#I had this bottle of shampoo once

[kimoralov3]

a/n: still debating whether or not i want to finish pt2 but here's a lil smth to cheer all of us that know up. tagging @ivysprophecy because she read it yesterday (??? i have no concept of time) and @murdockcastleslut because she def needs the pick me up

you shut the door of tannyhill behind you, setting your keys on the table by the door. “rafe?” you call as you walk deeper into the house.

there was no answer, prompting you to roll your eyes as you headed towards rafe’s office. you knew he was home — you had checked his location before hand— but if he wasn’t answering it probably meant he was holed up in his office.  

“rafe?” you say again as you push the door to the office open. he was standing in front of the bar, pouring himself a drink. he doesn't react to the sound of the door opening, too busy putting the top on the bottle. 

“rafe.” you say once more, coming up behind him and placing your hand on his shoulder. this seems to awaken him, rafe turning and looking down at you with a small smile. 

“hey babe, i didn’t hear you come in.” he says as he pulls you into his side. you hum, bringing your arm up around his waist.

“i called your name like three times. didn’t you hear me?” you ask as you look up at him. rafe sighs, setting his drink back down on the tray.

“no, i didn’t. i’m sorry.” he murmurs as he buries his face in your hair. the smell of your shampoo always did help calm him down. 

“you okay? you seem a little out of it right now.” you say softly. 

“yeah, yeah i’m fine. just had a deal that didn’t go the way i wanted it to today. and someone backed out of this other deal. it’s just been a pretty stressful day for me.” he says as he traces patterns on his waist. you knew that he did that to help calm and ground himself, so you didn’t comment on it.

“mm, i’m sorry rafe.” you whisper as you burrow deeper into his warmth. suddenly an idea hits you, and you pull away with a smile. “i think i know what’ll make you feel better, though.”

rafe halts, pulling back to examine your face. “and what might that be?” 

you let out a giggling, patting his arm as you try to separate from him. “you’ll see, but you have to let me go first.”

rafe hesitates, giving you a firm squeeze before letting go of you. he backs up to give you a little bit of space as he crosses his arms over his chest. “alright, what’s this thing that’s supposed to magically make me feel better?” 

you smile, biting your lip to hold back your smile. you grab onto the hem of your shirt and pull it up to reveal your chest. thank goodness you had chosen to go braless today.

judging by rafe’s reaction, he was also thankful. his whole body went rigid, as if he was trying to hold himself back. as you pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts, you swear you can hear rafe curse under his breath.

“feel better?” you ask, shooting rafe a cheeky smile as you stand with your hands on your hips. 

rafe doesn’t immediately respond, just stares at you for a few seconds. you’re about to open your mouth again when rafe suddenly lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder. you yelp, flailing your legs as he carries you out of the office. “what are you doing?”

rafe smacks your ass, causing you to laugh a little louder. “going to go relieve some stress. and stop kicking before i make it worse.”

[edsbug]

soaked

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you shower with eddie. things turn steamy. (wc: 1.6k)

contains: 18+ NSFW mdni!, fluff turned smut, oral (female receiving), eddie eats reader out while on his knees, fingering, piv.

authors note: this is my first attempt at writing proper smut. english is not my first language, please forgive any mistakes<3

The gentle patter of water hitting the tiled floor filled the small bathroom of Eddies trailer. Steam swirled through the air, wrapping everything in a warm, misty embrace. You both stood under the showerhead, the hot water cascading over both of you, easing away the stresses of the day.

Eddie ran his fingers through your wet hair, his touch light and soothing. His rings, now safely discarded on the sink, usually added a cool contrast to his warm skin, but tonight, it was just the warmth of his hands.

"Feels nice, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice low and comforting. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. Moments like these, where the chaos of the world was shut out, felt like pure bliss.

You reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into your palm before lathering it into his hair. Eddie closed his eyes, a content sigh escaping his lips as your fingers massaged his scalp.

"You're really good at this," he chuckled, opening one eye to peek at you. "Maybe you missed your calling as a hairdresser."

You laughed, a light sound that made Eddie's heart swell. "Maybe. But I think I like my current job better."

"And what's that?" he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

"Taking care of you," you replied, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

Eddie's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The water continued to cascade over you both, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his body against yours, his heartbeat steady and strong.

"You do a pretty great job of it," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "I don't know what l'd do without you."

"You'd survive," you teased, running your hands down his back. "But your hair would be a mess."

Eddie laughed, the sound deep and rich, echoing off the tiled walls. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, the water making your lips slide together effortlessly. When he pulled back, his dark eyes were filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

Gently, you turned Eddie around, guiding him to face the showerhead. You started to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, your fingers working through the soapy strands. Eddie leaned into your touch, his muscles relaxing under your careful ministrations.

He hummed in contentment as you continued to work the shampoo out of his hair. Once it was all rinsed out, you grabbed the conditioner, spreading it through his dark locks. Your fingers moved methodically, ensuring every strand was coated.

"You know," Eddie said, his voice light with humor, "I could get used to this kind of treatment."

"Don't get too used to it," you teased, though your tone was affectionate. "I might start charging you."

Eddie chuckled, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder. "I'm sure we could work out some kind of arrangement."

You laughed, shaking your head as you continued to run your fingers through his conditioned hair. "I'm sure we could."

After a few more minutes, you rinsed out the conditioner, making sure Eddie's hair was soft and clean. He turned around to face you, his pupils blown.

"Your turn," he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Before you could protest, Eddie had taken the shampoo bottle from your hand, squeezing some into his palm. He reached up, gently massaging it into your hair. You closed your eyes, a soft moan escaping your lips as his fingers worked through the strands.

"See?" he said softly. "I can take care of you too."

"I never doubted it," you replied, leaning into his touch.

The rest of the shower was spent in comfortable silence, the two of you taking turns washing each other's bodies. Warm water cascaded around you, mixing with the scent of soap and the steam that filled the air.

As Eddie's hands continued to explore your body, the gentle caresses began to ignite a deeper desire. He picked up a bar of soap, lathering it between his hands until it was covered in frothy suds. Slowly, he began to spread the suds across your skin, his touch both tender and electrifying. The feel of his hands gliding over your body, slick with soap, sent shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Eddie's gaze darkened with desire as he watched the soap suds slide over your curves, his fingers tracing patterns in the bubbles. The sight of your wet, glistening skin and the feel of your curves beneath his hands were intoxicating, his own arousal growing stronger.

"Eddie," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

His response was immediate. He captured your lips in a deep kiss, his hands roaming over your wet skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You pressed closer to him, feeling the heat between you grow as the soap and water continued to pour down, forgotten.

Eddie's hands found your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his arousal, hard against your thigh. The sensation sent a shiver of excitement through you, and you moaned into his mouth, your own desire pooling low in your stomach.

"Let me take care of you." he murmured against your lips.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his lips continued their journey, moving lower. He paused briefly at your breasts, taking a moment to tease your nipples with his tongue, drawing soft moans from your lips.

"Please," you breathed, your fingers threading through his wet hair, urging him on.

Eddie sank to his knees, kneeling in front of you. He glanced up at you, the water trickling gently down his face. "I've got you, sweetheart," he murmured.

When his lips finally reached your inner thighs, he took his time, kissing and nipping gently, making you squirm with need. Eddie felt his knees bruising against the tile floor, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair as you let out a desperate moan, your hips lifting slightly in a silent plea.

Eddie's hands slid under your thighs, holding you in place as he settled between your legs.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin.

Before you could respond, Eddie's lips were on you, his tongue exploring your clit with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers down your spine. The sensation was electrifying, each touch igniting waves of pleasure that coursed through your body.

You couldn't suppress the moans that escaped your lips, your fingers tightening their grip in his hair, pulling him closer.

Eddie's tongue moved with expert precision, finding every sensitive spot that made you gasp and writhe. He skillfully alternated between slow, languid licks and quick, intense flicks that sent jolts of pleasure through you. Your hips began to move in rhythm with his mouth, seeking more of the delicious sensations he was creating.

You whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of rushing water.

Eddie's gaze lifted to meet yours, a glint of determination in his eyes as he understood your unspoken plea. Without hesitation, he shifted his focus, his lips closing around your clit in a firm yet gentle embrace.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Eddie began to suckle and tease, his movements synchronized with the rhythm of his tongue. Your fingers tightened in his hair, earning a deep moan from him.

His hand left your thigh and deftly found its way to your entrance. His fingers teased the sensitive skin there, circling slowly before gently pushing inside. The feeling of fullness felt intoxicating, making you arch your back and cry out.

His fingers moved in a rhythm that matched the movements of his tongue, each thrust and curl inside you amplifying the sensations and pushing you closer to the edge.

“Eddie, please…” you begged softly.

“I know baby, I know” he said as he rose from his knees.

Eddie’s lips crashed against yours once more, your taste still lingering on his tongue. His hands lifted you slightly so that he could position himself at your entrance. You wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as you felt him begin to push inside you.

The sensation of him filling you was almost overwhelming, the pleasure intense as he slowly buried himself to the hilt. Eddie groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he paused for a moment, giving you both a chance to adjust.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You moaned in response, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to pull him even closer.

Slowly, Eddie began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. The sound of the water hitting the floor mixed with your gasps and moans, creating a symphony of desire that echoed off the tiled walls.

Eddie's pace quickened, his movements becoming more urgent as the need to bring you both to the edge took over. You clung to him, your body arching in response to each thrust. The steam-filled bathroom seemed to shrink around you, the world outside disappearing as you lost yourselves in each other.

"Eddie," you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "I'm close."

"Me too," he replied, his breath hot against your ear. "Come with me, sweetheart."

With a deliberate move, he shifted his hand, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in circles. With a final, deep thrust, Eddie sent you over the edge, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he followed you into ecstasy, his own release filling you completely.

For a moment, the two of you just held each other, the only sound in the room the gentle patter of the shower and your ragged breaths. Slowly, Eddie lowered you back to the floor, his arms still wrapped around you as you both tried to catch your breath.

Just as you began to relax into the warmth of the afterglow, a sudden shock of icy cold water hit you both.

"Eddie!" you shrieked, jumping away from the freezing stream. "The water!"

He laughed, his eyes wide with surprise as he fumbled to turn off the faucet. "Looks like we used up all the hot water."

You both scrambled out of the shower, dripping wet and shivering. Eddie was still chuckling as he rubbed his arms to ward off the cold.

"Not exactly how I pictured this ending," he said, his grin wide and mischievous.

You couldn't help but laugh, despite the chill.

Eddie quickly wrapped you in a warm towel, as you snuggled into him. "Still love you, even if you did turn me into an icicle," you muttered.

"Love you too, popsicle," he replied, pulling you closer.

[wintersoldiersoul]

Aftercare

A/N: Can't stop thinking about fluffy aftercare with Bucky so here's something short I just wrote

Warnings: tiny bit of smut, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff

“One more for me, baby girl, come on, you can do it,” Bucky encouraged as he pounded into you relentlessly. He had your legs up by your head, cock plunging in and out of your cunt, sending you barreling into your sixth orgasm of the night. You were absolutely exhausted but someone still not satiated yet. You still needed him.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled out, feeling another orgasm creeping up. “I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum so hard! Fuckk!” Your words were practically just screams as you came, squirting and soaking the sheets below you.

Bucky’s thrusts grew sloppy as his breathing got heavy and he shot his load into you. “Ohh my god,” he repeated as he rode out his high.

When you were both finished, he carefully removed himself from inside of you and lowered your legs slowly. You were breathless, laying limp with your eyes closed, utterly spent after the amount of intense orgasms you had. “You with me, baby girl?” Bucky asked, voice dripping with concern and love. 

“Mhm,” you nodded lazily, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna get a towel to clean you up, okay?” You felt his weight leave the bed and heard the water running in the bathroom. “Gonna be really gentle, okay sweetheart? I just gotta get you all clean.” You shuttered as you felt the towel, still incredibly sensitive. He was so light with his touch, taking his time to make sure that you were all clean. He went back to the bathroom to dispose of the towel and quickly came back to sit beside you on the bed. “Can you drink this for me, baby?” He said, handing you your water bottle from the night table. 

You sat up slowly, grabbing the bottle and taking greedy sips to rehydrate yourself. As much as you loved sex with Bucky, you loved aftercare almost more. You were both so emotional, so full of love for each other, even if he had treated you like his own personal toy just minutes prior. Your wellbeing was always his priority, during and after.

“How you feeling, angel?” He asked, returning the water bottle to the nightstand. “Can you give me words?”

“Feel good,” you said, sleepily. “Tired.” You moved your body so your head was buried in his chest. “Jus’ wanna cuddle with you.”

He smiled, loving the feeling of you in his arms. He loved taking care of you and making you feel safe and comfortable. He rubbed his hand up and down your back in the way he knew you loved. As he held you, he began to feel tears leaking onto his chest. “Hey,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” His eyes were wide with concern.

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m okay. I don’t even know why I’m crying really. Just love you a lot.” 

He kissed your forehead and wiped your tears. “Hey, that’s okay, baby.” He smiled softly. “Lemme give you all the care you need, ‘kay? Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. I know that was a lot for you.”

You nodded before placing your head in the crook of his neck, reveling in the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “Was I good?” you asked quietly.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You always are, angel.” He kissed the top of your head as he held you, letting you use his body for whatever comfort you needed. “Do you wanna take a shower, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can walk,” you admitted. 

“Lemme run a bath, okay? Then we can get nice and cozy and go to sleep.” 

Once the bath was full, Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you, placing you down in the warm water before getting in himself. He grabbed your shampoo, running the soap through your hair before taking a bucket and gently washing it out. He repeated the same method with your conditioner, whispering sweet nothings and peppering your face with kisses the whole time. “I love you so much, baby. My perfect angel girl.”

When you were done, he helped you get changed into pajamas and got you settled on the bed. “You need anything else?” he asked.

“Just you,” you mumbled, holding out your hands. 

He smiled warmly as he crawled into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you both drifted off into a deep sleep.   

[biblio-smia]

all these pictures of you

tasm! peter parker x reader

summary: the amount of photos peter has of you versus him is a problem you've taken upon yourself to fix

masterlist | requests are open! buy me a ko-fi!

a lazy sunday. a much needed one, considering the bruises peter had collected the night before.

damp air begins creeping out from under the bathroom door just as peter begins washing his hair - you can tell from the familiar crash of the shampoo bottle he always drops.

you fight the feeling of heavy eyes stubbornly, the sound of peter's shower threatening to lull you to sleep without him - only disrupted by the piercing ringing coming from peter's side of the bed.

it takes a while to track the noise of an alarm peter probably forgot to turn off in the mess of duvets, your fingers tapping the screen frantically once you find peter's phone.

there's only one big crack on his screen this time - peter's gotten better at taking care of his phones ever since he started calling you while out on patrol.

your own phone is elsewhere, either left behind in another room or out of battery and you need something to keep you awake until peter gets back. he should be almost done by now but each second feels like an eternity with such soft pillows under your head.

peter's password is muscle memory - if he could get your face to unlock his phone he would. instinct pulls you to the camera app to snap a few stupid photos but curiosity leads you to the contents of the rest of peter's gallery.

it's you, unsurprisingly. other than a few stray screenshots and some beautiful nature shots, it's you. you with a drink in your hand, you watching something on your phone, you with your back turned to peter.

dozens upon dozens, multiple scrolls worth of pictures of you - all of them probably the best anyone's been able to capture of you.

peter takes every picture of you with care - you're not sure there's a single photo where even the lighting looks off. even photos taken in five seconds tops were better work than you could've ever done.

you try to remember how many photos like these you have of peter. there's no shortage of photos of him on your phone but you're pretty positive the closest thing you've ever gotten is the photo currently on your lock screen - peter winking at you through a tall glass.

the bathroom door opens with a creak and peter sighs happily as he pads out of the bathroom, freshly washed and dried hair falling over his forehead even as he tried to push it away.

he's barely out a few seconds before he's jumped into bed with a groan muffled by the thick covers. it's not long before his face appears next to yours, sporting a cozy smile that makes your insides warm.

"watcha looking at?" peter hums, settling against his pillows and attempting to pull you into his arms.

he's surprised at your resistance, questions in his raised eyebrows as you only hum a response and lift yourself to hover over him.

you hoist yourself up and back up, aiming peter's camera carefully.

"what're you doing?" peter laughs, instinctively covering his face.

"shhh," you whisper, pulling peter's hand off carefully. you're really not sure how he does it but you do manage to get some photos of peter with a half-decent composition - though you'd argue that his face makes up for your lack of precision.

you let yourself lean into peter now, back to his chest with his arms wrapped securely around you as you analyze your new pictures. peter is greedy, nudging his nose into your skin right above where he kisses it.

"what's this about, hmm?" peter hums against your skin.

"nothing," you mumble, sending yourself all the photos. "you're just pretty."

peter's quiet, unusually so. his hand comes up from your waist to take his phone back and set it on his nightstand, arms coming to turn you towards him.

he's careful with you, hands holding your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks.

"come on, how can i not kiss you for that one?”

[d-emeter]

Simon Riley who loves to watch you shower (though not in the way you think). — plus-size!fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

CW: plus-sized reader but can be read as body neutral, non-sexual nudity, simon being smitten

You're not sure when it became a habit, but you remember the first time it happened. You had announced you were going to take a shower, and Simon had sprung up, asking if he could quickly brush his teeth before you went in there. You snorted a little at that, telling him he could do it while you were showering — he'd seen you naked plenty of times before, you didn't even think twice about it. And always one to follow an order, he did as he was told.

It took you a second to notice how he had stilled his movements, toothbrush still hanging from his mouth and his eyes focused on you through the mirror as it slowly fogged up.

"Something wrong, Si?"

"N'thin, baby, jus' do y'r thing."

It became almost ritual not long after that. If Simon spotted you with a fresh set of clothes in your arms, he padded over to the bathroom behind you, not a word exchanged. He'd sit on the closed toilet seat, insisting you left the shower door open.

"Si, the whole bathroom's gonna get wet..."

"Don't matter. I'll dry it after."

And then he just... watches. In complete silence, he just gazes at you. Watching how you wash your hair (doing it twice, because someone on social media told you it was better for your hair), inhaling deeply as the scent of your shampoo fills the air. He watches how you work the conditioner in, letting it sit while you continue with the next step of your routine. He watches you scrub away with a washcloth, suds covering your skin before rinsing it all off under the hot water. He particularly enjoys what you call your 'everything showers'. If you're in the mood to shave, he wants you to put your foot up on the toilet seat, right between his thighs — he'll handle the hard to see parts, lovie, don't worry about it. He's a little confused about the concept of scrub, but you have no problem babbling an explanation as you rub it all over your body (you find a whole array of newly acquired shower products the day after — scrubs included). He's still watching when you get out, how you dab yourself dry instead of rubbing, almost hypnotized as you smear serum after serum and layer cream after cream on your face and body.

"No fuckin' wonder your skin is so soft- Y'got a whole apothecary in here."

"What, you think this happens naturally?"

—

The first time he actually joins you, he doesn't really know how to get the question out. It's a day and a half after he came back from deployment, and as much as you would have loved to smother him in affection, you knew he needed time. Time to ground himself, to stop seeing the blood on his hands even after scrubbing them raw, to go from being Ghost to being Simon. He's been holed up in the bedroom since he came home, and only moves to leave once he hears the bathroom door open. You only smile at him when he appears in the doorway, assuming he'd take his usual seat. He doesn't. Instead, he's gesturing awkwardly to the shower. You know what he means.

"Can I- D'you mind if-"

"Of course you can, Si."

You're gentle with him; coaxing him out of his clothes and mask, turning the shower on and letting it get to temperature before guiding him in with you. He's stiff as a board still, but you see the small exhale at the hot water hitting his skin. You reach for his shampoo (the one you picked out for him — you nearly broke up with him when you first saw the single 5-in-1 bottle he had in his bathroom), but he's faster, grabbing your own and handing it to you, and you know what he wants. You don't say a word as you squeeze some onto your palm, and go to reach up when you realize-

"Simon, baby, could you bend down a little? I can't reach..."

He's on his knees before you know it. His eyes close when your hands start working through his hair — it's longer than when he left. His hands find their way to your thighs. You know he doesn't need it for balance. His forehead rests against the pudge of your stomach as you rinse him out. You can still see the remnants of his eyeblack when you tilt his head up.

You take him through your whole routine. He lets you wash him before you take care of yourself — he just watches, like second nature.

You know you have your Simon back once you turn the water off.

[chrisdr3]

Hot Showers ~ CS55

Smut

Carlos x Reader

Summary: Carlos loved taking showers with you...and something else.

Warnings: Shower seggs, he's obsessed with reader's boobs, fingering

You had just gotten home from work, inhaling the scent of the food Carlos had cooked. You left your coat and bag in on the hanger and headed to your bedroom. You picked up some underwear and one of Carlos's t-shirts and went to shower. You let the warm water run on the shower as you undressed and left your clothes in the laundry basket.

You stepped in, your body instantly relaxing. Meanwhile, Carlos sat up from the bench and placed the weights back in their place. He then got his water bottle and towel, wiped the sweat off his face and headed back to the bedroom.

Once he got in, he noticed yoru phone on the nightstand, indicating you returned home. He then heard the water running, so he went to the bathroom. He slowly got in and threw the towel and his sweaty clothes in the laundry and got in behind you, the warm water drenching him too.

You felt his arms wrapping around you and you leaned back, giving him access to your neck. "Hi" you whispered. "Hello hermosa" he replied as he kissed your neck. His hands found their way up to your boobs and started massaging them.

"How was work?" "It wasn't too bad, what about you Carlitos?" You responded, yoru finger tracing the veins on his arm. "It was rather lazy, I had some coffee with my dad and worked out." He murmured, his hands still kneading your chest. "Want me to wash you, cariño?" He added. You nodded and his hands left your chest as he turned you around to face him and put some shampoo on both your heads.

He quickly washed his head and carried on carefully washing yours, massaging your scalp. He then applied conditioner and let the water rinse it off. Then he put some body wash to his palms and slowly applied it on you, starting from your neck. He then went to your shoulders, massaging them a bit and went to your hands. Then, he went to your torso. He soaped your back and your belly, leaving your chest last.

His hands reached your chest and started to massage it. He kneaded it for what felt a pleasuring eternity and then his fingers reached your nipples. Only one touch and they hardened. He started playing with them, earning some groans from you. He took them in between his thumbs and pointer fingers and rubbed them for a bit, then continued with shampooing your legs.

He started with your feet, then went up your calves, knees and reached your thighs. He shampooed them too and then stopped. He pulled you against him. "Open yor legs f'me sweetheart." He growled. You obeyed without a second thought.

He slid his hand in between your legs, holding them open as he spread the soap. It all felt normal for a moment. Untill he pushed one finger in, making you gasp. He curled it, earning a moan. His fingers started to thrust in you, your nails digged into his shoulders as he continued. You were getting closer and closer to your climax and Carlos kept going faster and harder. You were really close to coming when he took his fingers out. So close your mind was blank and your movements sluggish.

He sucked your neck for a bit and then turned you around, your back facing him and slammed you against the wall. In a moment he was already inside you. He stayed still for a bit. "Are you okay hermosa?" He whispered. You nodded and he started thrusting in you, his hard length hitting all the right places.

His hand slithered on your chest again and started playing with your nipples, earning some more moans, which made him go faster. For some moments, there were only the water running and your skin slapping heard.

After what felt like ages, his thrusts became sloppier, his grip stronger on your waist. He enjoyed watching you fall apart by him whilst trying to hold himself. His rhythm and pace slowed rapidly, he was now really slow but hard. You clenched, not able to hold it anymore and he stilled himself as you came, undone, nearly screaming.

He held you up as he cane inside, filling you up and then pulled out gently. You fell on his arms and he held you up so you could ride out your high. When you calmed down, he wrapped your feet around his torso and held you by your ass, careful to not touch his dick.

He bathed you, dried you off and carried you to your bed, cuddling you till you both fell asleep.

[cumironi]

i LOVE your works and i was wondering if you could write their ( toji, nanami, geto and gojo) reaction to you refusing to let them shower with the reader on purpose? if not that’s fine too! have a great dayyy.

SAVE THE WATER, SHOWER TOGETHER !’

you refuse to let your boyfriend join you in the shower, featuring. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna.

GOJO SATORU!’

as the warm steam curled through the bathroom, you were about to step into the shower when you caught movement from the corner of your eye. there, leaning casually against the doorframe, stood gojo with his arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. his eyes sparkled with that usual mischievous glint, and you knew exactly what he was about to suggest before he even opened his mouth.

“soooo,” he began, his voice light and teasing, “need a little company in there? you know, someone to scrub your back?”

you sighed, not even glancing back as you adjusted the water temperature. “you know, you ask this every time,” you replied, your tone flat but laced with amusement. “and every time, the answer’s still the same.”

gojo pouted at your reply, moving into the bathroom and leaning against the wall near doorframe so that he blocked any escape. “oh, come on,” he whined, his bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated frown, “it’s not like i’ve ever been boring.” he stepped closer, his arms uncrossing as he reached out and tugged gently at your towel. “besides, showering alone is so lonely. i could make it much more… enjoyable.”

you turned to him, one eyebrow arching as you met his gaze. a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you crossed your own arms over your chest. “oh, babe, i don’t doubt that,“ you said, your tone teasing, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m sure you'd make it very enjoyable.”

gojo’s grin widened, thinking he was getting somewhere, but before he could celebrate, you added with a playful roll of your eyes, “but you’d also waste a ton of water. and we both know you’re just going to end up making a mess.”

gojo’s grin faltered for a second, but it was quickly replaced with a mock-hurt expression. “oh, come on now,” he protested, placing his hand over his heart in a melodramatic gesture. “don’t insult me like that. i’m perfectly capable of controlling myself, thank you very much.”

he moved closer, his hands now resting on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin. “besides, do you really think i care about wasting water when i could have a nice, steamy shower with the most beautiful woman in the world?”

you shook your head, biting back a laugh as you placed your hands on his chest, gently pushing him away. despite the firm rejection, your eyes gleamed with mischief, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “no, babe. absolutely not.”

he gave you that charming smile, eyes twinkling, as if expecting you to give in any moment, but you raised a brow at him. “do i need to remind you what happened the last time we showered together?”

gojo blinked, his grin faltering again as you continued, “you broke my shampoo bottle, knocked over everything on the shelf, and somehow managed to flood half the bathroom.” you smirked, leaning closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “so, no. i’d rather not have a repeat of that.”

gojo let out a dramatic huff, his hands still resting on your hips, thumbs now tracing along your sides. he knew he was not winning this argument, but he always had to try. “hey, that was not my fault,” he protested, looking for all the world like a scolded puppy. “the shampoo bottle just... slipped. and the flood was a complete accident.”

he leaned in closer, his gaze sultry, as he tried once more to sway you. “how about i promise to be good this time? no mess, no accidents. just me, you, and a… very pleasurable shower.”

you laughed softly at his persistence, unable to hide your amusement, but you weren’t giving in that easily. you knew exactly what ‘pleasurable’ meant when it came to gojo, and you had no intention of letting him get his way. “and how many times have you promised that before?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

gojo chuckled sheepishly at your callout, his fingers still playing with the edge of your towel. “maybe a few times,” he admitted, a sly grin on his face. “but come on, you know I mean it this time. pinky promise.” he held up his pinky finger, wiggling it at you in a playful manner, as if sealing the deal.

you laughed again, shaking your head as you stepped forward, placing your hands firmly on his chest. “no,” you said, your voice playful but final. with gentle pressure, you started pushing him toward the door, slowly and playfully, until he was backed out of the bathroom.

gojo allowed himself to be pushed back out into the hallway, a hint of amusement in his eyes. he knew he was not going to win this time, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“you’re missing out, you know,” he said, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes roamed over your figure, still covered by the towel. “a shower with me is a damn good time.”

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. gojo’s relentless charm always had a way of getting to you, even when you were determined to be firm.

“oh, i’m well aware of how good a time a shower with you can be. but i value my sanity and a non-flooded bathroom more than that,” you mumble, leaning closer to give him a quick kiss.

GETO SUGURU!’

you casually draped your towel over your shoulder as you headed toward the bathroom, fully prepared for a peaceful shower. your mind was elsewhere, already focused on the warm water that awaited you, when you heard a sudden shuffle from the bed. geto, who had been lounging comfortably moments before, was now instantly on his feet, following closely behind with a wide grin on his face.

feeling his presence just a step behind, you furrowed your brows and glanced over your shoulder, catching his mischievous gaze. “why are you following me?” you asked, confused but already knowing the answer.

he shrugged casually, his grin never faltering. “wherever you go, i go,” he said, voice smooth and teasing. you raised an eyebrow, stopping just outside the bathroom door. “oh, really? and what do you plan on doing in there?”

he chuckled at your question, leaning against the wall next to the door. “oh, you know. i was thinking of lending you a hand in the shower,” he said, his eyes glimmering with mischief.

he moved closer to you, his body towering over yours as he placed a hand on the doorframe, effectively blocking any escape route. “after all, it’s my duty as your boyfriend to make sure you’re thoroughly cleaned,” he teased, his voice dripping with innuendo.

you raised an eyebrow at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “oh? extra service, huh?” you tilted your head, feigning thought for a moment. “well, i don’t think i paid for that today.”

geto’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying your playful resistance as he leaned even closer, still blocking the door. “don’t worry, babe. this one’s on the house,” he whispered, his tone dripping with flirtation. you chuckled, shaking your head as you lightly pushed against his chest. “tempting, but no thanks. i’ll manage just fine on my own.” you slid past him with a grin, slipping into the bathroom.

geto let out a mock pout as you slipped past him into the bathroom, his arms crossing over his chest. “aww, come on. you're no fun,” he called out, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

he leaned against bathroom doorframe, listening to the sound of the shower starting. he let out a small sigh, a smirk forming on his face as a mischievous idea came to him. he waited for a moment, counting the seconds in his head before he spoke up again. “you know, it’s dangerous to shower alone...”

you turned toward him, already knowing where this was going, a sly smile playing on your lips. “oh, is it?” you called out as you casually started stripping, tossing your clothes to the side without a second thought. “and what kind of danger are we talking about here? other than a perverted boyfriend lurking around?”

a soft laugh escaped his lips as you teasingly discarded your clothes, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin before meeting your gaze. “oh, you know. the kind of danger that comes with not having me there to protect you,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

he pushed himself away from the doorframe and started to saunter towards the bathroom, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “and we can’t have anything happening to my precious girlfriend now, can we?”

you met his gaze, smirking as you stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your bare skin. “i think i'm perfectly fine,” you said, your tone light and teasing. “pretty sure no one's gonna jump me while i’m in here.”

the water kissed your skin as you turned your back to him, enjoying the sensation of the steam filling the air. you could feel his eyes still on you, but you refused to let him win this round. “besides, the only danger i see around here is you,” you added with a playful glance over your shoulder.

he chuckled, the sound low and deep as he leaned against the tile wall, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes roamed over your wet, exposed body, appreciating the view before him. “oh, really?” he drawled, his tone dripping with challenge. “and why is that?”

he took a leisurely step closer to the shower, his eyes never leaving your back. “i seem to recall you liking the danger i come with,” he continued, his voice lowering to a seductive whisper.

you felt his gaze burning into your back, the heat of it nearly as warm as the water cascading over your skin. his words hung in the air, tempting and teasing, but you weren't about to let him have his way so easily.

without turning around, you whispered, “i think you should leave,” the playful edge in your voice is unmistakable.

with a soft chuckle, you slid the glass door shut between the two of you, the faint smirk on your lips not hidden from him. you heard him let out a mock sigh, but you knew he wasn’t going anywhere. “good luck with that,” you muttered under your breath, enjoying the feeling of having the upper hand for once.

when you slid the glass door shut, separating the two of you, geto let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “aww, come on,” he called, his hands landing on the glass as he pressed up against it.

he could see your silhouette through the misted glass, the sight of you naked in the shower only fueling his desire. he let out a low chuckle, a knowing smirk on his lips as he leaned against the shower door. “you really think a little glass door is going to keep me away?”

NANAMI KENTO!’

you were nestled comfortably against nanami’s chest, his arm wrapped around you as the soft glow of the movie flickered on the screen. the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing had lulled you into a sense of complete relaxation. but suddenly, you shifted, trying to pull away from his embrace.

“i’m gonna take a shower,” you murmured, starting to sit up. nanami’s arm instinctively tightened around you, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced down at you. “right now?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with mild confusion.

“mm-hmm,” you replied, a soft smile tugging at your lips. you wriggled a little, but his hold was firm, clearly not ready to let you go so easily.

he sighed, leaning his head back on the couch as if accepting defeat but keeping his arm loosely around you. “can i join?” he asked, his tone teasing but with a subtle hint of hope. you chuckled softly, glancing at the screen and then back at him. “noooo.”

he sighed softly in mock disappointment, his hand now resting on your hip, his touch both possessive and tender. “you’re being quite the tease, you know.” he teased. he slowly pulled you on top of him, his hands sliding down to your thighs to keep you in place on his lap.

his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the bare skin of your thighs, his eyes never leaving your face as he continued his playful banter. “showering without me… what am i supposed to do while you’re gone?”

you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, your eyes flicking from the screen back to his face as you tried to stifle a grin. “i don’t know,” you said, a playful glint in your eyes, “watch a movie, maybe?”

he let out a dry chuckle, his lips curving into a half-smile as he arched an eyebrow at your cheeky response. “ah, yes, because that's exactly what I had in mind.” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcastic annoyance as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

he slid his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he pulled you closer, the heat from his body meeting yours through the thin fabric separating you.

nanami's dry chuckle softened into something more playful as his hands rested firmly on your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost pressed together. his half-smile deepened as his gaze locked with yours, his eyes flickering with just a hint of mischief.

“you know,” he began, his voice smooth and steady, “being the gentleman that I am, it’s only right I join you in the shower. can’t have you slipping and falling without someone there to catch you.”

his tone was persistent, but there was a teasing edge to it, as if he already knew the answer but enjoyed the game of wearing you down. his hands slid gently up your waist, fingers grazing your skin as he added with a smirk, “besides, i’d hate to miss the opportunity to ensure you’re... properly taken care of.”

his words hung in the air, and though his expression remained calm and composed, there was no hiding the playful intent behind them. you raised an eyebrow at his words, your lips curving into a smirk as you playfully rolled your eyes. “properly taken care of?” you repeated, the sarcasm in your voice evident as you leaned in just slightly, your breath ghosting against his lips. “and here i thought you were just worried about me slipping.”

he chuckled again, the sound low and rich as he let his hands wander leisurely over the curves of your body, his touch both deliberate and tantalising, as if he was in no rush.

“you caught me,” he murmured, the corners of his lips curving into a half-smile, “i couldn’t possibly allow you to shower all alone. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” he paused for a moment, his fingers tracing a lazy path along your skin, “plus, i’m quite looking forward to helping you… soap up.”

you hummed softly, pretending to consider his words as your hands slowly slid across his chest, your touch featherlight. his muscles tensed slightly under your fingertips, but his half-smile never wavered.

“hmm,” you mused, drawing lazy circles on his chest, “as tempting as that sounds, i think i can handle ‘soaping-up’ just fine on my own.”

your voice was teasing, playful, but firm enough that nanami could tell you weren't about to let him have his way this time. your lips curled into a smirk as you leaned in just a bit closer, your breath warm against his neck. “besides,” you added in a whisper, “you wouldn’t want to get distracted from the movie now, would you?”

with that, you gently pushed away from him, stepping toward the bathroom, glancing back over your shoulder with a mischievous glint in vour eye.

he watched you with a mix of amusement and frustration as you slowly disentangled yourself from his lap. his gaze trailed over your form, taking in every curve and contour, as if trying to commit your figure to memory. his expression was a mixture of playfulness and annoyance, clearly not appreciating being denied.

he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest as he let out a sigh of fake resignation. “oh, fine. go ahead and deprive me of the chance to witness your ‘soaping up’. i guess i’ll just have to sit here and suffer through the rest of the movie alone.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO!’

your head rested on toji’s broad chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths as the aftermath of your intimate moment lingered in the air. the room was thick with warmth, your bodies tangled beneath the covers, slick with sweat and the remnants of your passion.

you sighed softly, feeling the stickiness of your skin against his, a slight grimace tugging at your lips. “i need to take a shower,” you mumbled, half to yourself, your voice lazy and tired. “i hate feeling all sticky and clammy after... well, this. especially when i’m about to sleep.”

toji grunted in acknowledgment, his hand lazily running down your back. he didn’t say anything at first, just hummed as if he was contemplating letting you go. his grip on you tightened slightly, as if unwilling to let the warmth of your body leave his just yet. “a shower, huh?” he finally muttered, his voice gravelly and deep. “you sure you don’t wanna just sleep it off?”

you shook your head, chuckling softly. “no way. i’ll sleep better after. plus, you’re the one who’s all sweaty too,” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

he let out a soft huff of laughter, his chest rumbling beneath you as he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, yeah, ’m sweaty too. but i don’t mind it as much as you do,” he teased back, his fingers tracing light patterns down your spine. “you’re the one who always complains about feeling sticky and clammy. you’re such a princess.”

he shifted slightly beneath you, as if debating whether to let you go or not. “lemme join you, doll.”

you let out a sarcastic chuckle, the sound soft but filled with playful mockery. “oh, you’re funny, baby,” you mused, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze with an arched brow. “but no.”

you slid out of his hold slowly, feeling the cool air hit your skin as you sat up on his chest, straddling him. turning your head down slightly to glance at him, you added with a smirk, “besides, i can handle a shower on my own, tough guy. you can enjoy your sweaty self right here.”

toji's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm as he chuckled at your cheeky rebuttal. “oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” he drawled, his eyes filled with amusement as he looked up at you. “you’re a tease, doll. you’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?”

he lifted his hips up slightly, his body pressing up against you, his desire clear against your thighs. “you sure you don’t want me to join you, princess?”

you nodded slowly, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips as your fingers lightly traced the firm lines of his chest. “pretty sure,” you murmured, leaning down just a bit, your breath warm against his skin. “besides, i already know exactly what i do to you.”

your body, still bare, sat poised on his chest as you held his gaze with a teasing glint in your eyes. “but i’m still gonna shower alone,” you whispered, your hand pressing gently against his chest as if to keep him in place. “so, stay right here and be a good boy, yeah?” you added playfully, sliding off of him slowly, feeling his eyes on you as you stood up.

he watched you closely, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and playful annoyance as you slid off him. he let out a huff of resignation, reluctantly obeying your command and staying right where he was.

“you’re a cruel little thing, doll,” he muttered, his body relaxing back into the bed as he watched you. “but fine. i’ll be a good boy and wait for you.” he let his eyes roam over your naked body unabashedly, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“hurry back though,” he added, his eyes lingering on your curves as you started to move towards the bathroom. “don’t keep me waiting too long. the sheets are lonely without you, y’know.”

[pathologicalreid]

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

[xhyjin]

| nanami kento x reader

| more of nanami as a househusband!

| #sfw #softnanami #fluff #sliceoflife

| around 2k

| ˏˋ°•*⁀➷: i need him…

nanami always woke up before you. it wasn't because he couldn't sleep-he could, now that life was quieter-but because he remembered what it was like. waking up before the sun, dragging himself to work, already dreading from the thought of another long day ahead. he knew how heavy mornings could feel, how the quiet hours before work stirred often felt like a burden instead of a gift.

so, he made it his mission to make mornings a little more tolerable for you.

the kettle hissed softly as it began to boil, the sound being the first thing that greeted the quiet morning. nanami moved through the kitchen with deliberate calm, sleeves neatly rolled and the pink linen apron you got him tied in a pretty bow at the back. he brewed the coffee, dark and strong, just the way you liked it, and poured it into the chipped mug you always claimed as yours.

he smiled to himself as he remembered how he once tried throwing the mug away after noticing the chipped marks, only to be met with you snatching it out of his hands, a pout on your face as you said, “this was the mug you got me on my first birthday with you.”

toast popped up from the toaster just as he placed a pan on the stove, the eggs cooking perfectly to the soft consistency he knew you preferred. everything he did was methodical and calculated, from the way he spread the jam on the fresh toast, to how he arranged the dishes on the table, so when you finally waddled into the kitchen, still drowsy and grumbling softly at the world, you wouldn’t have to think.

“good morning honey” he said, glancing up at you as you rubbed your eyes. “coffees ready” he would pat your seat on the dining table as he pushed your chair out for you to sit.

he watched as your gaze flickered to the table—perfectly set, a morning made just a little softer—and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of your lips. once you were seated, nanami tapped his cheek with a subtle motion, a small but unmistakable gesture. he never asked for much, but this was the only way he wanted to be thanked: a sweet kiss pressed to his cheek or lips before you began eating.

satisfied when you leaned over and obliged, he sat back and watched quietly as you ate the breakfast he had lovingly prepared, a soft warmth settling in his chest.

you finished the last bite of your breakfast, savoring the perfectly soft eggs and toast as nanami’s eyes flickered up from across the table, checking the time.

“you should start getting ready,” he murmured, voice soft but firm—an unspoken reminder that he knew your schedule almost as well as you did. with a quiet hum of agreement, you stood, his hand instinctively reaching to take your empty plate before you could even think to bring it to the sink.

“i’ve got this,” he said simply, rising to his feet as you headed toward the bathroom.

as the sound of running water filled the apartment, nanami busied himself cleaning up the kitchen. he moved efficiently, wiping down counters and rinsing plates, but still kept half an ear trained on you—listening for the faint thud of the shampoo bottle or the rush of the hair dryer. he wasn’t hovering, not really; he just liked knowing you were moving through the motions of your morning without stress.

by the time you emerged from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel, the smell of soap and shampoo lingering in the air, nanami was already waiting with a clean stack of clothes laid neatly on the bed.

“i thought this would work for today,” he said, nodding toward your work clothes—a thoughtfully coordinated outfit he’d pulled from your closet while you showered. he never picked anything too bold or too plain, just the kind of outfit you could put on without second-guessing.

“you’re too good to me,” you mumbled, hair still damp as you dropped onto the edge of the bed.

“hurry up,” he said with a faint smile, “or you’ll be late.”

you rolled your eyes at his precision but still moved to get dressed, slipping into your clothes as nanami quietly disappeared into the bathroom. he returned a moment later with your brush and hair dryer in hand.

“here,” he said, sitting beside you as he plugged in the dryer. “i’ll help.”

you blinked at him, surprised, but he only motioned for you to turn. his large hands were gentle as he ran the brush carefully through your hair, drying it in steady motions—never tugging or rushing, just working with the same patience he applied to everything else in life.

“it’s nice like this,” he murmured once your hair fell soft and smooth. he handed the brush back, standing as you reached for your makeup bag.

while you focused on applying your makeup, nanami moved quietly around the room—folding the towel you’d left draped on the chair, straightening the blanket, making sure your shoes and bag were exactly where you’d need them.

by the time you finished, you found him leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled and arms crossed, watching you with a calm, satisfied expression.

“ready?” he asked.

you nodded, smiling as you stood. he stepped forward to adjust your coat and scarf before tapping his cheek again—just like earlier.

“you’re not getting out the door without it,” he said, lips tugging into the faintest smirk.

you laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then a passionate kiss to his lips, the warmth of him lingering against your lips as you finally grabbed your bag.

“have a good day, i love you” nanami said quietly, walking you to the door. his hand rested briefly against the small of your back, grounding and gentle, before you stepped outside into the day he’d carefully set in motion for you.

as the door closed behind you, nanami stood for a moment, taking in the silence that settled over the apartment. he’d miss you while you were gone, of course, but there was laundry to fold, dinner to plan, and a new book to start.

besides, you’d be home soon enough, and he’d be right there waiting.

the apartment was quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt more like peace than emptiness. nanami moved through the rooms, his routine calm and measured, just as it always was. after a moment of reflection, he began folding the laundry, one piece of clothing at a time.

as he picked up your favorite sweater, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he carefully folded the fabric, fingers brushing over the familiar soft texture. lifting the sweater to his nose, he inhaled deeply. the scent of your natural perfume—warm, sweet, and utterly you—still clung to the fabric, even though he had just washed it. it was subtle, like a memory lingering in the air, and nanami couldn’t help but smile fondly.

he loved that smell, loved how it somehow stayed with him long after you were gone.

as he folded a pair of your socks, his phone buzzed from the counter. pulling it from his pocket, he smiled when he saw your name flashing on the screen. it wasn’t a message—just a call, but he was always happy to hear from you.

“hey, my love,” he answered, his voice warm and steady, just the way you liked it.

“hey, babe,” you replied, sounding a little tired but happy to hear him. “how’s your day going?”

“good, just keeping busy,” he said, folding the last of the laundry. “i made your bento this morning—did you eat it yet?”

he could hear you pause, and then you responded with a light laugh, “yeah, it was really good.”

nanami smiled, feeling a warm satisfaction in his chest. “i’m glad. you’re working hard, so you deserve something good.”

“you always make the best lunches, love,” you said, and he could hear the affection in your voice.

“it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice soft. “i just want to make sure you’re taken care of. did you get through your morning okay?”

“yeah, it’s been busy, but i’m hanging in there. i’m just counting down to when i can see you tonight,” you said with a small sigh.

“i’ll be right here when you get home,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “what would you like for dinner? something light, or do you want me to cook something a little heartier?”

“something light sounds perfect, actually. i’ll be so tired when i get home,” you said.

“whatever you want, darling,” nanami replied. “you just focus on your day. i’ve got everything else handled.”

“i love you,” you said softly, and nanami’s heart melted at the words.

“i love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face. “i’ll see you soon.”

after the call ended, nanami set his phone down and turned to the stack of laundry he’d already folded. the house was tidy now, and there was still plenty of time before you’d be home. so, he picked up the book you’d recommended to him.

he settled into his favorite chair by the window, sunlight streaming through the blinds and catching on the edges of the pages. it was a new book, one you’d suggested a few weeks ago. he hadn’t started it until today, but he’d been looking forward to it. he couldn’t remember the last time he had sat down to read for pleasure, but with everything in order, he was glad to start.

as he flipped through the first few pages, he thought of you again—how you always took time to recommend things to him, things you knew he would enjoy. he was eager to see how the story would unfold, just as he was eager to hear about your day when you got home.

the hours passed by slowly, but he never minded the wait. he had a book to enjoy, the sound of your voice still warm in his mind, and a dinner plan to make.

[retroaria]

✮⋆˙ itoshi sae

~ how he'd be after a break up :(

⸝⸝ written for aria's 1.5k follower event! ‧₊˚✩彡

⸝⸝ i don’t see sae as being a cheater or a bad partner in general so (not to be cliche but) the breakup would probably be because of him having a poor work/life balance and his career getting in the way.

⸝⸝ after the breakup he’d totally immerse himself in his career, kinda like subconscious avoidance of his feelings on the matter. you guys would go full no contact. eventually it would catch up to him and hit him like a truck.

⸝⸝ it would start with little things. he’d miss the smell of you on his sheets, he’d miss having your things in certain places: your shoes at his door, your food in the fridge, your clothes in his closet. he’d realize that it’s already been over a month since you’ve left and he still hasn’t taken your pictures off his night stand, or your shampoo bottle out of his shower.

⸝⸝ he'd find himself longing again for the home you guys had together. he misses the comfort of going to bed next to someone and waking up the next morning, knowing you're still there next to him before he even opens his eyes.

⸝⸝ he ponders on what he had taken for granted. the lunches you'd make for him, your face in the stands during his practice and games. sae had been alone for so long before you, he never thought he'd find himself hating it if ever you were to leave - but here he is, grasping so desperately to mere remnants of you.

⸝⸝ he'd take it out on himself. he could've put in the effort to better balance his life, the only two things he's ever loved are you and soccer, surely it couldn't have been that hard to keep both successfully. he chalks it up to another of his short comings.

⸝⸝ on a select few nights he finds himself hovering over your contact in his phone, wondering what he would say to you, what you would say to him, if any of it would matter or give him any form of closure.

⸝⸝ he allows himself to yearn and experience the sadness of the situation once it truly dawns upon him, but no matter what he has sworn to not beg you to take him back.

⸝⸝ decides that if your paths are meant to cross again, then they will. he cares for you and wouldn't want to put you through the turmoil of being strung along his hectic life again, especially not after he chose to leave you. he believes you deserve better than that.

⸝⸝ sae didn't meet you while specifically looking for a partner, and he doesnt intend to try making his way into the dating scene after you.

⸝⸝ if you two were to see each other by chance after the breakup, he would be respectful about it. he'd let you lead the conversation, knowing he'd have a hard time not bringing up the separation, or how much he's missed you.

[rustedhearts]

i want your things in my room (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington: resident frat boy heartbreaker. handsome, charming, good in bed—what's not to love? if only he loved you. based on this sexy thought of mine

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly’s roller wheels blurbs commissions! ✶ blurbs! ✶ somebody told me (part two)

tags: frat boy!steve, situationship, asshole-ish!steve, pining, kind of feral reader because i was feral writing this, smut.

"i want your things in my room, i miss you all of the time. i stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find...you look so cool, I wanna die. is it too soon to say what's on my mind?"

— in my room, julia wolf

for the lovely 🫧

wc: 2,095 (oops)

delta phi. saturday april 12th, 2009

Cords of muscle suffocated under the tight sleeve of a red cutoff��ripped while weight-lifting on the porch, you imagined. Knowing Steve, it was intentionally and meticulously cut in the bathroom mirror for a blurry cellphone image sent to another fling.

You never received texts like that. The only texts you received were late in the evening or at the crest of midnight:

you up?

coming over. unlock the back door.

The one trip-up in this eight month routine came two weekends ago at nine p.m.

coming over, brought you a surprise. want you to wear it saturday.

It was a tight white t-shirt promoting Steve for Delta Phi Senior President. You wore it like he asked, lingering in the basement corner of another Saturday party with a lukewarm beer you wanted to throw up when you saw hordes of other girls wearing the exact same thing.

He didn't even look at you that night.

But he messaged, an hour after you skulked home with a hoodie zipped over his face printed on your left tit.

didn't see you leave. can i swing by later?

He did. And you let him crawl over your naked body under a pink duvet and place his mouth wherever he liked. He didn't apologize, and you swallowed down the sharp sting of tears every time he told you how pretty you were—knowing every girl wearing his face that night received the very same treatment at one point.

You weren't special. You knew that. But he had such a way of making you feel like you were. Catching your eye through passing bodies, lifting his mouth in a sideways grin, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave when he knew no one was looking. Cupping the back of your head in the checkout line at the coffeeshop when he passed by, because somehow he always knew when you were there. He never said a thing, but he had your heart stuttering every single time.

So, here you were. Another Saturday night in a dark Delta Phi corner, sipping a Twisted Tea and struggling to swallow past the lump of hurt in your throat when Steve's head turned to follow the path of a pretty and petite blonde. Watching his biceps flex under his sleeve, his hips turn in a pair of Levis often rumpled on your floor. You washed them once, when he came and got sick in your bathroom after a particularly intense recruitment night.

Steve lifted a wide hand and swept it through the front of his hair. You could almost smell it, the Old Spice soaked in those chestnut tresses. You used his bathroom on the second floor one time, found the red shampoo bottle resting on the edge of the tub.

And maybe you popped the cap and smelled it, closed your eyes and imagined Steve was right in front of you, pressing his cheek on your chest the way he did post-coital: panting wordlessly, letting you feel the warmth of his flesh clinging to yours, running your fingers through his hair to bring him back down.

Steve's eyes cutting your way yanked you from your warm, gut-wrenching thoughts of him. Over the swell of his own bicep: a pair of hazels fixing on your figure across the room. Your heart lurched to your throat when you locked gazes, fingers twitching to wave. He wouldn't wave back. You knew without a doubt.

But those lips quirked up in acknowledgement, and that was enough. Enough to have heat lapping at your face and coiling in your stomach. Enough to know he'd message after the party, when most of the crowd dispersed and his buddies wandered off to bed. Enough to know you'd feel his breath on your face tonight, feel his mouth over your body.

That was more than enough.

✶ ✶

You waited.

Waited—fully dressed on your bed, lamp clicked on in the darkness of the night—with the skin of your thumb between your teeth. Gnawing between glances at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with his name. The deeper the night grew, the hungrier you became. Hungry for his tongue sliding around your mouth, his fingers digging into your ribs with every pull back against his body. His palm cupped around your throat the way it often did when he took you from behind, keeping you braced against his chest so he could feel you struggle to catch your breath.

You waited. You bid your roommate goodnight through a closed door and waited. You peeled your outfit off layer by layer, checked your messages for his name, and waited. You laid back on your bed holding your phone to your faded-t-shirt-clad chest, and waited.

The hunger nestled between your legs, aching and pulsing with soreness. It was terrible how conditioned you were for Steve's attention. How horribly you craved it.

Somehow, his air of coolness made you want it more. When he avoided your eye, when your texts went unanswered, when he brushed by at a party and looped your pinkies together—you wanted him something awful.

But you wanted him most when you had him. When he was running his nose through the sweat on your neck, big hands sweeping over your stomach under the t-shirt he guided over your head. His t-shirt, always asked for in a groggy, early morning exchange before he left. When he was whispering—unwilling to wake your roommates—and promising that you were the only one he'd ever felt this close to.

"Swear nobody's made me feel so fuckin' high before," he'd say. "Love your body, baby, you're so pretty."

Tears squeezed at your lash line, burning as they spilled over. You swiped at them irritatedly, setting your phone on the nightstand and turning away from it.

And then it buzzed.

You flung your hands toward the vibration, snatching the scratched device eagerly.

coming.

missed you.

Falling back against your pillows, you let out a long, blissful sigh. He missed you. That was new.

Your phone buzzed with the long-awaited "here" text, and you had to catch yourself on the stair railing to avoid running toward the door. But the way you swung the door open and tugged him in did little to hide your excitement, and it had Steve grinning wide as you hurried back toward your room.

"Wait," he chuckled, stumbling over his sneakered feet. "Christ, you're quick to the belt tonight."

You clamped your bedroom door shut carefully, spinning around to find Steve toeing his shoes off at the end of your bed. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek when he turned to face you again. The smirk on his mouth was delicious.

Suddenly, all that hunger coursing through you fizzled to coyness. But Steve liked when you were shy. He thought it was cute.

"C'mere."

The way he called to you—softly, a sweeter version of his usual tone—always had your nerves tingling.

You stepped in front of him, giggling when he plucked at the faded, stained material of your bed shirt near your chest.

"Sexy 'jamas," he chuckled, swooping down to press your mouths together.

"Thought...you weren't...coming," you mumbled between detachments and quiet, wet smacks.

He said nothing this time, letting his hands drop to your hips to steer you around. He guided you onto the bed, and the pair of you moved like a well-oiled carnival ride until you reached the pillows. Two heavy palms pressed into the feathers on either side of your head, and Steve's mouth continued lapping at yours vigorously.

One thing about Steve was that he was always pleased to incorporate foreplay. He loved the art of kissing, and he knew it well.

Steve pulled away far too early, moving his lips to your cheek. Down your jaw, under the junction where nerves tingled for his attention under your ear. You fisted the thin fabric of his shirt as he dragged his nose across your jaw.

"Did ya miss me, honey?" His voice took on a low gravel that brought your hairs to their ends.

Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed, hips shifting on the bed. Your breath already shallowed.

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Tell me," he cooed, nose rubbing a small circle into your cheek, breath hot on your skin. "Tell me you missed me, pretty girl."

You blinked your eyes open, glazing over the length of his lashes and flecks of honey and emerald in his gaze. You could barely feel your own body, could barely form a sentence on your own.

"I missed you," you whispered dazedly.

Steve moved his eyes down to your stomach as he dragged the t-shirt toward your collarbones. His hand glided over your navel and between your breasts.

"Missed you, too. Take your shirt off f' me, sweetheart."

He knelt at the end of the bed and watched you undress intently, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he pressed to his knees and fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When the pair of you were bare, he returned to his place hovering above you, and you took your chance to roam your hands over his chest. Firm, warm, smooth-skinned. Lifting your back off the bed, you buried your nose in his throat and inhaled deeply. Steve's chuckle rumbled through you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed.

"Smell good," you remarked quietly.

Steve tipped his head away from your face until you settled back into the pillows. He grinned down at you there, hair curling over his forehead and toward his brow.

"Yeah? That's new."

You shook your head, tongue fat and dumb in your mouth. Your fingers traced down his arms bracing your head. "No...always smell good."

A swallow bobbed in his throat. The back of his finger nudged your cheek from the pillow beside you. "Yeah?"

You nodded this time, meeting his eye with what he could only call a lovestruck stare—all rounded and doe-like. "Yeah."

He wished you'd shut your eyes. He wished you'd stop looking at him like he was some sort of saint. He wished you'd stop letting him get away with all the shit he put you through.

Steve was quick to switch gears, pecking a short, painful kiss to your mouth before flipping you by the hips onto your stomach. You gasped at the quick and irritated pull of your hips upward until your ass was arched in the air. He pressed on the dip in your back and you let your stomach drop toward the mattress.

"Good," he sniffed. "Look good like this."

Because he couldn't see your eyes.

And you let him fuck you like that, pummeling so deep that you were buried in the mattress by the time he was done. You didn't cum and he knew it, and the pair of you settled flat with quiet gasps. He didn't press his cheek to your chest this time, didn't tangle your fingers together between sticky bedsheets. He laid there only a few silent moments before reaching for his pants.

"Hey," you called softly, propped up on your elbows. "You're not gonna stay?"

The broad muscles of Steve's back flexed and rolled as he hoisted his jeans over his hips and secured his belt. He pulled his shirt on without turning around, feet shoved into his sneakers before you could even sit all the way up.

"Nah," he said, turning only as he headed for the door. "Gotta...um, study."

Brows furrowing, a small giggle slipped from your mouth. "Study? You don't study."

Another swallow, noisy and paired with two eyes fixed on the floor. His voice neared a whisper when he spoke again. "Trying something new."

You watched him open the door just enough for him to fit through. You hugged your soiled sheets around your bare body and felt the hunger dim to hurt again.

Steve stepped into the doorway and turned his head an inch, but not enough to see those pretty features again. "Later."

You wanted him to miss you again. You wanted to press your nose back into his neck and breathe him in. You wanted him to bring his words down low where they belonged when he spoke to you. You wanted to be his girl for a few moments more, to feel his affection through every drag of his mouth and hands.

But the door closed, and you were left to watch him jog across the street through a sliver in the drapes instead.

Just another t-shirt. Just another girl in love with Steve Harrington.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 3

Secret Collection [Yandere M. Hairdresser x Gn.Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list!

Not my favorite and already way behind 😭Sorry for being gone for like, a week. I got kinda sick and then had to scramble to keep up with my new classes. I should be good for now, and I'll try to work through my asks and more of the yantober prompts for now.

Tipjar :)

Tw! Dead dove Do not Eat! MDNI! Stalking, non consensual photography, implied kidnapping, he's really weird, nsfw themes

Your hair stylist is just the best! He always knows how to keep you coming back almost every week...

1.5k words

Clover knows that what he does isn’t right.

He cuts your hair with diligent practice, every strand memorized with care and sweet tenderness. When your tresses lay by his shifting feet, it takes all within him not to cum on spot. Your scent drives him wild, and he knows that you’re the one for him after you come back a second time.

He collects your hair after he pretends to sweep it up and throw it out, rooting around the dustpan in the back of his storefront like a desperate, mangy animal. He lives just above his small, intimate salon, and he knows that if he can just get you to come up with him, that he can start getting you to fall for him. 

Discount for today only! 75% off hair dyeing, lashes, and nails! Hurry in!

He typed it out and bit his lip as he stared at his screen. There wasn’t any sale going on. Nobody but you was privy to this, of course. Months ago, when Clover first met you, he jumped on the chance to have your phone number. He rambled on and on about how it was standard for most of all his customers to punch it. You could earn points! And exclusive coupons! Of course he was just lying to you. He would just send out a few messages every week or so to try and bait you into coming back. 

Today, he was washing your hair, trying desperately to not whip out his dick and cum all over your sweet, vulnerable face. He ran his hands through your hair, massaging in shampoo and sneakily putting every stray strand of hair that caught on his fingers on a stray napkin. For later, he promises himself with a barely restrained smirk.

“[Name]...” He called softly, watching with affection as your face crinkled before you stared up at him. A shiver ran down his spine. Fuck. If he could have your eyes on him like that at all times, he could die a happy man. He finished up rinsing you off, humming under your attention. “I’m trying to earn my masseuse license… I’m thinking of expanding the services I offer,” He explained while he moved you to a sitting position and placed a towel at your neck. You blinked up at him curiously.

Yes. Just like that. Be lured in by what I can give you.

“More? But Clover,” You laughed, “You already have a lot of things you do here. Plus, it’s only you running this place most of the time,” Your voice was filled with playful ease. He bet that you wouldn’t know what he was doing even if he pressed his throbbing hard on to your lips right the second.

“I have employees, silly,” He teased, flicking a bit of water onto your face. You giggled and wiped it off. On days you had booked him, he would basically clear out his salon of any other customers or employees. He wanted it to just be the two of you, after all.

“Anyways, you know me. I’m always looking to expand my craft,” he hummed and led you over to the vanity chair, pumping up your seat so he was leaning over you jussst right. You couldn’t see the large tent in his pants in the mirror, but he sighed happily. Oh, your neck felt so delicate underneath his fingers. He could feel your pulse thrumming. He would give anything to be able to bottle that sensation and put it up in his little room dedicated to you.

Clover slips a thin paper strip around your neck before draping a cape around you. He’d definitely nick that for later. He has a whole stack of them that he likes to sniff from time to time. He hums a small tune, one he’d seen playing on your phone once, and pulls out his hair tools. With every strand that he collects in his comb, he wets his lips with anticipation. He starts up the blow dryer and watches your lips part and your face scrunch up in mild frustration as the loud noise cuts you off. How cute.

After a moment of him working, massaging his fingers into your scalp with an air of nonchalance, he cuts the offending machine and lets you speak while he trims away at your layers.

“I’m kind of jealous,” you admitted, and he couldn’t help but perk up. “You’re always working to get better, to do more,” your words stroked his ego, and he hoped that you wouldn’t take note of how flushed his face was in the mirror. You finished off with a shrug and a small smile. “I guess I just admire you…”

Clover’s heart jumped in his chest. Oh man… You had no idea. Him admirable? Would you think that still if you saw the room he had dedicated to you?

“Is that a yes to being my guinea pig, then?” He teased and leaned in so his breath fanned over your ear. You blinked for a moment and then relaxed a bit. He tried to not grin. Got you.

“Yeah sure, why not.”

He worked quickly, careful to not mess up your hair as he went along styling it to be just the way you liked. Braiding, blowouts, perms, whatever you requested, he could do it. He knew he was good at what he did, and he knew that with all the discounts he lured you in with couldn’t be beat. He was so excited, practically vibrating with joy. As he finished up, he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Okay! All done! Now just give me a moment to get everything ready for you,” He said and rushed upstairs, every creak of the wood igniting fire into his heart. In his arms was the hair and some objects you had touched. He wondered if you thought on his actions the way he thought about yours. 

Sometimes, he thinks, he wishes you would find out about how much he loves you. He’s not delusional, but by god does he wish he was. That way he could at least pretend that you would be okay with all of this. He quickly organizes the hair in its respective drawer, and the other in neat little rows that he has labeled. Used wax strips, the nail files he’s used on your hands and feet, old combs, were arranged like precious items among other things you left behind. A half empty tube of chap stick, some receipts that he’s analyzed hundreds of times, old, spat out gum. It was all here, but he needed more. He craved more of you.

Clover locked up that room with much effort. Oh how much he wanted you.

He lit candles, set up the table, heated stones, and brought the various oils and lotions he couldn’t wait to see your body slick with. He heard the creaking on the stairs, and he shuddered. 

“Oh, you got impatient, huh?” He comments, and your footsteps stop abruptly, like you were embarrassed to be caught.

“Yeahhhh,” You said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you blushed. He bit his lip, his face hidden by the flickering light. “I just couldn’t stand waiting… you know me.”

He did. He knew you so well. He’s happy the two of you could agree.

“Okay, here’s a robe… Just go behind that curtain over there and then put this on.”

Clover watches with satisfaction while you did as he instructed. You didn’t know, couldn’t know of course, that he had put a camera in the corner. You wouldn’t blame him, right? Not if you didn’t find out. He just couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to get a rare, nude pic of you. After all, he hadn’t been able to get into your home yet.

You slunk out from behind the safety of the partition in that fluffy robe, and he smiled warmly and beckoned you forward. He could practically imagine the amount of new additions he could add to his photo wall. You hopped up onto the table, and he covered you with a sheet. He started a playlist of relaxing music before he rubbed some oil onto his palm before he began kneading the flesh of your legs through the sheet, watching your now relaxed face with an intense gaze. 

Clover loved you. He loved the way you sighed in pleasure as he worked on a particularly stiff knot under your skin. He loved the way you trusted him. He would cherish the robe and the sheet that had touched your pliant form. Everything would be looked after and stored with the utmost care.

Including you.

He smiled, loving and sickeningly sweet as he grabbed a neatly folded, soaked cloth off of the table from its place nestled between decorative flowers. He hovered it over your face as he drank in the sight of your still features. Your nose scrunched, and he bit back the urge to coo. He sighed happily. He wondered if you had caught on that this was the last time you would ever trust him again, that this was the last time you would be anything more than the crowned jewel that he’d been coveting this whole time.

Your eyes fluttered open, his grin stretched wider, and he pressed the cloth down.

[coffee-and-geto]

NEED SOME CUDDLES? — satoru gojo.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: after a long day filled with missions and teaching, satoru comes back home to rest in only one’s arms — his life, his love, his everything — you. so when your blue-eyed king collapses from exhaustion, you take the lead to pamper him and take his tiredness away.

warnings: established relationship, husband!gojo, satoru has cute pajamas, pure fluff!!, lovey-dovey <3

wc: 1,051

“Mmmh…”

You can’t help but smirk which stretches the corner of your lips facing your husband’s groan and collapsing his body on yours by straddling your lap with his belly. He sprawls like a bridge over you.

Cute.

You run a hand through his snowy hair, tracing small circles on his scalp with your fingertips—a habit you’ve noticed Satoru adores. He responds with a satisfied hum, and a sigh escapes his rosy lips.

Sitting with your legs extended on the sofa in your living room, you were quietly reading a book from your to-read pile before Satoru interrupted you. His movement caused your book to slip from your fingers and fall onto the couch.

In his way, Satoru was demanding your full attention on him and him alone. “Toru…” you giggle softly. Satoru turns his head towards you, and your fingers slide under his black blindfold to gently pull it off. His cerulean eyes meet yours, and you immediately notice the pronounced dark circles. “Toru? Are you tired? Long day?”

He nods and pouts. “I want cuddles…” he mumbles, offering you his childlike demeanor that he reserves only for those closest to him.

You can’t help but let out another little laugh. “Do you want me to take care of you?” Your hand cradles his cheek, gently and deliberately stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. Your heart swells with a feeling of happiness at the thought of taking care of your exhausted husband.

Satoru nods and rises from the couch almost in sync with you, standing up. Your steps guide his to the bathroom as you gently tug his hand, which is twice the size of yours.

He doesn’t utter a word of protest, and you carefully close the door behind you. You help him undress—removing his sorcerer attire—and admire his perfectly sculpted body. His milky, flawless skin seems to almost glow, illuminating like a sunrise.

Yet it doesn’t hide the red and blue marks you left on him from the previous nights when the heat and pleasure between you had reached their peak. A thrill of pleasure, similar to a usual electric sensation, courses through your lower body at the sight, but you do not comment.

You simply take a few steps toward him, gently taking both his hands and guiding his naked body into the bathtub, which you promptly begin to fill with warm water. With a few products that exude soothing and comforting scents, Satoru lets his body bathe in the welcoming arms of the bath and exhales a sigh of relief.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, not letting go of your already wet hands. One of your hands detaches from his as you reach for a bottle of Satoru’s shampoo, pouring a small amount onto the top of his head to wash his hair with a tenderness that is both maternal and loving.

“I love you…”

You look down at the whisper that reaches your ears, realizing it’s Satoru, his eyes fixed on yours. They are filled with a gleam and a brightness that need no additional words to express far more than just “I love you.” You lean in and place a tender kiss on his unfairly soft lips.

It was short and brief, but enough to convey all the words in the world.

Detaching your other hand from Satoru’s, you now wash his hair with slow, gentle, and soothing motions. Each rotation of your hands creates more white foam with bubbles reflecting rainbow hues. Once you’ve finished this part, you decide to start cleaning his body and take hold of a pre-soaped bath sponge, beginning to gently scrub his shoulders and neck.

Satoru lets out a relaxed, contented sigh and closes his tired eyelids. Your hand, gripping the bath sponge, moves over his entire body, not sparing a single area. Your delicate and almost graceful movements across his body are accompanied by whispers of praise that you murmur in his ear whenever he shifts his body to reach a slightly harder-to-access spot. A hint of pink colors on Satoru’s cheeks, and your heart tightens with tendrils of love for him.

Using the showerhead with perfectly warm water, you carefully rinse Satoru’s hair and body. His eyelids haven’t opened or even fluttered once. The undeniable trust he has in you portrays the picture of what you possess of him—his whole heart and so much more. 

He’s yours.

And nothing can deny or prevent that.

To finish the cleaning process nicely, you bring a large bath towel, drape it around him, and pat him dry with your hands to speed up the drying process. You guide Satoru to your bedroom and have him sit on the edge of the shared bed.

From the wardrobe, you fetch one of his favorite pajamas—a pastel blue one with adorable Golden Retriever tongue-out patterns. With a handful of his underwear, you return to Satoru and dress him with the same tenderness a mother would show her newborn.

Once dressed in his cute pajamas, you help him slip under the fresh sheets beside you. Immediately, Satoru nestles into your arms, nuzzling in your chest and humming with contentment. He closes his eyes, and a serene smile curls his lips. “Thank you… Love you… Wanna stay like this with you forever…”

You wrap your arms around his back in a firm and secure embrace, placing gentle kisses all over his exposed forehead — the rest of his face is nestled against your chest — and use your hands to comfort him. One hand gently massages his hair, threading through his snowy locks, while the other draws soothing, relaxing circles on his back under the padded comforter.

“Feeling better, baby?” you whisper into his ear with a voice as affectionate and soft as the bubbles of the shower gel and shampoo you used to wash Satoru. Nothing can stop your lips from smiling just for him.

Satoru nods and slightly raises his head to meet your eyes. He looks at you with such a cute puppy expression that you fear dying from a melted heart. “Feel much better. Wanna sleep with you…” he murmurs before nuzzling back between your breasts. His tone and breath are tired and sleepy, but you can confirm that Satoru is feeling much better.

“Awwww…”

a/n: needed to write something fluffy about gojo after chapter 262 :( he deserves this fic and more, and dreadfully better. fun fact btw, this one-shot was supposed to be around more or less than 500 words… i definitely write excessively too much.

tags: @ssetsuka@zara-zara11

[loveyouprongs]

are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

authors note: despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.

[puckinghischier]

wait i’m crying imagine helping luke with his curl routine and you being the only person he trusts to touch his hair

“luke, hold still,” you tell him, massaging the diffuser around his head.

“it tickles. and it’s really warm,” he argues, twitching again, causing you to huff in frustration.

luke’s currently crouched down in front of you in his en-suite bathroom, sitting not so still while you try to do his newly implemented curl routine.

“honeybee, my knees hurt, we gotta take a break,” he pleads, bouncing slightly.

you turn off the hair dryer and let him stretch his legs to his full height.

“you know, if you’d let me make you an appointment at a salon we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” you tell him, looking up at his lop-sided curls.

a few weeks ago you convinced luke to start a curl care routine, knowing his hair was in desperate need of some TLC. when you first started dating, you saw the 3in1 bottle sitting in his otherwise empty shower and immediately dragged him to the nearest salon supply store to get a curl specific shampoo and conditioner set.

once he finally agreed to start a whole routine (with your help, of course) you picked out several creams and gels to lather into his hair after every shower.

so your new pre-bedtime routine, three nights out of the week, is making sure his hair is hydrated and taken care of. when you suggested letting a professional do a generalized curl care appointment to get him started, luke refused, arguing that you could do it just as good as any salon can.

“i told you, i don’t want them touching my hair,” he reiterates to you, giving the same response every time you suggest it to him.

“luke, they’re literally professionals. they know tricks that i don’t. maybe they could even do something to your hair that lasts for a few weeks, so we wouldn’t have to do this several nights a week. plus, it would help when you’re on the road,” you try to persuade him, reaching up and ruffling his curls around with both hands, trying to keep it from drying unevenly.

the first time he was on the road and it was a hair night, you tried to call him and walk him through it, but he claimed his hair didn’t turn out as soft and shiny as when you do it.

the next time, you had jack come and watch how you did it one night, having him step in to help luke since they typically room together, but he said jack didn’t do it right and he came out looking like he had a clown afro the next day.

“i don’t care. it’s just hair, it can wait until i’m back home,” he grabs your hands, pulling them from his hair and placing them on his shoulders.

you scoff in offense, swatting at his chest. “it is not just hair. it’s one of my favorite features of yours!”

“still doesn’t mean i’m going to let some stranger at a salon get all touchy with it,” he shrugs.

you roll your eyes at his stubbornness, not knowing why it’s such a big deal.

“if you don’t want to spend the money on it, i’ll literally pay for it. i just think it’d do some good, i don’t know why you’re so against it,” you offer.

luke shakes his head no, reaching up to move a stray piece of your own hair out of your face. “s’not the money,” he assures you. “it won’t feel as good as when you do it. love the feeling of your fingers all in my hair. s’comforting,” he says so casually, not even aware that his words caused butterflies to erupt in your belly.

you feel your face flush, biting your lip to hide the smile trying to break out on your face.

“well i’m not saying i’ll stop doing it. i’m just saying that maybe a trip to a salon once a month might prevent more bad hair days on the road,” you try to compromise, not wanting him to know how much his words affected you. you didn’t want to give him more reasons to refuse the idea.

“and i’m just saying, i don’t want anyone but you touching my hair,” he leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking his wide eyes onto yours dramatically.

before you can get a reply out of your mouth, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, taking your hands off of his shoulders and bringing them up to his hair, emphasizing his point.

you toy with the flat curls, forgetting what you were meant to be doing until your fingers came into contact with a wet patch.

pulling back from the kiss abruptly, luke lets out a frustrated whine while chasing your lips with his.

“we have to finish drying your hair! if i don’t finish it soon it’s gonna dry all flat on one side because we didn’t diffuse it properly,” you pull back from him completely, grabbing the abandoned hair dryer on the counter.

luke groans, stomping over to stand in front of you, crouching back into his earlier position.

“just hurry. if we do this too much longer i’m going to have to tell my coach i can’t skate because i have stiff knees from my girlfriend’s curl routine she makes me do,” he crosses his arm and pouts like a child.

“keep up the whining and i’ll make jack do it next time,” you threaten, turning the hairdryer on and continuing the task at hand.

luke’s body tenses. “i swear to god if you bring jack over here to do my hair again i’m shaving it off.”

“you wouldn’t,” you gasp at him, not believing he just said such a thing.

“try me,” he responds, smirking at you through the large mirror.

[lostbo0]

Nothing I Had Planned… (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: After four months of blissful marriage, you fear that new realities may introduce challenges you had not anticipated or prepared for.

Genre: Spencer x Fem!Reader, Angst with comfort, happy ending

Content: Mentions of pregnancy, periods, relationship doubt, nerds in love.

Word Count: 1.8k

~~~

The confession you had made that evening was not one marked of a particular grandiosity, and yet it grew a welling in your heart so strong, you felt as though you could fall in love a thousand times over.

your afternoon seemed to slip from your fingers, watching time crawl between the cracks of the blinds, sunlight dragging across the wall of your freshly inhabited living room. Spencer had not long departed to pick up forgotten work materials, insisting on your relaxation for the evening. You mindlessly clicked the remote button, eyes glossed over the tv you had no idea what to do with. Admittedly, you had hopes to escape the confines of your empty home for a small while, yet when you saw the sparkling glow of matrimonial duty glinting in Spencer’s eyes, you rescinded your desire at once.

The TV screen flashed with cop and forensic shows, too familiar to enjoy as you lazed about your unworn couch. You abandoned the idea of TV all together, instead walking to the bathroom, deciding that a warm shower might occupy your time. You shuffled through cabinets, hunting for a spare bottle of shampoo, when, behind nicknacks and more often used supplies, a small case of period products flashed across your vision.

When was the last time you had used one of these?

Your period had never been regular. In fact, it had been far from the word, but you had never missed one completely. At first, you thought that you had simply been “glowing with marriage” as Penelope suggested, your body not finding the time to worry about menstruation. In hindsight, the notion seemed silly to you, but at the time, all you could think about was the fact that you had married the love of your life.

Maybe a change in environment, you had foolishly told yourself a month ago. It just now struck you how long it had been.

Your mind did not immediately resort to conception. In fact, your hypochondria suggested more inevitable death than anything else. Yet, as you sat in the bathroom, shower long discarded, you began to wonder. A baby? It didn’t even feel possible. Of course it had been possible, but you had not even considered it to be a likely reality.

The idea of children had danced upon your tongue, slipping in to conversations laced with playful sincerity, but you never thought it to be a near future. Nothing in the past 4 months had even felt real. You just loved and danced and laughed and sent sparks flying, no consideration of permanent consequence. You found yourself dragged by a ghost of yourself towards the door, simply sliding on shoes and going.

~~~

You jammed the keys into the ignition, stalling for just a moment, hoping for a sign — for your period to magically start “haha you weren’t pregnant, really got you there!” Or perhaps waiting for an angel to descend, delivering the message that you were in fact not with child. But the angel never came. Not yet.

Street lines blurred across the windshield, reminding you to slow. All you could hear was your breath. No radio, no revving, no sirens, not even the rain on your window, just the inhale exhale of your lungs, breathing a silent plea. You weren’t prepared for this, and it scared you. All your life you had spent preparing: seven, the talent show. Twelve, state testing. Sixteen, SATs. Twenty-two, FBI training. Never once did you sit down, read a book, talk to a friend, talk to your mom even! The sound of your breath was loud. Louder, you thought, until it became rhythmic. A rhythm of no count, no time, it was filled with gasps and choking cries that mixed with the patter of rain crawling down the windshield. The line between raindrops and tears began to blur as your own tears pooled in your eyes and ran down your cheeks in hot puddles. You felt foolish — an adult woman crying at the result of her own actions. Yet you didn’t feel like the adult woman that you were. All you could see was a scared teenage girl, faced with the fear of a lifetime in front of her. But you didn’t have a parents to disappoint, not a boyfriend or a teacher, just your poor loving husband that you were scared to death of hurting.

Spencer was the only person who made you believe that the world still had some good left in it. He was the most gentle and tender hearted human you had ever laid eyes upon, and the idea that you could even scare him in any way, sent your stomach twirling like a centrifuge. You knew he loved children, that was not a fact lost on you, but you were also aware of the horrors you both faced each and every day you stepped into the bullpen.

Your entire line of work was comprised of lunatics and monsters and horrors beyond normal comprehension, and you were also well aware of how much of a danger it posed. Spencer had been kidnapped, Penelope had been shot and stalked, and every day you were afraid that you could be next. It almost felt selfish and wrong to bring a poor sweet child into your tainted world. How could you do that to something so innocent?

~~~

You parked your car with recklessness reminiscent of chasing an unsub as you set your vehicle spanning multiple parking spots. You slammed the door shut harder than you had wished, catching a glimpse of your swollen, red, and sordid face. The tears felt sticky on your fingers as you quickly wiped them away.

The fluorescent lights dug into your skin as you walked to the back of the drug store. You knew in your heart that no one there had a care in the world about what you were doing, and yet you had never felt so exposed. Aisles blurred together as you dragged yourself to the shelf, hastily grabbing the most expensive test you could find, hoping the price would reflect upon its accuracy. You checked out and made your way to the car, rain still beating, pooling in the pavement. The car ride back felt just as long as the arrival, thoughts speeding across your vision as quick as the road signs. How would he react when he saw you? How would he react when he saw the results? Would he hug you? Would he cry? Would he slide a hand into yours only to pull the ring off with the words “I’m sorry, I’m not ready?” You felt guilty for even considering it. That was the man that loved you, and he made the promise to love you, no matter what, so faced with these facts, why were you so scared?

~~~

The bathroom tiles were soaked with tears and rain water as you waited tirelessly for the minutes to drag by. No matter how warm your thermostat was set that morning, you couldn’t help feeling cold. These next few moments would decide your future for the rest of your life. But it wasn’t the moments that decided your fate, but the two prominent lines that spoke millions of words all at once. After all the crying you had done, you found it shocking that no tears rolled down your cheeks. In fact, you didn’t make a single noise. You were certain that you hadn’t made a sound. You didn’t know how long you sat there on the bathroom floor staring into your hands. You didn’t know when Spencer would return, but you wanted terribly for it to be soon. No matter how afraid you were of telling him, you wanted nothing more than to feel the familiarity of his arms around your body, building the warmth in your soul that you so desperately desired.

~~~

You were on the couch when Spencer came home. Hearing the door open, you shot up from your seat and stood there in the middle of the room, waiting for him to walk inside.

“My love, I’m home!” He paused where he stood when he saw you, seeing easily through your tight-lipped smile. “are you ok?” He dropped his bags and rushed to you, large hands holding your shoulders with gentle firmness.

“Yeah…” Your voice was quiet, hoarse from crying.

“Baby,” he moved a hand up to your cheek, heart pounding in hopes that you were ok. “Your eyes are red and puffy…”

“I was crying.” You laughed softly at your admission.

“Why sweetheart,” he brushed a thumb across your cheek, feeling dried tears soaked into your reddening skin.

“Um, well…” you wiped your face with your hand. You could feel the tears building in the cracks of your eyes and the familiar clenching of your throat. Spencer peered down at you with those sickeningly brown eyes, prodding for an answer.

“I’m pregnant…” The words scratched out in a whisper, you could barely hear the words yourself, questioning if you even spoke them. He only looked at you, unease growing in your stomach as you fear the worst. “I took a test and I know that sometimes results can be inconclusive but, my period is weeks late and I just-“

“I love you so much-“ His warm arms pulled himself to you, breaths coming out in choked gasps, hot air on your neck as he grasped your body. For the first time all day, you felt safe. A sigh fell from your lips like a waterfall, the tension releasing from your body in one choked out breath. You could feel your arms crawling up his body like a magnet, against your own will and at the same time exactly what you wanted. Your fingers grabbed at his sweater, pulling at the fabric in earnest attempt to hold him forever.

“I was so scared-I, I love you-“

“I love you too. I love you so much.” Your tears came out in hot puddles, soaking the shoulder of Spencer’s shirt. It was silly to even think that it mattered. His body engulfed you, tearing at the seams that held your fear in place, ripping apart any hesitation.

“I’m-I’m sorry I didn’t plan anything special to tell you, I just, I didn’t want to wait…”

“No, Sweetheart, this is perfect.” He pulled away from you, holding your face in his large hands. “You’re perfect.”

You could have spent an eternity basking in the comfort of his arms. In fact, you weren’t sure if any more words were spoken.The truth was, you hadn’t prepared for this. At the time, you hadn’t even wished it. And yet, in that small, careful, tender moment, you realized that if everything you hadn’t planned for turned out just like this, you would throw caution to the wind, following the tides of your love instead.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Requests are open if you have any ideas!