#and he's so curious yet so soft and tender when helping you through it

[merakiui]

i just want you to know that i think about alpha prince floyd everyday

:o thank you!!!!! I'm happy he lives rent-free. I also think about him from time to time. He is the sweetest alpha prince there ever was. <3

[screampied]

ok hear me out toji is always rough and somehow mean when you fuck, but something happens to you (you can decide what) and he turns really soft and gentle for one night. just one.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji being soft with you for once

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom toji, praise, missionary, talking you through it, mdni.

being in bed with toji, he’s usually almost always rough and degrading. it’s something he’s mostly used to, however there’d be a specific time where he’d have to change things up . . . just for you.

he’d notice something’s wrong the minute he’s about to align himself again. you’re awfully quiet underneath him as you awaited and he’s well aware of how you keep avoiding his stoic gaze. “hm,” he’d ponder aloud with a mere natural pout. toji grabs ahold of your chin before softly stroking it with his thumb, making you stare right into his green curious irises. “something’s wrong. talk to me, babygirl.”

“nothing’s wrong, you can finish—”

“something’s wrong,” he repeats, his voice is a bit more stern yet it’s still gentle. he slows down and brings a thumb towards your cheek to lightly stroke it. “you’re avoiding eye contact,” he points out, still inside you yet he brings his hips to an abrupt pause. toji’s panting yet he takes a moment to breathe. “you can talk to me, y’know.”

you briefly meet his dark pupils before letting off a low exhale. “i . . had a bad day,” and then as he’s hovering over your body, you slowly drag out your final breathy words in a sheepish, “can you—can you hold my hand?”

“aw,” he teases, grabbing your hand before intertwining his thick stubby fingers with yours. his touch was so safe, so warm, so gentle. his thumb strokes against the back of your hand before he holds onto your hip with another. “want a head pat too, sweetheart?”

“s-shut up,” you moan, feeling the tip of his dick prof against your entrance. he wasn’t exactly moving but you still felt him. your ankle runs against toji’s back and he’s so close to you that you could smell the strong aroma of alcohol and mint linger on his breath. toji’s now softened gaze never leaves you and his kittenish eyes ease up soothingly. “just go slow ‘n hold my hand, toji.”

“so sensitive today,” he purrs, leaning to kiss the top of your forehead. it was something about his voice—the way he spoke to you currently, it was just so smooth. his eyes that were known to always be cruel and intimidating palliate just at the sight of you— the sight of his pretty girl underneath him, asking for a simple request to hold her hand. “. . mwah,” and the moment his lips brush against your skin, you let off a soft whine. “i’ll go niiice ‘n slow for you, yeah.”

once he finally picks up his pace again, he’s so gentle with you. the grip on your hand tightens a bit and you moan.

you’re always used to toji being so rough in bed, manhandling you and all—alas, you never exactly minded of course, but a change of pace like this was strikingly nice.

his stumpy fingers strum against yours before you feel his hips gradually move again. “t-toooji,” you whine out, watching as he kisses near your neck. so benign, so tender. toji was always familiar with every inch of your body. he knew the layout of your body as if it was an apartment. he always knew where to go, your weakest and most sensitive spots— forever engraved into his mind. with your eyes starting to roll back, you squeal out a shaky, “i l-love you.”

“cock drunk already?” he fake pouts, a smile curling against his lips before he slowly starts to thrust into you. the moans that left your mouth were incredibly melodic, a mere harmony he was listening to. toji couldn’t help but grin at your sweet words of whimpers of how much you loved him, losing yourself completely on his cock. “but i love you more, princess,” and he feels your ankle scrape further down his tense back muscles. a rigorous surge of wind forcefully plucks from your lungs and you struggle to suppress your own whines. so good, so thick. toji squeezes your hand tightly, giving your forehead another chaste kiss. “how’s it feel? ‘s slow enough for you, baby?”

“good, y—yes, ‘toj,” you whimper, both hands throwing around his broad neck, over his high rising shoulders. he was merely nude, only wearing a white tee to follow. the chain that was wrapped around his neck dangles against your face every so often and you mewl out a sweet desperate sob for more. “touch me more toji, p-please. touch me.”

he snickers. “oh. am i not touchin’ you?”

you pout and he’s enjoying your brief irritation. whenever you were getting frustrated—you always had such cute expressions, especially when your lip frowns up or your eyebrows twitch to show your sheer vex. with a sigh, you grumble, “kiss me, toji. i want a kiss.”

“you . . want a kiss?” he softly coos, his voice was as smooth as silk. so sweet, deliciously candied with each word he pronounces at you. the rasp underneath his tone only made you throb for an even longer time. with an eyebrow raise, toji accelerates his hips before he feels your gummy walls stretch out perfectly. you were so good for him, so fucking good. his cock rummages inside of you to where your eyes were merely reaching the sockets. until all you saw was nothing but black, an entire void of straight nothingness. as your eyes remain stuck back into the very depths of your cranium, he’s always loved looking at your dramatic expressions—especially whenever he was on top of you. “say please. ‘m bein’ soft for right now but don’t forget those manners i taught ya, sweetheart.”

you sigh again and he slyly smiles at your sheer frustration.

“. . pleaseee,” you whine out, dragging your nails down his back. by now, you were sure his back was coated with a few marks from your pointed fingertips. the way your bottom lip pokes out once you pout yet again was so adorable. “kiss me toji, please.”

“anything for the pretty girl,” he murmurs in a soft voice, bringing a rough hand to cup the right side of your face. his pace was just so tantalizingly slow, emitting out all types of whiney moans from your lips. toji leans in and the moment his lips press against yours, you whimper. he’s stuffing you full of inches in the meantime — feeling the way your walls adjust and constrict around him. as both lips are moving in rhythmic tavern, you legs squeeze around his slim jerking waist.

toji’s always been fond of your taste, so glacé. his tongue runs against your bottom lip, tasting your sweet lip gloss before he grunts into your mouth.

thick heavy balls slowly pound into you and his pace was so salaciously relentless that it welts out all kinds of squelches directly from your cunt.

“f-fuuck,” he groans, each pivot he creates only grows more rapid and sloppy. he’s so thorough, the angle makes you whimper into his mouth before you compress around his length tighter. he’s so close up to you, the warmth of his body colliding up against yours makes you throb more. toji’s speaking in between kisses — a string of spit departs each time he leaves, swiping his tongue against your lip before after about a nth amount of kisses later, he finally breaks away. “aw. did i love you too hard, princess? you look a little out of breath.”

“s—shut up,” you moan, clinging onto his back even tighter. he was right though, your lungs were strained and you were panting heavily, heaving. the wind gets yanked out of your throat before you slump back against the bed. “gonna c-cum, toji. gonna cum,” and then you meet his softly coy gaze— he returns the eye contact before you see a bit of tenderness in his dark irises. “please, please let me cum, ‘toj. pleaseee.”

the smile against toji’s lips further— you’re so cute, the way you were chasing your current orgasm. it felt like a wave, an abrupt wave that was about to collide. your cunt holds him hostage before he leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“mwahhh,” he purrs softly, deepening his hits against you before your thighs end up aching underneath near the very undersides. he’s so deep that your jaw dangles open. hot breathy puffs of air leave past your lips before he strokes your cheek. “give it to me, baby. c’mon, i got you.”

as he’s talking in such a smoothly polished tone, his words send a plethora of butterflies inside of your stomach.

toji stares at you in such a lovingly way— it last for at least six seconds, he looks like he’s about to say something even further before he stops himself. “aw. don’t space out on me now, gorgeous,” and he strokes your cheek. “squeeze my hand, girl.”

“hngh c-cumming,” you whimper, feeling your stomach seize a few times before you finally climax. it comes at such a speed that you’re taken aback. your own clammy hand grips against his whilst a thumb strokes against his knuckles before he smiles. you’re shaking, convulsing and his cock’s still buried into you from the very hilt. toji leans in, his broad chest pressing against yours before he licks near your neck. you moan, feeling your collarbone start to dampen up from his wet tongue— toji chuckles, watching you spasm out on his length before he stops his hips again. “f-fuck.”

“. . . so cute,” he susurrates, and his deep raspy voice was a mere whisper. he spoke in a hushed tone, staring deeply into your eyes before picking up your hand to kiss it. “do you feel a little better?”

“a— a little,” you inhale a sharp breath, his weight just idly hovering over your hot-tempered body. everything felt so good, it was a reoccurring ring in your ears that always came whenever you were tweaking out on his dick— he’s always loved the twitch your lips make, failing to get your words out whenever you came. in rushed words, you whine out a sweet, “t-thank you toji, thank you,” and he’s taken by surprise once you pull him into nothing more than a sweet hug. “love you.”

it takes him a good minute to reply, he has a playful pout on his lips as he’s still inside—you feel his tip mash against your sweet spot, causing you to whimper against his ear before he kisses the sensitive outer shell of your earlobe.

“oh but i love you more, babygirl,” and you feel him gradually pull out. you frown at the sudden feeling of being empty before he hums at your expression. “now, let’s get some sleep. i’ll even sing you a song, just for you.”

[foxy-eva]

Over the Edge

Summary: Spencer is desperate for you to take care of him

Request: whiny and desperate Sub!Spencer who gets called pretty and gets edged for as long as reader wants (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) Sub!Spencer, Softdom!Reader, mentions a safeword (but it’s not used), nicknames, praising, edging, orgasm control/denial, handjob, blowjob, facesitting, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

Spencer didn't say a word when he stepped through the door, making it obvious that his workday had been too long and too exhausting. He found you on the couch, a sigh escaping his throat before he kicked off his shoes and plopped down beside you. 

You reached out your hand to find his cheek, gently brushing a loose curl back. He immediately leaned into your touch. 

“Hi love,” you cooed. “I missed you.”

Spencer found your eyes, a certain desperation shining through as he looked at you. You opened your arms for him to find comfort inside your embrace. 

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled into the softness of your shirt. “So, so much.”

Your hand found his head as you began gently stroking his disheveled hair. Leaning down, you placed a tender kiss on his forehead. 

“Long day?” You asked softly, already knowing the answer. He nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer shook his head before looking up at you. “I wanna forget about it,” he whispered. 

You raised an eyebrow at his words, already suspecting what he was implying. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. A playful grin appeared on your face when you wondered, “How can I help you with that?” 

“Can you… can we, uhm,” he began muttering as he sat up. 

The way he suddenly got all shy made your heart flutter. His cheeks began blooming when he cleared his throat, clearly looking for the courage to ask for what he was craving. 

His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer. “I want to forget about everything except you,” he whispered right before placing a feather-light kiss on your lips. 

You leaned back to look at him. His eyes were wide and curious. The warm amber of his irises was mesmerizing and you took a moment to admire their beauty. 

“You’re so cute when you're needy,” You purred and noticed how his pupils dilated slightly. “Let me take care of you, my love.”

A relieved sigh fell from his lips before he nodded. You got up and took his hand in yours, leading him into the bedroom. Right then Spencer wished for nothing more than to just follow your lead. Too many thoughts had occupied his brain and he craved the feeling of finally being able to turn his head off. 

He watched intently as you began unbuttoning his shirt. “Tonight is only about you. You won’t have to make any decisions,” you began explaining. “But that also means you’ll have to follow my rules.”

“I know.” 

You had played around with power dynamics before and were open with each other about your expectations. You still wanted to make sure, so you asked, “Do you remember them?”

How could he ever forget. “I have to do as you tell me. I have to ask permission before touching you. I cannot come unless you allow it. I will get punished if I disobey you. And I have to use my safeword if it gets too much.” 

You confirmed his words with a nod. “And what is your safeword?”

“Yellow as a warning that I’m reaching my limit. Red for a full stop.” 

When the last button of his shirt was undone, you found his eyes once more and said, “Thank you for trusting me.” 

Your words made him smile. He leaned in for a kiss but halted before his lips touched yours. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and closed the distance. His lips felt soft yet demanding when you melted into each other in this kiss. Spencer's hands hovered over your waist and for a moment you damned your own rules. 

“You can touch me,” you breathed against his lips, longing for his nearness. 

He didn't waste any time to get ahold of your body, his hands roaming over your waist and back, desperately feeling you up as you deepened the kiss. 

He pressed his body against yours and you could feel his hardness straining against his pants. After what felt like forever, you pulled back and Spencer chased your lips with his for a split second. When he didn't find them, he whined at the loss of contact. 

He found you smirking at him when he opened his eyes. Without a warning, you placed your palm on the outline of his length. Spencer hissed in response and almost stumbled backwards.

“Already getting desperate?” You snickered. 

“Please…,” was all he could answer. 

“Why don’t you take off your clothes?” You suggested as you stepped back. 

The way he began hurriedly shedding his clothes looked clumsy, almost comical. It only proved how much he already needed you. It made you smile.

When he stood completely bare in front of you, you took a moment to admire his body. Your eyes wandered over his shoulders, his chest and followed the trail of hair from his navel down to his hard cock. 

“My pretty boy,” You chirped when you found his eyes again. 

The rosy color on Spencer's cheeks had turned a shade darker and his pupils had almost completely swallowed the gold of his irises. 

“Can I see you, too?” He tentatively asked. 

You looked down at your body and chuckled when you realized you were wearing gray sweatpants and a washed out t-shirt. That was certainly not what you would usually wear in situations like that.

“Not that you're not beautiful like this,” he quickly added when he noticed your reaction. “You’re always so, so beautiful.” 

“Nice save,” you quipped and decided to use the opportunity for a little challenge. “Now be a good boy and lay down on the bed. You have to wait for me. I want you to be just as hard when I return. However, you can not touch yourself.”

Spencer watched as you grabbed some clothes from the dresser. He lay down on the bed before asking, “How long do I have to wait for?” 

“I haven't decided yet. I’ll leave the bathroom door open, so I can hear you,” you answered, implying that he could still use his safeword. 

When you disappeared into the bathroom, you took your time to change into the purple lingerie you had bought just a few days ago. You checked yourself in the mirror and decided to test Spencer’s patience some more. 

He was only a few feet away but you could still hear his heavy breaths. “I hope you’re behaving,” you snickered while you began fixing your hair. 

“Yes,” he answered. “I just miss you already.” 

When you were done with your hair, you decided to put some light make-up on. You knew Spencer didn't care about that but you wanted to stall him some more. More than ten minutes passed before you came back into the room. 

“Good boy,” you praised him when you found him lying on the bed with his hands by his sides and his cock still hard. 

You noticed how his erection twitched when he laid his eyes on you, his sight slowly wandering over the purple lace and your skin. 

“You look so beautiful,” he breathed, watching intently as you sat down beside him on the mattress. 

You let your hands brush over the curve of your chest, feeling the soft lace under your fingertips. “Yeah? You like it?”

Spencer couldn't get enough from looking at you. It was as if he was getting drunk on the sight of you wearing lingerie in his favorite color. “I love it,” he muttered. 

You lay down beside him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Tell me, Spencer,” you began talking while you let your hand wander over his chest. “Did you behave?” 

“Yes I did.”

His skin broke out in goosebumps as you let your fingertips wander down his stomach. 

“You didn't touch yourself? Not even a little?”

He swallowed hard when he felt the heat of your hand radiating against his center as your palm hovered over him. 

“No, I… promise,” he stuttered. 

His cock twitched against his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum spilled from his tip. 

“Then how are you still so hard? I was gone for so long.”

The way his hips bucked up must have been involuntary. You retracted your hand, denying him any relief. 

“I thought about you,” he admitted.

His confession made you curious. “What exactly did you think about?” 

His eyes closed for a moment. “Look at me and tell me,” You demanded. 

He locked eyes with you again and muttered, “I imagined uhm… touching you.” 

You shifted your position until you were hovering over him. “What else did you think about?”

You began trailing kisses along his neck and felt his throat vibrating beneath your lips as he kept talking. 

“I thought about tasting you,” he said and you gently bit down on his pulse point, making him whimper. 

Your lips brushed over his earlobe and you whispered, “Keep talking.” 

“Thought about you kissing me.”

You descended further down his body, licking over his chest before brushing your lips over the softness of his tummy. You looked up at him and teased, “Kissed you where exactly?”

“Everywhere,” he sighed when he felt your hot breath on his erection. 

You placed a tender kiss on the base of his cock. “Here?” 

“Yes.” 

You took him in your hand and began brushing your lips along his velvety skin. Spencer shuddered when you reached his tip and let your tongue glide over it. 

“What else?” 

Spencer looked at you confused. He had already forgotten what you were talking about just moments before. 

“What else did you imagine, Spencer?” You clarified.

“This,” he whined. “I thought about this.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and he understood the warning. He took a deep breath and continued talking. 

“I thought about you taking me into your mouth.” The moment the last word left his lips, you closed yours around him. 

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as he gripped the sheets with his hands. 

His entire body began trembling as you worked your mouth along his length, taking him further in and wrapping your hand around his base. When you locked eyes with him again, he stared at you doe-eyed and with his mouth hanging open. 

You began moving with a steady rhythm, and you could feel how he tensed beneath you, all the built-up excitement begging to be released. Spencer's moans filled the room together with the filthy sounds of your mouth. Right before he got close to his breaking point, you suddenly let go of his cock. 

“No, please don’t stop!” Spencer protested once he realized what was happening. 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” You snickered as you laid back down beside him. 

A frustrated whine left his lips. You were quick to soothe him by wrapping your hand around his hardness once more. With a firm grip you let your hand move up and down, making him buck up into your fist. 

You kissed his heated cheek and purred, “You're so handsome like this. All desperate and whiny.” 

He whimpered your name, followed by a pathetic, “Please.” 

“Please, what, pretty boy?”

His voice was shaky when he pleaded, “I wanna come. Please!” 

You accelerated the pace of your hand, stroking him hard and fast, aware that you were almost overstimulating him. The sounds he made could only be described as sinful. He twitched against your palm as he got dangerously close to his undoing. 

“I need to come,” he whimpered. “Please, I–” 

“No.” You interrupted him, your hand slowing down.

“Fuck!” He cried out. “Please, I can’t!” 

You removed your hand from him and watched him. His chest was heaving and his face was scrunched up, almost as if he was in pain. 

“Look at me,” You demanded and he did. Then, with a loving softness laced over your voice, you praised him, “You're doing so good, my sweet boy. I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes began glimmering when he heard your words. You reached out your hand to gently brush over his cheek. “Are you still doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It’s just a lot.”

“I know, baby. Can you hold on for a little longer?” 

He smiled at you and nodded. 

“Good boy,” you purred. “Do you want to know what you do to me when you're a whimpering mess like that?” 

Spencer's eyes widened. “Yes.” 

You took his hand in yours and guided it down your body to the waistband of your underwear. “Go on, see for yourself,” you chirped. 

He dared to dip his hand beneath the lace, finding the fabric already soaked with your arousal. He let out a pathetic moan when his fingers glided through your slick folds. “You're so wet,” he mumbled and you hummed in response. 

It was as if he had forgotten about his painfully hard cock then. Suddenly he was only focussed on you. Even though you longed for some relief yourself, you grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away from your core. 

“Tonight is about you, though,” You reminded him

Spencer didn't waste any time to bring his fingers to his mouth to lick off your honeyed wetness. The sight was so wicked it made you moan. “Dirty boy.”

“So good,” he groaned before licking his lips. “I want to taste you. Can I, please?” 

“Really?” You cooed as you reached down to gently stroke his erection once more. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I want to make you feel good.” 

You found his lips in a tender kiss before you sat up and winked at him. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Spencer waited for your cue to lie down between your legs but you had something different in mind. With one swift motion you pulled down your underwear and tossed it aside. 

You shifted your position until you sat over his face, kneeling on the pillow with one leg on each side of his head. Hovering only an inch over his mouth, you could feel his breath tickling your heated skin as he took a moment to fully take in the sight in front of him. Delicate folds glistening with your arousal, aching to be tasted. 

You put your hands on the headboard to balance yourself and told him, “You can touch me now. Tap my thighs if you want to stop, okay?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he chuckled. 

Spencer was eager as he wrapped his arms around your legs to fully pull you down onto his face, letting you feel his mouth where you wanted him the most. You involuntarily began to rock against him as he let his flattened tongue glide through your slit, relishing the taste of you. 

Spencer closed his lips around you, sucking on your bundle of nerves until your legs started to tremble. You ground against his face, spreading your slick on his chin as he brought you closer to the edge. You tried to catch your breath between your moans and sighs as your whole body started to quiver. 

One of your hands left the headboard and found its way into his curls, harshly pulling his hair until he hummed against your folds. That was when you made eye-contact with Spencer. The look on his face could only be described as pure adoration and worship as he brought you closer to your high.

“You're such a good boy,” you praised him.

Throwing your head back and moving your hips erratically against his lips, you finally reached your climax, waves of pleasure washing through you. He helped you ride out your ecstasy with timid licks against your sensitive nub. 

He let his hands run over your legs in an attempt to ground you as you came down from your euphoric state. When you managed to even out your breathing again, you moved away from Spencer’s face, lying down next to him and curling into his side. 

Your sight fell to his cock, still painfully hard and leaking. You let your fingertips wander down his body until they made contact with him and his entire body trembled at the touch. He was overly sensitive when you began stroking him again, whimpering and mewling at your touch. 

He felt hard and heavy inside your palm and for a moment you imagined what he would feel like inside of you. A fair amount of his arousal ran down the head when you moved your fist up his shaft. You let your thumb glide over the tip, collecting his precum and spreading it over his skin as you moved your hand. 

It was no surprise that he was dancing along the edge of euphoria within moments after teasing him the entire night. “Shit,” he hissed. “I can't–” 

A moan interrupted his words and his hips jerked against your hand. 

Nonchalantly as ever, you chirped, “What is it, pretty boy?”

“Please,” he muttered. “Please can I.. ah… come?”

Accelerating your pace, you became curious how far you could take it. “Not yet,” you cooed as you kept going.

Spencer began writhing beside you, the expression you found on his face something between pain and pleasure. Your grip became looser as you slowed down, making sure he wouldn't come just yet. 

“No!” he cried. “Please!” 

Your hand left his cock as you propped yourself up to look at him. Tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, desperation written all over his face. 

“Do you want to use your safeword?” You carefully asked, wanting to make sure he was still okay. He was sincere when he shook his head and answered, “No.”

“I think I have tested your patience enough,” you decided. “You are so good for me, my sweet boy. You deserve a reward.” 

Without another word you climbed into his lap and placed his hands on your hips. You sat down on him, your core making contact with his shaft. His fingertips immediately buried into your skin. 

“Tell me, love. When I was getting ready for you in the bathroom before, was there anything else you thought about? Something you haven’t told me yet?” 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I thought about being inside of you.”

Lifting your hips, you positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. Then you slowly began sinking down on him, a loud moan falling from Spencer’s lips as you enveloped him with your warmth. You relished the sensation of being stretched open by him and your walls began fluttering around him. 

When he was fully inside you, you purred, “Like this?”

“Fuck yes!” He groaned and you felt him twitching inside you. 

The way he reacted to your actions made it obvious that he was extra sensitive right then. All his nerve endings were on edge, impatient to finally find relief. You slowly began rocking your hips back and forth, letting your body adjust to the intrusion while Spencer looked at you like he was about to lose his mind. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to last long,” he whimpered when his body began quivering. 

“That’s okay, baby. I already had so much fun with you. You can let go whenever you’re ready.” 

Spencer couldn’t hold back from thrusting upwards, meeting your motions to intensify the feeling. It was as if he held back on purpose, prolonging the feeling of finally feeling you like that. After how much you tortured him tonight, you were surprised that he didn’t give in the second you had begun moving. After a few more hard thrusts, he scrunched up his face and began panting. 

“That’s it,” you sighed. “Come for me.” 

And with a loud groan, he did. His hardness pulsed inside you as he spilled his essence into you, finally releasing all the built-up tension. You kept rocking your hips back and forth, prolonging his pleasure until it became too much and he buried his fingertips into your hips. You sat still on top of him for a few more seconds, just watching him as he came down from his high. 

When you leaned down to kiss his lips, he swung his arms around you to hold you closely inside his embrace. Long forgotten was the workday and all the sorrows that came with it.  As he breathed in your scent, his brain was only filled with you. Being with you, having you close, feeling your heart pound against his chest. Right then, nothing else mattered. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[pochaccoups]

cheol has been so hot recently i need his kids

cw — nsfw, talk of kids & pregnancy, breeding, reader referred to as ‘girl’

“Four, Seungcheol?”

“Huh?” your fiancé perks up from his phone at the sound of your voice.

“Four kids? Three boys and one girl?”

He raises one of his thick brows at you and a smirk appears on his lips. “Is that what you want?”

“No, apparently that’s what eighteen year-old Seungcheol wanted,” you say, waving your phone screen at his face. “Seungkwan sent me a video of you asking Dino how many kids he wants when he’s older. First of all, he looks like a newborn, so I don’t know why you would ask him that. Second of all, four?!”

He stretches his palm out towards you, a curious frown wracking his features as you hand your phone to him so he can watch said video.

He watches it through, and it appears you’re right—it’s his younger self telling his members that he wants three sons and a youngest daughter.

It’s not like you haven’t talked kids with him before. In fact, it’s come up a few times before, and he’s always been considerate of you only. It’s however many you want, and if you don’t want any, that’s fine too. That’s why it’s a little comical seeing a younger Seungcheol fantasise about having so many kids when you’re almost certain he had never even been in the same room with a girl yet.

For a moment he worries that you’re genuinely mad at him over this, until you throw yourself onto the couch next to him with the cutest fake pouty frown on your face.

“Your poor future wife’s womb,” you say, shaking your head at him like you’re disappointed. “You’re so inconsiderate of her.”

“We’re talking in third person now?” he laughs, reaching over to massage your thighs.

“Well, no, because I won’t be carrying four of your gremlins.”

He gives a half-scoff, half-laugh. “I’m not asking you to, honey,” he says, growing serious for a moment. The next moment he’s grinning again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I remember what one of your friends told me you said to her when me and you met for the first time.”

Sweat starts pouring down your face immediately.

“You said I was so hot that you’d give me a football team of kids if I wanted.”

“I was drunk!”

“You were tipsy at most,” he corrects.

“Whatever,” you say with a roll of your eyes and the heat of the sun in your cheeks. “I didn’t lie.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought you refuse to ‘carry my gremlins’ though. Now you want a whole football team?”

“Seungcheol!” you exclaim, smacking at his arm for his audacity. “Why don’t we worry about just one for now?”

“Wait… really?” Seungcheol asks, his eyes shining. “I thought you wanted to wait until after the wedding.”

“It’s in two months, so it’s not like I’ll be showing. Also, it can take a couple of weeks of trying to even get pregnant in the first place.”

Okay, maybe there are a few more logistical issues with being pregnant on your wedding day, but truth be told, right now, all Seungcheol can think about is fucking you into another dimension.

“Honey, I promise that I will put a baby in you by morning.”

He wasn’t lying.

The clock nears three a.m. and Seungcheol still pounds away at you like a feral dog. Every inch of your skin is sticky with either spit, sweat, or cum. Your muscles burn from exertion, not yet aching but by the time day comes they will be.

It started off soft—kisses that were bursting with love and excitement because you wanted to have a baby. A family. Seungcheol’s touches dripped with appreciation for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be like this but a thousand times more when you’re actually pregnant.

Then he’d fucked you full the first time, and in the blink of an eye, the tenderness in his eyes was gone. He’d filled you up, yet suddenly, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t help that you begged so sweetly for his cum, with your pretty eyes gazing up at him, glimmering.

He’s never been immune to your eyes.

From then on his grasp had turned bruising. Now he’s got you pressed into the mattress, pouring every ounce of his weight into fucking you.

“Feels so fucking good, Cheol,” you whimper, throat dry and raspy from all the moaning you’ve been doing. Your fingers are weak as they curl into the sheets below, but you need something to cling to or else you might pass out.

“Yeah, look at you still taking it. My fucking girl,” he grunts, digging his fingers into your hips as he arches your back further down, burying his cock impossibly deeper inside you until you swear he’s in your womb. His cum from previous rounds slips out of your hole with every time he punches into you, but Seungcheol makes no effort to push it back inside—it means he’d have to pull out, and, right now, he’d probably rather die than leave the warmth of your walls that clench down on him so tight that they keep him nestled inside.

“Made for me, you know that? You and this pussy were made for me,” he rambles, leaning down until his hard, sweat-slicked chest is pressed to your back. His hot, jagged breaths nip at your ear. “Made to take my cum, to carry my kids.”

“All yours, Cheol,” you manage in a whisper. His rough hands leave your hips, only to cover your own hands as they claw at the sheets, and lace your fingers together. A reminder that he’s still your Seungcheol, your future husband, who loves and cares for you more than anything and would never do anything to hurt you. It makes your heart and your pussy clench.

“Gonna cum again, baby? Can you take one more?” he asks, with a punched out chuckle.

“Fuck- yes, I can take it,” you mewl, voice cracking, mustering up any last remaining strength in you to push back against his hips, shamelessly desperate for cock. “Wanna cum again. Want your cum too.”

It takes everything in Seungcheol not to lose his mind. He wonders how he got so lucky with you, because he’s convinced the gods made you for him and put you in this world. The fact that he also managed to find you is a miracle.

He peels himself off of you, straightens back up, and fucks into you with such vigour that you start to see stars. Or maybe it’s your orgasm, because it’s almost immediate the way your abdomen erupts with a soft glow of pleasure—he’s wrung all the energy out of you so that it’s no longer crashing waves but a gentle pulse. Still, it leaves you breathless and teary-eyed, your pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s cock, desperate for his seed.

“There it is, good girl,” he coos, watching tenderly as you gasp and shudder from the pleasure subsiding. “I’m right there too, baby, gonna stuff you full again, just how you like it, hm?”

Gentle fingers push strands of hair out of your face, his thumb wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheek.

“Please, want your baby in me, Cheollie,” you sob.

“I’ll give you a baby. I promised, didn’t I?”

Inside your walls, his cock throbs and pulses with his promise, begging to coat your womb.

“Yes, yes, please! Want it so bad.”

You’re not sure how Seungcheol even has anything left in him, but a moment later and he’s spilling his seed inside you in spurts again, filling you up for the nth time tonight. You smile at the warmth, at the feeling of fullness that nobody but him could give you.

“Baby? Are you okay? Is it too much?” he asks, pulling out of you all too quickly after he’d come back down from his high. Your ‘perfect, doting fiancé’ Seungcheol replaces the ‘rabid animal’ Seungcheol in an instant when his head clears and he takes in the sight of you, covered in fluids and bruises and marks from his mouth and his hands.

“‘m good, just… so tired,” you say, falling to your side with a yawn, grimacing at the feeling of dried cum and spit on your skin as you move.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have kept going, I’m sorry for pushing you that hard,” he says, voice heavy. He lays next to you, stroking your cheek, his eyes glazed over with guilt.

“I would have asked to stop, I promise. You know I can take it,” you tell him, smiling assuredly at him.

“I definitely know that now.” He laughs, albeit nervously.

“Besides, you promised you’d put a baby in me by morning and there’s no way I’m not pregnant after that.”

He watches you pat your tummy and the guilt in his features vanishes then, and in its place comes smug, utterly shameless pride. He has a feeling, just an inkling, that none of this went to waste, that it stuck, that you’re right.

As a sweet slumber takes over you, the last thing you hear is your fiancé’s hushed words of “I love you,” and the feel of his lips against your forehead.

[kairawrites]

shea butter.

🌺 masterlist 🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: for all my fellow natural girlies. there's a slight mention of sex, you'll miss it if you squint.

summary: jude could do his own hair, but why do that when he has you?

The clippers hummed quietly in your hand as you focused intently on lining up Jude’s hair. The soft, melodic sound of Sade floated through the room, the sounds of her voice seemed to make time slow down and the outside world felt miles away. You hummed along quietly, barely conscious of it, your voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the music. 

Jude sat on your accent chair, the plush upholstery sinking slightly beneath his weight as he leaned back, his broad frame clad only in a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. A towel, hastily draped over his shoulders as a makeshift cape, protected his bare chest from the stray clippings of his hair.

His legs were parted just enough to make space for you to stand between them, your body close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from you. His half-lidded eyes, still heavy from sleep, followed your every movement as you worked. The corner of his lips turned up in a lazy, contented smile as he listened to you hum softly. He knew the melody would be stuck in his head the moment he had to leave for the airport in the morning.

The fingers of his left hand are warm against your outer thigh. Gentle as they lightly retrace the same pattern over and over. He watched as your face took on that look of deep concentration he had come to love—your brow furrowing slightly, lips pressed into a soft line as you meticulously moved the clippers along his hairline. The way your lips parted ever so slightly when you leaned in closer, studying each angle, made his chest tighten with a familiar warmth. 

Your lashes fluttered with every blink, and Jude marveled at how you managed to look so peaceful and yet so focused all at once. Your eyes, usually bright with humor, were now narrowed, intent on perfecting every detail. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as the music shifted into a familiar tune, and you began to hum a little louder, Jude's fingers swirling to the beat.

Jude loved Sundays—at least, Sundays with you. With you, Sundays were peaceful. The morning was always dedicated to wash days, a ritual he had grown to love as much as you did. He would wake up to the sound of running water and the faint scent of your hair products lingering in the air, instantly bringing a sense of calm over him. He loved watching you go through your routine, the way you treated your curls with so much love and care, making him crave that same tenderness for himself. Which is why doing his hair had become embedded in your routine.

He was typically alongside you, resting on the edge of the vanity or standing nearby, his curious eyes studying the bottles of creams, oils, and conditioners you carefully selected. You’d catch him reaching for them, his hands inspecting the labels as if trying to decipher their secrets. Not sure why his hair only came out perfect when you used them. You loved that he wanted to be a part of it—so you’d often pass him a bottle, letting him unscrew the lids and hold the products just to make him feel included.

He would lift them to his nose, inhaling deeply, his face lighting up as he absorbed the subtle fragrances of coconut, honey, shea butter, and vanilla. “Smells like you,” he’d say, grinning. And you’d smile back, your heart swelling at how even the simplest things about you had become a comfort to him.

When it came time to detangle your curls, he was always eager to help, his hands gentle but sure as he ran them through your damp hair. He loved the feel of your curls, the softness that slipped between his fingers, the way your head would tilt just slightly, trusting him with something so personal. It was a quiet kind of intimacy—one that didn’t require words but was steeped in care. The kind of closeness he found himself craving whenever he was away, the moments he would replay in his mind on long nights spent traveling from one match to the next.

That’s why, when Jude woke up this morning and realized he had slept half the day away, he cursed himself for missing that precious time with you. Especially being as he had to leave in the morning. Sundays with you meant more than just relaxation; they were filled with the kind of connection that grounded him, that made him feel like just a man in love, far from the pressures and chaos of his world outside..

Although he’d missed your routine, he’d let out a sigh of relief when you had dragged him out of bed and to your chair.

Your hair, still damp from your wash day, framed your face in loose curls that bounced gently with your movements.

You leaned in closer, your hand gently cradling his jaw, your fingers just barely brushing the line of his jaw--a subtle reminder to stay still.

His gaze drifted over the curve of your lips, and he found himself smiling as he watched you quietly mouthing the lyrics to the song. You weren’t singing aloud, just quietly to yourself, as if the music had wrapped itself around you, pulling you further into the moment. Jude didn’t dare move, afraid to break the spell that had settled over the room.

"Almost done," you murmured under your breath, not even fully aware that you had spoken.

He could have closed his eyes and drifted off, lulled by the warmth of the room, the soothing music, and the gentle hum of your voice. But he didn’t want to miss this—didn’t want to miss watching you in this space where he was completely at ease. 

Jude’s voice was soft when he finally spoke, breaking the gentle silence. “You look so beautiful when you concentrate, you know that?”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, surprised by the sudden compliment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Your hands gently brush his shoulders to dust off stray hairs. "Sorry, Mr. Bellingham, I don’t accept compliments as payment," you teased, tilting your head with a playful glint in your eyes.

Jude’s laugh bubbled up, still thick with the remnants of sleep, the sound low and warm like a gentle rumble from his chest. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to curl back into bed with him. “Oh yeah?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “What do you accept then?”

You grinned, biting your lip for a moment as you pretended to think. Letting your touch pass over his jaw, you smiled as his lips warmed your palm. “Kisses,” you said simply.

Jude didn’t miss a beat, his grin widening as he reached for you, his fingers slipping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Got plenty of those," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your stomach, his lips warm through the fabric of his sweatshirt that you wore. He placed a kiss against your chest, your neck before your cheek.

Your fingers curled into his hair as you laughed softly. "Better start paying up then," you whispered, leaning down to meet his lips with yours, the kiss soft and lingering. Your lips left his, him releasing an unsatisfied groan of protest. 

“We need to finish this,” you giggle, lips pressing against the bridge of his nose, before stepping back.

Jude’s eyes followed you as you moved, every part of him attuned to the way the soft fabric of his favorite sweatshirt shifted over your frame. The deep navy of the worn cotton contrasted perfectly against your skin, and though it hung loosely on you, it couldn’t hide the subtle movements of your body beneath. His gaze trailed from the hem brushing your thighs to the gentle sway of your hips, making it impossible for him to look away.

As you reached the vanity to place the clippers down, he took the opportunity to shift forward. His hands found your waist, pressing gently into the fabric, the warmth of his touch radiating through the sweatshirt. It was a familiar gesture, one that always made you feel anchored to him. You turned to face him, done gathering the items you needed to finish his hair, but Jude had other ideas.

With a gentle but insistent tug, he guided you back toward him, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“You can finish the rest here,” he mumbled. His arms slipped around your waist, drawing you down onto his lap. You settled into the familiar space, the weight of his hands steady and comforting against your hips.

“As long as you promise to behave,” the half hearted warning prompting your boyfriend’s touch to slip from beneath your sweatshirt.

Settling back against the seat, Jude murmured, “Always making me look better than anyone else could.”

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, your lips curving into a smile. “Your barber might disagree,” you teased lightly, though you knew the way he looked at you said far more than just appreciation for your skills with clippers.

Jude's eyes softened, his gaze never leaving your face as he replied, “No one takes the time and care like you do.” His hands slid up your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over your skin, sending a warm shiver through you.

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Better let me finish then," you whispered, smiling against his mouth before pulling back. “Can’t have your fans coming for me if I mess you up.”

You lifted the spray bottle and began dampening his hair, your fingers working through his soft curls with practiced ease. Jude’s hands, however, had a mind of their own. They roamed gently over your legs, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your thighs. He couldn’t seem to stop touching you, each stroke of his hands filled with lazy admiration.

As you focused, Jude’s hands eventually slipped beneath the hem of the sweatshirt, brushing over the small of your back. The light pressure of his touch made you sigh softly, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin. His hands moved slowly, rhythmically, as though he were tracing a map only he could read.

“Jude,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful exasperation as you continued working on his hair. “You’re distracting me.”

His low chuckle vibrated through the space between you. “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your wrist in a gentle kiss as his hands wandered up your thighs again. “You’re just so soft.”

You bit your lip to suppress a smile, lowering the spray bottle as you combed your fingers through his curls. “You say that every time.”

“That’s because it’s true,” he countered, capitalizing on the pause in your actions. His fingers drew slow, lazy patterns across your lower back.  “I still don’t know how you’re always so soft,” he murmured, his hands moving to cradle your hips.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, but his hands made it nearly impossible. As your fingers moved through his damp curls, Jude’s touch drifted lower, cupping the backs of your thighs, his grip firm yet tender. The sensation sent a pleasant warmth through you, and when his hands finally squeezed the soft flesh of your butt, you couldn’t help but shift forward in his lap. You caught sight of his smirk as you instinctively shifted against him, the feel of him against you causing you to repeat the action.

“Jude,” you began again, only this time you’re unable to complete the sentence.

He hummed in response, his hands repeating the action, enjoying the way you moved in response to his touch. His grip tightened, encouraging you to grind against him, shifting his hips as your eyes fluttered close. “Hmm?” His voice was light, but the mischief in his eyes as he pulled back made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Mind your hands," you warned.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, but he obediently kept his hands in place as you leaned back to retrieve the curl cream from the vanity. "I’m not doing anything," he teased, as he unscrewed the lid for you.

He was right. You should be able to resist him, but you can't. Not when the heat of his body is this close. Not when you can feel him pressing against you, the thin fabric of his sweatpants and your underwear separating you allowing you to feel exactly where his mind was headed. Not when his hands are kneading your skin, the motion hypnotic and tempting. Not when he leaned forward slightly, the moment you gathered the product in your hand, brushing his lips against your wrist as you began to work the cream into his hair.

You sighed, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest as his kisses moved lazily from your wrist up the inside of your arm. "Jude," you muttered, a mixture of amusement slipping into your tone. He knew what he was doing—distracting you, as always.

"Mmhmm?" he responded, his voice a soft murmur against your skin as he kissed a spot just above your elbow. “..you said watch my hands…”

Despite his affectionate distraction, you pressed on, determined to finish his hair. But Jude’s attention was unwavering—his lips now following a slow path up your arm, until he reached your shoulder. His mouth warm against your skin, tongue brushing against your skin before he gently began to against your neck. The position was not helpful, but you both knew you wouldn’t move to stand.

You pulled back briefly to grab more product from the vanity, shaking your head with a smile that you couldn't hide. As you leaned back in, Jude took the opportunity to nuzzle his lips against your neck, his kisses soft and warm, teasing the sensitive skin there picking up where he'd left off.

“Jude,” you said again, a warning in your voice, though it lacked any real conviction. The rest of your words were lost, falling victim to the sigh that escaped as he found the spot he knew that could cloud your mind. His fingers digging into your skin as you instinctively shifted your hips.

 He repeated the action, focusing solely on kissing and sucking your skin. The action covering your body in a familiar heat. It took all your concentration to stay focused on his hair rather than the way his hand shifted to rest against the base of your spine.

Your mind floods with memories of the last time you were in this position. You had meant to be doing his hair, but Jude's wandering hands and lips had made you abandon the task entirely. As you relax against him now, your hands momentarily still in his hair, a low chuckle escapes his lips, letting you know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

How easily it had been that morning to shift your weight to his right thigh. How your fingers had tightened in his hair, tugging against the curls you’d just tended to. How your hips allowed his hands to guide their movements. Him encouraging you to grind down on his thigh, until your body was a quivering mess your voice melding into the music, his lips and teeth dragging along the warmth of your shoulder and neck. How easily he'd slipped between your folds by the time he'd pulled you onto his lap. How the high you were chasing had forced you to accept his desire for you to ride him slowly. Submitting, allowing him guide your hips, welcoming the words he'd whispered against your skin. The orgasms he'd pulled from you that morning tugging at your mind each time you sat in that same chair when he was away.

"I’m just helping," he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he pressed another gentle kiss just beneath your ear, sending a rush of warmth through you.

"You’re not helping at all," you laughed softly. You were trying to sound firm, but his lips found that perfect spot again at the base of your neck, and you couldn’t help the quiet sigh that escaped your lips.

Jude’s hands remained planted firmly on your hips, just as you had instructed, but his lips—his lips had other plans. They moved with deliberate slowness, peppering kisses along the curve of your neck, your shoulder, your jaw.

“Just saving you time,” he mumbles. “No point in pretending how this’ll end.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in mock disapproval even as a smile tugged at your lips. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

He grinned against your skin, his breath warm as he whispered, "I know," before placing one last kiss just below your jawline.

Your hands, slick with product, glide through Jude’s curls one last time before you wipe them clean on the towel draped over his shoulders. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and you catch the way his lips twitch upward in that familiar, mischievous smile. He knows exactly where this is headed.

With a soft thud, you let the towel fall to the floor, and before you can make a move, Jude’s arms are wrapped around your waist pulling you close. He tips his head back slightly as your hands instinctively find the nape of his neck, your fingers grazing over the warm skin there. His gaze flickers down to your lips, and for a moment, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and steady as it fans over your face. 

Jude's nose brushes against yours, the softest of touches, and the space between you grows smaller until your lips meet in a kiss—gentle at first, tender and lingering. His lips hover there, but you can't help yourself. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, and the world around you fades. 

tagging those who liked the post about this story. sorry it's late af.

@iicldkwhatimdoingheretbh @jareaulamontagnes @judes-baeeee @alexandraa-mondragonn @tana-mxx @whorefordeadpeople @redbulldoesntgiveyouwings @judespoets @deanbluntsupremacy @atlasthecreator @humanstheworld @sakaloverrr @justabrokensoulxd @preetykookiie @bbgkoo @anotimportantperson @bellinghamfc @certifiedlesbianbaddie @lilyislostinthelight @elisacarynia @abbieanthony20 @extrology467 @sinnerxxer @lanassiren444 @undercover-fangirl5 @judescorem @eriks-girl @calif0rnia-lovers @menacetosobr1ety

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Louder than Words - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

This is like the mushiest piece I have written. I was kinda embarrassed...but here it is. Let's give him the hugs and space he needed huh? This could also be a message to you lovelies out there too. MasterList linked at the bottom too!

Ace didn’t know what came over you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. Per se. 

You’d cupped his face gently, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks tenderly, while he just looked back at you, curious. He smiled, in hopes of easing or appeasing whatever drudge was swirling in his chest and tainting this moment, “everything alright?”

You hummed and nodded at him, not a line on your expression but the bliss that pulled at your lips, revealing your peaceful serenity to him. His breath hitched slightly as you pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment. Then a shorter peck to his nose, before nuddling it back and forth with your own. He reopened his eyes when you tilted his head, still cradled in your palms, and pressed kisses to either of his cheeks.

You pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, and he felt his heart chase after you, beating with a tenacity meant to jump ship from his chest to yours. Your eyes dropped to the last target on his face, and he felt his entire physiology twist in anticipation.

You guided his face to yours gently, holding him as though he was the most prized treasure of all the seas. If he ever said that aloud, you would agree. 

Your own personal One Piece. 

You guided him, and he followed eagerly, gravitating towards you naturally, and you met him somewhere in the middle, colliding in an explosion of euphoria, igniting the wiring of his entire being.

His every sense sharpened, yet by attuning himself to your every move he melded into you. He-his edges-seemed to all but disappear as he chased after you unwilling to disconnect for a moment longer than necessary. Your pull, irresistible-inevitable as he continued to dive deeper into it.

Deeper and deeper. 

Closer and closer. 

Chest to chest. 

Heart to heart.

Until you gently guided him away, again cradling his face and rubbing sweet, sweet, tender circles into his skin, massaging your warmth into him. Your eyes again held his, and gosh you’re just so beautiful. He’s pulled out of his daze when he felt your chest struggling under his. You’re panting slightly, your breathing a little strained, and he realized that his weight on you definitely isn’t helping. 

He lifted himself up just slightly-unwilling to completely part but-no longer crushing you. He couldn’t help but wonder: when had he ended up on top of you like this?

You’re gently moving his head about in your palms again, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Then another to the crown of his head and for a moment he’s so glad he showered and washed his hair yesterday.

“I’m so thankful to have you in my life,” you breathed into his skin, lips inscribing the words into his forehead, and tugging on his heart strings.

Again his head is guided by your hands and again his eyes are treated to the sight of yours. Like a rope with a knot catching onto a splinter of wood, the air caught inside his chest. Your own eyes trailed over his features, slowly, carefully, as though committing every part of him, every detail, to memory. You studied him with a sort of reverence, your awe manifesting in a choked gasp and subtle widening of the eyes.

Your hands slowly slipped from his face, and he found himself missing your touch immediately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to part with it for long. 

“I am so grateful,” your fingers ghosted along his cheek moving to his lips, ���that you exist,” your words tugged at that stuck knot.

“That you were born,” a warmth spread through his chest - yet he couldn’t breathe. 

“That you exist in this world - and that I,” your expression became impossibly soft, “that I get to know you.” 

He opened his mouth desperate to return the sentiment, but you continued gently tracing his lips as you did, “that you’re allowing me to love you like this.”

He couldn’t-

You let out a little squeak at the speed and force with which he sat the two of you up and held you. His fingers interwoven with your hair, his nose buried in your neck, his other hand pressing you into him, melding you into his body. Soon enough, even his legs came to wrap around your own, completely preventing any chance of escape.

Though to be honest, you escape to him, not from him. 

Oh the things you did to him. 

He might be made of fire, but his devil fruit couldn’t protect him from the way your affections effectively set fire to his very brain-his heart. His chest heaved, pressing against yours, his eyes water and his grip tightened. Tremors overtook him as he fought the urge to crush you completely into his body. 

How could joy resemble a knife tearing through his chest? How could the tearing pain feel so delightful? The contradictions were enough to make his head spin and his thoughts knot up.

A gentle hand - your gentle hand slowly worked its way through his hair, patiently undoing any tangles your fingers came about, consequently undoing the intricate knotting of the net entangling his mind. The delicate trails your fingertips drew along his scalp soothed his thoughts such that each raging beastly emotion was conquered in turn. It wasn’t too long before he’d vanquished the confusion, your tender care steering him to clarity.

You were steering him towards dreamland too if he’s honest, as his consciousness began to ebb under the rhythmic flow of your fingers through the waves of his hair. It wasn’t long before it plunged completely into the ocean of unconsciousness. 

// ——

When he regained consciousness you were seated beside him, reading something or another. You were really engrossed in whatever it was you were reading, so much so that you startled a little when his hand lethargically claimed your own, pulling it closer to him.

He brushed his lips on the back of it, grinning up at you with eyes that drooped with the sleep still in them. He delighted in the flustered expression you wore in response to his own affections, blinking at you slowly. You marked your page with your free hand, before closing the book to give him your undivided attention.

“How was your nap, love?” Love you called him. Love.

His eyelids closed, succumbing to the weight they seemed to carry, basking in the bliss washing over him like a gentle summer shower. 

Love. 

He could hear you moving about, his hold on your hand tightening as you shifted. A little groan left him as he struggled to open his eyes and mouth to speak to you. You were not helping with how your other hand came to comb his hair again, but he managed, “mmm you’re…gon’ make me fall ‘sleep ‘gain.”

“Then that means you need more sleep m’love,” m’love, not just any love, your love. Yours. 

He was your love. 

Yours.

He was yours. Happily so. Forever would be too. If you’d have him. 

He hummed, lips weakly pushing through sleep to show you his satisfaction. 

Your voice was much closer to him now, speaking from right above his head, and he fought an uphill battle trying to open his eyes to look at you. His whole body felt heavy, completely sapped of strength. Heck even his grip on your hand was as limp as ever. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in contact with sea stone or something. 

He felt you press your lips to his forehead again, gently fueling him enough to pull his lips into a drowsy, wobbly, smile. 

“Get some rest love,” you spoke softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Stay wit mmmmm,” talking was proving to be a challenge, “c’mere.”

He threw a heavy arm over what he hoped was your waist. It probably was? Gosh he couldn’t care with the way you were giggling next to him. 

“Sure thing love,” you had to be doing some kind of magic with how he felt like he was levitating despite the weight that seeped into his bones, “just let me brush my teeth first.”

He couldn’t hold you down if he wanted to with how tired he was, “mmm back soo,” he mumbled.

“Sure thing,” his lips wobbled themselves into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead again. 

He was out instantaneously. You kept your promise though; through his daze he felt you slip in and embrace him. Seems like his body knew what to do too, despite its earlier lack of cooperation, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in return before he was out again.

He woke up in your arms. 

His head rested against your chest, with your arm languidly around his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath filled him with the nostalgia of the scent of home. A home that did not exist in his memories. Which meant it probably existed in his imagination then. A home that could be. A home with you.

It was the scent of home nonetheless. 

He tightened his hold on your waist nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

I’m so grateful you exist.

His arms instinctively tightened.

That you were born. 

His inhale was a stuttery one, his own lips and vision stuttering as well. He buried his face further into your neck, taking in your scent again. Yet all that did was push the tears out faster. 

That was the opposite of what he’d expected! 

Urgh. One of those hot, salty blobs ended up on your skin.

To his relief, and dismay - oddly enough - you remained unconscious. Your eyes closed and breathing consistent. Though that didn’t last long, as you shifted slightly, the arm around his shoulder worked to pull him into you, as your other one came up to play with his hair-you really liked doing that huh?

“Get it aaall,” your voice was thick with sleep, “get it all…out,” you hummed a bit, “let all that poison out.”

“Darlin’, did I wake you?” It was pathetic how his voice cracked - he hated this weakness that was welling up...again.

Just like that, your hold on him tightened, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you sounded much more awake now, “you’re one of the people I want to be there for the most.”

Unfortunately, a choked sob left him. Gosh he was so pathetic. He was a full grown man! He wasn’t supposed to be some weak crybaby! To think he used to get mad at Luffy for crying too!

Yet…

He. couldn’t. stop.

His shoulders shook, the tremors traveled his body, and a violent shiver wracked it. Yet you laid and held him and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing your favorite spot on his forehead consistently. Every kiss, every gentle brush of your loving fingers tenderly working through his hair, every tender trace of your fingertips on his scalp, brought a fresh wave of tears to follow the next. At some point he’d started clutching on to you, like you were the life-ring preventing him from drowning.

He wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All he knew that in between his sniffles and his sobbing there was your voice. 

“Get it all out love,” you lightly encouraged - as though he wasn’t lesser for crying like a baby. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you said a few times too - as though this pathetic display wasn’t shameful.

“I love you so much,” you reaffirmed time and time again stroking his hair - as though his weakness didn’t make him less desirable.

For whatever reason he didn’t doubt a word. Despite the mental cesspool working overtime to drown him in darkness, the light of your honesty shone through. No matter how far he fell, it followed.

He wasn’t sure how long you two lay there, holding each other, and he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness again. His eyes were so incredibly heavy when he woke up again though. They must be swollen from all his crying. You weren’t next to him this time, however as his senses came back to him, he could hear the sounds of a pen scratching and paper flipping.

When he sat up, he noticed a pitcher of water and a tall glass with an opaque yellow-tinted liquid and some mint leaves in it-lemonade probably-on the bedside table. He had a moment to locate you at his desk before you turned to face him, “hey there.”

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still thick from lack of use.

You put the pen down, got up, and walked towards him with a kind smile, “I made you some lemonade, and got some water,” you sat down near his legs, “gotta replace all those fluids you lost.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “your lessons with Marco are going well, huh?”

“I also have a lot of personal experience with these things,” you grinned at him.

“With crying like a baby?” 

You just hummed and nodded.

“This might sound bad,” you weren’t looking at him as you confessed, “but I’m kind of…” you trailed off, shooting him a quick glance, “happy,” you shrunk, your shoulders reaching your ears, “you felt safe enough to be that vulnerable with me.”

“So, you liked seeing me cry?” He poked at you. “Should I cry more for you, doll?”

“Ace,” you groaned, your smile only growing fonder as you looked at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a sadist,” he kept teasing, “I’m not sure how I feel about this kink of yours.”

He loved the way you rolled your eyes, but revealed your teeth with how big your smile was getting. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” you corrected, “I like that you feel safe with me.”

You paused, then appended, “well safe enough to not hide your pain.”

“Hide my pain?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Crying is one way to get pain out of your body,” you twisted your body to face him more fully, voice soft as you shared your opinion, “emotional pain especially.”

“Isn’t crying just weakness?” He frowned at you. 

“No?”

“It’s not?” 

“Do you think I’m weak when I cry?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“But you’re a woman.”

A tired look flashed over your features momentarily, “so men aren’t allowed to cry?” You challenged, tone still as patient as ever.

“Only weak men cry,” for some reason the words sounded less convincing in your presence.

“Who says?” His gaze snapped up to meet yours and you repeated yourself, “who said?”

“Isn’t it just something that everyone knows?” His brow furrowed, scowl taking his features. 

“No,” you paused as you said that, “well I guess in a sense,” you squinted at nothing, “yes… it is something that many people assume.”

“You just saw me cry like a baby,” he countered, “you don’t think I’m weak?”

“On the contrary,” he felt his eyes widen despite the weight embedded into them, “you’ve been carrying all that pain.” 

An ache tormented your gentle expression, “and you choose kindness and warmth and bring joy to those you care about despite it,” you looked him in the eye again, “that isn’t something a weak person could do.”

A shiver traveled down his spine at the way your eyes studied him, softening as you opened your mouth to speak again, “kindness is the mark of the strong, Ace,” you placed your hand on top of his notably larger one, pride dripping from your voice, “and you’re so incredibly kind.”

What was with you and stealing the air from his lungs? He felt his chest constrict like he’d been punched too.

“We’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” your thumb traced circles onto the back of his hand, “we’re even luckier to be loved by you.”

He could feel that prickling in the back of his eyes he was becoming way too familiar with for his liking. “We really have to do something about that crying kink of yours,” he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you weren’t mad. “I think I’m just going to have to tell you more often how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

His heart lurched in his chest, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

“We can both be lucky.”

“Then I’m luckier.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yea huh.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“No,” he has a huge grin on his face at your scowl. 

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, rising from the bed with a dramatic sigh, “I’ll let you believe whatever you want to believe.”

“Oi!” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him.

“Drink some water and your lemonade, love,” you gave him a little peck on his forehead again, “then let’s get you showered and fed.”

He caught your wrist as you moved away, “where are you going?”

“To the desk,” you blinked at him.

“What’re you up to there?”

“I’m just going through some paperwork,” he really was the luckier one of the two of you.

“Marry me,” the words flew out of his mouth before his mind could even register them in his thoughts.

You laughed, raising your left hand for him to view, “already did.”

Shoot.

“Now,” mirth still colored your expression, “you drink your lemonade while I get these papers done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted you and allowed you to slip out of his grasp.

It was when he’d finally moved to lean back against the wall and grabbed the drink you’d prepared that he heard you giggle a little. Strange, given what you were working on, “see something funny?”

“No,” you singsonged, cheerfully wiggling in your seat, “it’s just my husband asked me to marry him, again, and I’m feeling very happy.”

His head clunked against the wall he rested against, heat rushing to his cheeks as a disgruntled groan left him, despite the way he was grinning, “I swear I didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t think you did, love,” you giggle some more, turning slightly to look at him, “I’m just so happy you would want to marry me, again.”

“I’d marry you again every day if I could,” he took a swig of his lemonade enjoying the way you fought and failed to keep your smile contained as it threatened to split what he could see of your face.

You turned back around and he could see that you were fighting to focus on the papers in front of you. 

“How about we have another wedding on the Moby Dick?” He found himself scooching his way down the bed, his excitement uncontained. “We can get you a proper dress this time! Your own!”

He looked up thinking some more, “and I’ll wear a proper suit with a vest and a tie and everything!”

“I’m surprised you know about vests and ties,” you shot him a teasing grin.

“Hey! I took some etiquette classes as a kid!” 

“You did?”

“I didn’t tell you?” He’d have to tell you more about his life before he set sail then. “Yeah back when I was in the East Blue,” it’s been a while since he left huh? “Makino-a barmaid from the village nearby-taught me manners.”

“So she’s the one that taught you about vests and ties?”

“Yeah,” oh wait a second, “we can have Thatch make us a huge cake and a feast!” Now that he was back on the original topic he had so many ideas! “Pops can officiate! Marco can be the one to bring you down the aisle! And-and-”

“You really want to have another wedding then?” You were now turned to face him completely.

“Yeah! How about it?” He scooched even closer to you. “Our first one was nice too, but we were in a hurry and I remember we had to go with whatever we had.”

“Is it bad that I liked our small, humble wedding?”

“Huh? No of course not! It was great!” Where did that come from? “I’m just saying we can have another so I can ‘marry you again.’”

“Hmm the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a three piece suit is tempting,” you hummed.

He guffawed a bit at that. “I’d probably mistake you for an angel if I saw you in a white dress.”

“Aww you wouldn’t recognize me?”

“Nah because,” he smirked, “I’d be blinded by how beautiful you’d look.”

When you hunched your shoulders to your ears and looked away a bit, his chest swirled with pride. He was getting better at this flirting with you thing!

“Maybe we shouldn’t then,” sounds of protest were leaving him before he knew it, “I don’t want to blind you.”

That had the two of you laughing.

When you calmed down, you turned back towards the work waiting for you, “there isn’t much left to do commander, so stop distracting me.”

Your distraction quickly chugged the rest of that refreshing glass of juice, and moved back to pour himself a glass of water. Something seemed to click within his head as he pondered your order: “I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.”

He burst out laughing. “Well we’re even then,” he proceeded to take a loud slurp of water.

He almost choked on it laughing when he saw you startle a bit, his flirt landing well with you again. 

Cradling his glass, he opted to just watch you work. He’d make your second wedding happen. You deserved to be celebrated again and again. Besides, it’s not like pirates didn’t party regularly. So it’s not like they’d be going out of their way really-if that’s what you were worried about. Well, knowing you, that was something you were worried about. He found an amused little huff leaving him at that thought. 

“See something funny, love?” Seems you’d heard him.

“Nope,” he grinned your way, “just thinking.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Hey!”

“You come up with some pretty crazy schemes,” he noticed the little smirk on your lips - oh you cheeky - “they’re usually fun, even if they’re dangerous.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” He grinned. “You always add on more crazy things!”

“My crazy things are to make your crazy things less dangerous,” you hummed, “I very much prefer you alive, well, and healthy you see.”

“You just like me,” he beamed at you with a laugh.

“I love you, actually,” you responded without missing a beat nor looking up from your paperwork.

Yeah.

He was definitely giving you that second wedding here on the Moby Dick. Maybe even at one of the prettier spring or autumn islands on Pops’ turf. Whatever you’d like the most! Heck he’ll give you two second weddings - er - a second and a third. Wedding. Yeah.

Oh!

Maybe he could even surprise you with it! 

He ought to get started on it - today! Right now!

He threw back the rest of his glass of water and rushed to the door.

“Ah! Ace! Wait a second!” He paused right before opening it up. “I’m just about done with this! Let me finish and I can help you with your hair and back!”

“Huh?” He raised a brow at you.

“Huh?” You returned equally confused. “Weren’t you going to shower to feel better?”

“No?” He tilted his head.

“Then you’re going straight for the kitchen?” You continued, still confused. “Didn’t you want to eat together?”

Oh that was tempting. He couldn’t say no to that. Wait, even the shower help was tempting. You’d been the one to teach him how to properly scrub his scalp after all. But he didn’t want to delay his surprise a second longer!

“Then, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” not really a lie, he’d get fresh air on his way to see Marco, “then we can eat together.”

“So no shower?”

“Wouldn’t we get caught?”

“What do you mean? I’m just washi-Ace!” You let out a garbled sound making him laugh.

“Alright, alright darlin’,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m just teasing. Yeah we’ll do both.”

“Okay,” you seemed pleased with that outcome, despite it being more work for you.

He let go of the door handle to come press a kiss to your forehead, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you returned immediately.

He walked out the door feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Yeah he was definitely giving you the grandest wedding he could, and he was a Whitebeard pirate, and they really knew how to party.

Extra:

Later during an “Official Division Commander Meeting”:

Izou: she must be the one to pick out her dress

Ace: then I’ll take her out to get one picked

Izou: absolutely not! I will

Ace: hey she’s my wife

Izou: exactly! You’re not allowed to see her in the dress until the ceremony you fool!

Marco: (placing a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder) well, there’s no one better for this task than Izou yoi

Izou: hmph! but of course

Thatch: you all have the easy part, I have to make all the food, and the cake

Ace: it’ll be worth it!

Thatch: for you maybe, you’re not the one cooking to feed a fleet. I swear I have the most difficult job

Marco: we have feasts all the time, no need to do anything extra yoi. 

Ace: except the cake! The cake is really important!

Thatch: yeah yeah I heard you. groans

Marco: Besides your division has a bunch of cooks to help you out doesn’t it?

//------------------------

If you liked it: please toss a comment to the lonely oh people a'plenty

For More Ace Content: Tumblr MasterList and Asks are Open -> rules here

[anniebeemine]

baby fever- s.r. x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected p-in-v sex, praises, slight breeding kink (I tried to make it as mild as possible),

You’re not ready for a baby. 

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. A baby takes time and energy that you can barely spare for yourself and your husband. Your job drags you around the country, chasing after murderous criminals. You’ve seen some of the most evil things in the world, and yet, a baby seems to immediately push the thoughts away. 

With baby Michael having been recently born, you and Spencer decided it was time to visit the family. You carried a small wrapped box for Henry. Afraid he’d feel left out with a new baby brother, you decided to bring him a new toy. Spencer carried the gift bag with a few outfits for Michael and some gift cards for his parents. 

"You okay?" Spencer asked, glancing at you with concern as you approached the front door.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just thinking."

Spencer gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before ringing the doorbell. Within moments, the door swung open to reveal JJ, her face lighting up at the sight of you. Despite having just had a baby, she was beaming.

"Hey! Come in, come in!" JJ ushered you inside, taking the gift bag from Spencer. "You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you."

"We wanted to," Spencer replied, stepping inside. "How’s Michael?"

"Sleeping, thankfully," JJ said with a soft laugh. "Will’s got him in the nursery."

Henry came running into the room, his face lighting up when he saw you. He wrapped his arms around your legs in a tight hug. Hey, Henry!" you greeted, crouching down to his level. "We brought you something."

Henry’s eyes widened as you handed him the wrapped box. "For me? Really?" He tore the wrapping paper open to reveal a new toy car. “Wow! Thank you!"

You ruffled his hair, feeling a warmth spread through you at his joy. "You’re welcome, buddy."

JJ smiled, watching the interaction. "You’re going to make a great mom someday, Y/N."

You glanced at Spencer, who was looking at you with a soft expression. "Maybe," you said, your voice tinged with uncertainty. 

Spencer caught your eye for a moment, a flash of something spreading across his face before he greeted Henry. “Let’s go find some batteries,” he said, following the young boy into the kitchen. 

JJ seemed to pick up on it and changed the subject. "Come on, let’s go see Michael."

You followed JJ to the nursery, where Will was gently rocking the baby. He looked up and smiled when he saw you. "Hey, guys. Look who’s awake.” 

"Can I hold him?" you asked, stepping closer.

"Of course," Will said, carefully transferring Michael into your arms.

You cradled the tiny baby against your chest, feeling the weight and warmth of him. You gently rocked him as JJ led you back into the living room, chatting about how things had been since Michael’s arrival. You nodded and responded, but your focus was mostly on the baby in your arms.

You settled into a chair, still holding Michael, who looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. You smiled down at him, softly cooing as you held a pacifier to his lips. He latched onto it, and you felt a surge of tenderness as he began to suck contentedly.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Spencer and Henry were rummaging through a drawer for batteries. Spencer’s mind, however, was elsewhere. As he found the batteries and helped Henry place them into his new toy, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he finished, he excused himself, unable to resist the urge to see you again. He walked into the living room, his breath catching when he saw you holding Michael. You looked so natural, so serene, with the newborn nestled in your arms. Spencer watched as you smiled down at the baby, your expression one of pure love and gentleness.

A flash of longing spread through Spencer. He’d always wanted children of his own and he was getting there. He has a beautiful wife, a home full of empty bedrooms, and a stable-ish career. He had always known you would be an amazing mother, but seeing you with Michael made the reality of it hit home. He imagined you holding your own child, the love and care you would give, and felt a swell of emotion.

Later that night, you felt an inexplicable emptiness since handing Michael back to his parents. It was a void you couldn’t quite place, but it gnawed at you as you moved through your nighttime routine. Spencer sat on the bed, a book in his hands that he wasn’t able to focus on. Instead, he listened to the sound of you humming to yourself as you got ready for bed.

As you walked into the bedroom, Spencer closed the book, setting it on the nightstand. "Do you think we’re ready for a baby?" he asked, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You paused, turning to look at him. "Do you?"

Spencer shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just thinking out loud." He saw the blank expression on your face. "We’re probably not ready for one."

You swallowed. “Yeah, probably not,” you said with a breathy laugh. 

He scooted down into the bed, adjusting his pillow. “It’s kind of scary to think about.” 

You nodded, lying down beside him. "Yeah, it is. But you know, you’d be a great dad, Spence.” 

Spencer smiled softly, turning to face you. "Thanks. You’d be an amazing mom, too. But I like how things are now. Just us."

"Me too," you agreed, though a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to expand your family.

You both settled into the silence, pretending to fall asleep. But instead of drifting off, your minds wandered to the possibilities of raising children together.

You imagined mornings filled with the sounds of little feet running through the house, Spencer patiently explaining some scientific fact to a curious toddler. You saw yourself cooking breakfast while Spencer read stories to your child, his soothing voice filling the room with warmth.

Spencer’s thoughts drifted to bedtime routines, reading books and tucking in a little one, their sleepy eyes looking up at him with trust and love. He pictured teaching them to ride a bike, holding on until they found their balance, and the proud smile on your face as you watched.

You both thought about the challenges, too—late-night feedings, temper tantrums, balancing work and family. But even those scenarios brought a sense of fulfillment, knowing you would face them together.

Life resumed its usual pace, filled with work, cases, and the daily routines you and Spencer had grown accustomed to. Yet, the thoughts of starting a family lingered in the back of both your minds.

One evening, after a long day at work, you and Spencer were relaxing on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. Spencer was flipping through a book, while you were curled up next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

Out of nowhere, Spencer closed his book and looked at you, his expression serious. "I want a baby with you."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden declaration. "What?"

"I’ve been thinking about it a lot since we talked," he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I want a baby with you. I want to start a family. I don’t want to wait any longer."

You sat up, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation. "Spence, are you sure? This is a big decision."

He nodded, reaching out to take your hand. "I’m sure. I know our lives are complicated and our jobs are demanding, but I’ve realized that I don’t want to keep putting this off. I want to share this experience with you. I want to be a dad."

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity and love in his eyes overwhelming you. "I want that too," you said softly, a smile spreading across your face. "I want to have a baby with you, Spencer."

You kissed him, feeling a sense of completeness and a deep love for the man you had chosen to spend your life with. You pulled away, studying the dazed look on his face. “Y’know, we could start trying soon.” 

A smirk appeared on his lips. “How soon?” 

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around his shoulder. “Like… now, soon?” 

Spencer's eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled, the excitement evident in his expression. "Now works."

“Does it?” You teased, brushing hair away from his forehead. 

You leaned in, your lips meeting his again, this time with more urgency and passion. The movie playing in the background was forgotten as you both embraced the possibility of starting a new chapter in your lives. Spencer's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

Breaking away for a moment, you whispered against his lips, "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too, more than anything," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

You guided him up from the couch, leading him toward the bedroom, your hearts pounding with anticipation and excitement. As you led Spencer into the bedroom, the excitement and anticipation between you both were palpable. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, filled with love and determination. Spencer's hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

"This is it," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "We're really doing this."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. "Yes, we are.” 

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer. The kiss quickly deepened, filled with the promise of the future you were about to embark on. Walking over to the bed, his arms held out making sure not to run you into anything. Feeling the two of you connect to the side of the bed, he guided you to sit. His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, his hands running over your body as if he were afraid to forget what your body felt like. He pushed you back onto the bed gently, giving you a soft chuckle before climbing on top of you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. 

You blushed, placing a hand on his cheek. “You’re just as pretty,” you whispered back. “I’m kind of nervous.” 

He smiled, unbuttoning the first button on your shirt. “Don’t be,” he said softly. “I’ve got you, my love.” 

You could feel your heart race at his words. He used one hand to undo the rest of the buttons, helping you shrug the fabric off. He peppered kisses across your chest and shoulders, one hand snaking up your back to undo your bra. You shrugged off both articles, moving your hands to help him out of his shirt. “I will never be able to say how much I love you,” he said between kisses. 

You gently pushed him off of you. He stood up, shimmying out of his slacks as you did the same with your own pants. Though you’d been naked in front of each other dozens of times, this time is different, more vulnerable. You scooted back on the bed, opening your knees for him to kneel between your thighs. 

“I need you to tell me if you get uncomfortable with anything,” he said, voice caring as he brought his hands to your knees. “I would never get over it if I do something wrong.” 

You nodded, propping yourself up. “I promise.” 

Spencer ran his hands down the outer part of your thighs. You were used to praises and tender touches, but this quiet, almost methodical way he scooted back to lie down was new. He pressed gentle kisses to the skin of your thighs, inching closer and closer to where you need him the most. He pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling away. You bucked at the sudden contact, humming. He licked a long stripe up your folds, eyes locked with yours. 

“Spence,” you moaned, voice already hoarse. 

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer. Using what was most likely muscle memory, he began lapping at your clit, alternating between swipes and circles. Your thighs began to quiver beside his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. His fingers created little bruises on your hips from hos hard he held onto you. 

You felt your back begin to arch into him, burying his face deeper into your cunt. He pulled away with a particularly loud slurp, chin glistening as he wiped it off with his discarded shirt. 

You could do nothing but stare as he did his, his eyes going wide as he met yours. “Did I-” 

“Fuck me,” you breathed. 

At this point he had your legs wrapped around his waist, fingertips digging into your thighs from how bad he needed to feel you wrapped around him. His eyes gave you a look, asking for permission before sliding his cock into you. You gave him a slight nod and a blush rose to your cheeks. “Please,” you whimpered. 

He slid the tip of his cock between your folds collecting slick, a hiss sliding between his teeth. You could feel his cock twitch between your legs. Before you knew it, he was sliding deeper and deeper into you. Stretching you slightly as your back arched and your brain went foggy from the feeling. 

Spencer brought himself down, his forearms on either side of you. “You’re perfect for me,” he whimpered as he rolled his hips. 

You tangled the fingers on your right hand in his hair. Your left hand rested under his arm, palm on his back. You rolled your hips against his, catching your sensitive nub against his pelvis with each stroke. You screwed your eyes shut, panting against his lips. His face grew redder and redder, his nature becoming flustered at the feeling of you around him. 

His thrusts became deeper, his hips snapping against yours in an instant. Grunts, moans, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He was trying to keep himself from letting off too soon in fear you'd both be embarrassed. You couldn’t care less if he finished, just as long as it wasn’t wasted. 

“Spence,” you muttered. “I love you. So much.” 

“I know.” 

His hand trailed down the valley between your breasts, past your belly button and to your clit. He rubbed slow circles to match his pace. Heat split itself in your body, some riding to your cheeks and the other lowering itself to your core. He let out another whimper, like he was ready to say something. 

You guided his chin, locking eyes with him. “Talk to me, Spencer.” 

He bit his lip again. “You drive me crazy. I can never get enough of you,” he squeaked out. 

You wrapped your legs tighter around him, locking him in. “I want you to tell me what else you want to do to me. Please?”

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the finish line, whining and writhing beneath him. He somehow moved closer to you, holding you down to the mattress. “Let me do all the work, baby.” 

“I can’t wait to make you a mommy,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. 

Your body shivered at his words, his voice husky and deep. You let yourself go, no longer able to hold on as he showered you in praises and begs to let him make you a mother. Your legs kicked out and he was quick to raise one over his shoulder, deeping the angle. You threw your head back, chanting his name between pants and moans. Your climax came quickly, placing stars in your vision as you screwed your eyes shut. Your hands roamed over his body, exhausted. 

“I want you to cum inside of me,” you begged. “I want you to, Spencer. I need you to.” 

He tilted your hips up, grinding against you. He caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. You saw the clench in his jaw loosen as he came, white strands of cum painting your insides as a warmth ran through your spine. 

The two of you laid like that for a few minutes. He let his eyes close, his head dropped to your shoulders. He let the leg that was over his shoulder drop, your foot flat against the mattress. 

“Thank you.” 

Spencer pulled back to giggle. “I should be thanking you.” He kissed your forehead before sitting up to pull out. He hissed at the feeling, lying beside you. 

You laced your fingers through his. “I can’t wait to see if it worked.” 

He agreed. “And if it didn’t, we can do this again and again.” 

You rolled over to place your head on his chest. His heartbeat echoed into your ear, the rhythmic thumping putting you to sleep.

[sellenite]

cherry blossoms 03 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: oral (m! receiving, sloppy, deep-throat, face-fucking), praise kink (lightly), dracryphilia, Choso is rough but still sweet, friends to lovers word count: 3.3K notes: DIRECT CONTINUATION OF 02! I pulled a crazy editing day (and night lol) on this series, so if you read the original part 2 and are now confused reading this one I am so sorry 😭 I will link the post where I explained the rewrite here: 🤡 but I hope everyone enjoys 🫶 tags: @tojicvmslut @vampress7 @venusinx @mochipip @matchafroggies724 @sabo-has-my-heart @serra10 MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso whose lips parted in awe as he gazed down at you sitting on your knees before him. You had kissed your way down his torso sweetly, pulling up the hem of his t-shirt a little to press your lips against the bottom of his abs. He reveled in the softness of your lips as they explored more of his body, feeling like he was on cloud nine from all of the gentle attention you were giving him.

He watched you settle on the ground between his parted legs as he sat on the couch, the movie the two of you had put on long forgotten. You began to pull his sweatpants down his thighs and he thought for a moment that he shouldn’t feel so comfortable to be so exposed in front of you, to be so vulnerable. Yet, he had no reservations as he felt your delicate hands slowly remove his pants. When you asked him so sweetly if he trusted you, his answer was an obvious yes. He trusted you completely—with his mind, body, and soul—and he was ready to let you do whatever you wanted to him. And he could see the same tender affection he had for you reflected in your own eyes as you watched him, making sure he was comfortable every step of the way.

You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you lowered his pants more, revealing the heavy outline of his erection in his boxers, a dark stain of pre-cum already seeping through the fabric. He watched with curious, lustful eyes as you gingerly reached your hand out to stroke him over the material, feeling the thickness of his cock underneath your palm. He groaned low in his throat, his hips rolling a little as you teased him over his underwear, your hand lightly gripping his length as you gave it gentle strokes.

“Take them off… Please,” Choso begged with a light laugh, to which you returned with your own giggle and a nod. The need you felt for one another at this moment was palpable, yet the playful comfort of your relationship never faded. Choso lifted his hips as you tugged the waistband of his boxers down and they quickly joined his sweatpants around his ankles. His heavy cock sprang free the moment you lifted the material from his body, thick head standing upright against his stomach as it leaked. You blinked a few times as you took in the sight, almost intimidated as you registered how large he was.

virgin!Choso who saw your reaction and felt a moment of doubt, self-conscious fears suddenly racing through his mind. But then you took him so gently into your soft hands and that was enough to make his worries retreat. He let out a light gasp as he felt your hand wrap around his shaft, squeezing him so perfectly that it made his tip dribble even more. You took a moment to familiarize yourself with his cock, gently tracing the veins that ran over it and watching as the fluid started to spill down his pretty head.

His length was impressive, but what you found even more thrilling was how thick and veiny his shaft was. His skin was smooth to the touch underneath the pad of your thumb as you gingerly followed the prominent vein that spanned the underside of him. Immediately, he felt the difference between your hand and his; yours was so much smoother than his rough, calloused palms. Your touch was so delicate, yet so deliberate. Your thumb reached his head and you swiped over his drooling slit, causing his hips to twitch as he sucked in a breath, his keen eyes watching your every movement.

“You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be, Cho... And so pretty,” you giggled sweetly as you wet your lips with your tongue, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in your excitement. He didn’t quite understand why being “big” was a good thing, but he could hear the wonder in your voice and it made his chest swell with pride that you were pleased with him; and that you thought he was pretty.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, watching as your hand intimately explored his body. You smiled up at him, your pretty eyes creasing in the corners the way he loved so much, but they were darker with lust now. You used your palm to gently stroke over his head, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft as you moved your hand back down in a fist. You began to grip his length with a little more pressure, using his fluid to slowly stroke up and down. He moaned your name softly, his abs clenching as you pumped him steadily and his body became increasingly eager for more. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips as you inched your face closer to his throbbing length, holding the base of his shaft tightly in your grasp as you held his gaze.

“Let me make you feel good…” You said in a silken tone, and he watched, unblinking, as your soft lips drew closer to his flushed head.

virgin!Choso who let out a reflexive whimper as you stuck your tongue out to flick the point of your muscle delicately against the underside of his tip—teasing his frenulum. He let out a low moan as you kept teasing him like this, his body trembling lightly against the couch and his lips hanging open as his breathing became heavier. His cock twitched as he felt the wetness of your tongue working against his skin, playfully licking at all of the sensitive spots he didn't even realize he had. His hands shakily found your cheeks, his large palms tenderly cradling your face. You licked over his drooling head—collecting the faintly salted pre-cum that dripped from his slit—and hummed in satisfaction at his clean taste. The spit from your mouth leaked off of your tongue, slipping down his length messily as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You watched as he bit into his lip unconsciously, his eyes staring into yours with an intensity you had only ever seen on his face in battle, concentrating on your every move.

Choso could feel his brain practically melting over how hot the visual of you on your knees for him was. Your perfect, pretty face, your bright eyes, your soft, cherry-colored lips… You were so beautiful and sweet, yet so naughty, as he watched you work your tongue over his aching length—the contradiction making his head feel thick with lust. Seeing your pretty lips so glossy with spit and his pre-cum made his dick feel like it was about to burst at any second. He barely understood this feeling: the desire to want something, someone, so badly that he physically ached. But there you were, on your knees between his legs with your pretty mouth running up and down his cock… And he felt the urge to do things to you that he barely even understood.

He whimpered again and rolled his hips involuntarily as you swirled your tongue around his tip, the sensations driving him insane. He couldn’t help but start whining for you, and you hadn’t even put him properly in your mouth. But the way your warm, wet tongue teased him was enough for him to know that his hand would never come close to the amount of pleasure you could give him.

“Need more, please,” he begged softly, in his deep, gruff voice. His eyes were so dark with lust as he held your gaze, watching as your tongue lolled out to lick up his shaft on either side. He groaned low in his throat, his fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head as his touch grew unconsciously rougher.

“You’re so needy today, Cho,” you teased him with a smile before pressing your lips lightly to his tip. But you were feeling the same urge. You were so turned on from watching and feeling how responsive he was to your touch; you couldn’t help but want to give him more, to be the one to make him feel pleasure he had never experienced before.

virgin!Choso who was about to respond to your teasing when your mouth suddenly wrapped around the head of his cock—and any cohesive thought in his brain was obliterated. Choso let out a husky groan and pushed himself back into the couch cushions as he felt your lips form a tight ring around his tip, gently moving up and down over his ridge. His hips stuttered up as you sucked him and he watched you—utterly entranced—with heavy eyes and flushed cheeks. He could feel your tongue still flicking against his frenulum as you looked up at him with your beautiful mouth stuffed full of his cock; so heavenly, yet so sinful. He felt he could get off from the view alone, his breathing coming out in fast, ragged moans. You let your lips ease slowly down his shaft feeling them stretch around his thickness as you hollowed your cheeks, wanting to make sure it felt good for him.

You pushed your mouth further down his cock—flattening your tongue against the vein on the underside of his length—making his hips buck suddenly, forcing him to the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion—your throat constricting around his thick head, squeezing around his dick so perfectly— as spit poured from your lips. Choso whimpered loudly and his hips jerked up once more as his body instinctively chased after the warm wetness of your throat. His trembling hands unconsciously forced your face against his navel, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he pushed deeper into you. Your throat contracted around his swollen tip as you gagged again, starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen. You let out a gargled cry and dug your nails into Choso’s strong thighs; the sharp sting bringing him back down to reality for a moment long enough that he could recover control of his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized profusely as his strong hands suddenly relinquished their force on the back of your head, giving you the chance to sit back up. You coughed as your mouth pulled off of his length, spit dribbling down your chin as you struggled to catch your breath. Choso looked down to meet your eyes—glassy with unspilt tears—and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

“I’m so sorry… I-I didn’t mean to–” Choso started nervously, afraid that he had hurt you when he saw your glistening eyes. He felt immense guilt. Here you were, offering so kindly to help him and he had ruined it. You could see the anxiety brewing in his wide, purple eyes, so you shook your head and shushed him gently, rubbing a reassuring palm over his thigh.

“It’s okay, Choso—really… I just... Didn’t expect it was all,” you said with a sweet laugh, still a little breathless but smiling up at him. You took a moment to regain your composure, wiping some of the spit that had leaked down your chin off with your hand. You could see his expression relax a little, but there was still a lingering doubt hiding in the slight furrow of his brows. “You can be rougher, if you want to be… I don’t mind,” you offered gently, your eyes looking coyly up into his.

virgin!Choso who swallowed nervously as he took in your words. His hands were back on your face now, his thumbs rubbing tenderly across your cheekbones.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you…” Choso said softly. Yet, he couldn’t deny the inexplicable lust he had felt for watching you drool over his cock, seeing those unspilt tears make your eyes shine so pretty. You shook your head gently. “You won’t. I’ll stop you if it’s too much,” you promised him assuredly. Choso swallowed nervously again, but consented with a light "O-okay," too captivated by the idea of feeling his dick inside of your warm, tight throat to put up much of a fight. His hands stayed on your cheeks as you started to pump his cock slowly with your fist again, using all of the spit that had dripped from your mouth to easily slide up and down his length. Choso whimpered, his hips already bucking gently up to meet your movements.

“Fuck… It feels so good,” he whimpered and you felt your core clench up at his needy tone. You were already so wet from sucking his cock, hearing him beg and whimper for you was making you feel like you could cum just from watching him. “Mmm, I know it does, Cho… Want to make you feel even better though,” you couldn’t help but moan back to him.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft a few more times, making audible wet sounds from how much spit had leaked out of your mouth when he gagged you. You continued to use your hand on the lower part of his length, stroking him steadily as you brought your lips to wrap around his tip once more. His hands slid back into your hair, gently holding the loose strands of hair from your face. When you felt comfortable, you picked up the pace again, sliding your lips further down Choso’s cock as your hand stroked in rhythm with your mouth. Your lips and hand were wrapped so perfectly around him… So wet, so warm, so tight… Choso’s head was spinning and he could feel his control slipping.

“Feels so good…” He repeated once more in a repressed whine as he attempted—in vain—to restrain the movements of his thrusts. “Wanna give you more, pretty. Can you take more?” He asked you so desperately, his eyes glazed over with lust and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. You could feel his thighs trembling, the little jumps his hips made as he struggled not to fuck your face as aggressively as his cock was telling him to. You hummed around him and removed your hand from his shaft, giving him permission to use your throat.

virgin!Choso who lost any remaining semblance of control after you took your hand off of him. He tried to start slowly, trying to make his hips roll lightly into your face, wanting to be as gentle as he could. But he kept pushing deeper with every thrust, making his tip press against the tight ring of your throat harder each time until he was slipping past it, bullying into it. He moaned heavily as he watched your lips stretch to fit his girth and clusters of tears gathered in your waterline, the sight only making him thrust harder.

Choso’s breathing was coming out fast again as he watched you take more of his length. His moans were breathy and whiny as his dick took over and he fucked himself into your face blatantly. His voice was so husky, but his moans were so soft and desperate and it made your cunt throb with want as he used your throat. He was humping his hips into your face with abandon now, one strong hand gripping into your hair and forcing you down on his cock while the other held onto your shoulder like a lifeline. You focused hard on relaxing your throat as he manually bobbed your head up and down his length, his dick getting squeezed so perfectly every time he felt your throat gag and constrict around him.

“F-fuck… Thank you, Y/N…Thank you…” He whined in his gruff voice, his hips shaking as he forced the warm wetness of your mouth down and up his swollen cock. He watched you drool and gag as he abused your throat, spit dripping from your chin and onto his heavy balls. His dark eyes watched as you struggled for him, for the sake of his pleasure, and he felt that familiar pressure building inside of him. You blinked up at him—vision blurred from tears—watching as his pretty face contorted with passion. The corners of his dark eyebrows were curved upwards and his swollen lips parted as he watched you so pliantly take his thick cock. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Choso moaned out desperately—sounding as if he were near crying—his hips jerking more erratically as he neared his release. His back arched as his body trembled against the cushions, his head thrown back once again as he panted and whimpered. “Gonna cum,” he cried out in the most pathetically erotic voice you had ever heard. “Gonna cum in your pretty mouth…” His hand had made a fist in your hair, holding your head steady now as he let his volatile thrusts push him over the edge.

virgin!Choso who pulled your face flush against his pelvis as his cock twitched and he released his cum deep into your throat with a sob. You watched the breathtaking sight before you through watery eyes; Choso’s body trembling above you, his neck—littered with blooming lovebites—stretched so beautifully as his head tipped against the back of the couch. He panted and whined your name and his hips bucked into your face with every rope of cum that spurted from his pulsing length, forcing you to swallow all of it.

He groaned as his cock finally stopped twitching and as his grip on your hair relaxed, letting your lips release his thick cock with a pop. You pulled back, breathing heavily as drool streamed down your chin, and your eyes were glossed over with tears. A thick strand of spit hung between your lips and Choso’s tip as the two of you struggled to regain your breath. With effort, Choso pulled his head up to look down at you and gave you a dizzy grin, panted laughs escaping from his chest as he reveled in the afterglow of his orgasm. He took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, and your glassy eyes as you smiled back at him; and he thought you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“How- How was that?” Choso asked breathlessly, his brain still too dazed to form a coherent sentence. You laughed in return, your eyes creasing in the corners and making him chuckle back at his own speechlessness. “You did so good, Choso," you praised him sweetly, wiping the residual drool from your chin and tears from your cheeks. "It was really hot... Watching you let go like that,” you admitted to him a little shyly as you helped pull his boxers back up his thighs, covering his half-hard cock back up (for now).

“How was it for you?” You asked him a little smugly as you smiled up at him, confident you knew his answer. Choso smirked lightly, rolling his eyes, but he still entertained your question.

“Incredible… I... Didn’t know it could feel that good,”  he admitted sincerely, still in disbelief at just how blissful you had made him feel. You smiled at him warmly and laughed as you rose to your feet, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. Choso watched you stand, his eyes gazing at you with adoration and contentment and a lazy grin plastered on his face. He patted his muscular thigh, suddenly feeling emboldened to show you just how grateful he was for you.

“Your turn..."

these just keep getting longer omg 😭 but I am having so much fun making this series more of a slow-burn and I hope you guys are enjoying as well 🫶

[quimichi]

❛ CUDDLING SOME GENSHIN BOYS ༉‧₊˚

Genshin boy's x Creator!Reader

Tighnari, Aether, Albedo, Venti & Zhongli

Tighnari

His muscles flex instinctively as you wrap your arms around him. It's so sudden and yet so perfect. His heart flutters, overwhelmed by everything this moment contains.

Youre pressed against his body, your soft lips grazing his neck as you whisper sweet nothings to each other. His pulse throbs, hot against your cheek, and he cannot help but hold you as close as he possibly can. He does not want you to leave. He craves only your touch. "So comfy..." you whisper into his neck.The warmth of your words leaves Tighnari dizzy. It feels like the first time he has heard such sweet words from your lips, and yet it is familiar. It is a kind of love he has always dreamt of sharing with you, and it is everything he has ever fantasized.

"Do you enjoy it?" his voice is whisper-soft, so low he can barely even say it himself. He cannot dare to speak any further, but his breathing is rapid as he clings to you. "A lot..."

Your admission causes his heart to swell and his ears twitch in enjoyment. The joy he feels washes over him like a wave, the pure, unadultered happiness one feels when all the stars align. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

"I'm glad"

Aether

Aether immediately leans further into you, pressing himself into your touch. He lets out a hum of happiness as he relaxes further into you, making himself comfortable and safe in your presence. He breathes in your scent and his smile grows. After a quiet moment, the traveler glances up at you, his head burried in your chest, and tilts his head, seemingly curious. "You seem to be enjoying yourself" you giggle as you gently stroke his hair. "Mmm..." Aether murmurs, nodding a little in response. "It's hard not to when I'm in your embrace." Aethers expression softens even more as he leans his head into your hand—his body seems magnetically drawn to yours, his whole life lived in pursuit of your touch.

He relaxes almost immediately. The travelers expression becomes a content smile, as if the world has finally returned to normal.

Thank you, his eyes say to you; only you.

Albedo

His heart skips a beat as you snuggle up to him, and he glances down at you with a slightly stunned expression.

Your physical affection isn't as formal as the words of praise that he offers, but it warms him to his core. He doesn't think that he has ever felt so happy. Albedo gazes down at you as you doze, his expression filled with affection and love.

His lips curl upwards gently, and he runs a hand through your hair. The soft strands are delicate against his fingertips, and he can't keep himself from kissing your forehead.

You've caught his heart, as if it were a butterfly in a jar. "Love this" you mumble tiredly. He smiles, but he doesn't speak. He holds you close, relishing the sensation of your body beside his. His arms are wrapped around you, and he runs his fingers through your hair again. He traces the contours of your face, as if he wants to memorize you.

"Agreed"

Venti

Venti nestles his head into your chest, contented to breathe in your warmth as he wraps his arms around you tightly. His touch is light and tender, but he does not want to let go. It makes him dizzy with elation, just being this close to you. But letting go? There's no way...Venti hides a smile beneath you, his lips curling into a shy shape. He shifts his body slightly, burrowing his head into your chest and using you as a pillow. Being so close to you allows him to hear your heartbeat... It's one of his most cherished sounds.

"I love being in your embrace," he answers contentedly, "I love your heartbeat— it's music in my ears. There is nowhere in this world that would make me happier than to be within your embrace... I want to be here, this close to you, for as long as we both shall live."

He presses his lips against your skin on your chest. It is a mark of his affection. He does it again and again, smiling as he kisses you.

Zhongli

The feeling of your arms and warmth is as addicting as a drug. When Zhongli finally finds himself in your embrace, he's quick to wrap his arms in kind. Zhongli closes his eyes, content to breathe in the scent of your scent; the scent of your hair. His fingers gently brush your jawline, caressing the smoothness of your skin.

This is enough to make him forget everything. In this moment, nothing matters except for the two of you. "Yours," The word is barely above a whisper, barely audible at all. As he shifts in your arms, his breath catches between his teeth. He presses himself close; close enough that it feels like his chest will crack open.

The touch of your fingertips on his skin has him trembling involuntarily. His eyes close when you gently caress him, as though the touch sets the entire world alight, every nerve in his body tingling.

"Yours," he says again, this time almost pleading. " 'm all yours"

[venny-the-chubbyblack-writer]

Title: The Smile Worth Waiting For

Summery: your sanemi’s gf who’s emotionless and he’s trying to get you to smile.

Tw: none

---

Sanemi Shinazugawa had always been known for his rough demeanor, sharp tongue, and fierce dedication to his duties as a Hashira. But lately, his fellow Hashira had noticed a change in him. He had been skipping out on training sessions, and his absences had become more frequent. Curious and concerned, they decided to investigate.

One day, when Sanemi once again missed a group training session, the Hashira secretly followed him. They trailed him through the streets, keeping a safe distance, until they found themselves outside a small hospital. Their eyes widened as they watched Sanemi enter, carrying a bouquet of flowers—your favorite flowers.

Inside the hospital, you sat by the window, your expression as blank as always. No matter what Sanemi did, your face remained emotionless, your eyes dull and distant. You had been like this for as long as he had known you, and though he loved you deeply, it pained him that he could never make you smile.

Sanemi approached you with a gentle smile of his own, the flowers extended toward you. "I brought you your favorites," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically tender.

You took the flowers, staring at them for a moment before placing them on the table beside you. "Thank you," you murmured, but your voice lacked any emotion.

Sanemi's smile faltered, and the Hashira watching from the doorway felt their hearts ache for him. He had tried everything—your favorite flowers, your favorite foods, even recounting funny stories from his missions—yet nothing seemed to break through the wall of emotionlessness you had built around yourself.

Later that evening, after Sanemi had left the hospital, the Hashira gathered in secret.

"We have to do something," Mitsuri Kanroji said, her voice filled with determination. "Sanemi cares about her so much, and it’s heartbreaking to see him like this."

"Agreed," Tengen Uzui added. "We can’t just stand by and watch him suffer."

The group devised a plan to help you smile, believing that perhaps Sanemi just needed a little push. Over the next few days, they subtly worked their magic. They arranged for small things they knew you liked—notes of encouragement, a visit from a gentle stray cat, or even little surprises hidden in your room.

The next day, Sanemi arrived at the hospital as usual, carrying a box of your favorite pastries. "I thought you might like these," he said, setting them on the table in front of you.

You looked at the pastries, then up at him. For a moment, something flickered in your eyes—something Sanemi hadn’t seen before. Slowly, your lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

Sanemi's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. "You’re smiling," he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "You’re really smiling…"

Without thinking, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a soft, tender kiss that conveyed all the love and longing he had kept inside. When he pulled back, he saw that your smile had grown, just a little, but enough to make his heart soar.

From behind the door, the Hashira couldn’t contain their joy. They cheered softly, Mitsuri clasping her hands together in delight, while Tengen gave a thumbs-up to the others.

Sanemi turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he realized they had been there the whole time. "Oi! What the hell are you all doing here?!" he shouted, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

But instead of reacting angrily, you chuckled—a sound so soft and unexpected that it made everyone freeze. It was the first time they had heard you laugh, and the sound was like music to Sanemi’s ears.

He turned back to you, his expression softening instantly. "I guess I have them to thank for this, huh?" he muttered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You nodded, still smiling, and reached out to take his hand. "Thank you," you said quietly, your voice warmer than it had ever been before.

Sanemi squeezed your hand gently, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and happiness. He turned back to the doorway, where the Hashira were still gathered, and despite his earlier outburst, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at them. "Fine," he sighed, "but next time, stay out of my business."

The Hashira grinned, their plan a success, and left the two of you alone. As they walked away, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment—they had helped one of their own, and in doing so, had witnessed a rare and precious moment of happiness.

And as for Sanemi, he had finally found the smile he had been waiting for, the smile that made every effort, every moment of worry, worth it.

———

I love thisss😍😍

[anyca786]

Mikealson Siblings taking care of Pregnant!reader

The afternoon sun streamed through the arched windows of the Mikaelson compound, casting dappled shadows across the plush sofa where you sat. Your hand rested on your swollen belly, tracing the faint outline of a tiny foot that seemed determined to imprint itself on your skin. A sigh escaped your lips, laced with a curious mix of exhaustion and awe. Being pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson's child was an experience unlike any other.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?"

Elijah, your best friend's voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He knelt down, his gentle eyes crinkling at the corners as he placed a cool hand on your cheek.

"Sore feet?" he asked, his gaze flickering down to your ankles where you idly rubbed them.

As if summoned, Elijah began to gently massage your feet, his touch a soothing balm against the constant ache. "The joys of motherhood," he chuckled softly. "Even before the little one arrives."

"You should see Rebekah skipping around like a mother hen," you said with a laugh.

Ever since the news, Rebekah had taken it upon herself to become your personal nutritionist. Bowls of fresh fruit seemed to magically appear by your side, and gentle reminders to stay hydrated were delivered with an endearing bossiness.

Suddenly, the library door slammed open, and Kol burst in, brandishing a book. He skidded to a halt when he saw you. "Apologies, darling," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes vanishing instantly as he took in your weary expression. "Didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"

You couldn't help but melt under his sudden concern. The Mikaelson siblings, notorious for their chaotic lives, were turning into a symphony of attentiveness for you. "Just a little tired, Kol," you assured him, a smile returning to your face. His brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed over as he noticed a stray strand of hair clinging to your cheek. With a gesture so tender it surprised even him, he brushed it away.

A deep, booming voice resonated through the room, "Elijah, have you located the witch Davina spoke of?"

Klaus stalked into the library, his scowl fading the moment he spotted you. As he drew closer, his voice softened to a near murmur. "Have you eaten anything yet, love?"

You fought back a giggle. "Yes, Klaus, just some fruit Rebekah insisted upon."

He hovered for a moment, his gaze flitting across your face. "Did you rest well last night?"

You nodded, touched by the worry etched on his usually stoic face. Klaus wasn't known for his displays of affection, but ever since you carried his child, a tenderness he couldn't quite mask lingered in his blue eyes. He cleared his throat, the familiar Klaus returning momentarily.

"Excellent. We don't need any unnecessary fatigue while dealing with this archaic prophecy."

He turned to face Elijah, resuming their previous conversation. However, his words were punctuated by occasional glances your way, each one a silent confirmation of his concern.

The next few weeks were a blur of doctor's appointments, cravings for bizarre combinations of food, and endless debates about the nursery.

Elijah, the undisputed planner, had already sketched out several designs, each more elaborate than the last. Rebekah, however, preferred a more minimalist approach, arguing for practicality over aesthetics. Kol, surprisingly, became the voice of reason, mediating their arguments with witty commentary and unexpected insights.

Klaus, though typically absent from these discussions, always managed to appear moments before a decision was made. His vetoes, delivered with a gruffness that belied his softening heart, were invariably accepted. The nursery, a haven of soft hues and elegant simplicity, was a testament to his unspoken desire to create a safe haven for his child.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself curled up on the chaise lounge in Rebekah's room, a book clutched limply in your hand. Fatigue weighed heavily on your eyelids, threatening to pull you under. You drowsily watched rain lash against the window, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

The sound of the door creaking open startled you awake. Rebekah entered, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "You shouldn't be reading in such dim light, love," she chided gently, setting a steaming cup on the side table. "And here I thought Klaus told you to take a nap."

"He did," you mumbled, reaching for the cup. The warm aroma of chamomile filled your senses, instantly calming you further.

"He's just worried sick," Rebekah said, settling beside you on the chaise lounge. "We all are."

This was so random 💀

[charlesslut16]

-He's sick-

summary : Sebastian is sick and you and yourk kids do everythingf you can to help him recover...

PAIRING : sebastian vettel x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you like this!

december masterlist ; masterlist   

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You woke up to the sound of gentle sniffles coming from your husband, Sebastian's, side of your shared bed. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on his face as he stirred restlessly.

He was clearly not feeling well, and it was evident from the way he shifted uncomfortably under the blankets. Either he threw them away, because he was hot or the other way around, he held the blanket to him, as he was cold.

"Seb, my darling, are you okay?" you murmured concerned, reaching out to feel his forehead. It was warm, not alarmingly so, but enough to confirm that he had definitely caught a sickness bug.

Sebastian's voice was hoarse as he responded, "I think I've got a little bug, my love, nothing major."

Your heart went out to him. He rarely felt ill, but when he did, it was like the world had turned upside down. Today was supposed to be a relaxed day with the kids, full of fun and activities.

But plans needed to change now, and you were determined to make it as comfortable for him as possible. He needed to recover swiftly, because you hated when he felt off.

"Okay, my love, don't worry. I'll take care of everything," you assured him, gently kissing his forehead before slipping out of bed. Today was his day to do absolutely nothing but relax.

First things first: a comforting and tasteful breakfast for your loving but ill husband. You prepared a pot of steaming hot tea, a bowl of chicken soup, and some toast.

The aroma wafted through the whole house, and even though Sebastian's appetite was subdued through his sickness, he managed a few sips of tea and a spoonful of soup.

Meanwhile, the kids, full of boundless energy, burst into the room with wide eyes and curious expressions. They were confused that Daddy wasn't there in the morning to wake them up.

"Is Daddy sick?" your youngest asked, concern etched on their little face.

You nodded, crouching down to their level.

"Yes, sweetheart, Daddy's not feeling well today. We need to make sure he gets lots of rest and feels better soon, so we can play and have lots of fun as we had planned, okay?"

Their little heads bobbed in agreement to your statement, and with that, the mission to cheer up Daddy began. The whole day would be devoted to helping daddy feel better.

Throughout the day, the house was transformed into a makeshift haven of love and care. The kids gather their toys and books, setting up a cozy nest beside the bed.

They brought their favorite stuffed animals to keep Sebastian company and insisted on reading stories aloud, their voices a melodic chorus that filled the room.

You brewed more tea for your husband, bringing it in a cheerful mug with a bright smile. Even if you didn't want to admit it, secretly you loved taking care of Sebastian.

"Honey, I made you some herbal tea. It'll help soothe your throat."

Sebastian's lips curled into a weak smile, touched by the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, love."

The day unfolds with a blend of tender moments and laughter. The kids created handmade "Get Well Soon" cards, decorating them with colorful drawings and heartfelt messages. They sang songs, trying to make up lyrics that would magically cure Daddy's sickness.

As evening approached, you prepared a simple yet nourishing dinner. Nothing fancy, just comforting food that might entice Sebastian's appetite. He managed to eat a little, and though his spirits were low, the love and care surrounding him uplifted his mood.

Before bedtime, you gathered the kids around for a family hug. "Let's send Daddy lots of healing hugs and positive thoughts so he feels better tomorrow," you suggested, and the kids nodded enthusiastically, wrapping their little arms around Sebastian.

As the day winded down and the kids drifted off to sleep, you tucked them in, whispering promises of a brighter tomorrow. Turning to Sebastian, you saw him looking at you with gratitude shining in his tired eyes.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispered, his voice still raspy.

"It's what we do for our loved ones," you replied softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You just focus on getting better, okay?"

And as the night settled in, you lied beside Sebastian, holding his hand as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, surrounded by the love of his family. Tomorrow would bring a new day, hopefully, one where the sickness bug had bid adieu, leaving behind memories of a day filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support.

[songbirdseung]

hold your peace / lee heeseung

synopsis: watching the one you love being wedded to someone else.

pairing: ex-lovers heeseung and reader

warning: sadness and then sadness and then more sadness, fluff at the end, i promise.

wc: 2k

In the heart of a quaint town nestled amidst rolling hills and whispering trees stood a venerable old church, its weathered stones bearing the weight of centuries of prayers and whispered confessions. Within its hallowed halls, amidst the flickering candlelight and the solemn hymns, YN found herself seated in one of the wooden pews, her gaze fixed upon the altar where Heeseung, her once-beloved, stood exchanging vows with another.

The echoes of memories danced around her, haunting whispers of a love that once bloomed like the roses in the churchyard, now withered and forgotten. YN's heart ached as she watched Heeseung, his eyes alight with joy as he clasped hands with his bride. How she longed to be the one standing by his side, to feel his touch, to hear his voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the quiet park where Heeseung and YN sat side by side on a weathered bench, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. They were just teenagers then, their hearts as untamed as the wind that swept through the trees, yet already they knew that their bond was something rare and precious. Heeseung's hand brushed against YN's as they shared stolen glances beneath the fading light, his gaze soft and earnest as he spoke. "You know, YN, I've been thinking…" "What is it, Heeseung?" YN asked, turning to face him with a curious smile playing upon her lips. "I think… I think we're meant to be each other's end games," Heeseung said, his voice barely above a whisper as if afraid to speak the words aloud. YN's heart skipped a beat at his words, her breath catching in her throat. "End games?" Heeseung nodded, his eyes shining with a determination that belied his tender age. "Yeah, you know, like in those movies we watch. The ones where the two people are meant to be together no matter what happens. That's us, YN. We're each other's end games." A soft smile tugged at YN's lips as she reached out to take Heeseung's hand in hers, their fingers intertwining like vines in a hidden garden. "I like the sound of that, Heeseung. You and me, against the world." Heeseung's grin widened at her words, his heart swelling with a love so fierce it threatened to consume him whole. "And YN, one day… one day, I'm going to marry you. I promise." YN's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against Heeseung's ear. "I'll hold you to that, Heeseung. I'll hold you to that." And in that fleeting moment, beneath the fading light of the setting sun, Heeseung and YN made a vow to each other that would echo through the corridors of time. For they knew that their love was not bound by the constraints of reality but rather by the unyielding force of destiny, guiding them ever closer to their shared end game of forever.

But fate had other plans, tearing them apart like pages ripped from a cherished book. YN's mind wandered back to the days when they first met, a chance encounter in the bustling streets of the town square. Heeseung had been a beacon of light in her dark world, his smile a balm to her wounded soul. They had shared dreams and secrets beneath the stars, promising each other forever in whispered vows of love.

Yet, as swiftly as the seasons changed, so too did their love unravel. Distance and time became their adversaries, tearing at the fragile threads that bound them together. And despite their desperate attempts to cling to what they once had, the inevitable tide of life swept them apart, leaving YN adrift in a sea of loneliness and regret.

Now, as she sat in the quiet sanctuary of the church, YN couldn't help but wonder what could have been. Would they have found their way back to each other if circumstances had been different? Or was their love nothing more than a fleeting moment in the tapestry of time?

As Heeseung stood at the altar, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes scanned the crowded church until they landed on YN, sitting amidst the congregation. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as he gazed at her, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn't expected to see her there, a haunting reminder of the past he had tried so hard to forget.

A wave of sadness washed over Heeseung as he realized that YN was not meant to be a guest at this wedding but rather the bride by his side. His mother's fondness for YN had prompted the invitation, a gesture of kindness that now felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Heeseung's gaze lingered on YN, his mind drifting back to the days when they had dreamed of a future together, promising each other forever beneath the stars. How different things might have been if they had stayed true to those vows, if he had been brave enough to defy the odds and follow his heart.

But now, as he stood on the precipice of a new beginning, Heeseung knew that he had to let go of the past and embrace the future that lay before him. With a heavy sigh, he tore his gaze away from YN and forced himself to focus on the ceremony unfolding before him.

Just as he began to regain his composure, the priest cleared his throat, drawing Heeseung's attention back to the present. He offered a sheepish apology, blaming his momentary lapse in concentration on nerves.

The priest chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Ah, young love. It has a way of making even the bravest among us tremble with fear. But fear not, my son. For love conquers all, even nerves on a wedding day."

Heeseung managed a weak smile in response, grateful for the priest's lighthearted jest. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just witnessed a glimpse of the life he could have had with YN, a life that now existed only in the shadows of his memories. YN's heart clenched at the sight, tears shimmering in her eyes like pearls in the morning dew. She knew then that she had lost him forever, condemned to forever be a silent observer in the theater of his life.

As the ceremony continued, YN found herself overcome with a flood of emotions, tears welling up in her eyes like raindrops on a stormy night. She tried to blink them away, to hide the ache in her heart behind a veil of smiles, but the weight of her unspoken sorrow threatened to consume her.

To those around her, it seemed as though YN was shedding tears of joy, her emotions overflowing at the sight of her dear friend finding happiness. But Heeseung's mother, seated beside her, knew the truth behind those glistening tears. With a gentle understanding born of a mother's intuition, she reached out and pulled YN into a tender side hug, offering silent comfort in her time of need.

YN leaned into the embrace, grateful for the warmth and compassion of Heeseung's mother. In that moment, she felt a sense of solace amidst the turmoil of her emotions, knowing that she was not alone in her silent grief.

Across the aisle, Heeseung couldn't help but steal a glance at YN, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks. He longed to reach out to her, to wipe away her tears and whisper words of reassurance, but he knew that he had no right to intrude upon her pain.

While Heeseung's heart was torn between the past and the present, his bride, unaware of the turmoil within him, cast a sidelong glance in his direction, her brow furrowed with concern. She had noticed his momentary lapse in focus, his gaze lingering on someone in the crowd, and it stirred a flicker of annoyance within her.

As the ceremony progressed, she leaned in close to Heeseung, her voice a hushed whisper against his ear. "Is everything alright, Heeseung? You seem distracted."

Heeseung forced a smile, his mind still lingering on YN and the memories they had shared. "I'm fine. Just lost in the moment, that's all."

As the priest's solemn voice echoed through the hallowed halls of the church, announcing the pivotal moment in the ceremony, a heavy silence descended upon the congregation.

Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

All eyes turned towards the altar, anticipation hanging thick in the air like the scent of incense. Heeseung's heart pounded in his chest as he glanced back and forth between YN and his bride, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. In that fleeting moment, he felt the weight of a thousand regrets pressing down upon him, each one urging him to speak the words that had been left unspoken for far too long.

Just as the priest was about to continue, his lips parting to recite the sacred vows that would bind Heeseung and his bride together for eternity, Heeseung's voice rang out, clear and resolute in the silence.

"I… I have something to say."

The congregation held its breath as Heeseung took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. His eyes locked with YN's, a silent plea lingering in their depths, begging for understanding.

"I… I cannot continue with this marriage," Heeseung declared, his voice trembling with emotion. "I cannot pledge my life to someone when my heart belongs to another."

Gasps of shock rippled through the church as Heeseung's confession hung in the air like a heavy fog. His bride's eyes widened in disbelief, her hand flying to her mouth in a gesture of stunned silence.

But amidst the chaos, amidst the whispers and the murmurs of disbelief, YN remained perfectly still, her gaze locked with Heeseung's, a single tear shimmering in the corner of her eye.

For in that moment, she knew that the love they had shared had never truly died, that the bond between them was stronger than the vows spoken in haste and the promises made in vain. And as Heeseung stepped down from the altar and made his way towards her, his heart laid bare for all to see, YN reached out and took his hand in hers, silently promising to stand by his side through whatever trials lay ahead.

As Heeseung's supposed bride's voice rose in a crescendo of anger and disbelief, her words cutting through the air like a knife, Heeseung's family remained steadfast in their support. His parents, sibling, and relatives stood by his side, their expressions a mixture of determination and defiance in the face of opposition.

Heeseung's supposed father-in-law joined the chorus of protests, his voice booming with indignation as he demanded an explanation for this sudden betrayal. But Heeseung's family remained unmoved, their loyalty unwavering as they stood united in their belief that love should never be sacrificed on the altar of convention.

"You can't do this, Heeseung! You made a commitment to me!" she cried, her voice cracking with emotion as she struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

Heeseung's supposed father-in-law joined in the fray, his face flushed with rage as he pointed an accusatory finger at Heeseung. "You're making a grave mistake, boy! You'll regret this for the rest of your life!"

But amidst the cacophony of voices, Heeseung remained steadfast, his gaze fixed upon YN, his heart unyielding in its resolve. As he reached her side, he took her hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm.

"I'm sorry, YN," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned to face her. "I couldn't go through with it. Not when my heart belongs to you."

YN's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up at Heeseung, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude. "I understand, Heeseung. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

Amidst the chaos, Heeseung's mother stepped forward, her voice calm yet firm as she addressed the gathering. "Love cannot be forced, nor can it be contained within the confines of tradition. Our son has made his choice, and we stand by him, regardless of the consequences."

Heeseung's father nodded in agreement, his gaze steady as he met the accusing stares of those who questioned their decision. "We raised our son to follow his heart, to be true to himself above all else. And if his heart leads him to YN, then so be it."

Heeseung's supposed bride's protests faltered in the face of such unwavering conviction. With a final glare directed at Heeseung and YN, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the church, her dreams of a fairytale wedding shattered by the harsh reality of love's unpredictable whims.

As the dust settled and the echoes of the confrontation faded away, Heeseung stood beside YN, his hand clasped tightly in hers, a sense of peace washing over him like a gentle breeze. For in that moment, surrounded by the love and support of his family, he knew that he had made the right choice, that true love was worth any sacrifice, no matter how great.

And as they walked out of the church together, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, Heeseung and YN knew that their love was a force to be reckoned with, a bond that could withstand even the harshest storms. For in the end, love always finds a way, lighting the path towards a future filled with hope, promise, and the sweetest kind of redemption.

For sometimes, love is not measured by the grand gestures or the elaborate ceremonies, but by the courage to speak the truth and follow the heart's deepest desires, no matter the cost. And in the quiet sanctuary of the church, amidst the echoes of a love that refused to be silenced, Heeseung and YN found their own happily ever after, bound together by the timeless threads of fate and the unyielding power of true love.

As the dust settled and the echoes of the confrontation faded away, Heeseung and YN found themselves standing outside the church, the cool breeze of the evening wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. They turned to each other, their eyes locking in a silent exchange of understanding and gratitude.

Heeseung was the first to speak, his voice filled with emotion as he reached out to cup YN's cheek tenderly. "You remember what I told you, right? That I'd marry you and only you."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of YN's lips as she leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with affection. "Yeah, I remember. You almost did, didn't you?"

Heeseung's expression softened as he shook his head, his eyes glistening with sincerity. "It wasn't by choice, YN. You know that. I never wanted to hurt you."

YN reached out and took Heeseung's hand in hers, squeezing it gently as she met his gaze with unwavering understanding. "I know, Heeseung. And I'm not blaming you. Sometimes life just has a way of throwing us curveballs."

Heeseung nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized that YN harbored no ill will towards him. "I'm just glad you're here, YN. With me."

YN's smile widened as she leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss to Heeseung's lips. "Me too, Heeseung. Me too."

And as they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, Heeseung and YN knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, hand in hand, united in their love and their unwavering commitment to each other. For in the end, their bond was stronger than any obstacle, a beacon of hope and resilience in a world filled with uncertainty.

[foxy-eva]

Morning Cuddles

Summary: Spencer is late for work but morning cuddles with his girlfriend are more important than being on time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff 

Content Warning: cuddling, kissing, Spencer gets teased at work, Derek makes a suggestive comment

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

“Goodbye, sleepy girl,” Spencer whispered as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

He has been standing by your bedside for several moments, admiring your sleeping form  with an accelerated heartbeat. Even though the morning sun was already tickling your eyelids, you couldn't be bothered to fully wake up just yet. You knew Spencer had to leave earlier than you but even half-asleep every fiber of your body longed to have him close just a few moments longer. 

Instead of answering him, you just whined with your eyes still closed and reached out to grab his arm. He began laughing when he realized that you were pulling him back into bed. 

Only when you finally had him inside your arms did you realize that he was already fully dressed in his work attire. You felt him tenderly kiss your cheek before your eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking the remains of last night's sleep away.

The warmth his golden irises radiated was unlike anything you had ever seen. It reminded you of the color of honey dripping from greedy fingers and you felt the need to chase the sweetness nature had to offer. Your fingertips gently brushed through his curls while your lips found his to soothe your longing for his saccharine taste. 

It was not enough though. All your drowsiness left your body as you pressed against him, greedy to take all of him in. The fabric of his dress-shirt hindered you from accessing his tenderness and you began whining in protest as you tugged on it. 

“I’m gonna be late for work,” Spencer breathed against your lips. 

Finally you managed to pull his shirt out from the waistband of his pants, just enough for your hand to sneak underneath it to feel his stomach. Your fingertips wandered over his skin in circular patterns, brushing over the little trail of hair underneath his navel before moving further up until you could feel his heartbeat. 

"Just a little longer," you begged him between kisses. 

It was then that Spencer couldn't hold back his own eagerness any longer. His palms began gliding over your body as if he tried to memorize every curve and dip of your skin. You were both aware that this act could have easily shifted into something more sinful but that was not what either of you yearned for in that moment. 

Perfectly innocent you explored each other's bodies with palms gliding over skin and fingertips burying into the softness they found. Every piece of fabric that got in the way was shoved aside, not caring about what that would do to neatly ironed work clothes. Almost forgotten were other duties, the only thing that mattered right then was feeling each other's nearness. 

“Okay, you can go now," you finally whispered. "Sorry for making you late."

“No," Spencer protested when you attempted to pull away. "I'm not done yet."

His lips were on yours in an instant while the grip he had on your body tightened. With his legs intertwined with yours it became impossible to tell where your body ended and his began. His hands were curious as they glided over your sides, only slowing down once your skin broke out in goosebumps. 

Spencer leaned back to find your eyes before showering your entire face with little kisses. His adorable way of showing affection made you giggle and he joined in with his own sounds of joy. When he looked at you once more you couldn't help but admire the beauty of the man in front of you. 

"You're so beautiful," you whispered as you reached out your hand to touch his cheek. 

A rosy shade spread over his face at the compliment and it took him a second to find his voice again. 

"You're beautiful." Another kiss was placed on your lips before he cooed, "You're stunning, gorgeous, absolutely flawless."

You glanced over to your nightstand to look at the clock, realizing that Spencer should have left ten minutes ago. With your hands against his shoulders you managed to basically shove him out of your bed. 

"You really need to go now. You’re gonna get in trouble because of me," you told him once he was back on his feet. 

With the sweetest smile spread over his cheeks he purred, "Worth it."

You watched him as he undid his belt and pants to tuck the edges of his shirt back in, attempting to straighten out all the crinkles you had created with your hands roaming over his body. Even with all his effort Spencer couldn't make it look like before.

"You don't happen to own an iron, do you?" He asked when he looked at himself in the mirror. "I only brought this one shirt when I came over last night."

"Sorry, I don't. Do you think anyone will notice?"

He just shrugged before trying to fix his unruly curls to make his look more appropriate for work. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of this endearing out-of-bed look. 

"I think you look amazing even with messy hair and a crinkly shirt," you snickered.

He turned to you and just smiled at your words before checking his watch again, sighing, "Yup, I'm definitely gonna be late."

"If you run really fast you might disrupt the space-time continuum enough to still make it in time."

He raised his eyebrows at you and chuckled, "A physics joke? Wow, you really are perfect." 

After placing another goodbye kiss on your lips he finally made it out of your apartment. His heart was still pounding harder than usual on his way to work and he slowly realized just how much of a besotted fool he had become since meeting you. Spencer was head over heels in love with you and couldn't have been happier about that. 

When he walked into the conference room at the BAU everyone was already waiting for him. 

"Sorry, I overslept," Spencer lied as he sat down at the table. 

It only took a split second for Derek to scan his looks and laugh, "Overslept with who exactly? I knew you would make us proud someday, pretty boy!"

Spencer's thoughts raced to the images of you sleeping peacefully in your bed this morning. The smile forming on his face was impossible to hide, giving away that there actually was someone who had made him late. 

"My man!" Derek almost yelled at Spencer's reaction to his teasing. "I was joking but I think you actually got lucky this morning!"

Spencer's fingertips began tingling when he remembered the sensation of your tender skin underneath them. And even if it was a lot more innocent than Derek implied, he really did feel like the luckiest man now that he had you.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story you should check out my other blurb about soft morning cuddles Sleepy Golden Storm!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17

[loaksky]

— 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦

the lowdown — the one where you and neteyam are a sure thing. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.5k

the tags & warnings — none other than possible language! this is just really sappy & self-indulgent lmao, childhood bffs2l, both parties are so in love but SCARED.

the notes — based off of this request! got a lil carried away bc i love neteyam <3

masterlist

Everyone would argue that you and Neteyam are written in the stars. 

You two had been whispered about far before your coming of age, at the start of your youth when they’d notice that Neteyam was extra soft and you were extra shy. And it had been natural, really. He was the olo’eyktan’s son, and you were the sweet daughter of the olo’eyktan’s most cherished friend and dearest partner in crime. 

At first Neteyam had vehemently denied it, cheeks flushing at the mere mention of your name, but after many sweet moments, you’d grown so much on him, he couldn’t hide his fondness even if he tried. 

You were charming and resolved growing up, often times spending afternoons reading under the shade of leafy plants near the edge of the village. It’s the same spot Neteyam would pass on his journeys into the forest, unable to contain his smile as he sees the faint indent of where you’d lay outlined in the grass. 

You were an eager learner, going through lab materials and borrowed media from Norm and Max who’d visit the village every once in a while. You’d applied a lot of what you learned to your practice, training under Mo’at, Neytiri, and your mother in the chance that one day you’d lead the clan in their spiritual endeavors. 

It was one of the things that Neteyam admired most about you, your quiet drive. Your passion and your commitment to your craft. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but feed into it, into you. 

He’d hound the scientists in the lab for more content for you, would come back with stacks and stacks of books that would make your cheeks warm. And he’d hand bind you journals, fashion you utensils and smash various fruits and petals to a fine paste for you to compile your findings. 

There wasn’t a thing that Neteyam wouldn’t do for you, any lengths he wouldn’t travel just to see you beam up at him with that radiant smile. Neteyam could admit wholeheartedly that he was whipped. 

“Thanks, Teyam,” you’d say gently, arms winding around his waist in a crushing hug. “Appreciate you.” 

His breath would hitch and he’d just grin. 

It didn’t help that you were so achingly beautiful, made his throat bob every time a gleam of sun would refract over your dimpled cheeks. Made his cheeks warm and his body freeze when your skin, soft and smooth, would brush his in accidental touches. 

There was only one small little issue. 

It was a conversation he’d try and fail to have with you multiple times over the course of your adolescence and into your young adulthood. At first, it was unspoken, he was certain it was the two of you for life, but as you trained and passed your rite, the final piece to your coming of age was fast approaching; selecting someone to spend your time with. 

He was a year your senior and the rumor mill was alight with buzz. He hadn’t chosen someone on the night of his feast, had suspended the selection in favor of urging everyone that the timing wasn’t right. 

This didn’t deter a number of fine women from the village taking their chances, advance after gutsy advance that would always end with the sound declaration that he was already waiting for someone. 

That had only solidified the village’s theory about the two of you, that he was holding out for you, waiting until you chose him right back to claim you as his own. It was a sweet thing, most of them felt, would cast tender looks every time the two of you would interact under their watchful gazes. 

But you were a creature of habit, didn’t like being under such prying eyes, yet too nice to let it be known. Neteyam knew, though. Would steer clear of curious glances, would spend whatever free time he had soaking up every moment with you in the shield of the forest. 

He was a strong man with only one weakness: you. 

He’d thought he made himself clear with that, thought that everyone knew that you were spoken for and it was his mighty word, but he comes to find out that there are many young men who’ve been lingering, waiting for any opportunity. 

This much he notices when an especially buff warrior with a narrow waist and broad shoulders emerges from the outskirts and starts hanging around a little more often. 

Ku’aro, Neteyam thinks his name is. 

It had started off innocent, a small thanks for a healing session Mo’at and your mother let you lead when he hurt himself in a hunting party, but Neteyam knew better than to think that no other man would succumb to your charms. 

It continued with bundles of flowers, fruits, little trinkets Ku’aro would surprise you with when Neteyam had other responsibilities he had to tend to. And it wouldn’t have bothered him as much if he’d never seen the little gifts again, but you’re too sweet for your own good, displaying them on the same ledge in your tent.

They take up room next to every one of his thoughtful gestures and the thought of sharing your attention with another man makes him prickle with envy. 

But he could live with it if it made you happy, could push aside his pride and keep his irritation mum if the gift-giving was all it was. But now Ku’aro is starting to chisel into his time with you, stealing you away for walks through the forest, swims in the river. 

And it makes him absolutely seethe, makes him exceptionally angry every time you emerge from the brush with Ku’aro hot on your heels. His mind races and he can’t help the sick thought of you being with someone who isn’t him seep into every crevice of his brain. 

Had you two ever…kissed? You weren’t the type of girl, but things change and he’s not above admitting that he’s as jealous as they come. 

“Something wrong, Teyam?” you ask, looking up from your book. 

He’s sighed for the fourth time in the hour, fidgeting so uncomfortably that you’ve been rereading the same sentence for the past ten minutes because you can’t concentrate. 

His tense shoulders relax when he meets your viscous gaze, lips parting because the forest is darkening with the impending eclipse and you look so soft and glowy. 

He clears his throat. 

“No,” he coughs. “All good.” 

You don’t seem to buy it, head tilting as you inspect your friend carefully, book dog-eared and set off to the side as you shuffle nearer. 

The aroma of herbs and spice, the tang of petals, surrounds him as you press a hand to his forehead, the other to his chest. 

You have to feel it, the way his heart is pounding audaciously. 

“Your heart’s beating fast, Teyam,” you observe. “And you’re warm.” 

“S’just a little hot,” he swallows, hands circling your wrists to pry your touch away. 

You lean back on your haunches, still in his grasp as you peer up at his pinched expression. 

In all your years of closely orbiting the olo’eyktan’s son, you know that something weighs heavy on his mind. He bears a great burden regardless, but something is different this time around. 

“We’re friends, Teyam,” you say tenderly. He could literally melt. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Of course he could, you’re the most understanding person he knows, the purest of hearts. But he doesn’t want to spook you, scare you into resignation by interrogating your budding relationship with Ku’aro. 

So he treads carefully. 

“Your selection feast is approaching,” he says breathily, blinking down at you. 

You mull over it for a moment, a smile spreading over your full lips. 

“It is,” you agree, pulling away to toy with your fingers.

A few prolonged lapses of silence pass before Neteyam continues to try and fill in the gaps. 

“Have you…” He shrugs. “…thought of someone yet?” 

Of course you had, you’d know it from the very beginning, no second thoughts needed. It had always been you and Neteyam since the beginning, thick as thieves. 

There have been many things you’ve been uncertain of growing up, but there’s one thing that you’re sure of, and it’s that Neteyam is your end game. 

“I have,” you hum simply. 

He waits with bated breath, eyes unblinking. 

You don’t continue and he’s opening his mouth to ask you to clarify, but the brush starts rustling and Ku’aro’s emerging. 

He wants to let out the most frustrated groan of disapproval when Ku’aro’s eyes light up. Wants to grill you more but knows that he’ll have to wait who knows how long before he can get you alone to press again. 

But what he doesn’t know is that the looming feast is your grand gesture, the occasion you’ve been mustering your courage for for years. You like to think it’s the least he deserves after years of his blatant displays of affection. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” Ku’aro asks, holding up a woven bag of what smells like spartan fruits. 

Your eyes flit to Neteyam’s and he can see the promise that lingers there as your hands squeezes his gently. 

“See you soon,” you say, collecting your things before standing to your feet. 

He knows you mean it, knows that you never make a promise that you can’t keep, but he can’t help the feeling of dread that coils tight in the pit of his stomach.

Ku’aro stands a little too close as you two walk through the forest, eating the spartan fruits that he’d picked before he sought you out. 

“I have to ask you something,” he says, after a pregnant pause. 

You turn just in time for him to nearly barrel into you, strong hands coming to right your stance. You stomach knots when you notice he’s close, eyes gentle and glowing as he gazes down at you. 

“Yeah?” you peep, body tense as his fingers skim your biceps, down your forearms and clasp your hands. 

You’d held hands with Neteyam countless times, had spent so much time in his space, that the touch of another isn’t lost on you, but this makes you feel queasy. 

You ease away. 

“I need to be courageous,” he says. “I know your selection feast is approaching and…” 

You know what he’s going to say. You’ve dreaded it this entire time, hoped that village gossip and the copious amounts of time you’d spend with Neteyam would be the glaringly obvious sign that you weren’t interested in anything beyond a friendship. 

“Ku’aro…” you sigh and his face falls a fraction. 

He’s already pieced it together in his head. 

“It really is him, huh?” 

He’d known. Of course he did. No one was blind to it, just wishful thinking on his part that maybe he could get you to see someone else. 

But your heart was locked up tight, an impenetrable fortress that refused to unravel for anyone but him. 

“I’m sorry,” you say apologetically, then add, “you have been very kind to me, and a woman will see your great heart one day, but it can’t be me.” 

His smile is sad, but he’s known it was a losing battle going in, worth a shot if anything.

His shoulders shake with a defeated laugh. 

“He’s a lucky ass,” he says, extending the remaining fruits to you. “My peace offering to him. I know he’s been boiling recently.” 

Your walk with Ku’aro couldn’t have been more than a hour, but Neteyam waits for what feels like an eternity. He’s lingering in the same spot you’d left him, spacing out as he paces, waiting for your arrival. 

His body goes rigid when he feels a pair of arms circle around his waist from behind, but relaxes when he wafts the familiar scent of herbs and spice. 

“Hi,” he whispers, voice hoarse from disuse. 

He turns to face you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders to get a good look at your face. And despite wracking his brain for the latter part of the hour you were gone, he tries to get a grip on his composure. 

“Have fun?” he asks, insides gooey as your face angles towards his, chin poking his chest as your eyes curve into crescents along with your smile. 

“Was okay,” you tell him. “He let me bring back the rest of the fruits.”

Neteyam resists an eyeroll. 

“Probably dry,” he remarks quietly and you can’t help the full laugh that leaves your lips at his snarky remark. 

You wanted to put it off until the night of the feast, but you can tell there’s an internal warfare that agonizes him. You were shy, not a fool, had known that he was waiting for any concrete evidence that you’d chosen him. 

And at first you thought it was obvious, could read him like one of your books. But you hadn’t realized that maybe you weren’t that easy to read, years of growing up learning how to remain composed for your potential role leaving you internalizing every feeling. 

“You asked me about my selection feast…” you trail off, making him shiver when you start drawing small shapes on his spine. 

“Uh huh,” he agrees shakily. 

“You’re curious, huh?” you ask. 

“You could say that,” he laughs, but you hear the twinge of uncertainty. 

It makes a ripple of sadness work through your veins. 

“Well…” you start. “I like someone. A lot.” 

The flame of hope flickering in his chest dances, the smile on your face an obvious tell. 

“Do you now?” 

He should’ve knew never to doubt you, should’ve known with the same ferocity as the other villagers that you two truly were written in the stars. 

You hum in agreement. 

“You gonna tell me about him?” he bites. 

You peel away from him, shy, even though you know that there isn’t a surer thing on the moon. You tilt your head, grin bashful as you clasp your hands behind your back and start pacing. 

“Well, the most important thing is that he is kind,” you say, pausing to think for a moment. “And he’s strong, a great warrior and very brave.” 

His chest pumps infinitesimally.

“I think he cares a lot about me,” you continue, then correct yourself, “I know he does. He is gracious and so thoughtful, never makes me second guess myself. He is my greatest supporter and makes me want to be a better person.” 

Neteyam’s smile is unbridled. 

“Most of all, he is my best friend,” you swallow, eyes searching his. “And while I love every person who has made me who I am today, nothing compares to how much I love him.” 

His breath hitches at the words, your first official declaration. 

“And it doesn’t help that he’s very, very, very handsome,” you add, standing before him.

Your eyes settle on the beadwork of his choker, too sheepish to meet his eyes as you brush non-existent debris off his shoulders. 

His fingers catch yours and you look up find that tears are welling in his eyes. 

“Teyam,” you coo, a watery laugh leaving your lips at that sight of the usually poised leader-in-training showing far more emotion than you’d seen in the lifetime you’ve known him.

“Don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he chuffs, head bending forward to rest on your shoulder. 

You want to tease him, ask him if he’ll say it back, but you already know. 

Everybody does. 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts

[whenleticiafallsinlove]

“the french mistake”

dean winchester x fem!reader

synopsis: Dean finds himself married to the actress Alice Smith, who plays Y/N. When he comes back, he confesses his love to Y/N.

warnings: english is not my first language, i apologize for any mistakes. FLUFF!

The journey through the rift was disorienting, to say the least. One moment, we were facing off against a particularly nasty nest of vampires, and the next, we found ourselves in a world that defied all logic and reason. A world where we were nothing but characters in a television show, our lives scripted and our struggles merely entertainment for an audience.

As we navigated this strange alternate reality, trying to make sense of our surroundings, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. And then, I saw her. Y/N L/N, the character I had fought alongside countless times, brought to life by an actress named Alice Smith.

It was surreal, seeing her standing there, so vibrant and alive. And yet, there was a familiarity to her that transcended the boundaries of fiction. It was as if I had known her all my life, as if our souls were connected in a way I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

But it wasn’t until we found ourselves in the midst of a lavish Hollywood party, surrounded by people who bore an uncanny resemblance to our friends and enemies, that the truth began to dawn on me. In this reality, I was married to Alice Smith, the actress who played Y/N L/N

At first, I was in denial. How could I be married to someone I barely knew, someone who was nothing more than a figment of my imagination brought to life? But as we delved deeper into this alternate world, I couldn’t ignore the undeniable chemistry between us. It was as if fate itself had conspired to bring us together, across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

And yet, even as I tried to convince myself that my feelings for Alice were real, there was a nagging voice in the back of my mind. A voice that whispered of another reality, where Y/N L/N existed not as a character on a television screen, but as a living, breathing woman.

It wasn’t until we finally found our way back to our own reality that I realized the truth. My heart belonged to Y/N, not Alice. And I knew I had to tell her, no matter the consequences.

So, with a mixture of apprehension and determination, I sought her out, my heart pounding in my chest as I prepared to lay bare my soul.

“Y/N,” I began, my voice trembling with emotion as I looked into her eyes, “there’s something I need to tell you. Something… complicated.”

She regarded me with a curious expression, her eyes searching mine for any hint of what was to come. “Dean, what’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead, “In the other reality, the one we were just in, I was married to Alice Smith. But more than that, I… I realized I have feelings for you. For Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly as she processed my confession. “Dean, I… I don’t even know what to say. This is… a lot to take in.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of my words. “I know it’s a lot to process, but I needed to be honest with you. I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.”

There was a moment of silence between us, the air thick with unspoken emotions. And then, to my surprise and relief, Y/N spoke, her voice soft but resolute, “Dean, I don’t fully understand what happened in that other reality, but I do know that I feel a connection to you, too. Maybe not exactly how it was there, but… there’s something here.”

My heart skipped a beat at her words, hope blossoming within me like a flower in bloom. “Y/N…”

Before I could say anything else, she closed the distance between us, her lips meeting mine in a tender kiss. It was like a dam breaking, releasing a flood of pent-up emotions that had been building between us for far too long.

As we pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, I couldn’t help but smile, a sense of peace settling over me like a warm blanket on a cold night. “Wow,” was all I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled back, her eyes shining with a newfound certainty. “Wow, indeed.”

But our moment of bliss was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Sam, Crowley, and Castiel, their expressions a mix of shock and amusement.

“Uh, guys?” Sam started, his eyebrows raised in disbelief as he took in the scene before him.

Crowley, ever the wit, quipped, “Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes? Dean Winchester, the hopeless romantic.”

Castiel simply observed, his gaze shifting between us with a mixture of curiosity and understanding.

Y/N and I exchanged a sheepish glance before bursting into laughter, the tension of the moment dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

“Looks like we’ve got some explaining to do,” I said, already bracing myself for the inevitable barrage of questions and teasing.

But as I glanced at Y/N, her hand finding mine in a silent gesture of solidarity, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. After all, our love had transcended realities, proving that sometimes, the most unexpected connections are the most profound.