groans out the question, clearly fighting with herself to not succumb just yet to the pleasure of her release. Peering up, you’re instantly met with darkened violet eyes, a rosy hue predominant across fair cheeks. Clearly waiting for a response, all you can do is gurgle around the cock currently in your throat, hoping that your eyes gave her all the answers she needed, which, by the tightening of her hands, absolutely did. “Sȳz riña.”

Within the next moment, jets of Daenerys cum shoots out, going straight into your stomach as you desperately swallow to make sure you don’t lose any of it. The feeling of warmth as her seed settles deep within you is one you’ve long since grown familiar with, but the possessive heat in her eyes as she watches you swallow it all down is definitely new. A reaction that causes your own arousal to come to the forefront of your mind finally, wetness clearly coating your thighs, waiting for your Khaleesi’s touch.

Daenerys pulls her cock from your mouth a moment later— the still hard length shimmering with the combination of leftover cum and saliva— allowing for you to take a deep lungful of air at last. Remnants of her still on your tongue.

Her thumb brushes across your bottom lip, briefly pushing into your mouth for you to suck on, before she retracts her hand and tugs you up onto her lap. Slim arms bracing your lower half perfectly against herself, settling her own body more fully on the Iron Throne.

“You did so good for me,” she murmurs, trailing slender fingers down your thighs. Nowhere near where you needed her the most though. “Do you want to continue?”

You nod. “More than anything, Khaleesi.“

Daenerys hums at the old title, hands gripping your hips in a hold that you know would leave bruises, lips ghosting across your jawline and down your neck.

“You’re mine, right?” Teeth nips into the sensitive flesh beneath your pulse point. “No one else can have you this way, fuck you the way that I can, or hear the beautiful noises you make when you fall apart.”

“Only you, Dany,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose against hers. “It’ll only ever be you. I’m yours completely.”

There isn’t need for more words after that, Daenerys simply hikes your dress higher up your waist, tearing your small-clothes away completely, before rubbing her hardened member against the wetness that has collected between your legs, a deep groan escaping her at the feeling of your clear want for her.

Within the next heartbeat, she’s buried to the hilt within you, a sharp keen being ripped from your chest at the feeling of complete fullness, the delicious stretch as your body tries to acclimate to the feeling of her, and begins to rut roughly into you. Hands slide from their place on your waist to settle on your hips, guiding you up and down as you begin to bounce in response to her thrusts.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, arms wrapped tightly around Daenerys neck, tugging her closer to you, continuing to ride her in complete abandon, wet slapping noise, intercepted by occasional grunts and moans, filled the air, echoing out across the empty throne room. A part of you thinks that you might even be able to be heard down below, the ripped open wall next to the throne offering an excellent siphon to the noises, but then Daenerys twists her hips in just the right way and everything, that doesn’t have to do with the mind numbing pleasure she gives you, vanishes from you mind in an instant.

Nails make crescent moons in the soft flesh of your hips, bruises no doubt already forming on your lower abdomen from how hard Daenerys was thrusting up into you, but the knowledge that your Khaleesi is marking you in such a way, that she’s lost parts of her control because of you, makes you not care in the slightest— you were hers, completely and irreversibly. Her pleasure was your own.

With another strangled gasp, your head falls to her chest, still clad in her formal garb, the metal cool against the heated expanse of your forehead, no longer being able to keep yourself upright. You could feel your climax approaching— coming faster and faster as Daenerys brushed against the spot within you every time she pulled out. Your core clenching around her desperately, trying to keep her within you, milk her for all that she’s worth, and the tight constriction causes a strangled sound of her own to resonate from your Khaleesi.

Feet planted firmly into the floor, she begins to piston fully into you, your body arching into her, allowing her to move you as she saw fit, clearly chasing her second release and your own.

“I’m going to mark you in a way that no one ever has.” Feverish violet eyes meet your own, strands of silvery-gold hair sticking to her heated cheeks, torn from their intricate braids, as her grip on you tightens more. “You’re going to bear my children, you’re going to continue on the Targaryen name. Would you like that?”

You moan. “Yes.”

The thought of carrying her children, of continuing on the Targaryen Legacy, filled you with a sense of purpose, a sense of warmth.

Pushing your head further into her chest, you plead. “Do it, Khaleesi. Claim me.”

With a ragged snarl, Daenerys’s hips stutter and before you know it jets of warmth fill you up, going straight to your womb. The feeling triggers your own release, a broken moan leaving you as you milk Daenerys for everything she has, everything that she’d be willing to offer. Harshly panting, Daenerys settles back onto the throne, hands gently running down your spine, holding you as closely as she possibly still could, still buried inside of you.

“Thank you,” she whispers, nuzzling you before she presses a kiss to your damp temple.

You sigh, content in her arms. “Always.”

Pressing another kiss to your head, Daenerys angles your face in order for you to look at her, the open look of adoration on her face one that’d only ever be reserved for you and her son.

“My beautiful love, my lovely wife.” She drops a chaste kiss to your lips, her hips beginning to move once more. “My eternal queen.”

“My Khaleesi.”

[touchyluffy]

part one

after your first kiss with luffy, everything becomes much more intense. luffy becomes addicted to you and he has no shame in showing it.

he never leaves your side and is always touching you in some way, whether that be his hand holding yours, his head in your lap as he takes a nap on the sunny, or his feet touching yours under the kitchen table. if you're working around the ship, suddenly it's captains orders that you come cuddle him immediately. whenever you dock on a new island, the captain grasps your hand and pulls you off to explore the lands together, and if you can’t keep up with his fast pace run, he tells you to jump on his back, and then he’s off running again laughing as you cling onto him for dear life.

he will compliment you bluntly and genuinely and whenever it comes to his mind. there are no long monologues of love from him, but there is always honesty. he will just call you beautiful in a way that's just a fact. because it is a fact, he knows you're beautiful just like he knows the sky is blue.

he's constantly asking you 'to do that thing with our mouths' and after the 10th time of getting weird looks from those around you, you have to tell him it's called 'kissing' and then that becomes his new favorite word. he's addicted to the warm tingling feeling of your lips touching his. literally you’re chained up with your other crewmates captured by the foe that luffy decided to fight, and he stretches his head towards you with his lips puckered. in the middle of dinner, while eating his second servings, he kisses you with crumb covered lips. whenever you come up with a solution, he jumps on you and peppers your face with kisses. he can't stop himself.

he's extremely protective over you - physically and mentally. if you two are ever separated by an enemy, you can expect him to raise hell, he quiet literally drives himself and whomever is around him crazy worrying about you (once the enemy pirates reunited you and luffy, albeit in handcuffs, just so he would stop asking about you). it's not that he doesn't believe in your strength, he just knows what it's like to lose someone he loves and he will not lose you. he won't stop until you're safe at his side again. he's also protective of your peace and happiness, so anything that makes you uncomfortable (like perverted jokes from your skeleton crewmate) you can expect him to have an issue and he will swiftly put an end to it. this happy go-lucky captain knows when to lay down the law when need be.

he's your number one supporter. every time your bounty goes up, he folds it up and keeps it in his pocket to show everyone - friend or foe. he's so proud of you. whenever you take out an enemy his eyes light up in stars and he cheers loudly. when you two fight together and you land a punch he'd get so excited that he'd forget about the fight entirely and just wrap his rubbery arm around your waist three times and pull you in for a kiss. whenever you say he will be king of the pirates, his heart swells with joy and pride because he knows you'll be right there by his side. or in his lap. either way.

he loves to see you smile and will do anything to keep you happy. when you're upset, he'll be a clown. if you get sick, he'll search far and wide for a medicine to cure you. when you say you miss him he packs a picnic bag and find a spot on the beach for you two to have a moment alone together, it's a much appreciated gesture even if he eats all the food, he makes it up to you by reaching for a few flowers when you aren't looking and presenting them to you with a big smile. this is when he realizes that you like when he gives you gifts so expect to have a shelf full of things he brought for you - flowers, pretty stones, or other little trinkets from islands.

he's not concerned with labels, he just knows he wants you and only you and he wants you to want only him too. and you do. luffy doesn't keep secrets from you, you know exactly how he feels about you and that he's loyal to you to the end. not even the most beautiful warlord could catch his eye because you're all he sees. there isn't a "what are we" conversation (at least not while you're on your adventures together) because the label doesn't matter, you two just know.

he no longer likes to sleep alone at night, saying he can’t handle not touching you for hours. you don't put up much of a fight when he comes to your bedroom because cuddling with your captain has become your addiction too. plus there’s nothing sexual in his request he just loves to be by your side. you love to fall asleep with him and he loves to wake up with you, it’s a perfect match he says with a grin that makes your heart melt.

so yes, he's addicted to you and truthfully he sees nothing wrong with it.

[wrendoesnotexist]

The Older brothers wrapping their wings/tail around you 👀

Just some scenarios Abt the obey me brothers and their wings/tails

Cw: Nothing really, only one mildly suggestive comment at Levi's part. Not proofread

GN!Reader

LUCIFER

You and Lucifer have been working on paperwork in his office for what feels like all day. Having felt bad for the exhausted demon, you had insisted to help him out, even if it was just a bit. Despite the determination you have to help lessen his work load, you can't help but to doze off.

You're eyes start to flutter shut, every attempt made to stop it failing miserably. Lucifer noticed this, of course. He wasn't blind, he could see the way your beautiful eyes threatened to shut at any time.

He expected you to fall asleep, but he didn't expect it when your head tilted to the side, landing on his shoulder. He can't stop the light pink that dusts the tips of his ears. The corners of his lips twitch up into a small smirk, his pride swelling a bit at the situation. His human You fell asleep on him.

He also can't help the way he lets his demon form out, his large black wings closing around you, wrapping you in them like a soft, warm blanket.

He doesn't want His favorite human to get cold, after all.

MAMMON

You and Mammon are currently running away from Lucifer. The Panzi scheme Mammon dragged you into doing with him failing miserably, and attracting the wrath of his older brother.

You're running as fast as you can, which isn't great coupled with the fact that you've starting running down the large staircase. Your foot slips, causing you to fall. Just as your life is about to flash in front of your eyes, you feel one of Mammons leathery black wings wrap around you, scooping you up before you could fall to what would've been your doom.

He's to absorbed in the moment to realize he's practically swaddled you in his tail. That is, until you finally get to safety. His wing is still wrapped firmly around you as he catches his breath.

"Whew! That was a-" He starts, but his words catch in his throat as he sees you in his wing, laughing breathlessly beside him. The heat rises to his cheeks quickly, his face flushing bright red in no time.

He keeps his wing around you for as long as possible. When you finally start to tease him about it, he denies everything Like the tsundere he is. And even then he keeps his wing tucked firmly around you for as long as you'll let him.

He's the avatar of greed, after all.

LEVIATHAN

You and Levi were both holed up in his room playing the newest two player video game he brough. You've both been at this for hours, not that either if you mind.

After a while you feel something cold wrap around your waist. You look down to see Levi's tail wrapped firmly around your waist, the tip of his tail rubbing against the plush of your thighs. You look over at him, trying to see whats going on.

He was so excited after winning the game he didn't even realize hd went into his demon form, until he saw you looking at him with that smug look on your face. That's when he noticed it. And to say the sight nearly gave him a heart palpitation wouldn't be an exaggeration. He quickly unwraps his tail from your waist, his face a blushing mess as he stammers out an apology.

"S-sorry! You probably don't want to touch a yucky otaku like me anyway-"

You cut him off in the middle of his self deprecation.

"Levi, it's fine. It's actually nice, having your tail around me like that."

This man lost his mind at that. His face flushes and blood drips from his nose like an anime character. He nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. He wraps his tail back around you, tugging you slightly closer to him.

"L-lets get back to gaming, yeah?"

He says, picking his controller back up and pressing play on his game. Though gaming wasn't actually what was on his mind wink wink.

It's safe to say he focused none on the game that night.

[eunimaybe]

; caught in the claws of love !

bestfriend!riki x fem. reader | a little date with your bestfriend riki at the arcade blossoms into something more

genre: fluff, friends to lovers (?) | wc. 0.6k EN- a/n: i dug this out from the deepest parts of my google docs it was a whole mariana trench down there

you watched as the plushie dropped once again from the metal claws of the machine, landing softly on top of its soft friends. you stared at it for a moment, disappointed and your pride nearly gone. you thought you would’ve gotten it since it had been your fifth try, but no such luck. the cheerful melody of the claw machine played in and out of your ears as you looked at the cute pink toy behind the clear wall. so close yet so far away. — more under cut!

“did you get it?”

you turned to meet the eyes of your friend, riki, whom you had come to the arcade with and shook your head.

“no. i suck at this, it keeps falling.” you said, eyeing the plushie once again.

“you still want it?” riki asked, following your gaze to the soft toy. it lies amongst all the other plushies, plastic eyes staring up blankly.

you let out a little huff, frustrated. “yeah i do. i don’t even know why - i could get that thing online easily.”

riki set down the cup of slushie he had been holding and took out a bill note from his pocket. “well, there’s always something about the arcade that makes everything more desirable than they should be. try one more time.”

you quickly waved off the money he thrusted at you. you shouldn’t take his money for something so stupid - you probably wouldn’t even be able to get it, considering your below average claw machine skills. but riki insisted, grabbing your hand to stuff the note into your palm before closing your fingers over it.

“my treat,” he said, grinning.

you gave him an exasperated look before inserting the note into the machine. the lights flashed on and off in a sparkle of rainbows, and you clicked the red button to start the game.

you started to move the joystick, shifting the claw’s position left and right for the pink teddy bear. you could feel riki’s gaze on your back, watching you play.

suddenly, his arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours gently as he helped you maneuver the claw machine. his let his head rest on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck.

“here, let me help,” he whispered, moving the joystick along with your left hand to position the claw correctly. “you really do suck as this, but luckily for you, you have me. and i happen to be very, very good at this.”

you were suddenly hyper aware of how close you two were. how your back pressed against him, how his hands wrapped around yours. you felt warm inside, and you could practically feel the flush on your cheeks.

this isn’t how friends are supposed to make you feel.

you could barely pay attention, but you watched riki expertly control the claw machine, letting the metal contraption drop on the teddy bear and winning the game. and then his touch left you as he dived down to get the toy from the slot, leaving you empty and alone standing in front of the flashing claw machine.

“here you go,” riki said, handing you the bear. he smiled proudly. “you like it?”

you wordlessly took it from him, staring at the soft plushie. “you shouldn’t be doing that.”

you could see riki frown from your peripheral vision. “do what?”

you felt your cheeks warm again, and you pulled the plushie tighter against yourself. “do what you just did. we’re friends aren’t we? i think that just went over the blurry line between friendship and something more.”

riki smirked. “like i said, there’s something about the arcade that makes everything, and perhaps, everyone, more desirable than they should be.”

✉️: @icyy-hoon

[uc1wa]

As a virgin, I need a virgin!reader with Jason todd... PLEASE, just a tip or a hint

your sweet sweet boyfriend was overly gentle with you. his touches, featherweight. his hands light when they wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his big and warm embrace. he was a man who, when he was centimeters from your face in what was to be your first kiss, asked, "please let me kiss you, baby." his version of asking if it was okay, to which you righteously nodded, a soft kiss landed right on your lips, despite the lack of chapstick your boyfriend wore.

kissing became more and more normal. pecks, leading into open mouthed kisses, leading into heated makeout sessions on either one of your sofas. but, nothing past that. because, you were worth much more than for jason to drive himself into you on a damned couch.

and he’d be lying to himself if the thought of his little girlfriend, untouched, didn’t drive him up the wall. the fact that he was the one showing you how to do everything, being your first in every one of your intimate moments. knowing that, he would be the one to open your legs the way a flower in bloom would. sweet and ripe and just for him.

he plans it specially. on one of your monthly anniversaries, he takes you to dinner at a fancy restaurant. one where lights are dimmed, and a number of courses come floating your way.

and when you come into his room, there’s a candle lit on each of his bedside tables. jason proceeds to turn a small lamp on as he leads you in there, watching from behind you as you walk in and turn around with a grin.

"i’m all for you, honey. tell me if it gets to be too much, yeah?" he says lowly, softly as he pulls the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the ground.

once all material is removed from both of your bodies, jason’s leading you to lay on your back in his bed. and once you do, his eyes are taking you in, in your entirety. of course the man knew you were beautiful, but to be this beautiful and all for him?

his lips pull upwards as you shy away, hands and arms moving in attempt to cover yourself. so, jason leans down, legs coming underneath yours as one hand grabs yours, placing it against the bed and the other holds himself against the mattress.

"too pretty to be doing that," he smiles, leaning to press a kiss to your lips, your cheek, neck, chest and downwards.

he’s gentle when he begins with your heat, pressing a kiss before he begins lapping at your entrance. one and then two fingers find their way to your hole, hardening his length as he feels just how tight you are.

jason wasn’t impure, but he was more than prideful knowing he was going to be the one to break you open. he was prideful knowing it was his cock that your hole was going to be adjusted to.

your sweetness is almost too much, the taste of sex on his tongue as he travels upwards to take your lips and tongue in open mouthed kisses, stroking himself with help of his pre.

"gonna fill y’up, that okay, princess?" it takes half a nod of confirmation until jason is pressing his head into you, tightness surely an adjustment as he groans above you. the sight of you squirming underneath him makes him want to rut into you, but he’s patient.

"’s okay baby, c’mon, let me see that pretty face," a hand cups your jaw when you fail to meet his eyes, red spreading across your face as your wide eyes meet his. he can only chuckle. "my pretty baby, taking me so good, hun." his strokes are slow, deep, and long.

they stay a consistent pace even when your thighs feel like they’re crushing his hips, your nails scratching their way down his back, and the sound of your mewling voice fills the expanse of the room.

his voice talks you through your first orgasm with him, "for me baby, been so good, cum around me baby," he says, lips sucking softly up your neck. "can feel how much ya want it," jason says when you clench around him, nibbling at your ear.

and when he feels you finish around him, he’s pulling out, spilling himself all over your tummy, because he didn’t think to wear a condom. his lips kiss your neck and then cheek as he sits up. "how do you feel, princess? feelin’ okay?" he asks, grinning at the way you look so tired and fucked out.

he’s getting a warm rag, cleaning you off before tucking you into bed beside him, palm rubbing your back in circles as you lay on his frame, arms wrapped around his torso. "that’s my girl, knew you’d take me good. so proud of you baby."

me when i’m a fucking liar and post when i told myself not to rolling eyes emoji luv u guys have a good weekend i’m going out tn n getting drizzunk woohooo ok byeeeee

[angelsuecult]

bundle of joy | s. crosby

warnings: none that I know of?

summary: Sid feels guilty about missing too much time with your newborn baby and is doing his best to keep up on a particularly restless night

wordcount: 4.6k

a/n: back with some girldad sid! I hope you guys like this one as much as i did writing it! also im going to try to post more often as long as i keep having ideas! anyway enjoy!

The house feels softer tonight, like it’s finally taken a breath. Sidney’s home, and the weight that usually sits in your chest—the one that settles in every time he’s away—has lightened. You’re both exhausted in different ways, piecing together this new rhythm of parenthood. There’s a quietness about the evening, a gentle peace, as you watch Sid watching her, mesmerized by the little miracle beside him. It’s almost like he’s studying her, absorbing every tiny expression, every noise and stretch.

The game’s over, the travel bags are set aside, and he’s finally here, laying with your daughter with the kind of admiration he once reserved for stepping onto the ice. Sid has this tenderness that makes him almost reverent, as if he’s still in awe that she’s real, that she’s his.

Dinner dishes are still in the sink, and a warm, sleepy atmosphere hangs over everything as you sit nearby, watching Sidney and your baby girl on the floor, her little cheeks pressed against her blanket for tummy time.

Sid is lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms, totally captivated by her tiny features, the way she furrows her brow in concentration, her delicate fingers splaying against the blanket as she wobbles slightly. She’s getting stronger every day, her head lifting just a bit higher each time.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you know Sid has been feeling the weight of being away—the way he hovers around her every chance he gets, like he’s making up for all the moments he can’t be there. She’s only ten weeks old, yet his heart aches each time he misses even a second of her life.

As if sensing his thought, she makes a delighted little noise, her whole face lighting up, and he laughs softly. “Okay, okay, I hear you,” he says, reaching out to gently tickle her sides, watching her squirm with joy. “You’re just a bundle of joy, aren’t you?”

She kicks her chubby legs, her little hands pressed into the soft blanket as she lifts her head, wobbling slightly as she tries to hold her balance. And every time her gaze lands back on her dad, her face lights up in the sweetest smile.

“Look at you, so strong already,” Sidney cooed, his voice soft and full of pride. “You’re making Daddy look bad, you know that? I don’t think I was doing half of this at your age.”

She gurgled back, a happy, nonsensical sound, her wide eyes never leaving his face. Sidney felt his heart squeeze, a warmth spreading through his chest as he reached out to brush a gentle hand over her back, his fingers feather-light, reassuring. The start of the season had taken more time than he wanted away from his girls, but this moment — her looking at him like he was her entire world — was exactly what he’d been longing for.

Every few minutes, he would pick up one of her favorite toys, holding it out for her in an attempt to keep her entertained. But no matter how he waved the little stuffed bear or shook the rattle, her attention never strayed far from him.

“She’s obsessed with you,” you say softly, smiling from where you’re watching them. You’ve seen her go wild for her toys and the bright colors of her mobile, but nothing lights her up like Sid’s voice, his gentle touches, the way he looks at her with that unending awe.

Sid laughs, a warm, almost shy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he keeps his eyes on her. “I think I’m the obsessed one,” he replies, unable to stop himself from smiling as she wiggles her way closer, her tiny hands clutching at the blanket beneath her as she babbles at him.

“You’re not even gonna look at your favorite toys?” he teases softly, nudging one of the soft blocks with his finger to catch her eye. But she only giggles, her face lighting up at his voice, and he laughs, clearly thrilled she’s so focused on him.

She lets out a soft, happy coo, reaching her chubby little hand toward Sid. He beams, taking her hand in his much larger one, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “You’re just the sweetest little thing, aren’t you, princess?”

She makes a delighted noise, all bright eyes and tiny, wiggling fingers, her whole little body lighting up at the sound of his voice. She watches him with utter fascination, her eyes tracking his every move as he leans closer, making a gentle raspberry sound that makes her giggle. The little coos and gurgles that follow are filled with pure joy, as if she can’t believe how lucky she is to have her dad right there.

He lifts a little plush penguin, giving it a soft shake to make it squeak, trying to get her attention. “Look, sweet pea, it’s Mr. Waddles,” he coos, giving the toy a gentle wave. But she just blinks at it once, then goes right back to staring at him with a look of pure adoration. He can’t help but laugh, warmth filling his voice as he lowers the toy.

“Oh, so I’m the favorite, huh?” he murmurs, leaning in close. “Sorry, Mr. Waddles, you’ve been replaced.” His voice is soft, tender, the same way he speaks to you in quiet moments. It’s clear she has him wrapped around her tiny finger.

Sidney grinned, scooting even closer, so his face was right next to hers. The two of them shared a silent understanding, a bond that needed no words. She reached out with one tiny hand, resting it on his cheek, her fingers barely grazing his skin, and Sid could feel his heart swell.

He lifts a soft, crinkly book to her, giving it a shake. “You don’t want to play with this one, either? This is a good one.” She gives him an adorable little frown before her eyes settle back on his face, and he can’t help but laugh. “Fine, fine,” he says, dropping the book and settling onto his elbow so he’s even closer to her. “I guess I’ll just have to keep entertaining you myself.”

He talks to her, telling her about the game last night, how they pulled through in the third period, even throwing in some dramatics, his eyes lighting up as he describes each detail in a gentle, funny voice. She stares up at him, her gaze never wavering, and every so often, he pauses to brush a finger over her tiny hand or to press a kiss to her head, whispering little things only meant for her.

He let her tiny fingers grip his finger, her little hand wrapping around it with surprising strength. “You know, I missed you guys this week. Daddy’s been gone too much, huh?” The guilt he’d been carrying all week melted away, at least for now. Being here, watching her, feeling her little fingers on his skin — this was exactly where he wanted to be.

When she seemed to tire a bit, her arms wobbling from the effort of tummy time, Sidney gently rolled her onto her back and scooped her up, bringing her close to his chest. She snuggled in without hesitation, a satisfied little sigh escaping her lips, and Sidney pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

You laughed, shaking your head. “If she wasn’t overdue for a bath, I’d leave you two to your little love fest. But she’s getting a bit—stinky.”

Sidney pretended to gasp, looking down at her with an exaggerated expression of shock. “Stinky? You, my little angel? No way.”

Her eyes still fixed on him, clearly reluctant to leave her special time with him. Sidney chuckled, lifting her up into his arms with the same gentleness he always did. “Alright, stinky butt, it’s bath time. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

He padded down the hall toward the bathroom, her head resting on his shoulder as he held her close. She gave a little sigh, already so at ease in his arms, and he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You smell like trouble, you know that?” he murmured, amused by the little puff of air she let out in response.

He took his time, cherishing every moment, his hands gentle and steady as he helped wash each tiny arm, each pudgy little leg. She never took her eyes off him, her smile wide and pure, her complete adoration for him clear in every happy babble, every soft coo.

As you dry her off, Sidney’s hands are gentle as they towel her tiny body, careful and tender in a way that only comes from a love he’s discovering more deeply every day.

You watch him with a soft smile, knowing he’s been missing moments like these more than he’d ever admit. With the season in full swing, he’s been away more often than he’d like, and though you always reassure him, he still carries the weight of wanting to be here for every second, every milestone.

He gently lifts her into his arms, cradling her close as he turns to you with a soft smile. “Come on, let’s get this little one to bed,” he whispers, carrying her to the nursery, dimly lit and perfectly peaceful, designed just for her. Her crib is tucked beneath a mobile that slowly spins with soft woodland creatures.

His movements gentle and careful as he laid her down on the changing table, her little legs kicking out as made tiny noises, those adorable baby coos that melted his heart. He grinned, running a thumb over her soft skin. “Let’s get you ready for bed, sweetheart,” he whispered.

He dressed her slowly, savoring every little wiggle, every soft sound she made. “You’re gonna try and sleep so well for us tonight, huh?” he cooed, securing her diaper and slipping her into the soft pajamas that you had picked out earlier. They were navy-colored, adorned with little stars—your favorite, and now his too.

You watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a sleepy smile. This had become your nightly routine: bath time, lullabies, and then watching Sid handle the last bit of getting her dressed and ready for bed.

Sid turned toward you, holding your little girl close to his chest, her tiny hand resting against his shoulder. “She’s perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the calm of the moment.

“She is,” you agreed softly, stepping into the room. You rested your hand on his back, the familiar warmth of his body bringing you comfort. Despite everything, you had never once doubted what a good father Sid was, or the love he had for both of you. But you knew how much he hated missing out, and that guilt sometimes crept into moments like these.

She let out a soft, sleepy sigh, her little body snuggling further into Sid’s chest. You both fell silent, watching her drift off in his arms. These moments were precious—the stillness, the quietness that settled over your little family as the day wound down.

Sid carefully placed her in her crib, pulling her soft, knitted blanket over her. His hand lingered on her for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her breathing, as if committing every detail to memory. He turned back to you, taking your hand and leading you out of the nursery, quietly closing the door behind him.

In the dim light of your bedroom, the fatigue of the day began to weigh on you. Sid helped you slip into bed, pulling the covers up as he joined you. His hand found yours beneath the blanket, squeezing gently.

These days, Sid’s schedule seemed to pull him away more than either of you wanted, and though you hadn’t said a word, he could see it. The way motherhood clung to you—something beautiful but heavy. Sid hadn’t known it could be like this: the love, yes, but also the guilt, especially in moments like these when he could hold his tiny daughter, damp curls pressed to her head and sleepy eyes blinking up at him, feeling like he'd missed so much already. He was trying to make up for lost time, just as much for you as for her.

It had been a whirlwind since her birth, every day a blend of deep love, a bit of exhaustion, and a growing sense of awe at the little life together you had created. The guilt had slowly crept in, especially when he saw how naturally and constantly you tended to her. You never made him feel like he was falling short, never once said he wasn’t doing enough. But Sid felt the weight of what he could be doing — what he wanted to do for both of you.

He’d started noticing the little things, the way your shoulders slumped when you finally sank into bed at the end of the day, or how you’d stare off with a distant look as if you were running through a mental list of the million things you had to do. It struck him that you were tired in a way he hadn’t quite understood before becoming a dad. This was a different kind of tired — a kind that meant you were giving every part of yourself.

Sid had long made a silent vow to himself when she was born. Whenever he got the chance, he would take on the nightshift — he’d be the one to wake up whenever she cried, needed comfort, a bottle, or just to be held. Whatever it took to let you rest, he was committed to it.

The night was thick with stillness, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Sidney lay with one arm wrapped around you, listening to the gentle sound of your breathing, each rise and fall a comfort he’d come to rely on.

Just as he started to drift off, a faint cry cut through the quiet, little and insistent. It was that particular sound he was learning to recognize—It was just past 1 a.m. when he heard her. She stirred first, little whimpers escaping before her cry broke out, sharp and insistent, as if she were testing her strength. He could feel you stirring, instinctively moving to sit up, but he was quicker.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he whispered, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I got it, baby. Go back to sleep.”

You murmured something, half asleep, but the warmth of his hand and his reassurance kept you in place. Satisfied that you were settling back down, he slipped out of bed, letting you settle back into the warmth of the blankets. The nursery was just down the hall, but as he walked through the quiet house, he felt his heart swell with excitement, knowing he’d get these next few hours with his little girl.

When he entered the nursery, he found her lying in her crib, tiny fists waving in the air, her face scrunched up in a way that was almost comical.

“Hey there, little one,” he murmured, reaching down to scoop her up. “You miss me already, huh? Can’t blame you. I missed you too.”

She wiggled slightly, her little face pressing against his chest as he held her close. Her cries softened, her tiny hands curling into his shirt. Sid could feel the small weight of her body, the warmth of her cheek against him, and it made his heart ache with love. These were the moments he’d missed, and he could feel just how much they meant to him now, holding her close in the stillness of the night.

As he swayed gently, he whispered to her, his voice barely above a murmur, ““What’s the matter, huh? You missing some snuggles? Or maybe you’re just checking in on me, making sure I’m still on duty?” He smiled softly, rubbing her back with gentle circles, just like he’d seen you do a hundred times. ““Well, I missed you, too, you know. Just because I’m over there with Mom doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you.”

She let out a small, contented sigh, her face nuzzling into his shoulder, and Sid chuckled softly. “That’s my girl,” he whispered. “See? We got this.”

Once she settled, Sid carefully placed her back in the crib, watching her for a few long moments to make sure she was comfortable. Her little body relaxed, her face softening as she drifted back to sleep, and Sid let out a quiet sigh of relief.

After a while Sid slipped back into bed beside you. “She went down easy,” he whispered, a hint of pride in his voice as he kissed your shoulder again.

The second time she woke, Sid felt her cries before he fully registered them, his instincts kicked in before he was even conscious. He was almost up when he noticed you stir, your hand reaching out instinctively. Before you could lift your head, Sid’s hand was there, resting over yours.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. “Stay in bed, I’ve got her.”

You opened one eye, looking at him, a mix of gratitude and exhaustion in your gaze. “Are you sure? You’ve barely slept yourself.”

Sid just smiled, brushing a hand over your cheek. “I don’t mind. She’s only this little once, right?”

You smiled sleepily, sinking back into the sheets as he stood, heading once more to the nursery. This time, her cries were a little louder, more insistent, and when he picked her up, he could feel her squirming, fussing against him. He rubbed her back, bouncing gently as he paced the room.

“Oh, I know, sweetie. You’re really mad this time, huh?” He chuckled softly, walking over to the window, showing her the soft moonlight outside. “Nothing like a good cry in the middle of the night to get all that extra energy out, huh? Are you working on your lung power?”

She hiccuped, her cries faltering slightly as she listened to his voice. Sid kept talking, the sound of his soft words seeming to calm her. “There’s my strong girl. You can tell me all about it, I’ll listen. I’m all ears. But maybe we could talk about it in a whisper? Just for now? Mom’s still sleeping.”

Her little head leaned into his shoulder, her cries softening to soft, hiccupy breaths as he continued to sway, whispering to her.

“There we go, that’s it. I knew you had it in you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, feeling the warmth of her tiny body as she settled against him. “You know, sometimes Dad needs these little reminders, too. I miss you during the day, you know that? So I don’t mind these late-night check-ins. Means I get a little extra time with my girl.”

After a while, she was calmer, her breaths evening out, and Sid was able to settle her back into her crib. He brushed a hand over her hair, smiling as she nestled down, her tiny fist clutching her blanket. “Goodnight again, baby girl. Sleep tight, alright?”

As you both settled into sleep, Sid’s arm wrapped around your waist, you felt at peace. The challenges of new parenthood weren’t easy, but with Sid by your side, they felt just a little lighter.

It was the third time that night that Sid heard her cry. It was early—too early, the sun hadn’t even started to rise, and the world outside was still fast asleep. But inside, their baby girl’s cry pierced the silence, loud and insistent, the kind of hungry wail that signaled she was ready to eat now.

Sid blinked awake instantly, feeling the tiny pang of exhaustion in his body, but it didn’t matter. He could hear how deep you were sleeping beside him, finally getting the rest you so desperately needed. You didn’t stir, and he was relieved for that. He had promised he’d take care of everything tonight, and that’s exactly what he intended to do.

Sliding quietly out of bed, Sid moved through the hallway with practiced stealth, heading to the nursery. As soon as he entered the room, he found his baby girl squirming in her crib, her face scrunched up in frustration, those tiny fists waving in the air. Her cry was urgent but not frantic, a signal to him that she was uncomfortable, but also that she knew help was coming.

“Shh, I’m here, sweetheart,” Sid whispered, leaning over to scoop her into his arms. The moment she was against his chest, her cries softened a little, though her face still showed her impatience. He smiled, adjusting her tiny body against him, holding her close. “I know, baby girl, you’re hungry, huh? I’ve got you. Let’s go get your bottle.”

As if on cue, she let out another cry, and Sid chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “Okay, okay, we’ll get you taken care of,” he whispered. “Come on, let’s get you a nice breakfast, yeah?”

He walked with her through the house, each creak of the floor carefully avoided as he carried her toward the kitchen. The house was still so dark, but Sid knew his way around even without lights. Her little head rested against his chest, her soft whimpers filling the air as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s okay, we’ll get you fed in no time,” he murmured. He could feel her tiny heartbeat against his chest, the way her breath hitched every few seconds as she calmed down in his arms. It made his own heart swell with love. These were the moments he craved, the quiet, intimate times when it was just him and his daughter.

Sid carefully warmed the bottle, keeping one hand on her as she nestled against him. She was still hungry, still fussing, but being close to him seemed to soothe her just enough to stop the full-on crying. Once the bottle was ready, Sid tested the temperature before cradling her more securely in his arms.

“Alright, sweet girl, here we go,” he whispered, holding the bottle to her lips. She latched on immediately, those big, wide eyes locking on him, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

Sid walked them back to the nursery, her soft suckling the only sound in the stillness of the house. He sat down in the reclining chair, easing into it carefully as he watched her drink. His hand rested gently on her back, supporting her, while the other held the bottle steady.

“You’re getting so big,” he said softly, his voice full of awe. It was incredible how much she had grown in just 10 weeks. He couldn’t help but marvel at her every day—at her tiny fingers that clung to his hands, her soft cheeks that had filled out since the day she was born, and the way she gazed up at him, as if she already knew him completely.

As she finished the bottle, Sid wiped her mouth gently with a cloth before lifting her to his shoulder to burp her. “You did so good, baby girl,” he murmured, rubbing her back in slow circles. “I’m so proud of you.” It took a few moments, but eventually, a small, satisfied burp escaped her, and Sid chuckled quietly.

She was much more relaxed now, her body soft and pliant against his as he settled her back into his arms. He extended the recliner, shifting her to lay comfortably against his chest. Her head rested right over his heart, her tiny arm tucked under his, as if giving him a hug, while the other lay beside her face, curled into a little fist. Sid draped her small blanket over her, ensuring she was warm, then pulled a larger blanket around them both, tucking a pillow under his arms to keep her safe.

He looked down at her, her eyelids fluttering as she began to drift off, her breath evening out into soft little puffs. Sid couldn’t stop staring. The way her face softened as she fell asleep, the gentle rise and fall of her tiny chest—it was everything. These were the moments he’d been missing, the ones he craved.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice full of love. “You’re just perfect, you know that?” His lips brushed against the top of her head, his arms tightening around her as he rocked the chair ever so slightly. He could feel her settling into him, her tiny body molding to his as if she belonged there, right over his heart.

Sid let out a quiet breath, overwhelmed by how grateful he felt. In this moment, there was nothing else—no guilt, no pressure, just him and his baby girl, wrapped in the quiet of the early morning. This was what he had missed. Not just the milestones, but the quiet, in-between moments. The way her body relaxed against his, the soft warmth of her skin, the trust she had in him to keep her safe.

“You know,” he whispered, “I’m so lucky to be your dad.” His voice was soft, full of emotion, even though she was too young to understand. “I’m gonna be here for you, no matter what. I’m always gonna take care of you.”

Her tiny hand twitched slightly, her fingers curling against his chest as she let out a soft sigh in her sleep. Sid smiled, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of love.

“And your mom,” he added, his thoughts drifting back to you, peacefully asleep in the other room. “She’s the best, you know? She’s taking such good care of you—I’m just trying to keep up.” He chuckled quietly, brushing a finger gently along the curve of his daughter’s cheek. “But I’m getting there, baby girl. I’m getting there.”

The house remained quiet, the early morning still cloaked in darkness, but Sid didn’t mind. He would stay like this for as long as she needed, holding her close, listening to her soft breaths as she slept. He kissed her head again, inhaling the sweet scent of baby lotion and her natural warmth.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, for you. In moments like this, it was easy to forget the worries and the pressures, the things that made him doubt if he was doing enough. All that mattered was this—being here, being present, and making sure his little girl felt loved and safe.

As he rested his head back against the recliner, Sid kept one arm securely around her, the other resting on her back, his fingers lightly tracing patterns along her tiny spine. He couldn’t stop watching her. Every little movement she made, every soft sigh, was precious. He felt a deep sense of gratitude, knowing that despite the hard days, despite the exhaustion, he got to be a part of this—these quiet moments, these little pieces of magic that made it all worth it.

He couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect she was, every little detail of her face, her tiny nose and delicate eyelashes, the way her mouth twitched slightly in sleep. She was his whole world, and in that quiet, early-morning stillness, he felt a peace he’d never known before.

“You’re my whole heart, little one,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth and love. “Thank you for letting me be your dad. I promise I’m gonna do my best to be the dad you deserve.”

With that, he settled back, letting himself drift off with her tiny heartbeat pressed against his body, her soft breaths filling the quiet of the room as the first rays of dawn began to light up the sky.

[its-avalon-08]

Can I request a Lando one where reader is a famous skateboarder and she becomes insecure because she is outside the "standard" of girls who he dates and he's comforts her after all the online hate she suffers because of that and says that she's way cooler than him

skatergirl and racerboy (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fluff, hate

Lando watched Y/N from a distance, sitting on the edge of the skatepark with his elbows resting on his knees. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. He loved these moments, watching her in her element, completely absorbed in her passion.

Y/N was practicing a new trick, her face set in determined concentration. She launched herself off a ramp, twisting her body mid-air, and landed smoothly, her skateboard gliding effortlessly beneath her. Lando couldn’t help but smile, a sense of pride welling up inside him.

“Wow,” he muttered to himself, his admiration evident. “She makes it look so easy.”

As she skated back towards the start, she noticed Lando and waved, her face lighting up with a smile. Lando's heart skipped a beat at the sight. He waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement just from seeing her so happy.

She skated over to him, her helmet slightly askew and a sheen of sweat on her brow. “Hey there, Formula 1 star. How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough to be amazed, as always,” Lando replied, grinning. “You’re incredible out there, you know that?”

Y/N blushed slightly, sitting next to him and pulling off her helmet. “Thanks, Lando. It means a lot coming from you.”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly. “The way you handle that board, it’s like you’re dancing. I could watch you all day.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “You make driving around in circles look pretty cool too.”

Lando chuckled. “Touché. But seriously, your talent and dedication… it’s inspiring. It makes me want to be better at what I do.”

Y/N tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Really? You’re already amazing at what you do.”

“Maybe, but seeing you push yourself, constantly striving to improve… it motivates me. Plus, I love your whole vibe. It’s so different from anything I’ve ever known. You’re fearless, and it’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

She looked down, a shy smile playing on her lips. “I’m just being me.”

“And that’s exactly what I love,” Lando said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re authentic, and you don’t try to fit into any box. It’s refreshing.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his. “I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I worry that… you know, I’m not what people expect for you.”

Lando shook his head firmly. “What matters is what I want, and I want you, Y/N. I love everything about you – your passion, your talent, your uniqueness. You’re not just my girlfriend; you’re my best friend, my biggest inspiration.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion as she leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you, Lando.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I love you too, Y/N. More than anything.”

They sat there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. In that moment, Lando knew he’d found something truly special, and he was determined to hold onto it, no matter what anyone else said.

time skip

pov. y/n's phone

instagram comments

@F1Fanatic123: "I don’t get the hype about Y/N. She’s not even close to Lando’s exes in terms of looks."

@RacingQueen99: "Why is Lando dating a skateboarder? She doesn’t fit the WAG standards at all."

@GlamGossip: "Y/N looks so tomboyish. Lando deserves someone more feminine."

@SpeedDemon56: "Miss the days when Lando dated models. Y/N just doesn’t measure up."

twitter posts

@F1Lover: "Lando can do so much better than Y/N. She doesn’t even fit the WAG profile. #BringBackTheModels"

@RaceCarDreams: "Not hating, but Y/N isn’t what I expected for Lando. She’s so different from his exes."

@GossipGuru: "Y/N is cool and all, but she’s not the type of girl I’d imagine with Lando. He needs someone more glamorous."

@TrackTalk: "Seeing Y/N and Lando together is weird. She’s too tomboyish for him. #Mismatch"

instagram dms

Unknown: "Y/N, you should just stick to skateboarding. Leave Lando for someone who actually fits in his world."

Unknown: "You’re cool, but not WAG material. Lando deserves a real queen, not a skater girl."

Unknown: "You’re ruining Lando’s image. He needs someone better, not a skater girl."

Unknown: "Why is Lando wasting his time with you? You’ll never fit in his world."

twitter replies

@RacingFanatic: "Lando’s ex was so much prettier. What happened, @LandoNorris?"

@F1Glam: "Y/N is a downgrade. Lando should be with someone more stylish."

@PitStopPrincess: "Y/N is talented, but she doesn’t belong in the WAG circle. Lando can find someone better."

instagram story reactions

👎👎👎: "Y/N is so out of place with Lando. Bring back his glamorous girlfriends!"

💔: "She’s cool but not the right fit for Lando. I miss his old WAGs."

instagram poll

@F1GossipHub: "Do you think Y/N is a good match for Lando?"

Yes (25%)

No (75%)

twitter trending hashtags

#BringBackTheModels #LandoDeservesBetter #MismatchCouple

more twitter comments

@F1Chatter: "It’s sad seeing Lando with someone so below his league. He used to date such beautiful women."

@GlamF1: "Y/N is talented, but she doesn’t belong in the world of F1 WAGs. She’s too different."

@SpeedyGossip: "I like Y/N, but she’s not the type for Lando. He needs someone who matches his lifestyle."

instagram comments on lando’s post

@F1FanGirl: "Lando, you can do better. Y/N isn’t the one for you."

@RacingChic: "She’s not WAG material. Miss the days when you dated models."

@GlamQueen: "Y/N is too different. You deserve someone who fits the WAG profile."

end of pov

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at her phone. The screen was filled with hurtful comments and criticisms that seemed to pile up no matter where she looked. Each notification felt like a new stab to her heart. She felt utterly crushed by the online hate.

The next morning, she tried to put on a brave face. She chose a floral dress from her closet, something she rarely wore. She looked in the mirror and forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t feel like herself.

As she walked into the kitchen, Lando looked up from his coffee and did a double-take. “You look stunning my love! But are you not skateboarding today?"

Y/N cut him off with a forced smile. “Just trying something new. and no I'm not going today. How’s your morning?”

Lando frowned, sensing something was off. Over the next few days, he noticed she was changing her wardrobe more and more, opting for dresses and stylish outfits instead of her usual skateboarding gear. It wasn’t like her at all.

Finally, one evening, Lando decided to confront her. He found her in the living room, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, staring blankly at the TV. He sat down next to her, his expression serious.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked gently. “You’ve been acting so different lately. Wearing all these dresses that I know you don't like, not skating… it’s like you’re trying to be someone you’re not.”

She didn’t meet his gaze, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress. “It’s nothing, really. Just felt like a change.”

Lando reached out, placing his hand on hers. “It’s not just about the clothes, is it? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Her resolve broke, and she turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I just… I read all the comments online. People saying I don’t fit your world, that I’m not good enough. It’s hard to ignore, Lando. I started thinking maybe they’re right.”

Lando’s heart broke at her words. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “Oh, Y/N… I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Those comments are nothing but noise. They don’t matter. What matters is how I feel about you.”

She clung to him, her sobs muffled against his chest. “But… I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t fit in. I just wanted to make you proud.”

Lando gently pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of sadness and determination. “You don’t have to change anything about yourself for me. I fell in love with you for who you are, not for who others think you should be. The reason I’m with you is because you’re real, and you’re amazing just the way you are.”

Y/N shook her head, wiping at her tears. “But what if who I am isn’t enough?”

Lando cupped her face in his hands, his eyes intense with emotion. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. You’re cooler than anyone I’ve ever met. The way you skateboard, your passion, your spirit—it’s all a part of who you are, and that’s what I love. Those comments, they don’t change how incredible you are.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching for sincerity. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’ve seen how hard you work, how dedicated you are. You inspire me every day. And the idea of you changing yourself to fit some standard is just wrong. You make me proud every single day.”

Y/N’s tears continued to flow, but now there was a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Thank you, Lando. I needed to hear that.”

He kissed her forehead, his own eyes misty. “Anytime, love. I’m here for you, no matter what. And remember, you’re the one who makes my world brighter. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much baby, don't let anyone dim your spirit.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the world lifting slightly as they found solace in their love. Lando’s words became a balm to her wounded heart, a reminder that their bond was stronger than any online hate. Together, they faced the storm, united in their love and unwavering in their support for each other.

landonorris posted

liked by y/nn, maxverstappen1 and others

landonorris my girl, i love you more than anything. fuck the haters

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day Three: Old Man Logan

Old Man Logan x Fem Reader | Pregnancy Kink |

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, Pregnancy Kink, Pillow humping, fingering

Summary: Logan walks in on his pregnant lover attempting to satisfy her own needs, but the sight of her only fuels his own desires. 

WC: 1.2K

| (Day Two) | | Kinktober masterlist |  | Day Four |

The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of trees outside. Inside, the space was filled with the comforting scent of cedarwood, but there was something more—something heated and raw in the air tonight.

You were restless. Your body felt alive in ways that left you both frustrated and embarrassed. At seven months pregnant, your body was changing in ways you hadn’t expected. You had always craved Logan, his touch, his presence, but lately, the intensity had multiplied tenfold. Yet your growing belly made everything feel just out of reach.

Your hand slid across your round stomach as you lay on the bed, trying to ease the ache building inside. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing had been enough, and Logan had been gone all day, leaving you to battle this need alone.

With a frustrated sigh, you bit your lip, eyes landing on the pillow beside you. It was stupid, you knew that, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Rolling onto your side, you grabbed it, pulling it between your thighs. The sensation sent a pulse of heat through you, and you shifted, grinding against it in slow, needy rolls.

It was close—so close—but the release kept slipping through your fingers. The angle wasn’t right. You whimpered in frustration, closing your eyes, trying to push yourself over the edge.

Logan stood in the doorway, his presence so silent, so unobtrusive, that you hadn’t even noticed him there. But he saw you—every curve, every movement. He couldn’t help but take a moment, pausing in the shadows of the hallway, eyes locked on you with a burning intensity.

Your swollen belly drew his attention first, the gentle curve a constant reminder of the life you carried inside. His chest tightened with a mixture of pride and awe. You were creating something so precious, and in this moment, even in your raw desperation, you were breathtaking. The tank top you wore clung to your breasts, which had grown fuller with the pregnancy, straining against the fabric in a way that made Logan’s mouth water. The way they rose and fell with each ragged breath you took made his pulse quicken.

He watched your hips rock slowly against the pillow, the way you arched your back, and his hands itched to touch you. To feel the heat of your skin, to claim you, to satisfy every need that you clearly hadn’t been able to fulfill on your own. His eyes darkened, and his body responded, every protective and possessive instinct flaring to life as he saw you struggle to find your release.

Logan admired the way your body had changed, grown softer in some places, fuller in others, and he found every inch of it more perfect than before. You were his. Every part of you, from your swollen belly to your desperate moans, belonged to him, and the sight of you like this—needy, vulnerable, and undeniably his—stirred something primal within him.

He stepped forward, the floor creaking softly under his weight, catching your attention. Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes snapped open to see him standing there. He filled the doorway, his broad frame shadowed by the dim light, and yet his presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best way. His eyes, dark and hungry, swept over you, lingering on the places that made you feel both exposed and desired.

"Well, well," he rumbled, his voice a low growl. "What do we have here?"

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and need. "Logan…" you whispered, trying to pull yourself up, but the awkwardness of your position, the weight of your belly, made you clumsy. He crossed the room with long, deliberate strides, stopping you from moving as his rough hand gently pushed you back down onto the bed.

"Uh-uh, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice full of amusement but laced with something darker, more intense. "You keep going. I wanna watch."

Your body shuddered at his words, the heat between your legs doubling under his gaze. Hesitation flickered in your mind, but the way his eyes devoured you made it impossible to resist. You bit your lip, your hips resuming their slow, grinding motion against the pillow, and Logan’s eyes never left you.

"That’s it, baby," he muttered, his hands roaming over your thighs, squeezing them possessively. His touch was a brand, staking his claim on you. His thumb brushed against the damp fabric of your underwear, and you gasped, hips jerking into his touch as need consumed you.

"You’re so worked up, aren’t you?" His voice was a low rasp, filled with barely restrained desire. You nodded, unable to form words, your body begging for more as the frustration built inside you. "I… I can’t… Logan, it’s not enough. Please."

The desperation in your voice tugged at something deep inside him. His gaze softened, but his hunger was undeniable. "I’ve got you, sweetheart," he whispered, his thumb tracing slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you tremble. "Let me take care of you."

With that, Logan slid the pillow away from between your legs, his hand immediately replacing it. He gently spread your thighs apart, positioning himself between them as he leaned down to press kisses along the curve of your belly. Reverent, tender, and yet filled with heat. His rough fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties again, and with one swift motion, he tugged them down, exposing your wet core to him.

"You’re so damn beautiful," he growled, his eyes trailing from your swollen belly to the slick folds between your thighs. "So perfect."

You whimpered as his fingers teased you, the pad of his thumb brushing over your clit while his other hand stroked the side of your belly, grounding you in the sensation of his touch. His skilled fingers slid inside you with ease, stretching you just right, and your hips lifted off the bed to meet his hand.

"Logan," you gasped, hands reaching for him, needing him closer.

His eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. "You like that, huh? My pretty girl, so desperate for me." His words only heightened the tension coiling inside you, every touch driving you closer to the edge you’d been chasing all night.

Logan’s fingers worked inside you with expert precision, his thumb flicking your clit in just the right rhythm to unravel you. The tightness built, unbearable and delicious, your body climbing higher under his skilled touch.

"Come for me," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers through your body. "I wanna feel you fall apart."

The command sent you spiraling, and with a loud cry, you shattered, the orgasm ripping through you in powerful waves. Logan didn’t stop, drawing out every last bit of pleasure as your body trembled beneath him.

When the intensity finally ebbed, you collapsed against the bed, panting and spent. Logan leaned over you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting protectively over your belly.

"You alright, baby?" he asked, his voice rough but filled with affection.

You smiled, utterly content, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. "Better now," you whispered, the love in your voice clear.

Logan chuckled, pulling you into his arms as he settled beside you. "Good," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your temple.

Tags: @arthurcerverogf @lovemaildumpsterfire @serendippindots @peachtxa @omgurhot @chaoticweirdogeek @5soscrack

[a-1mond]

How to Romanticize Your Study Sessions for Maximum Focus 🤍

Studying doesn’t have to feel like a chore, make it a vibe. When you romanticize your study sessions, you’ll actually look forward to them. Here’s how I turn my study time into a dreamy, productive experience:

1. Set the Mood with Lighting

Soft, warm lighting creates a cozy atmosphere that’s perfect for focus. Swap your harsh overhead light for:

• A chic desk lamp with adjustable brightness.

• Fairy lights or a Himalayan salt lamp for an extra glow.

• Candles (if allowed) for a touch of sophistication.

2. Create an Aesthetic Workspace

Your study space should feel like you. Clear the clutter and bring in elements that inspire:

• A minimalist desk setup with neutral or pastel tones.

• A vase of fresh flowers or eucalyptus stems for a natural touch.

• Coordinated stationery and planners for an effortlessly chic vibe.

3. Wear Your “Study Uniform”

I hate wearing the hoodie and sweats because it puts me in a lazy and tired mindset.

• A comfy yet cute matching lounge set.

• A messy bun secured with a silk scrunchie.

• Light, natural makeup to feel put-together (yes, even for studying).

4. Have the Perfect Playlist

Music is everything when it comes to setting the tone. Some ideas:

• Lo-fi beats for a calm, focused ambiance (my fav!)

• Instrumental movie soundtracks (think Pride and Prejudice or The Secret Garden).

• Nature sounds like rain or ocean waves if music is too distracting.

5. Add a Signature Drink

My girl moment isn’t complete without the perfect beverage. Some go-to options:

• An iced matcha latte in a clear glass with a reusable straw.

• A lavender or chamomile tea in a delicate mug.

• A sparkling water with lemon slices for a refreshing vibe.

6. Romanticize Your Study Tools

Your study tools should inspire productivity and aesthetic. Here’s how:

• Invest in high-quality pens, like Muji gel pens or mildliners.

• Use a stylish leather or vegan notebook.

• Organize your notes digitally with GoodNotes or Notion.

7. Incorporate Mini Breaks

Every study session needs balance. Take short breaks that keep the vibes alive:

• A 5-minute stretch routine to soft piano music.

• A quick journal entry reflecting on your study goals.

• Lighting a new candle to reset your focus.

8. Visualize Your Future Self

Tap into your main character energy:

• Imagine yourself acing exams, landing your dream job, or feeling like that girl who has it all together.

• Use a vision board or affirmations to stay inspired: “I am intelligent, disciplined, and unstoppable.”

I was inspired by @blissfullyecho to make these types of posts 🤍 thank you

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Word Count: 1708

Chapter 16:

Once again, and as it was expected, arguments soon rose between the coven members. Yet through those arguments, confessions quickly came to light.

Like the fact that Alice recognised those markings, and was forced to expose one of her deepest secrets.

"I thought it was me, that it's my fault that I can't keep a job, that everything I touch turns to shit, that I couldn't save her" she confessed, refusing to meet any of your gazes. "I convinced myself they were birthmarks. Even though she had the same ones"

Jen seemed to connect the dots the fastest. "Wait, are we talking about a generational curse?"

You held back a groan the best you could, and all that was heard from you was a forced sigh.

Generational curses were the worst of the curses and you had been lucky to avoid them in your prolonged life. They were almost impossible to break, their bases so dark it was almost supernatural in terms of power.

While the tensions between the group intensified, you felt a sharp acute pain coming from both your shoulders.

With a loud gasp, you leaned forward; eyes wide open as you felt as if someone had touched a torch right on your skin.

You could not help but hiss and close your eyes momentarily, trying not to let this pain make you lose focus or have you on the ground.

Once was enough, your pride was not going to let you fall victim to it again; let alone let it make you kneel.

"Fuck" you cursed as you opened your eyes, pressing your teeth against one another and watched Alice rush your way.

To her surprise, you lifted your hand and motioned for her not to approach; confusing them group. Mastering all the self-control you had, you brought your free hand, placed it on the shoulder burning the most, and started to chant something under your breath.

White magic was barely noticeable beneath your hand, but a few seconds after, you constantly repeated some sort of mantra; you felt free of the pain, and you could breathe again.

Panting faintly, you looked at your audience; only two were not utterly surprised by your actions. The rest were both curious and slightly suspicious.

"How did you do that?" Alice asked, not expecting to have another protection witch in the group.

"Anti-curse spell. Works on the caster only, " you explained, not daring to check your skin for any marks.

You would deal with them later, when you would be free of any trial related danger.

Jen narrowed her eyes. "An anti-curse spell powerful enough to keep away a generational curse?" She asked rhetorically, clearly not believing you.

You had been honest on that part, feeling no need to lie. You had to give it to Jen for not settling for the breadcrumbs you had just given them.

However, now it was not the time to go into depth how you made such spell work.

Thankfully for you, the trial or the curse were furious with your little trick and chose to attack a different coven member... Teen.

Though this time, there was no burning sensation or anything mystical.

No, this time, something invisible hit the boy with so much force; it sent him flying.

You gasped and placed your hands in front of your mouth as you saw Teen being thrown mid air, smashing through the two way mirror glass of the recording booth and landing outside; right in the control room.

Everyone rushed to check on him, fearing for the worst after such attack; none questioning why the boy was attacked differently than the rest.

Thankfully, Teen was alright or at least not critically injured. He was even smiling faintly as he noticed almost everyone surrounding him; Jen having chosen to stay in the protective circle.

"Hey." He greeted weakly. "I got attacked by the curse. Does that mean I'm part of the coven?"

His innocent question made you smile faintly, relieved that he was okay. You slowly helped him to stand up, carefully ensuring he would not collapse any moment now.

"Blessings and burdens alike." You told him, seeing his naive little smile growing.

As you all gathered back in the recording booth, you started to discuss how to deal with this curse; the time on the metronome continuing ticking but this time you didn't know just how much Time you had been left.

In the end, by inspecting the broken record; a solution was found. Since the curse came from the record played backwards, the only way to battle it is to play the song normally.

Ironically, the song was none other than the Ballad of the Witches Road; sang by none other than Alice's mother, Lorna Wu.

Also, the genius mind of Agatha made the ultimate deduction.

"What did Lorna want from The Road? What was her intention? To save her daughter. You should have burnt to a crisp years ago, but here you are. Sullen and aimless, but alive. That's because at any given moment somewhere, someone is playing that song that you hate so much. Lorna's Ballad is a protection spell. It protected you."

Agatha's words seemed to bypass any of Alice's defenses, trying to win her over and give her the courage to play the song. Every member of the coven had to participate and since that trial was related to her mother, Alice was the centre of it all.

At Agatha's words, you could not help but glance to the ground momentarily. Hearing of Lorna's love for her daughter, going as far as to create a song spell to save her daughter... it made your heart ache.

You barely knew your mother, anything about her a distant and blurry memory at the very back of your mind. At least your birth mother, that is.

You did not have a motherly figure in your life, many witches doing the bare minimum to help you, but none wished to get attached to you; even though you were a little orphan girl.

Perhaps this was what had attracted you to Agatha in the first place. Being older than you and actually interested in being part of your life, had made you form an incredible bond with her; even if someone might argue this bond was one way.

Sometimes, though, you did wish to know more.

To know if this woman you had called your mother as a child, ghe very same one tht had chosen to look after and raise you, would have done something similar to protect you, rather than leaving through the door one morning and letting you wake up alone to an empty house.

You had never managed to find her again, and as for your birth mother, you had done a lot of research and got some answere; though you wouldn't mind to know more.

However, you feared it would not be possible; not with your situation.

Feeling a pair of eyes, you dared to search for them; only to see Agatha studying you. It was her turn to read through your fake mask and read your intentions, the topic of a mother hard to both of you; for different reasons.

Trying to look the other way, you were caught by Rio. She seemed to be intensely staring at you, though her gaze was soft; and you could swear you saw something that looked like sympathy or even regret.

"So," you cleared your throat. "Who plays what?" You asked, hoping to change the topic and also remind everyone that the metronome was still ticking.

"Okay, who's good on piano? Lilia?" Agatha asked, driving to take the lead since no one else was willing to do so.

"No. No, I studied the zils." The older witch argued. "And a little pan flute."

Defeated, Agatha turned to the other witch. "Jen."

"Ballet."

"Oh, come on, guys!" She groaned, not believing they were in such situation.

Their lives were depending on a stupid song, and no one seemed to have any music experience.

"I play guitar. Sort of." Teen informed a little shyly.

You chose to join. "I also do"

Your words made Agatha stare at you with an arched eyebrow. Her expression was literally screaming 'since when?'

You offered her a plain simple smile, unable to explain to her that you learnt Guitar during a difficult new moon; and then you kept it as a hobby.

Agatha did not comment about it but you could see the twinkle of interest in her blue eyes. When all of this was done and you had reached the end of the road, she would definitely ask you more about it; perhaps even make you play something for her.

Definitely not the Ballad of the Witches Road.

After some discussion that almost led to a argument between Jen and Agatha; you all found your respective instruments.

Rio had the drums, Alice the piano, Jen the Bass, Lilia the Zils (surprising everyone such instrtument was present) and you with Teen had the guitars.

"I am not sure how well I can play this" the boy confesed to you in a hushed tone as he fixed his grip on the instrument.

You both stood side by side.

"It's not a hard one. If you get stuck, follow my lead" you reassured him, a small smile just enough to make him relax a little bit.

He did and offered a small smile in return while trying to fix the guitar strap, all while doing the best to ignore the sharp pain coming from the side of hid abdomen.

Then, you did not notice it and failed to see that his landing was not as smooth or harmless as you thought it was.

Once everyone was ready, the lightning in the room changed and slowly you started to play the beat of the Ballad.

Agatha stood in the middle, right in front of the microphone and yet before she could truly start singing; the curse attacked her too.

"Agatha!" You and Teen exclaimed, almost rushing to her side.

"Keep playing!" She hissed, having bent one knee and supporting herself on the mike stand. "Keep playing!"

Left with no choice, you all focused on the rhythm as Agatha started to sing.

Chapter 17

[footballfanficwriter]

First day

Summary: where it's Kylian's Real Madrid presentation and the reader is there on by his side

I wake up to the soft light filtering through our bedroom window in Paris, and I feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling in my chest. Tomorrow is the day Kylian officially becomes a Real Madrid player. As I slowly slide out of bed, trying not to wake him, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower. The warm water does little to calm my racing thoughts, but it gives me a moment to compose myself.

I dress in a stylish yet comfortable outfit, knowing the day will be long and full of events. As I finish getting ready, Kylian wakes up, stretching and yawning. He looks at me with those beautiful eyes of his, filled with love and anticipation.

"Good morning, my love," he says, his voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," I reply, smiling as he pulls me into a warm embrace.

He kisses my forehead. "Today’s the day we move. Are you ready?"

"More than ready," I say, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. We share a tender kiss before heading downstairs to our waiting car.

The ride to the airport is filled with light conversation and laughter. Kylian's hand never leaves mine, his thumb gently stroking my skin. The city of Paris rushes by outside the window, but my focus is entirely on him. He looks so calm, so confident, and it reassures me.

As we board the private plane, I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. The flight attendants greet us warmly, and we settle into our seats. Kylian wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

"Can you believe it? We’re actually moving to Madrid," he says, his voice filled with awe.

"I know. It feels surreal," I reply, resting my head on his shoulder. "But I’m so proud of you."

He kisses the top of my head. "I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N."

The flight is smooth, and we spend most of it cuddled together. Kylian talks about his dreams and plans for his career in Madrid, and I listen, my heart swelling with pride. Every now and then, he kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips – each touch sending shivers down my spine.

Upon landing in Madrid, we are greeted by a driver who takes us to our hotel. The energy of the city is palpable, and I can feel the excitement of the fans already. Our suite is nothing short of spectacular, with a breathtaking view of Madrid.

Kylian takes my hand, pulling me close to the window. "Look at this, Y/N. Our new home," he says, his voice filled with wonder.

I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into me. "It’s beautiful, just like you," I murmur.

He turns to face me, his hands cradling my face. "Not as beautiful as you," he whispers before kissing me deeply. Our kiss is filled with promise and passion, a silent vow of the future we are about to build together.

We decide to take the rest of the day to relax and adjust to our new surroundings. We explore the hotel, take a leisurely walk around the nearby area, and enjoy a quiet dinner together. Every moment is precious, and I savor the time we have to just be with each other.

The morning of Kylian’s medical tests, we wake up early. I make sure he has a nutritious breakfast, knowing he’ll need the energy. He takes my hand as we head to the medical facility, his grip firm and reassuring.

The facility is state-of-the-art, filled with bustling staff and high-tech equipment. Kylian is taken to a room for his tests, and I wait in a comfortable lounge area. My heart races with anticipation and pride. As I sit there, I receive reassuring texts from him, letting me know that everything is going smoothly.

After what feels like an eternity, he emerges with a confident smile. "All good," he says, pulling me into a hug.

"I never doubted it," I reply, kissing his cheek.

We head to the Real Madrid headquarters next, where he’ll sign his contract. The atmosphere is electric, filled with anticipation and excitement

The room where Kylian will sign his contract is grand, with an air of importance. As we enter, we’re greeted by club officials and media personnel. I take a seat beside Kylian, our fingers intertwined.

The club president gives a brief speech about Kylian’s achievements and the club’s excitement to have him join. Then, Kylian is handed the contract. He takes a moment to look at me, his eyes filled with emotion.

"Ready?" he asks softly.

"Always," I whisper back.

He signs the contract, officially becoming a Real Madrid player. The room erupts in applause, and I can’t help but beam with pride. Kylian pulls me into a celebratory kiss, his lips warm and soft against mine.

After the signing, we move to the press conference room. Kylian takes his place at the front, and I find a spot where I can see him clearly. The room is packed with journalists, cameras flashing nonstop.

Kylian looks calm and composed as he begins answering questions. His eyes occasionally find mine, and we share silent, affectionate glances.

"How does it feel to finally be a part of Real Madrid?" a journalist asks.

"It’s a dream come true," Kylian responds. "I’ve always admired this club, and I’m excited to contribute to its success."

He glances at me, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. I smile back, giving him a small nod of encouragement.

"Can you tell us about your decision to join Real Madrid?" another journalist inquires.

Kylian takes a deep breath, his gaze flickering to me before he speaks. "It was a tough decision, but ultimately, I felt that Real Madrid was the right place for me to continue my career. The club has a rich history and a passionate fan base, and I’m looking forward to being a part of that."

Our eyes meet again, and he subtly nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. I can’t help but feel a swell of pride and love for him.

Throughout the press conference, we share these silent moments of connection. When he talks about his family and his support system, his eyes soften, and I know he’s thinking of me. I feel a sense of pride and warmth wash over me, knowing that I am a part of his journey.

The next day, we head to the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium. The stands are filled with ecstatic fans, all eager to welcome their new star. The energy is electric, and Kylian steps up to the podium, looking every bit the confident and poised athlete he is.

"Hola, Madridistas," he begins, his voice strong and confident. "This is a dream come true for me. I’ve always admired this club, and I’m excited to be here."

He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before settling on me. "I want to thank my mom, my dad, my siblings, and my incredible wife, Y/N, for always supporting me. Without their love and encouragement, I wouldn’t be standing here today."

His mom is in tears, and I quickly move to her side, wiping away her tears and rubbing her back comfortingly. "He’s amazing," I whisper, and she nods, smiling through her tears.

Kylian continues his speech, talking about his goals and aspirations for his time at Real Madrid. His passion and dedication are evident, and I can see the fans are just as captivated as I am.

"I promise to give my all for this club and its fans," he says, his voice filled with determination. "Together, we will achieve great things, ¡HALA MADRID!

The crowd roars in approval, and I feel a swell of pride and love for him. He glances at me, and I give him an encouraging smile.

After his speech, it’s time for the family photo. His parents step onto the stage, posing proudly with him. Kylian looks around and notices I’m not there. He signals for me to join them, but I shake my head, indicating I’ll stay out of the picture. He doesn’t take no for an answer. Walking over to me, he takes my hand and leads me onto the stage.

"You're part of this family, Amore. Always," he whispers, his eyes locking with mine.

We pose for the picture, standing next to the Real Madrid president. I feel Kylian’s arm around my waist, holding me close. The camera flashes, capturing this unforgettable moment.

The rest of the day is a blur of celebrations and fan greetings. Kylian walks around the stadium, shaking hands and thanking the fans. I watch him, my heart swelling with pride and love. When we finally return to our hotel room, we’re both exhausted but elated.

As soon as we close the door behind us, Kylian pulls me into his arms, kissing me passionately. "I couldn’t have done any of this without you," he murmurs between kisses.

We collapse onto the bed, cuddling close. He becomes clingy, holding me tightly as if afraid to let go. "What do you think our life will be like here?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder.

"I think it will be amazing," I reply, running my fingers through his hair. "We have each other, and that’s all we need."

He smiles, kissing me gently. "I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you too, Kylian," I whisper, our foreheads touching. "Forever."

We spend the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about the day and dreaming about our future in Madrid. Every kiss, every touch, and every word is filled with love and promise. This is the start of a beautiful new chapter in our lives, and I couldn’t be happier to share it with the love of my life

After a while of Kylian and I having our conversation and he's fallen asleep on my stomach, I decide to check people's reactions and what they thought, occasionally smiling at their comments

@FabrizioRomano: 🚨 Official and confirmed: Kylian Mbappé is now a Real Madrid player. Contract signed until 2028. Here we go! #HalaMadrid ⚪️🔴

@RMadridUpdates:The King has arrived! Welcome to Real Madrid, Kylian Mbappé! This is going to be legendary! #Mbappe2028

@FootballAddict: Mbappé to Real Madrid is the biggest transfer of the decade! Can’t wait to see him in white. #Galactico #Mbappe

@LaLigaLover:With Mbappé at Real Madrid, La Liga just got a whole lot more exciting! Let's go! #HalaMadrid #Mbappe

@KylianFanClub: So proud of Kylian! He’s finally living his dream. Real Madrid is the perfect place for him. #Mbappe2028

@RomanticSportsFan: Did anyone else notice the way Kylian kept looking at his wife during the press conference? So much love! #RelationshipGoals #MbappeLove

@FootballGossip: Kylian Mbappé’s wife might be the real MVP here. Those supportive glances and little gestures... True love! #Mbappe

@FanGirlCentral:Okay, but the way Kylian’s wife wiped his mom’s tears and rubbed her back was so sweet. She’s already a fan favorite! #MbappeFamily

@TheRealMadridista: Mbappé signaling his wife to join the family photo... Can we talk about how cute that was? #CoupleGoals #Mbappe

@SportsRomantics: Watching Kylian and his wife exchange those little glances during his speech was everything. You can tell they’re so in love. #MbappeLoveStory

@RealMadridFans: A new chapter begins with Kylian Mbappé at Real Madrid! His wife is such a supportive partner. We stan! #HalaMadrid #Mbappe

   - Comment: @LoveFootball: The way he looked at his wife during the press conference was just 🥺❤️ True love! #MbappeLove

@FootballRomantics: The way Kylian looked at his wife during the press conference was just... 🥺❤️ True love right there. #Mbappe

   -Comment: @GoalDreams: They’re such a beautiful couple! #CoupleGoals

@SportsLoveStory:Did you see how Kylian walked over to his wife and brought her onto the stage? My heart! #CoupleGoals #Mbappe

   -Comment:@FanZone: That was the cutest thing ever! They belong together. #MbappeFamily

@FootballMoments:That moment when Kylian’s wife comforted his mom was so touching. She’s already part of the family. #MbappeFamily

   - Comment: @TearsOfJoy: She’s such a sweetheart! #FamilyFirst

@MadridistaLove: Kylian and his wife’s love story is the real deal. Watching them today was like a movie. #MbappeLove

  - Comment:@FootballHeart: True love exists and they are the proof! #HalaMadrid

Overall I'm just so happy that Kylian was able to fulfill his dream and I'm so honoured to be stood by his side as he makes this transition

[freyito]

Hi! Not a fic request but I’m just interested in what you think messmers love languages are? Since Elden ring isn’t really commonplace for romance how do you think he’d fare in that department?

✧ a/n: (evil grin) its gonna be treated like a request anyways cause ive thought abt this a lot. a lot a lot a LOT thank you for enabling me anon

✭ pairing: messmer x gn reader

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 447 (short n sweet)

I think he’s a pretty quaint mix of all of the love languages, but three stand out to me the most. Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation, and Quality Time. Acts of Service is a big one for him as well, but doesn’t match up to those three.

Let’s talk Physical Touch first. Messmer tends to shy away from it, yet crave it heavily. In a land scarred with war, it is hard to accept a kind hand when all you’ve known are those that dig daggers into your flesh. With you, however, it’s different. He doesn’t fear your hands, scarred as they may be.

When he’s comfortable, he seeks out your touch every time he gets the chance to. He’s quite fond of holding your hands whenever, especially when your hands are cold. He takes great pride in being able to use his flame for something other than burning. He also quite loves to cuddle, as funny as it sounds. He rests easier when he’s with you, although he’s still a very, very light sleeper (which is common in the Lands Between as a whole).

With Words of Affirmation, I believe he genuinely quite likes to be praised and at least told that he’s doing a good job, since the very praise he had been looking for was kept from him for years upon years. To hear such validation practically makes him putty in your hands. But everything with him stands on equal ground, and he will praise you right back.

How brave you are, battling in the Lands Between, an admirable soul. In fact, he almost showers you in praise, sometimes it’s a little uncanny. He isn’t the most vocal, and yet when it comes to you, he’s quite the poet. He finds it easier to love you through words rather than touch, as much as he seeks it out.

Messmer is more than happy to spend his free time with you, actually. When he fails with his words and his hands, he is content to simply share the same space with you. Often times he will be content to be in the same room, either reading together, or even napping together. Something he felt he could never afford then.

Quality Time just means a lot to him, to have someone that doesn’t mind being around him, that isn’t afraid of him, that could be devoted to him in a way his Fire Knights aren’t, it’s a blessed thing, really. He will show you the same devotion, perhaps even tenfold, when he is confident that this love is true. To have someone show him that love does exist, it’s a beauty he never even thought of.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can I request kissing headcanons for Solomon, Simeon, Diavolo, and Barbatos with female s/o please?

Solomon

His kisses were always soft; from simple pecks to something more, gentleness was always there.

Solomon was a great magic user, and something about your frail, magicless human self made him see you like glass.

He was so afraid if he was rough or aggressive, he would scare you off or cause harm to you.

You had to beg for him to be more forceful, and though he complied, he always resorted to soft, sweet kisses.

He enjoyed the domestication of it, the tender touch, gentle caress, pouty rose lips.

He loved catching you off guard, too, while you were working. He would just give you a gentle kiss right on the mouth or even the corner of the mouth to tease you.

He loved watching you get embarrassed over such a simple, sweet action.

When you kiss him soft and sweet, though, he is taken aback, especially if he has always been the initiator.

You kissing him gives him a swell of pride, and he understands greatly how Lucifer managed to fall with that feeling in him.

His favorite kisses, though, are when you're lying in bed, you two cuddling, and he gently peppers your face to finally land on your soft pink lips.

Simeon

His kisses are sloppy and messy, but he is learning to be a better kisser for you.

He has only heard of and seen such salacious acts, never partaking in them till you showed up.

Because of this, he always feels bad when he watches you wipe your mouth after a kiss.

Just smile and comfort him that you don't mind and you are happy he is willing to learn with you.

As he gains more confidence, his kisses get more hungry and needy.

He will hold you until you can't breathe because he can not get enough sweetness.

If you pull away too soon or get summoned elsewhere, expect him to be waiting for your mouth to be back on his.

He is still insecure, though, based on how your first few kisses went, so if you take the lead on his insecure days, he will be elated.

You kissing him makes him so happy, and he realizes he is doing something right when it comes to you.

His favorite time to kiss you is when he gets home from an extended school day, ready to forget everything he learned so you can swarm him.

Diavolo

He is a heated kisser, not letting you up for air until he is ready to let you breathe.

From your first kiss onwards, he is possessive and dominating, making sure he not only steals your breath but breathes life into you.

He has wandering hands and mouth, so his kisses don't just stay on your lips; your cheeks, neck, and forehead all get his searing touch.

Being the prince of hell has its drawbacks. He is always so busy, so he feels the need to give you his all every time you get a spare moment.

The plus side is that when he really misses you and needs you, he can summon you and take time to be with you, even if it upsets Barbados' plans.

In his devil form, the kisses are only that much hotter as he encases you in his wings to hold you close to him.

If you initiate a firey kiss with the man, expect him to be wide-eyed and unresponsive.

He loves it when you get feisty and take his breath away; just know once you start something, you have to finish it.

His favorite time to kiss you is at school between passing periods. Watching you walk into class or meetings in a daze makes him feel something.

Barbatos

He is a passionate kisser and a devoted man for his king and prince.

He wants to show you just how devoted he is to you, even though he is still devoted to Dia.

How he kisses you lights a fire in your belly and reels your mind through time and space.

He always has one hand in your hair and the other firmly wrapped around your waist.

When he is busy with work he really dislikes leaving you alone, he wants you to know he cares, so he will kiss you extra long before he parts.

If he gets the rare day off, he is glued to your side, catching you off guard anytime you two have a moment of privacy.

He is a very private man, so even if he possessively holds you close when out on his days off, he does wait to claim your lips till no eyes are on you.

If you surprise him with a passionate kiss, he will be a goner immediately.

Taking the lead makes him feel at ease for once; he is usually the one taking control of everything for everyone.

His favorite time to kiss you is in a crowded ballroom when you, quite honestly, least expect it, but all eyes are on Dia. You bet he takes advantage of the moment so he can give you a kiss.