#And gradually gets more...emotional | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pseudowho · 6 months ago

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"You know, Nanamin," Yuuji started, between mouthfuls, "when we first met, I thought I wouldn't like you at all."

Kento raised one thin eyebrow over the rim of his paper-cup coffee. He sat with you, and Yuuji, at a dirt road Conbini overlooking Tokyo. The sun was setting, casting the city as a silhouette against oranges, purples. You could smell the earthy petrichor of an incoming storm. Yuuji did not mind, thoughtful as he slurped at an instant ramen.

"Like, really," Yuuji continued, his mouth puckered up, "I thought you were boring. Unfunny, grumpy, miserable. Maybe even a little bit mean." Yuuji laughed now, becoming gradually more animated as he set the scene. "And when you tried to lecture me, while I was fighting that curse? Insane. I was like, 'Who the hell is this guy?'"

You covered your mouth, hiding a smile, eyes flicking between your unreadable husband, and the bubbling boy opposite him. Yuuji finished laughing, wiping his eyes and sighing into another slurp of noodles.

You placed a surreptitious hand on Kento's thigh under the table, and he barely reacted, but to tense and cross his arms. Yuuji rested his chin on one hand, eyes softening as he looked over the ant-like lights, moving in scattered formation across the city.

"But then...I realised. You just cared. I mean, really cared. About me. And if I wasn't being treated right. And if I was gonna be okay." Yuuji swallowed, his voice thickening. "And I...didn't have anyone left like that. The only person I ever did have was my grandad, and maybe he just took care of me because he had to, y'know? But you chose to. Even though I'm...I'm a monster."

You saw Kento squirm within. You knew he'd had his misgivings about Sukuna's Vessel, before Kento knew him as Yuuji. You knew the shame and guilt Kento carried for that. His shoulders ached, a pall-bearer of emotions for so many.

"And you're hilarious. Anyone can see it, really. And you're a rebel. And a protester. And you stand up for the little guy when nobody else wants to. And you don't do it to make us like you. You just...believe it's right. And don't get me wrong, I like Gojo-sensei too, but I love you."

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and trying not to tear up on Kento's behalf. Kento remained silent, arms crossed and frowning down at his steaming coffee. Yuuji looked at you, uncertain. You gently flapped one hand; don't worry, you're alright, you're okay.

Kento eventually broke his silence, his voice gruff. He pushed his bank card across the table to Yuuji.

"Itadori-kun." Yuuji sat to attention, wide-eyed. "Go and get yourself some snacks. As much as you like. And the other students, too, if you know what they'd want."

Yuuji took the card in confusion, with both hands and a little bow, and disappeared inside the shop, the automatic doors booping behind him.

Kento stood, your hand falling off his lap, and grasped the metal railings overlooking the city, with his back to you. His shoulders were taut, stiff, occasionally hitching with emotion. You felt him, as you always had.

"...Kento? Are you alright?"

A thick swallow and a sniffle before a single gravelly, "Yeah. I'm fine, I...I'm fine."

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maspers · 7 months ago

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Imagine Thomas and Martha Wayne getting resurrected via whatever the bullcrap of the week is, and it NOT getting undone once the conflict is over. Bruce and the kids are experiencing All The Emotions but Thomas and Martha are just happy to be there and are wholeheartedly rolling with it.

"The Waynes are a superhero family now? That's amazing! Martha, isn't it amazing?"

"Yes, dear. So much better than the organized crime we used to do. Oh, don't worry Bruce, we really only did it out of obligation, we would have jumped to vigilantism long ago had we known it was an option."

"Martha, we have grandchildren! They're adorable!"

"Thomas you've already met most of them."

"Yes but now I can appreciate them! And spoil them!"

"Thomas, honey, if you actually act as an enabler for our grandbabies I think you'll end up giving our poor Bruce a heart attack."

"Damian has a sword Martha! A sword! We have swords in the family! This is wonderful!"

"I know, Thomas."

Thomas has to be physically restrained from learning how to be a vigilante. He's too old, and Bruce and the rest don't want him to die *again*. He can help Alfred. Doesn't stop him from badgering his grandchildren about their hobbies. Ostensibly it's because he wants to get to know them better, but they all know he just really wants to learn how to do the cool things they all do. He's banned from using the Batcomputer at least thrice.

Martha at first seems content to just sit in the house and play the role of old-fashioned housewife but one day she inexplicably appears in Jason's apartment, supposedly to return one of his guns after he dropped it. He could have sworn it was fully loaded when he lost it, and now it's empty. Martha's fingerprints are the only ones on the gun. He decides to not ask questions.

They both neglect to inform the high society of Gotham that they're alive, and it takes a while for them to realize this. Gradually every rich person in Gotham takes their turn having a breakdown over having to deal with even more Wayne bullcrap. How come the Waynes are the only ones that seem to be immune to death???

#bruce wayne #thomas wayne #martha wayne #batman #idk how to tag this #resurrected thomas and martha #wayne family #batfam #au

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anantaru · 1 month ago

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⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — neuvillette, diluc, ayato

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub, reader teases in diluc's part, ayato is really toxic in this one kinda???

⚝ — NEUVILLETTE

when neuvillette tells you to do something, you're doing it, point blank— because you see, he's your master, the man who's saved you, not to mention your literal boss since he was so nice to give you a job as his sweet n pretty secretary.

as it was, in the grand halls of fontaine's court of justice, neuvillette’s word were law itself— precisely when he tells you to do something, it becomes absolute, you're immediately on your way without processing any of it.

his presence alone commands respect— coldness, it reveals a composed man, an untouchable one—yet his touch, it's surprisingly warm despite the fact that he rarely spoke about love or intimacy.

despite the fact that the subtle gestures on your body— the little kisses and reassuring tugs on your flesh whenever he fucked you on his desk were maddening, never leaving out the best part of it; when he places his palms around your head so you wouldn't hurt yourself, immediately resulting in you melting underneath his broad body as he revealed a softness beneath the stern exterior.

you feel the weight of his authority in every thrust, every grind and harsh squeeze of his palms reaching for your tits.

the unspoken pressure to be perfect for him was there, yes, to make him feel perfect while you're also contemplating if you'd ever be enough for an enigmatic individual like him.

face nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you feel how his fingers apply more strength as he flexes his digits into the flesh of your hips, dragging you deeper towards his cock twitching between your walls— the desperate milking compression of your warm cunt making him want to lose control.

you begin feel lightheaded at the arousal messing him up— and ugh, how much there was, and ah, you’re so tight, even after multiple rounds, desperately waiting for him to drag you against his desk and make your pussy squeeze him, wanting him to feel like you pull him.

⚝ — DILUC

in front of strangers, diluc’s intensity was something which was being noticed right from the start— and well, he wanted it that way, it meant that he had one headache less to worry about.

it doesn't matter though, because behind closed doors, your hand slips under his loosened shirt like it's meant to, graciously rubbing at his bare muscles flexing underneath the softness of your palms. having an affair with your boss surely wouldn't look good to bystanders, nor was it something diluc wanted to get out in the first place— hence why he'd never fail to subtly show you, also throwing a slight passive aggressiveness into it, that he was in charge of this, or whatever you might call the situation between you both.

he sucked in a sharp breath as his dick gradually got hard under his tight pants, pulsating on all the sharp edges and rough lines when you began to fidget with the belt, "hey now, you shouldn't get so bossy," he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek before placing his thumb on your bottom lip to tap it repeatedly

"you have quite the personality today, master diluc," you frown at him, with one hand grabbing at his biceps as he breathes— for a second deflecting the real reason as to why he would pretend to care about what other people thought about him, or about this.

or perhaps he was utterly scared of showing genuine emotions to someone he hasn't known for long.

yet instead of going through with his newfound thought, diluc instantly grabs at your hips to make you fall against his chest in combination with him bumping down the large sofa, the leather of the furniture creaking.

he licks his lips, fuck— diluc forgot how much passion could manifest in simply being felt up a little and he desperately attemps to focus on playing with your tits, or at least watch how pretty and nicely they fit in is hand.

be as it may, all that has really gotten his attention was the feeling of your hand on his cock, fiercely palming him through his boxers, your fingertip teasing along the edge of his waistband.

"you'll get in trouble," he manages to breathe out, whimpering when you angle your hand upwards so he could feel the heat of your hand on his tip.

⚝ — AYATO

ayato, most famously known as the head of the yashiro commission, had an unique gift inside of him— you see, he knew how to use words like deadly weapons.

when he wants something, really craves and desires a certain being, it felt like the world immediately bends to his will— including you, the person he was actually after. ayato will convince you that his decisions are in your best interest, even when they serve his own.

"oh, is my sweet girl worried about me?" he breathes out before placing his wet tip on your clit, tapping and nudging at it— the sound echoing through the room and standing over your head was making you feel hot and cold at the same time.

you can sense the painful squeeze in your stomach to just want to be filled— please, get his thick shaft into your intimate space until it's obvious on your face, sending him back a doe-eyed look while he towers on top of your naked frame— thighs twitching, his dick sinking back into your mushy cunt.

okay, maybe he's gotten a little too lost in you.

since you're intriguing in his eyes, well— ayato knows he can get a hold of you, that you admire him and are more than happy with the job that he's given you— not that he cares, in fact, he need you, that constant drive of feeling you was burning hotter and turning him insane.

his body trembles as he watches your liquids stick around the base of his cock, proving his point that you're as desperate for him as he was for you as he smeared your slick back inside your trembling walls, your skin throbbing and twitching with every unforgiving push of his hips.

with how big he was, in every aspect imaginable, you begin to feel like he was stretching you forever as you gasp out a broken mumble of his name, the waves of his thrusts and rolls stinging along your nerves as you begin to moan out shamelessly, feeling every detail and vein of his cock moulding into your walls and marking its shape inside.

ayato was intoxicating— no, stop it, he's your boss, okay, cool down.

yet it never ever felt fucking better.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #ayato x reader #neuvillette x reader #diluc x reader #diluc smut #neuvillette smut #ayato smut #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato smut #genshin x you #kinktober #genshin impact x you

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theambitiouswoman · 1 year ago

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How to Stop Procrastinating by Managing Your Emotions

Procrastination happens when we delay doing things, and it's often connected to our emotions. Feelings like being afraid to fail, feeling worried or stressed, getting bored, or lacking motivation can all contribute to procrastination. To stop procrastinating and get more things done, it's important to learn how to handle our emotions better.

Boredom:

Break the task into smaller, more engaging sub-tasks.

Find ways to make the task more interesting or challenging.

Set a timer and work on the task for a specific amount of time, followed by a short break doing something enjoyable.

Feeling Overwhelmed:

Prioritize tasks and focus on one thing at a time.

Break the task into smaller, more manageable steps.

Delegate some parts of the task if possible or seek help from others.

Use tools like to-do lists or task management apps to stay organized.

Anxiety:

Practice deep breathing or mindfulness techniques to calm yourself.

Challenge negative thoughts and replace them with more positive and realistic ones.

Start with the easier or less intimidating aspects of the task to build momentum.

Set realistic expectations and remind yourself that it's okay to make mistakes.

Self-Doubt:

Focus on past accomplishments and successes to boost your confidence.

Seek support or feedback from others to gain reassurance.

Remind yourself of your skills and capabilities to tackle the task.

Use positive affirmations to counteract negative self-talk.

Perfectionism:

Embrace the concept of "good enough" rather than seeking perfection.

Set realistic and achievable goals for each task.

Recognize that mistakes and imperfections are part of the learning process and growth.

Indecisiveness:

Break decisions into smaller steps and make one small decision at a time.

Set a time limit for making decisions to avoid overthinking.

Trust your instincts and make the best decision you can with the information available.

Apathy or Lack of Interest:

Find aspects of the task that align with your values or long-term goals.

Break the task into smaller, more manageable parts and focus on completing one at a time.

Reward yourself for completing the task to make it more appealing.

Stress or Burnout:

Practice stress-reduction techniques such as meditation, exercise, or spending time in nature.

Break tasks into smaller steps to reduce the feeling of overwhelm.

Prioritize self-care and take breaks to avoid burnout.

Feeling Uninspired or Creatively Blocked:

Engage in activities that stimulate creativity, such as brainstorming, mind mapping, or seeking inspiration from others' work.

Start with a simple and basic version of the task to get the creative juices flowing.

Collaborate with others or seek feedback to gain new perspectives.

Fear of Success:

Identify and challenge the negative beliefs or fears that may be holding you back.

Visualize the positive outcomes of completing the task successfully.

Focus on the benefits and personal growth that come with success.

Impatience:

Break long-term goals into smaller milestones to track progress.

Practice mindfulness to stay present and patient throughout the process.

Remind yourself that progress takes time and effort.

Lack of Confidence:

Celebrate your past accomplishments to boost your confidence.

Seek support and encouragement from friends, family, or mentors.

Focus on building specific skills related to the task to increase confidence.

Avoiding Discomfort:

Acknowledge that discomfort is a natural part of growth and improvement.

Break tasks into smaller steps and tackle the more challenging aspects gradually.

Remind yourself of the long-term benefits of facing discomfort.

Overestimating Future Motivation:

Practice discipline and commit to starting tasks even when motivation is low.

Set specific deadlines for tasks to create a sense of urgency.

Establish a routine that includes regular work on the task to build consistency.

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dinogoofymutated · 3 months ago

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First born Headcannons! Multi/Fem!Afab! Reader - Angel, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Gambit OKAY FUCK I don't know what came over me it just happened okay??? This whole thing started thinkin about colossus and a lil baby and then I was thinking about Warren taking the nightshift with his own baby and I spiraled from there. Warren's is like twice as long as everyone elses my bad yall. If there are any typos don't make fun of me ill fix them tomorrow I'm so tired lol TWs: Childbirth mentioned (Not described tho), Babies, wholesome shit. I know that some of these characters have had kids in the comics and that these hcs may be ooc, but I do not care lol. Little bit of anxiety and panic, but everything is okay.

Warren Worthington

Warren is such a dad. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, he's not as effortlessly fatherly like Piotr is, but once he has a kid he's devoted to making sure this kid gets all the emotional, physical, and financial support they would ever need.

He had such a rocky childhood with his own dad, so he hates the idea of his child ever going through the same sort of thing.

He might be a little clueless with the actual baby things, like when to feed, how to dress, and what to feed his little one, but he does take diaper duty as his sole purpose in life. He does adjust for the things he lacks though, and gradually adjusts to be better at them!

He's strangely good with babies, even before he had his own! There's just something about him that makes them stop crying. He's also an expert at nap times.

It’s an early weekday afternoon. The sun is shining through the blinds in warm golden rays, the sink clean and the dishwasher running. There’s a click once the message on the answering machine stops playing, and you have an uncertain frown on your face as you take it all in.

The house is silent, brightly decorated with pictures of your close friends lining the walls of the hallway. The sounds of your husband quietly shushing your infant son gradually become easier to hear when you reach the cracked door of the nursery, pushing it open as quietly as you can.

Warren’s back is facing you, fluffy wings almost glowing where the sunrays touch his feathers. Your newborn is sleeping in his arms, napping after a lunchtime bottle. He’s bouncing the baby just slightly, and you swear you can see his smile without ever having to see his face. It’s a sweet moment you want to crystalize in your memories. You lean against the doorway, smiling just as bright as you’re sure he is.

"Hi~" You say sweetly after a moment. You were right. Warren’s happy smile is bright and blinding when he turns to look at you.

"Hey," He says quickly, lifting your sleeping son so that you can see him better. "Hi Mama, say hi Mama!" Warren whispers as he lifts the baby’s pudgy little hand to wave at you. You can’t help but giggle, walking forward to kiss both of them on their cheeks- your little one not stirring from his nap. You take a breath afterward, leaning against his side as you debate telling him.

“Something wrong?” Warren asks, one of his wings stretching out to wrap around your side and pull you closer to him. Normally you giggle, but today you bite your lip, unsure.

"Your dad called." Your words are soft when you say it, and Warren immediately laughs in a way that sounds more like a scoff.

“His secretary, you mean.” Warren attempts to correct, and his joking tone makes you frown a little, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to be soothing.

“No, not her, honey.” Warren stays silent after you say it, his brow furrowing as his face turns into a reflection of confusion and sadness. You can see the conflict as he turns the words over in his head, cooing and shushing your son back to sleep when he starts to stir a little, feeling the atmosphere shift.

“...what did he want?” He asks, voice low and quiet.

“He left a message on the answering machine if you want to listen to it.” You tell him. “He, well… He wants to meet his grandson.” Warren scoffs at that, shaking his head as he starts to pace the room a little. You stand there, grounded as you watch him process the sudden contact.

“He really said that? After all he’s put me through, he wants to meet our son… What a joke.” You grimace when Warren starts to laugh. He finally stops pacing to gently lay your son back in his crib. He leans against the side with one hand as the other rubs his eyes before it slides up to run through his hair.

“Do you want him to?” You ask after a moment, stepping over to his side. He leans into your touch when you reach out to hold his cheek.

“I-” Warren stops himself, taking a deep breath as he takes your hand in his own. “What do you want to do?” He asks instead. You shake your head at him, taking hold of his hand in both of yours, tracing the wedding band on his finger.

“He’s your dad, love. It’s your choice.” You say softly. Warren is still frowning, and he lets out a long breath, deflating a little bit. He turns around to face you, pressing a kiss to your temple and holding you there for a long moment. You wish you had even a fraction of Jean’s or the Professor’s power, if only you could see what was going on in that head of his. He pulls you into a side hug, and the two of you spend a long while looking at your infant in the crib. The perfect mixture of the both of you. Certain to be a mutant in his own right. You can tell Warren spends every second thinking about it.

When he steps away from you, He’s silent.

“Warren?” You call out for him as he leaves the room. You’re about to follow when you hear the distinct sound of your son about to wake up, the little whine catching your attention as you coo him back to sleep instead. The door to the nursery is open, and just faintly down the hall, you hear the sound of the landline starting to ring.

“Hey, Dad, it’s Warren. Is Saturday okay?”

Piotr Rasputin

GOD this man is so good with kids. I mean, have you seen those comic panels with him and his sister??

This man was made, built, forged to be a dad. He's protective but encouraging, and although he may be blunt, he knows when his kiddo needs some comfort.

He takes all the classes with you during the pregnancy, and he knows he'd never hurt his baby, but there's always a lil bit of worry in the back of his mind. He's a little too strong, and he hates the thought of slipping up and accidentally harming this fragile little soul the two of you brought into this world.

He gains confidence with time, and when the baby arrives he's always carrying them securely on one thick arm, belly down as they sleep soundly against him.

His baby is so small when they hand her to him in the hospital. She's tiny. Smaller than the width of his arm. He looks like a giant as he holds her, sat next to your bedside as you recover from her delivery. He's in awe as he looks at her, a tiny little life, the greatest gift you've ever given him besides your hand in marriage.

You and others had always joked that his baby would be huge, big-headed, 99th percentile, and he never minded it. It was no secret that he was a big man, and he didn't mind what size the baby was as long as it was healthy, and looking at the little bundle of joy in his arms, he decides he wouldn't have it any other way.

It's almost comical, how small she is. Hell, even you might have doubted the paternity of the baby girl if it hadn't been for her head of pitch-black hair, and pretty blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of himself.

“She has your eyes.” You say once her cries quiet down, and she begins to fall asleep in her father's arms.

“No.” Piotr hums, gingerly touching his daughter's face. “They look much more like Illyana's.” You hadn't thought about that before, but now that he mentions it, the resemblance is undeniable. You giggle at that, Scooting closer so that you can lean on his shoulder.

“The nurse said that she's waiting outside, when you're ready. I'm sure she's beyond excited to meet her niece.” You mumble. Piotr has placed a finger in the palm of your baby's hand, both of you smiling when the little fingers do their best to try and close around his fingertip. Piotr cannot wait to see the face of his sister when she sees your baby, but he'll be the first to admit, he'd like it if this moment could just last a little while longer.

Kurt wagner

Kurt is such a good dad oh my god.

He's always talking about you and the kids, bragging about literally everything you do ever. He's the kind of dad that has endless photos of his kiddos in his wallet, car, locker, everywhere.

And he's so devoted, too. He'll do anything you ask him to do during the newborn stage (and after) and is beyond supportive. His goals are happy Spouse, Happy kids, Happy life.

He's also very sentimental :) he thanks god every day for you and the blessing that is your baby.

Kurt’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up this morning, and despite the normal amount of anxiety you normally feel when that happens, you feel peaceful. You’re smiling at the empty mattress, rolling over to his side to push your face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. Used to, you would be worried. You would wonder where he was, or if he was safe. If he had gone off on some x-men mission without telling you (which he never did). But today, you know exactly where he is. You’re smiling now as you think about it, pressing a kiss to his pillow before standing up.

There’s a soft humming in the house, quiet and soothing. It’s not hard to figure out where it’s coming from, the path to the spare room having become second nature to you- although, it really wasn’t much of a spare room anymore. You try not to be too loud when you enter the room through the cracked door.

Kurt is humming sweetly, your son laid out on the changing table as Kurt finishes worming his pudgy little legs through a new onesie. The baby whines a little, squirming around as Kurt attempts to change his clothes.

“Patience, Mein kleiner Schatz. This won’t take long.” Kurt says sweetly. Your son isn’t really having this whole changing business, and it makes Kurt chuckle. His tail is wrapped around a bottle of milk, and he sets it to the side right before he snakes his tail over the crib. He brushes the spaded end lovingly over your baby’s cheek as a distraction, and the infant coos as he finishes getting his arms through the sleeves. His tail takes over from there, buttoning the onesie's clasps as he turns to grab the bottle of milk instead- stopping for a split second when he sees you in the doorway. Kurt smiles.

“How are my boys?” You ask, voice a little rough from sleep.

“Gut! And lively, it seems.” He tells you. He passes the bottle off to his tail again when you walk over, taking you into his arms as he shakes the formula up a little more. Kurt kisses you sweetly on the lips, pressing his forehead against your own when you separate.

“Guten Morgen, Schatz. How are you feeling?” You swear you fall in love with him all over again each day when he greets you like that. You shrug your shoulders in response, smile dropping just a little bit.

“I’m okay. Still tired, and definitely still bloated, but I’m okay.” You admit. Kurt frowns a little, brushing some hair from your face.

“Did you see the medicine I left for you on the nightstand?” Kurt asks, and you immediately make a bit of a silly face, remembering that you didn’t exactly get up on your own side of the bed today. Kurt knows what that looks means and begins to laugh, just as your son begins to whimper and whine to be held and fed. You try to go pick him up, but Kurt stops you as he picks your baby up instead, bottle at the ready.

“Go take your meds, I’ve got him, Liebchen.”

Remy LeBeau

Remy is a little nervous to be a dad.

Not in a flight way!! He's just a little worried that he'll be a bad influence on the kiddo. and well, I mean sure. If you're worried about the kiddo being a little rager and being into a few to many wild hobbies I guess (usually comes with the cajun territory)- but overall, Gambit is such a sweetheart, and if anything his kiddos would be so respectful and loving towards their parents.

Remy's very protective over your baby. The protectiveness is at it's height around 0-3yrs of age, but it never, ever goes away completely.

He might talk some smack about how a little bit of dirt/germs never hurt anyone, but He's actually the kind of dad that makes everyone put germex on before even thinking about holding the baby.

He's on top of feedings, and never fears a blowout when it comes to changing diapers (no matter how much he might gag). He might not have the diaper back stocked and loaded 24/7, but he's doing the best he can.

When you wake up, It’s about 3am. Your eyes blink oper wearily, and the light from the alarm clock is practically burning into your eyes. You want nothing more to curl up and go back to sleep, and you almost do, until the time actually registers.

3am. Its 3am, and you went to bed at 10pm. This is the first time you’ve woken up since then. Your veins feel like ice when you realize that you haven't heard the baby cry once. You rip the cover off of you, breaking out in a panicked run across the hall to check on your newborn. You don’t even realize that Remy isn’t even in bed until you slam the door open and see him standing there, your daughter in his arms as he rocks her to sleep in the rocking chair You breathe a sigh of relief as he looks at you with a tired smile, but your anxiety still remains.

“Remy? Is she okay?” You whisper, practically leaping over to his side to take the little one out of his arms.

“She’s Okay, Cher.” Remy replies softly. He stands from the chair, wrapping his hands around your back, the infant snug in between your bodies. You sigh again, taking a moment to look at your daughter carefully, eyeing her chest as it rises and falls, and straining your ears to hear her breathing. Remy gives you a second to get situated, yawning just a bit as he sways the three of you as you stand there. You relax as he holds you both, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Why don’ you go back to bed.” Remy says after a long minute. “That was the longest I’ve seen you sleep in a while.” You frown. He’s not wrong. Your newborn has been a bit colicky lately, crying for nights on end since you brought her home with very few things to keep her comfortable. She has started to grow out of it, but the effects still remained. She cries a lot at nighttime, and it makes you wonder if that’s why you had slept so long, because of Remy staying up to keep her quiet.

“And leave you here? Remy, how long have you been awake?” You ask, looking up at his face. He shrugs, smiling still as the three of you sway.

“I’m fine. I can stay up all night if I need to, as long as you get to catch up on some sleep.” If it were any other circumstance, you might have swooned at the words. As sweet is he is, you can’t let him do that! He begins to step away to place your daughter in her crib, and you hold yourself back from trying to take her from him and commanding him to just go to bed.

“Remy-”

“Ah ah ah, Cher, don’t wake ma petit, now.” Remy cuts you off with a whisper, turning around to place a finger against his lips in a shushing motion. He almost makes you giggle, but instead, you simply shake your head at him. He pulls you into a loving kiss when he’s close enough, running his hand through your hair. You know he’s waiting for you to pull back, to retreat into the bedroom to sleep like he asked you to, but you’re still hesitant. He knows your stubbornness firsthand and chuckles when he pulls back a little.

“Do I need to tuck you in, too?”

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leejenowrld · 1 month ago

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‘just the tip?’

genre — smut, fluff

word count — 1.3k

synopsis — you’ve only recently started having sex with your boyfriend, jeno, so naturally, you’re still getting used to his size and the fact that he needs to size train you.

pairing — lee jeno x fem!reader

“just the tip, okay? i promise, baby.”

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Jeno’s smile, radiant and filled with adoration, hovered above you as he watched your reactions closely. The room was bathed in a gentle light that softened the edges of his strong features, casting him in an almost ethereal glow. His expression was tender, filled with an affection that had deepened since you both decided to explore this intimate part of your relationship. Though you had been his girlfriend for a few months, comfort around sex had only recently blossomed between you. Since the night you lost your virginity to him, the two of you haven’t stopped having sex.

“Just the tip, okay? I promise, baby. We’ll start there.” Jeno whispered close to your ear, his voice a tempting blend of excitement and reassurance. He could sense your nerves, the slight tension in your body, but he also knew your deep desire to be close, to experience the fullness of making love with him. With every word, he aimed to soothe your worries, determined to make this encounter as pleasurable as it was comforting for you.

You felt the pressure of his tip against you, the initial contact sending a complex cascade of shivers down your spine—anticipation mingled with a twinge of apprehension. The sensation was intense, more so than you expected, as he gently began to push forward.

The stretch was sharp, a vivid contrast to his usual careful, gentle approach, and instantly, tears welled up in your eyes. These weren’t tears of pain but of overwhelming sensations, flooding through you as you felt even just the slightest bit of him inside.

As the sharp stretch gradually softened, the overwhelming sensations transformed into a rhythmic pulse of deepening pleasure. The room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, the quiet broken only by your synchronised breathing and the gentle creaking of the bed. With each careful adjustment, Jeno eased a fraction deeper, responding to your soft sighs and subtle nods.

“You’re doing so well, baby, just trust me,” Jeno cooed, his voice low and soothing, his breath warm against the side of your face. He watched you closely, his eyes scanning your expressions with an understanding that only someone who truly knew you could possess. He recognized each flicker of discomfort, each silent plea for reassurance.

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing, but you couldn’t stop the tears that streaked down your cheeks. There was frustration mixed with the tears—frustration at the sharp tug of pain that came with the pleasure, at the necessity of going so slowly. You loved Jeno deeply, loved the physical expression of your bond, but wished it didn’t have to start with discomfort. Yet, every time he entered, he felt overwhelmed, as if you were trying to accommodate him anew.

Under the soft glow of the bedroom lamp, your lips quivered and more tears flowed. The emotional and physical intensity was almost too much to bear. Jeno was larger than what you were used to, and each attempt to adjust to his size was a blend of challenge and thrill.

“Look at me,” Jeno whispered, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with concern and desire. “I know it’s a lot, but I’ve got you. We’ll go slow, okay? Just relax with me. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

You nod, signalling him to continue, but as Jeno moves deeper, the stretch intensifies, bordering on pain. Your breath catches sharply, a quiet gasp escaping as more tears stream down your cheeks. The sensation is overwhelming, each inch he advances pushing you to your limits.

“Jeno, stop,” you gasp out, the discomfort briefly overshadowing the budding pleasure.

“The safe word, baby,” he reminds you gently, his tone firm yet filled with concern. He reassures you that he will stop at a moment’s notice if you use the agreed-upon word, a rule established to safeguard your comfort and safety. Yet, as you catch your breath, the initial sharp pang of pain begins to ebb, and you realise that, in a deeply conflicting way, you crave the intensity, the push and pull between pain and pleasure. Secretly you don’t want him to stop and he knows that too.

“Okay, I don’t want you to stop,” you breathe out, the words almost lost amidst the heavy air of desire that fills the room.

He smiles, a look of pure confidence spreading across his features. “You can take all of me, can’t you, baby?” Jeno’s tone is teasing but firm, promising more than just words. He adjusts himself, aligning perfectly with you, his intent clear.

As he begins to move, his pace is relentless. Jeno thrusts deeply, each stroke designed to test the limits of your endurance. The fullness is intense, pushing you both physically and mentally as he fills you completely. His movements are precise, each thrust delivered with a purpose, hitting all the right spots that send sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins.

The friction of his rapid pace creates a delicious, burning sensation that makes you clench around him. Each deep penetration is met with a gasp, your breaths coming out in short bursts. He drives into you, fast and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. The bed creaks under the intensity of his movements, matching the rhythm of your escalating moans.

Your eyelids flutter shut, overwhelmed by the sensations. Your toes curl, gripping onto the sheets, as waves of pleasure roll over you. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him even closer, encouraging him to go deeper, which he does without hesitation.

As Jeno’s pace intensifies, the depth of his thrusts pushes past all boundaries. With every powerful stroke, he fills you completely, his size stretching you in ways that initially spark sharp intakes of breath. But as he continues, the discomfort begins to fade, replaced by a building wave of deep, engulfing pleasure.

The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming; his girth is substantial, his length impressive. Each thrust is met with a slick, satisfying sound, the sensation of his skin sliding smoothly against yours. He’s relentless, each movement more assured than the last, as he finds a rhythm that has the bed rocking beneath you.

“More, Jeno, more, deeper,” you find yourself crying out, the words torn from your lips by the sheer intensity of the pleasure. Your voice rises, uninhibited, as you begin to lose yourself in the sensation. The pain is a distant memory now, completely overshadowed by the pleasure that pulses through every nerve ending.

Jeno responds to your pleas with a grin, his eyes alight with fiery passion. He shifts his angle slightly, reaching even deeper inside you, each thrust hitting just the right spot. The change sends a shockwave of pleasure through your body, drawing a loud, unabashed scream of his name from your lips.

“Jeno!” you shout, your hands clawing at the sheets, your back arching off the bed. The room fills with the sound of your cries, each one mingled with the constant, rhythmic slapping of skin against skin as he drives into you with unyielding force.

His movements are precise and calculated, designed to maximize your pleasure. You feel every inch of him as he moves in and out, the fullness almost too much but exactly what you crave. With each deep penetration, a wave of ecstasy washes over you, building and building until you’re on the brink of losing control.

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heels digging into his back, urging him on, driving him to go even faster, even deeper. His grip on your hips is firm, almost bruising, as he pulls you into each thrust, ensuring maximum depth. The intensity of the connection is palpable, a primal dance of give and take that has you both spiraling towards climax.

The sound of your own voice screaming his name becomes a constant mantra, each exclamation louder than the last as you approach the edge. “Jeno, yes, yes!” you moan, the words interspersed with gasps and cries as each thrust pushes you closer to release.

With a final, deep thrust that seems to reach your very core, Jeno drives both of you over the edge. The climax is explosive, shattering around you in a burst of blinding pleasure that obliterates all thought, leaving only the echoing intensity of your release and his name on your lips.

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