#his eyes are filled to the brim with affection | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shujichii · 5 months ago

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your husband who loved calling you his wife— even outside of moments of necessity.

and the most fascinating part? he wasn't even aware of the fact how often he did it. he knew he did say it, but he wasn't aware of the fact how often he did. those two words, simple yet undeniably laced together with love and reverence, often tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

"my wife would like these flowers," he had said to the wholesome elderly florist when he was about to buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers before returning home to you, his wallet— which had a small polaroid of you in it, by the way— already in hand.

"my wife did mention this the other day, now that i think about it." he had said to his friend who was rambling about the latest trending internet gossip.

"for my wife. i trust there isn't an issue?" he had simply said to the cashier upon noticing the way they lifted an eyebrow at the grocery basket filled to the brim with your favorite snacks, to which they gave a solemn, approving nod at his answer. good husband.

"my wife went out to run an errand, but she'll be back soon." he had even said to your best friend when they came to visit you, to which they replied with a very teasing smirk; "you could just say her name, y'know."

"my wife shouldn't pay when I'm around," he had said when you were about to pay for something, holding out his card before you could pull out yours.

"a reservation for my wife and i, please."

"sorry, my wife is waiting for me. i must take my leave now."

"yes, that's my wife— i'm quite proud of her."

"I can take it from here, sweetheart. can't have my beautiful wife overworking herself now, can i?"

and the list went on.

and yet, you didn't mind it. not at all— you had no reason to. your heart always did that funny little flip whenever he'd call you his wife the way he did, the corner of your lips never failing to curl into a smile. he would always say it so naturally— so genuinely, like those words were etched onto his soul for your very existence alone. and you certainly didn't miss the way his tone would sound a touch softer everytime he referred to you, like you needed to be spoken of with the utmost care and gentleness.

so, one day, you decided it was about time you struck.

"you call me that a lot."

his hands— which were reaching for the kitchen towel to dry his hands with after washing the dishes, yes, the dishes because chores are shared in this household— paused midway. he turned his head to look at you, where you had been perched on the counter, your legs swaying ever so slightly.

"call you what?" he inquired with a small tilt of his head, reaching for the towel at last and patting his hands dry.

"you know, your wife."

he immediately caught onto the teasing glint in your eyes, yet; it was unmistakably edged with a hint of affection.

for a moment, he just stood there wordlessly, blinking once, then twice, his brain taking its sweet, sweet time to allow your words to sink in. you, on the other hand, were practically straining your eyes to catch on any shifts in his expression or posture.

and then, you caught it; the faint reddening of the tips of his ears. he subtly cleared his throat, and your smile stretched into a grin.

alas, that dazzling curve of your lips disappeared as soon as it appeared when the man suddenly approached you in a swift few strides, standing between your legs and pressing his palms on either side of the counter which you sat on to cage you in.

you blinked.

"i do, yes."

he didn't even try to deny it. well, he didn't have a reason to. you were his wife, after all. where was the lie in that? and of course, he was absolutely proud of it.

then, he leaned in slightly, his tone lowering. "unless you prefer i stop calling you that?"

oh, now he was the one with that mischievous little twinkle in his eyes. inwardly, you faltered at the sudden boldness of his actions, your fingertips twitching against the surface of the counter. but outwardly? two can play the game.

then, with a deceptively sweet smile, you tilted your head, shot your hand forward and yanked on the collar of his shirt with force— his body jerking towards you.

"not at all," you smirked, inching closer. "i can't say i mind when my sweet husband calls me that."

his confidence faltered for a moment. you were about to internally celebrate your small victory until one of his hands slid up from the counter, now resting on your hips, his fingertips lightly pressing into your skin.

".. let's hear that again."

let's just say, ever since that faithful encounter, "my husband" had also started slipping out.

and every time? it got to him. oh, it definitely did.

(not my second fluff also taking place in the kitchen lol. i promise it's gonna be different next time.)

♡ nanami kento, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi (jjk), zayne, sylus (lads), wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, diluc, ayato (genshin), jiyan, xiangli yao (wuwa), jugram haschwalth (self indulgence because i love him.), kuchiki byakuya, ishida uryuu, ishida ryuken (bleach), hyuga neji, uchiha itachi, hatake kakashi (naruto), anyone else you'd like.

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pastelclovds · 4 months ago

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invincible is dragging me back by the ankles

thinking about a human!reader who has lived a pretty decent, normal existence. at least, as normal as it could be with all the hero's trying to exterminate world ending threats daily, and leaving major cities in ruins afterwards. the death of the guardians made the threats worsen over time.

one day, as you were taking your usual midnight stroll, you were stopped by the one and only, omni-man. his only excuse? he said and i quote.

“human, it has come to my attention that you’re releasing strange, aphrodisiacal pheromones; and it has become a problem for me.”

you blink once, twice, thrice, and you’re eyes widened as you finished processing his sentence. you were releasing sexy pheromones?? where was it during your days in college? your vision on omni-man’s flushed face trails down to his pelvic region, where his ragging boner was making itself known beneath his suit.

cue to nolan dragging you to an empty alleyway, stripping you both butt naked, and riding you until you left his hole gaping and filled to the brim with your cum. he let out an uncharacteristic, longing moan as he painted your chest in white.

turns out he’s been wanting you for a while ever since he first caught whiff of your scent that one afternoon a week ago as he was defeating a kaiju.

as for the “aphrodisiacal pheromones” you seem to unknowingly release daily: it only seems to affect nobody else but nolan. you don’t have a problem with it though, as long as you continue to fuck the number one super “hero,” you don’t need anything else.

that’s until mark appears before you with an embarrassed grin and a hard on of his own. then his other variants appeared like beasts in heat, and now conquest. yeah, you’re a viltramite magnet.

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thalwri · 5 months ago

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I HATE YOU, BUT I LOVE YOU!

synopsis: your friends think caleb's got a bit of an obsession over you since he's always by your side. what they don't know is that you're equally as obsessed. and you'll go to very extreme lengths to ensure everyone knows that he is yours.

warnings: porn no plot, heavy smut, shower sex, orgasm denial, inappropriate evol usage, body worship, making a sex tape, biting, marking (with lipstick and a few hickeys), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, needy!caleb, possessive!reader, unhinged!reader, basically, you're matching each others freak. a lot.

wc: 2,4k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“you’re mine, caleb,” your whispers pierced his ears like a sharpened knife– the most stimulating sound he had heard in days. “mine. mine to touch, mine to post, mine to please and be pleased by. mine.”

he could only nod, and so he did. frantically and heated with need for you. for access to adore you.

you had found him in the shower, muscular back turned to you. he had returned home in silence, almost plagued by his own thoughts. though you were deafened by your own mind too. the only difference was that you were infuriated.

you had seen some of his colleagues post pictures of him with them at his annual dinner with the fleet. the captions were provocative at the least, rumbling with desires to touch him in ways only you could, to have privileges only you owned.

they didn’t know him like you did. they didn’t experience everything you two had gone through together.

so it was only fair for you to remind him of that fact. and show the world that he was only for you.

“i’ll burn and bury anyone who talks to you or even looks at you.” your eyes trailed down from his eyes to his swollen and bite-bruised lips to his neck adorned with fresh love bites. “i should keep you by my side, yeah?”

“yeah, you should,” caleb could only hold himself from getting giddy by this new sight of dominance. he’d rarely seen you behave this intensely with him and he wasn’t afraid to see more.

your hand gripped his, feeling the instantaneous surge of his evol resonating to you. before the surge could fade, with the flick of a wrist, you forced caleb to his knees. the gravity surrounded him alone to keep him at your feet, at your mercy.

he often got a kick at using his evol on you but for the tables to turn like this? he’d cum on the spot. his cock twitched, reddened and swollen by your refusal to give him the attention he needed.

“c-come on,” a loud whine flowed from the depths of his throat. he had been moaning and whining without you even having to touch him. you were feeding off his delicious noises, feeling as though he was egging you on to paint him in your lipstick kisses.

“please, i won’t even let them near me,” his lips found your thigh, pressing wet breathless kisses onto your skin in worship and reverence. “i’ll push them as far as possible and only open my space to you.”

“yeah?” you kneeled down to straddle him, holding his face in your hands. his eyes were swollen from the tears shed by you teasing him to the point where it hurt so much. he just had to beg for you, grovel, and whine. all of it.

“they’d even see that i’m yours.” he panted, lips curving into that beautiful smile you loved. the same smile you hated to see him give to others. he leaned to kiss your skin, peppering your flesh with light nibbles and bites, marking his affections and desire for you.

“we could record it,” his breathless sighs warmed up your dampened neck. “me declaring my heart is yours and broadcasting it for the world to see.”

a short giggle left your lips before you plopped down on his hips, completely filling yourself with his twitching cock. caleb’s eyes– brimming with tears of impatient need– rolled straight back into his head both agonised and delighted by how concerningly tight your pussy was– almost sucking him of everything he had.

your hips slowly rocked back and forth allowing your nectar to leak out of you and lubricate him for easier movement between you. though you wouldn’t have had a problem with the roughness.

“maybe i should take a picture of me riding you.” you deepened your grinding to emphasise your point. “i’ll crop out your face, to protect your reputation of course.”

caleb quickly shook his head in a daze– eyes clouded with lust and excitement. was he enjoying this?

“let– let them. let ‘em see me,” he forced a smile to stretch his swollen lips. that was the only thing keeping him from moaning loud enough for the fleet kilometres above to hear. “let ‘em know how weak you make me.”

the slick wetness from you and the now cold shower water kept his grips on your hips painfully tense to the point of indenting bruises. you could just feel his heavy sacks rubbing against your entrance as you squeezed your walls around his girth. every vein, every throb, every single divine twitch did not go unnoticed.

it was boiling hot. the shower was off and yet the glass walls got so foggy so quickly. your hips slowly dragged up as you adjusted yourself to bounce on his length before you slowly dropped down and up and down in a broken rhythm.

you so desperate to chase your high and feel him paint your insides, so horny for caleb that it pissed you off even more. and yet, through all that anger, you couldn’t help but adore and admire him beneath you. he looked so serene, so beautiful. how could you not love him?

feeling his cock effortlessly slide in and out of you hitting those delicious sensitive spots felt like pure ecstasy for you. your ass jiggled and clapped as it bounced, slapping his thighs and huge balls, screaming into the deafening silence of the afternoon.

you caught your lower lip between your teeth to hold off the overwhelming urge to cum all over him at that very moment. just a bit longer. you had to torture him a little bit longer.

“you’re the only one for me,” caleb whined almost like he read the thought directly from your mind. a wide grin graced your pretty, flushed, cock-addicted face as he repeated himself over and over for you to hear and understand him clearly.

“i’m yours. yours. yours.’m gonna prove it any way you need me to.”

and a devilish idea struck your mind mid-bounce. you paused and slowed your pace to grind on his hips, curling his cock deep into you with no chance of him leaving your tight grip– not to mention your soaked pussy (as per usual) had a death grip on him.

you reached to the abandoned towel outside the shower and pulled out your phone, swiftly opening the camera app. caleb’s eyes slowly widened as he realised exactly what you were doing. he exhaled a laugh in disbelief and intrigue as you set the phone down to show you both in the frame without your faces being exposed.

your finger hovered over the button to record and your grinds came to a halt. your eyes bore into his with complete sternness. “do you want this?”

he didn’t even hesitate. “yeah. show them who i belong to, baby.”

a ring sounded in the bathroom, and your hips returned to its torturous work. you planted your hands over his plump chest and squeezed to feel that muscular, soft flesh. your thumbs brushed over his nipples as drips of sweat and water pebbled from them, drawing a long moan from his lips.

“f-fuck,” he panted. he’d never experience a feeling like that before. they felt so sensitive and sore and yet the pain translated to pure pleasure by the time it reached his cock. it leaked globs of precum deep within you as your tantalising grinds picked up speed and friction.

your lips found their way to the shell of his ear and a wet swipe of your tongue sent shivers down his spine. you were so dominant today. and he was enjoying perhaps a little too much.

“i want you to be louder,” you hissed, nibbling the soft flesh of his ear lobe. “you know you can be.”

“‘m gonna need you to make things rougher for me,” the soft mounds of your pretty ass were caught in his grip, being fondled and massaged as he egged you on, using his strength to lift you up bit by bit until you could plop back down on his cock.

the mere sound of it made him groan, bowing his head to restrain himself. having his hands so comfy on your ass was divine, such a privilege. he pulled you higher and higher until your moans turned to cries.

his leaky cockhead continuously pounded your spongy, sensitive point, throwing you into a frenzy. your rhythm became erratic, breath laboured and ragged. lines of red scratches marked his torso, victim of your nails painted the exact same colour as his reddened tip.

your personal nicknames ran from caleb’s lips in a slur, connecting the syllables as if it were a lengthy poem he was reciting to you. his tongue lulled out, dripping strings of his saliva onto your bare chest, creating a sticky mess on you as your tiddies slapped against each other– colliding and changing shape like a malleable pair of heavenly flesh. he couldn’t keep his eyes off them, calling them his favourite melons in his mind– a perverted thought and description, but that was the least of the nasty thoughts he had of you.

“please– oh my god!” his moans quickly turned into whimpers. you couldn’t help but giggle. he was just too cute.

his tongue ran up your collarbones to your neck until they tickled the corner of your lips to pull you into a lascivious kiss, tongues swirling and dancing in pursuit of getting closer than their bodies could allow. he was addicted to you. he wasn’t afraid to say it with relentless pride.

to be able to please that sweet cunny of yours with his cock, to be able to love and adore you, to live alongside you, that was all the pleasures he had of being yours. and he refused to trade it for anything else. nobody would ever be worth as much as you were to him.

you are his everything.

caleb swiftly lifted you up into his arms, almost using his evol before he remembered you were being recorded together. you yelped as he swung you both around so that you leaned against the wall, back warmed in place of his position.

he sat on his knees, still holding you by your hips to align his cockhead with your dripping opening. in tempted arousal, he lifted you up to hook your legs on his shoulders, leaving only your ass and legs in view of the frame and his head completely concealed in between.

his hot tongue swiped up and down your folds, teasing its entrance into your hole. teasing you. he relished in your hitched cries and groans, you cursing him and demanding he stop teasing you. somehow it just got him harder that he already was.

but because he loved you, he conceded and buried his face into your pussy. his nose nudged and tickled your sensitive bud while his tongue explored the mixed taste of his precum and your sweet nectar all stored in your pussy. the flavours blended perfectly.

his loud, obnoxious slurps and his head occasionally shaking side to side brought you to a tremble, finally drawing that sweet climax out of you with a cute cry.

“ca– cale– oh fuck!” his name almost slipped out of your lips before you could restrain yourself. caleb moaned into your pussy before quickly pulling away to guide you back down to his hips, instantly dropping you onto his cock.

it slipped in so smoothly yet so roughly, sending every sensory signal in you screaming in alarm. too much, too much, my god, too much.

caleb gripped your ass, kneading his fingers into your flesh, and pounded his hips right up into you. you hiccuped with each thrust, losing composure and falling deeper and deeper into your cockdrunk daze.

“too- too fast–“

“uh-uh,” he breathlessly moaned in your ear, rolling his hips faster and harder into you, so desperate to fill you with his seed. to claim you as you claim him. “you can take it.”

a deep groan rumbled in you making you grip the base of his neck with your hand, slowly squeezing until he gasped– and yet his psychotically fast pace never faltered.

“i’m sure you can take– fuck– this– mmh– pussy too, huh?” your walls intuitively tightened around his thick, pistoning cock matching the hold you had on his neck. “this is the only pussy you’d worship, yeah?”

“the– only– one.” he gasped as he choked out his words. you were tempted to call him a good boy. despite the overwhelming entanglement of overstimulation and pure delight that caleb fucking you through and straight past your orgasm gave you, you were just so insatiably greedy for more.

“you wanna cum, yeah?” you crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck. you thought you had begun to taste a new degree of pleasure with caleb in that very position.

“wanna make you cum again,” he said. a loud smack! resonated as a delicious sting spread around your ass cheek. “mmh, wanna cum in you so fucking bad.”

“then do it.”

and that he did. almost like it was on command– with a final harsh thrust, hot ribbons painted your walls like paint falling right onto the canvas. it was so hot, and creamy that the sting of his heat left you in near shambles.

there was just so much spilling into you that it spurted out of your pussy with each slowing jut of his hips. his mouth mumbled on, rambling i love you, i love you, i love you like a prayer and oath. even as he pulled out, cum still spurted out of his slit, painting the shower walls white with lust and satisfaction while the recording still ran, abandoned by both of you.

“you think you can let those people prance around you while knowing i am all you need?” choked gasps fill the air as your grip on his neck tightens. “no caleb. you don’t have that right.”

he merely nodded with a smile. “ ‘m all yours, my love. my eyes, my heart, my body, and my soul are only for you.”

now, caleb has experienced a great many terrifying things in his lifetime. a great many things. but you? you were an endless galaxy he would spend eternity exploring. all your complexities and charms just waiting for him to perceive.

your peers had believed he was insane. clingy. obsessed. but they didn’t know you could be much, much, worse. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

a/n: I've been listening to too much Tyler, the Creator. Also, this was inspired by one of @/cruxifixe 's works on tiktok

#✧.* thalwri #✧.* thalwri works #love and deepspace x reader #lnds smut #lads smut #lads caleb #lnds caleb #love and deep space #love and deepspace #caleb x mc #caleb lads #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb smut #love and deepspace smut

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blood-smiles · 2 months ago

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𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖˚ ༘ 🌱⋆｡˚

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐂𝐎𝐖/𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 . MDNI . TW// Naked man . Yandere . Suggestive? . Darling is breastfed by yandere. Male lactation . Forced affection

𝐒weat dribbled down your forehead, your scratchy sleeve running across your skin hastily before any sweat got into your eyes.

The hay bale in your arms irritated your forearms but you pushed through, throwing it inside the loft of your classic red barn.

The horses neighed, a little greeting for you, making little circles in their stalls as if brimming with energy.

You mustered a smile, trying to ignore the aching pain at your temples. Your head felt like a watermelon wrapped in rubber bands, about to explode at any moment.

You turned, exiting out the other end of your barn, picking up a tin bucket and kneeling in front of your large collection of flora.

You grumbled as you picked fat caterpillars off your Bougainvillea and unceremoniously tossed into a bin.

A deep frown marred your face as you looked at the various bite shaped holes in the leaves of your pretty flowers.

You sent a scorching glare to the bucket full of caterpillars.

“You handful of bastards better be grateful I’m not feeding you to the barn cat..” you hissed, voice filled with genuine resentment.

The loud thunk of a truck made you jump out of your shoes, accidentally dropping the bucket, the caterpillars flying into the luscious green grass.

You bit back a groan, knowing you would have to pick out the little creatures by hand later.

You lifted your head, peeking at the men in white lab coats, who were throwing something extremely large into a pile of dirt near your house.

Now what the hell? They have no right to be dumping their shit in your backyard! Not after you had busted your lower back to keep it clean!

You were about to stomp over and throw some hands, however the men got into their high tech van and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

You coughed as you approached the garbage site, seeing if there was anything to loot off of.

It looked like there was something massive swaddled tightly in styrofoam wrap.

You prodded the cocoon with the tip of your timber, you let out a small scream as it pulsated under your foot.

You jumped back in fright as the thing inside started moving even more, all out of the sudden, a muffled voice yelled.

You raised your brows, a person? Was a person wrapped in that? You could just stand by and act as if nothing happened but.. cleaning the mess up would be annoying.

You scrambled to dig your nails inside the wrapping and pulled as hard as you could, ripping the tough material to shreds.

You fell back to the ground, a large, naked man emerging from the dirt, styrofoam doing a horrible job of covering up his.. bits.

You kept your eyes up.. sorta, his well endowed chest was the first thing that popped out to you. Quite literally, it had its own shadow and everything, they were definitely bigger than yours.

He was tall, taller than any creature or human you had ever seen in your life.

You painstakingly tore your eyes away from his chest, mourning the loss of titties.

You scanned his head, his hair was light blonde with brunette highlights, curling towards his face at the slightly curly tips, a curl of hair covering his left eye.

His skin was tan with patches of lighter skin, resembling the spots of a cow.

A golden nose ring gleamed under the sunlight, you just barely noticed the stubs of horns on his head, along side the blonde cow ears.

..Wait hold on a minute, ears and horns? What in the nudist cosplay is this?

The man tilted his head, his ears flicking as he followed you movements, like a baby bird mimicking its mother’s actions.

You didn’t stick around a moment more as you watched the strange male’s strangely beautiful face light up with wonder.

“Master!” He lunged. Missing you only by a hair, you swore you felt his thick fingers tickling your back.

“Stop following me! I am not your master!!” You hollered, speeding up your pace as you tried to jump over the fence of your barn.

“Wrong!” He giggled, strong arms stretching out to grab you, making sure to take victory this time.

“(Y/N)!~” he called out sweetly, opening and closing his hands, resembling of a toddler demanding uppies.

“HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!?!” You never got an answer, simply a jolly laugh.

You ran around for 40 minutes.

And the strange bull cow hybrid didn’t stop, he wasn’t even breaking a sweat, it wasn’t very long until you dropped on the ground.

The man plopped down behind you, grabbing you by your armpits like he would hold a cat. Only to begin having a cuddling session, he didn’t let you go.

You begged him to let you breathe, but he had gotten too attached to let you go, at one point you had decided to take the drastic measure to bite his arm,

Which was a failure.

Because he let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard.

You slowly retracted your teeth from his arm, deciding to never do that again.

“Well.. Can you at least tell me who you are? Why you are here? Why me?” You bombarded him with question, he hummed, his tail wagging on grass while rocking you side to side like a baby.

“Mm~.. m’ name’s Briar.. I’m a gift for you! And.. Because I saw you first!” He finished with a wide smile, his simplistic answers not actually giving away anything.

He rubbed his cheek against the side of your head, your back cushioned by two very prominent pillows.

You glared at him, wriggling out of his beefy arms and rolling onto the grass.

“Let me stay with you!” He chirped, getting up to follow close behind you.

“No.” You didn’t budge, looking down to dust your jeans off, but when you looked up Briar was giving you the most sopping wet pathetic puppy eyes you had ever seen.

Your harsh glare softened for a moment, no! No! No! You weren’t going to get emotionally manipulated by a fucking cow.

He dropped to his knees, getting on all fours and dirtying his knees with soil. His hands wrapped around your calves as if they were the size of water bottles.

“Please…”

That disturbed you more than you would think, this thing dwarfed every aspect of yours, only reminding you of how quick and effortlessly he could rip an arm of yours off.

“..No!” You grumbled more defiantly, closing your eyes for a second as you looked away.

you curiously cracked an eye open and saw how large drops of tears welled in his eyes, his bottom lip trembled, threatening that he would cry if he needed to.

A strong gust of wind blew in your direction, to your dismay, sending the last piece of wrapping around Briar’s hips off into the breeze.

You almost screamed in terror at the sheer size of that thing, because there was no humane possible way you could call it a penis.

That thing was the fuckin’ size of your arm.

“Okay. Fine. Come inside.” You grabbed his arm roughly, dragging him into your cottage in a panic.

He cheered as he allowed you to throw him inside your room, you skimmed your closet for something—God dammit! Anything to cover his big ass up!

You shakily exhaled as you found the baggiest jeans you owned, your hands gripping the widest flannel you had.

You screwed your eyes shut. Not wanting to see more than you already had.

“Thank..you!” He beamed, you could already imagine the sparkles around him.

You picked up the rustling of clothes, opening your eyes to see how your clothes fitted him.

You didn’t have underwear for him for now, so you had to compromise with just hoping that your jeans would be enough to cover his shame just a little bi…

Nevermind, you could still see the outline of it.

The supposed ‘baggy’ blue jeans hugged his thighs sinfully. This is a stranger, you tried to reprimand yourself, a complete stranger that you should not be ogling at but.. holy cow.

That shit was juicy. The pervert inside you was foaming at the mouth, trying not to pounce and bite the flesh off his legs and ass.

The flannel was hanging onto a single button, the fabric stretched over his chest so disgustingly tightly.

You had to unbutton the very first few buttons to let him breathe properly, it was killing you slowly. The need to bury your head between those glorious, magnificent tits.

You covered your face with your sun hat in shame, wishing to slam your head against the walls.

“Just..Just go.” You fumbled with your words, flush climbing the back of your neck all the way up to your ears.

Briar held his arms pinned to his sides, fingers flexing as he stared at you in awe. How he just wanted to aggressively cuddle you, he wanted to squeeze you so bad.

He thought humans were weird and mean.. But when looking at you he just wanted to bite you, not to harm you per say, just to somehow cope with the warm feeling in his chest.

“Okay!” He skipped out the front door, leaving you in ruins as he waltzed into the barn where the cattle resided.

You watched him interact and play with the cows for hours upon hours, at one point stealing a bell and wearing it around his neck.

“I’m your belle now!” He said, brimming with excitement. He had now taken the title of being your.. helper from now onwards.

You really did try to get rid of him, you tried selling him, abandoning him— Hell, even tying him up.

But annoyingly enough, he always returned, it didn’t matter what method you used, he somehow evaded it.

So you just decided to keep him around under a condition, that he helps out around the place.

He mowed the lawn.. He milked the cows.. He did some weird type of trick on the plants so the caterpillars wouldn’t eat them.. He was magic.

You made the mistake of introducing him to a friend, thinking that since he was so docile towards you, he would be the same way with others.

Could you be any more stupid?

Sometimes your neighbors would show up to chat and exchange goods or take horse back rides around the lands, Briar didn’t like it.

He was possessive and hostile, you had to stop him from trampling your friend to ground meat, you had almost pissed your pants in fear, never had you ever seen Briar with such a hateful look in his eyes.

Luckily, it seemed like he learned his lesson after you gave him silent treatment for two hours. He was in tears, sobbing that he would never upset you again, clinging onto your feet while nudging your stomach with his horns.

He had went as far as tagging his own ear after he got envious of a calf, he saw you clipping the babies ear and immediately begun to pester you to do the same thing to him.

You tried to make him understand that it was solely for identification, that he was already pretty identifiable, but he kept insisting.

You caved in, letting him plop down in your very much weaker and skinnier thigh. You tried to warn him that it would hurt, but he shook his head, affirming that he would take it like a good boy.

You sighed, monotonously counting down from three, before snapping clips closed.

He didn’t even make a face, you told him it was done and handed him a mirror to look at his brand new piercing.

It was a yellow, blank tag. You didn’t bother giving him a number, he wasn’t a legit cow to be kept in the barns so it wasn’t necessary.

You watched with curiosity as he grabbed a alcohol pen from your nightstand and slowly wrote your name on his tag.

“Baby!” He clapped his hands, ears slightly raising to reflect his mood, his tail wagged like a dog’s as he let out a little moo.

“You’re heavy. Get off.” You pushed him off, hoping that this was the end of his strange behaviors and urges.

He whined and pouted but you eventually peeled him off of you, the warmth and squish of his chest against your face leaving and letting you breathe properly.

Well, you thought that was the end of it.

You didn’t ask any questions about his origins or what he was, because in your book ignorance is bliss.

That was until you couldn’t ignore that your pillows and clothes were beginning to go missing, appearing as if by accident in the barn loft.

Briar was beginning to disappear more often, appearing after a few hours and dropping unconscious on your bed.

You noticed that the flannels he usually wore began to look tighter around his chest, more of the buttons on his shirt beginning to suddenly fly off like bullets, narrowly hitting you in the head.

You whistled a little tune, small pebbles crunching under your boots as you walked into the cattle house.

You swung a tin bucket in your hand, turning to your fluffy little cows to milk them of their milk. You spoke in a high pitched voice to them, reaching out and kissing their furry foreheads.

“MnHgh!” A familiar voice suppressed his aroused sounds with their hand, hoping he had fooled you and had slapped a hand over his mouth quick enough.

You stopped petting your cows, walking towards a closed closet door behind you. Your hand wrapped around the doorknob, the metal being slightly warm, someone with overwhelming body warmth had just touched this.

You groaned, Briar. What the hell was he doing now?

You swung the door open, your figure casting a shadow over Briar’s crumpled body on the floor. Another sweet whimper escaped him accidentally, he tried to cover his chest with his arms, as if shielding a secret.

His tan patchwork skin gleamed with sweat under the dim lighting, his eyes were irritated and glassy, like he had been crying for hours before you got there.

“Briar.” You sternly called his name, causing him to look into your eyes, his ears drooped in embarrassment, attentively listening to what you were going to say next.

“Show me your chest.” Your voice ordered, putting the tin bucket down by your feet. You watched as Briar slowly did as you said, looking away in shame as he revealed himself.

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at his swollen pectorals, his nipples cherry red and tender. His chest was significantly heavier than usual, and even that was saying a lot when it’s common knowledge that he is very much above average.

“What..What happened?” Your eyes darted to his face, worry slowly seeping into your expression.

His obscenely large hand grasped your own, putting it gently on his chest.

You looked down, trying to decipher what his intentions were.. That was until you felt something warm trickling down your hand.

Something white and watery, slowly dribbling down your hand at a steady pace. It was shameful, down right perverted— But you brought your hand to your mouth, licking the substance.

It hit you like a tractor, it was silky—Sweet, better than any liquid you had ever tasted, it’s taste was one too similar to.. Milk?

“Y..Y-You can do that?” You blurted without thinking, pulling the tin bucket under his chest to catch the liquid.

The slightest shy nod of his head, the most bashful smile you had ever seen of him confirmed all your suspicions.

..You actually had to milk him.

Your face turned warm as your hands reached out to him, wrapping around his soft boobs, softly but methodically squeezing the milk out of him.

They produced milk steadily, squirting into the bucket, the sound of milk splattering against the tin making your gaze hazy.

You knew it was game over when the bucket was full, his chest didn’t seem that decreased in size by much.

You got off your knees to get a new bucket, only for Briar to cling on to you, making you fall between his legs and into his chest.

He didn’t wait, his nipple gently introducing itself into your warm little mouth, milk spilling onto your tongue in a moments notice.

You let out a strangled yell, trying to unlatch but Briar’s hand stopped you, pushing your head closer to his chest, forcing you to swallow the soft liquid.

“Hush, let mommy feed you..” he cooed, hearts forming in his eyes as he forced you to digest his milk.

“HMMPH.” You tried to protest, but didn’t make a move to stop Briar, he just shushed you, acting as if your protests were just a hissy fit.

He overpowered you, that sensitive shy act he put on before, being years light behind him.

You closed your eyes, knowing there was no escape from bosom jail. Your throat was dry from dehydration and the warm milk being force fed down wasn’t the most unpleasant thing you had experienced.

He cupped the back of your head, a million dollar smile on his plump lips, you were embarrassed.

You pressed your nose close into the soft muscle of his chest, just letting yourself be smothered by warmth, milk dribbling from the corners of your mouth.

You could barely hear the overgrown cow’s deep voice over the sound of your heartbeat.

“What a sweetheart you are..” ♥

#Briarposting #yandere x reader #smilesyanderes #yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #fem reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere tendencies #yanderecore #soft yandere #Credits to enchanthings-a

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slttygeto · 2 years ago

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°˖➴ when your baby …— (JJK MEN)

જ⁀➴ featuring: nanami kento, kamo choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru and gojo satoru.

જ⁀➴ word count: 2,6k

જ⁀➴ tags: fluff, pregnancy, birth, babies, domestic jjk men, they're all your husbands, them being perfect.

જ⁀➴ note: not proofread, some of these are a bit unrealistic, but keep in mind that it's fiction and i don't have a baby.

°˖➴ when your baby smiles for the first time: [nanami kento]

Birth was a blessing in itself, but having a partner as supportive as Kento made everything worth it, down to the sleepless nights you have been spending trying to get used to your baby’s constant need to be cuddled, fed and taken care of. You were frustrated, it was pretty evident by the tears welling up in your eyes every two seconds along with how you simply refused to be near anyone but your baby and Kento. Thankfully, he was always the one coaxing you to get out of the bed and sit on the balcony, have a full meal and relax while he took care of the baby.

On the outside, it seemed as though Kento had everything under control, and that nothing could affect him as long as you were okay. He never cried when you did (beside when he held the baby for the first time), and he made sure to validate your every frustration and fear, all while telling you that everything will be okay.

Which brings us to this moment, with both of you sitting on the couch with your baby on his lap. One of your favorite things about these nights was that Kento never skipped them and always made sure to play with your baby for a bit before helping you put her to bed. Even when he was incredibly exhausted.

Kento rocked your baby back and forth, enjoying the happy and curious noises leaving your daughter’s mouth. Your husband’s pointer was gently tracing her face, humming a soft tune about how adorable she was all while helping her be more aware of her body.

“And those are your eyes,” his tired voice came out. “And this is your nose,” accompanied with a boop, “and those are your precious cheeks,” a laugh escaped his lips when your daughter seemed to try to escape from the ticklish feeling of his finger and you chuckled at the scene. Your happiness was so contagious that your daughter’s lips twitched and a giggle escaped her lips.

“Oh,” Kento paused his movements but it only seemed to make your daughter giggle even more. “Look at you,” a smile broke on your husband’s face and he leans down to brush his nose against hers. “Is daddy your favorite comedian already?” And the louder her giggles got, the harder it was for your husband to contain his own laughter. He throws his head back on the couch and closes his eyes, and when he leans back down towards your baby girl, her smile only gets bigger and bigger.

You bring your legs up to your chest and watch the scene unfold with a heart full of love and adoration for your husband and the human being you both created. And when Nanami notices your silence, he supports his baby girl’s head with one hand and reaches his free hand towards your leg to caress it.

“Are you okay, darling?” To which you flash him with a smile that Kento could only describe as one that filled his heart to the brim.

“Never been better.”

°˖➴ when your baby first rolls over: [kamo choso]

You were well aware of how anxious and easily nervous your husband could get. Throughout your entire pregnancy, you were never allowed to be even a foot away from him. On a normal day, you would’ve asked for personal space, but lucky Choso, your pregnancy hormones seemed to make you even more attached to him.

Now that your baby boy was here, all of that anxiety and nervousness was doubled. Instead of worrying about one person and a bump, Choso had to make sure you and your baby were both okay all while trying not to tire himself to stay awake for you two. Night feeds were usually his favorite time of the day, despite your tired self and the sleepiness on your face, watching you try to hold your baby while feeding him always made him lean towards you and press a kiss to your forehead.

Your baby was about three months old when Choso started becoming even more involved with diaper and outfit changing. Not that he didn’t want to at the beginning, you were always far too nervous to let him do anything unsupervised. Your baby was currently on the bed while his father reached for the outfit that he laid out for him. And while Choso was always super careful, you had called out his name before walking into the room and so he turns his head to the door and is confused when you’re wide eyed and staring at the bed.

“What?”

“Look- the baby, Choso!” He turns to stare at his son and is pleasantly surprised when he notices that his son had fully rolled over and was now on his stomach. Your husband doesn’t say a thing as your baby makes noises, almost complaining to you both that he wasn’t seeing you and that his muscles were still too weak to support his head, so Choso rolls him on his back and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“…don’t you think it’s too soon for him to try to leave mid-conversation?”

“Baby,” you let out a chuckle. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant.”

“He’s moving too quickly! What do you mean he was able to roll over?” Your husband complains and he slowly dresses up your son.

“It just means our baby is healthy and functioning well.”

“Yeah,” Choso says softly before picking up your baby. “Our baby.”

°˖➴ when your baby starts crawling: [fushiguro toji]

Toji always thought that he didn’t deserve a second chance at life. He simply thought it was too late to start over, that was until he met you and you made him realize that ‘too late’ didn’t really have a place in your dictionary. You made him experience everything all over again; from falling in love to raising two healthy babies along with Megumi and Tsumiki. You gave him a second chance at being a father all while helping him fix his relationship with his kids.

You always made sure to help Tsumiki and Megumi with their homework while Toji stayed with your baby boy and baby girl. He would sit on the floor and watch as they struggled to even hold up their heads and try to reach for him.

“Come on now, I know you can do it,” Toji held the toy your baby boy was whining to his father to give him, and your husband was very stubborn about what his kids were capable of. Tsumiki and Megumi were already excelling at different sports and even academically, and despite you trying to convince your husband that your babies were only six months old, he wouldn’t listen.

Shifting his attention from his son to his daughter, he reaches for the toy in her hands and slowly takes it away from her. He watches as a pout forms on her lips and her eyes get teary almost immediately, and Toji has never believed in mother instinct as much as right now, because you burst out of the study room at the same time as your baby girl crying.

“Toji,” your disappointed tone as you walked towards the scene made the man turn back towards his babies.

“I just think they should be crawling by now.”

“They need time baby,” you step behind him and look over your baby girl who was trying to rub her teary eyes. “You can try by setting it in front of her, then she can try reaching for it.”

Your husband does as he is told and completely forgets about his son’s toy. Too focused on getting your daughter to move towards her toy, he fails to notice his son slowly crawling towards him to retrieve the small item sitting next to him but you do.

“Oh!” your gasp catches your husband’s attention and he immediately notices his son. “Come on baby! Good job!” Toji doesn’t waste time and turns back towards your daughter, gently coaxing her into moving towards her toy.

“Come on baby girl, come on,” it is very rare for Toji to be smiling so softly but whenever he was with his kids, his cheeks would end up hurting him from smiling too much.

Your daughter’s attention quickly shifts towards the person that walks out of the study room, and when her eyes fall on Megumi, a giggle escapes her lips and she starts moving towards her older brother. You and Toji watch in awe as Megumi sits cross legged on the floor and talks very softly to his baby sister, words of encouragement leaving his lips as your baby girl stops a couple of times and whines at the difficult task at hand.

“Just a bit more, come on,” But once in Megumi’s arms, the boy holds her carefully before walking back towards you and his dad. Toji stands up with his younger son in his arms before patting Megumi’s head.

“Good job, boy. You did well.” To which Megumi responds to with a shy nod before handing you his baby sister.

Moments like these sure made it feel like everything in life was worth it.

°˖➴ when your baby says their first word: [geto suguru]

You never knew you could fall in love twice until you saw your husband become a father to your beautiful baby girls. Not only was he supportive, which was obviously the bare minimum, he still managed to be present for all three of his girls at the same time. The girls were obsessed with their father, and rightfully so, but something you truly admired about your husband was that he made sure to include himself during their play time.

And despite your attempts at convincing him that play time meant playing with dolls and plushies, Suguru was adamant on teaching his little girls very interesting words that had their tiny eight month old brains almost short circuit.

“Sugu, easy there. They can’t possibly know what pontificate means.” You say followed with a low chuckle, watching as the man sat down on the floor with his legs spread wide open for his two girls to sit in the space there and glance at the book their father was holding.

“My girls are smart like their parents,” your husband says with a serious look on his face. “I need their first words to be something smart, something big…”

“I need something that screams Beyoncé,” you say jokingly and your husband shoots you a playful glare.

“Be serious.”

You squat in front of your baby girls and it immediately shifts their attention from the book Suguru was holding and you smile at that. You instinctively open your arms and wait for them to crawl towards you, but instead one of the girls looks back at Suguru and waits for him to look down at her.

“Mama,” your little girl turns to her sister before staring at you and starts crawling towards you and your jaw almost touches the floor.

“Did you just say mama?”

“Mamama,” your other daughter mimics her sister and tries to escape Suguru’s hold, but he catches her in his arms and his happiness seems to be a lot more obvious than yours.

“Yeah baby, that’s mama! She said mama, did you hear that?” You grab your baby girl who was crawling towards you and grin at your husband.

“Didn’t you say you wanted their first word to be something big?”

“You’re their everything, so it is something big.” There was no doubt that you picked the right person to father your children.

°˖➴ when your baby starts walking: [gojo satoru]

You’ve always known that your baby was going to be as hyper as Satoru. Ever since he was in the womb, your baby would not stop moving and kicking, it even resulted in him almost wrapping the umbilical cord around his neck but thankfully, the birth went great and he came out as healthy as ever.

Despite being so sure that the baby would be a carbon copy of his father, your baby boy ended up taking your every facial feature. Satoru couldn’t deny that he wished his baby had his white hair, but something about having a second human looking exactly like you melted his heart. But that was literally the only thing the baby had about you, just the looks. Because God, was he an active baby.

He was holding his head up and rolling on his stomach faster than you had expected, and since Satoru loved to test his boy’s limits, your baby ended up crawling soon after. Not even two months later, your baby was saying his first words and all you could do was nod and smile as people told you how unique your baby was, and a part of you could only wish that you would shelter him from all the attention he was getting. But he was a Gojo, and stuff like this was bound to happen.

But the moment your husband noticed your discomfort, he immediately stopped accepting people when they asked to come over. He was excited to become a father, but it wouldn’t be the same if it meant robbing you of the same place that was supposed to bring you comfort.

And apparently, only he could keep up with his son’s hyper self. Crawling from corner to corner, squealing in excitement and tossing his toys around, Satoru even encouraged his son to grab onto the couch and crawl around the space that was heavily baby-proofed.

“Ah, you’re so eager to walk, aren’t you?” Satoru teases his son as he tries to hold onto the couch and stand up. With a little bit of support on his bum, your baby managed to stand up but freezes there and turns his head to the side where his father was staring at him.

“What, are you scared? It’s not so fun anymore, hm?” Your husband teases your son who seems to be taking his father’s words not very well. He pouts and rests his head on the couch, refusing to look at his dad and Satoru laughs out loud.

“Come on, I was only joking, you’re good at everything just like your dad.” You eventually walk down the stairs and you raise an eyebrow at your pouting eleven month old son.

“What did you do?” you immediately pin the blame onto your husband who gasps and puts a hand on his chest.

“I didn’t do anything!” He pats your son’s bum as your baby’s wobbly legs try to move him around the couch and towards you. “He stood up and got scared, and I found it funny.”

“Oh baby,” you squat down to your baby’s level and reach out your hands to grab him. “Papa is so mean, isn’t he?”

“Am not,” Satoru rolls his eyes but he watches as your son reaches the end of the couch and hesitates to let go. You lock eyes with your baby, and your husband thinks it’s a beautiful example of mothers and babies silently communicating, because no words were exchanged yet your baby knew to trust you completely.

He doesn’t fall into your arms but instead, he pushes himself away from the couch and takes a very small step towards you. You try not to gasp in surprise, and you wait as he takes another step—then another, and another before falling in your embrace and both you and Satoru are wide eyed and surprised at what just happened.

“He just—“

“He walked!” Your husband jumps from his spot on the ground and takes your baby in his arms. “My son is one of a kind! I’m telling you, he will win a nobel prize—“

Satoru always found a way to be excited about any of his son’s milestones.

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

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barnesandashes · 29 days ago

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my headcanon for bucky is and will always be the fact that he would always want to take things slow— he likes slow burn and yearning. yes, that man is a flirt and would drop a few sneaky pickup lines every now and then, but he would always make sure to keep it slow! he would absolutely revel in just stolen glances, fingers almost touching, and soft whispers of words that would have you melting on your knees in an instant.

don’t get me started on dates, he will spoil you to the brim with gifts and words of affection on how beautiful you always look, and how he’s so lucky to go on a date with you (even if you’ve already made things official). bucky will look at you with earnest, love-adorned eyes, probably second guessing if he’s in a dream— and if he isn’t, what did he do to deserve this angel?

when he loves someone— he loves hard, a literal gentleman straight from the 40’s. pockets filled with lessons on what his mama taught him, on how to treat women the right way. he would absolutely let you take the lead, but not in a sense that you’d all make the decisions alone. he just doesn’t want to lose you, quite possibly the best thing that can ever happen in his life.

author's note: just a drabble bc i've been so crazy abt him the past few weeks! plus who made the gif !?

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x reader #winter soldier #mcu #your honor im in love with him #the winter soldier #bucky x you #imagines #bucky imagine

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humaling · 1 month ago

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holding you like home — finnick odair x reader

summary ۶ৎ you're suspicious over finnick's sudden clinginess.

warnings ۶ৎ allusions to finnick's prostitutions, finnick's awfully clingy

word count ۶ৎ 2.5k

author's note ۶ৎ mi bday special cuz im officially an adult in 42 mins ( ｡ﾟДﾟ｡)

There’s a shift in the air.

You could feel it from a thousand miles away. Hell, it’s like you have a sixth sense when it comes to Finnick—an internal alarm that goes off the second something is off with him. And this morning, it rang the moment you woke up.

Finnick’s arms were wrapped too tightly around your waist, his body practically fused to your back, his nose buried so deep in the crook of your neck it felt like he was trying to melt into you. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know: he’s hiding something.

The problem is, you can’t figure out what.

It started with how hard you had to work just to get him out of bed. He clung to you like a lifeline, whining and pouting like a lovesick teenager. His sea-glass eyes held a look that was too intense for just morning cuddles, and when you cupped his face and asked what was wrong, he only gave you this goofy, love-drunk smile before pressing soft, distracting kisses to your lips. “Breakfast can wait,” he mumbled, flipping you over with too much ease for someone who looked so emotionally frazzled.

Then came the kitchen.

Your house is small, especially the kitchen, tucked into your inherited little wooden beach cottage, filled to the brim with mismatched pots and hanging herbs. Two people don’t fit in there, not without bumping hips and brushing arms—and Finnick? He was practically glued to you. Wherever you moved, he followed, hands around your waist, his head nestled in the crook of your neck again like he was trying to memorize your scent.

It would’ve been sweet if you weren’t so damn hungry. And if you weren’t still recovering from the thirty minutes of relentless affection earlier.

At one point, you spilled batter down your shirt from how many times you bumped into him.

That was the last straw.

You turned around, firm hands on his broad shoulders, brows raised in tired disbelief. “Baby,” you said, tone edged with warning. “Will you please just sit here and look pretty?”

He let out an exaggerated huff but nodded quickly the second your brows lifted higher, that signature ‘don’t test me’ look you’ve perfected over the years. He pressed a kiss to your nose—loud and wet and obnoxiously smug—and plopped himself down in one of the wooden chairs with a dramatized sigh. You backed away slowly, eyes narrowed, watching him as if he might leap right back up again the second you turned around.

He sat there like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t been acting weird as hell since he got back last night.

Now it’s afternoon, and you’re curled up in the pink nook by your bedroom window, knees tucked under your chin, your fingers holding a book you’re not really reading. You’ve been trying to research flowers for your garden. Finnick built you a greenhouse just last month—white picket fence and everything—because you mentioned once, half-asleep, that you wanted to grow your own vegetables. Tomatoes. Garlic. Onions. Anything so you wouldn’t have to keep hauling yourself down to the market every few days.

It took him a day and a half to build it. Just showed up grinning with dirt on his cheeks and a ribbon tied to the gate latch.

But today, your mind can’t focus on gardening.

You keep replaying everything from the moment you woke up. The bed. The kisses. The slow, almost too tender sex. The shared shower—where Finnick insisted he wash your hair. The way he kept looking at you like you might disappear if he blinked too long. He’s always been affectionate, yes, but this was different. This wasn’t just clingy. This was like he was terrified.

He finally left the house an hour ago to swim, saying something about not missing his daily laps. It took you twenty-five minutes to get him out the door. He kissed you repeatedly. Begged you to come with him. Told you it wouldn’t be fun if you weren’t there. And when you refused—because, frankly, the ocean is freezing and you’re not trying to die today—he pouted like a child and dragged his feet all the way down the porch.

You shake your head, trying to will the thoughts away. Surely, if it were something serious, Finnick would’ve told you by now. He’s never kept things from you—not since the night he finally told you what the Capitol really made him do during those long absences. Not since he looked you in the eye and admitted the truth with shaking hands and a voice that barely held together.

You didn’t flinch, judge or looked at him differently. You just held him. Because you were glad that he let you in. That he trusted you enough to share the darkest parts of himself.

You love Finnick. That much is undeniable. Sometimes you think about where you’d be if you hadn’t met him two years ago—and the image is always darker. He pulled you out of a hole you didn’t even know you were sinking into after your parents died in the fire at District 4’s fish market. It was a freak accident—took several others too, including Finnick’s uncle, the last family he had.

So yeah. It’s an understatement to say you’re worried about him.

You glance down at your notebook and realize, with a tired blink, that you’ve scribbled “causes of Finnick’s sudden clinginess” instead of “causes of pest infestations in a garden.”

Your pen stills, and you blink—once, then again—staring down at the page as the weight of it all finally settles in. Even now, with two rooms and a closed door between you, you can still feel him—his presence like gravity tugging at your chest.

Before your thoughts can spiral deeper, the door creaks open and Finnick steps into the room.

He’s a mess. A towel is draped over his head, soaked and sliding halfway down his neck. His bronze skin is glistening with seawater, droplets trailing down his bare chest and soaking into the waistband of his shorts. He’s left a winding path of damp sand from the hallway, every step tracked in prints that smear slightly with each move he makes. His feet are bare and his curls are still dripping, little beads of water falling onto the wooden floor.

You stare at him from the window nook, frozen for a second, your book slipping slightly from your lap.

He looks at you like he hasn’t seen you in years.

Then, without a word, he crosses the room, moving with that same effortless grace he always has—except this time it’s less like a flirtation and more like a need. When he reaches you, he doesn’t pause or ask permission. He just climbs right in, damp and heavy and all saltwater heat, stretching himself across your curled-up body like he belongs there. Like he has to be there or he’ll unravel.

You grunt under the sudden weight, your hands instinctively bracing against his slick shoulders. “Finnick—”

He silences your protest with a peppering of kisses across your face. Cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, lips—he leaves no space untouched. Each kiss is frantic, uncoordinated, wet with ocean and something deeper—something you still can’t name.

“I missed you,” he mumbles between kisses. “God, I missed you. I was only gone for an hour and I missed you.”

“Finnick,” you laugh breathlessly, tilting your head back as he continues his unrelenting affection. “You were literally just—hey! You’re soaking the cushion!”

“Don’t care,” he mutters into your neck, arms wrapping tight around you like you might disappear if he lets go. “You smell better than the ocean.”

“Finnick,” you say again, softer this time. There’s a flicker of something uneasy in your chest, something too big to ignore anymore.

You push him back just enough to see him clearly, your hands moving up to cup his cheeks—firm, steady, squishing them together until his lips pout in that ridiculous way that practically begs to be kissed. It takes everything in you not to give in to the urge.

Instead, you hold his gaze.

His sea-green eyes blink at you, wide and soft, still wet at the lashes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Finnick blinks at you, lips still squished between your palms. He gives a pitiful little hum, eyebrows raised innocently like he’s got no idea what you’re talking about.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, words slightly muffled through his puckered mouth. “I just love you, that’s all.”

You narrow your eyes. “Mmhmm.”

He tries to lean forward again, aiming another kiss at your jaw, but you tighten your grip on his cheeks and pull back just enough to stop him.

“Nope,” you say firmly. “We’re not doing that.”

His brows knit together, the pout deepening. “Doing what?”

“You trying to distract me with kisses and charm so you don’t have to answer.” You tilt your head, voice still teasing but firm beneath it. “We can sit like this for the rest of our lives if we have to. I’ll hold your face hostage, Finnick Odair. Don’t test me.”

A beat passes.

Something shifts in his expression. The smile fades. His mouth relaxes under your hands, and his eyes—those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes—drop slightly, losing the usual glint of mischief. He swallows hard, and when he looks back up at you, it’s like something inside him finally gives way.

“I had a dream,” he says quietly, almost like he’s ashamed of it. “Last night. You died.”

The words hit you like a jolt, but you don’t move, don’t flinch. You just keep your hands on his face, grounding him.

“You died,” he repeats, voice cracking slightly. “And it felt so real. I woke up and—I couldn’t breathe. I thought I lost you. I thought—God, it was so stupid, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I waste so much time just… assuming you’ll always be here.”

He leans into your touch then, like he needs it to keep going.

“I realized I can’t do that. I don’t want to waste a single second. I don’t want to go another day without making sure you know how much I love you. How much you mean to me. Because if something happened to you and I didn’t say it enough or loud enough or clear enough…”

His voice trails off, and then he breathes out—soft and hoarse, like the weight is finally leaving his chest.

“I’d rather spend one tomorrow with you, making sure you know I love you,” he whispers, “than a thousand tomorrows without you… and never get the chance to say it.”

You stare at him, heart squeezing painfully, lips parted—but the words don’t come. Not right away. Because what do you even say to that?

You don’t say anything right away. You just release his face with the gentlest touch, then open your arms and pull him into you—tugging him into your chest like you're trying to shield him from the very world that haunts his dreams.

He doesn’t resist. He folds into you like a tide pulled home, arms locking tightly around your waist, his cheek pressed into your shoulder. He holds you like he thinks you might vanish again. Like it’s your last night together. And it breaks something inside you.

You run your fingers through his still-damp hair, slow and steady, the same way someone might soothe a frightened animal or calm a child after a nightmare. He trembles once. Just once. But you feel it. And it makes your chest ache.

“Finnick,” you murmur softly, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “I know you love me.”

His arms stiffen slightly, like he’s unsure if you’re just saying it to soothe him, but you pull back just enough to see his face, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

“I know it,” you repeat, firmer now. “Not just because you say it. But because you show it.”

You smile faintly, eyes locked on his. “You built me a greenhouse in less than two days just because I said I wanted to grow tomatoes. You kiss my forehead every time I fall asleep reading. You get up before sunrise to untangle my wind-chimes when the sea breeze knots them up. And when you think I’m not looking…” Your voice catches a little. You look at me like I hung the stars in your sky.

His eyes are glossy now, red at the rims, but he doesn’t look away. You don’t let him.

“You’ve already told me you love me a hundred different ways, Finnick. Even when you don’t say it.”

You rest your forehead against his, nose brushing his as you close your eyes. “So next time you have a dream like that… just wake me up. You don’t have to wait. You don’t have to hold it in. I want to be the person you can fall apart with. Okay?”

Finnick nods, slow and silent. And then he kisses you—not with urgency this time, not to dodge or distract—but like he’s memorizing the shape of forever on your lips.

It’s warm and slow and almost shy, like he’s still trying to believe you’re real. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that steals your breath, his hands trembling slightly as they cradle your waist, holding you like something precious. Like something breakable. Like he’s scared he might crush you if he holds too tightly, but terrified you’ll slip away if he doesn’t.

You kiss him back just as slowly, threading your fingers into his damp curls and brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones, tasting salt—maybe from the ocean, maybe from him. Neither of you pulls away. Time stops. The only sound is the faint ticking of the old wall clock in the corner and the hush of waves crashing somewhere in the distance, just beyond the house.

When you finally part, it’s only because you both need to breathe. Finnick leans his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers. “Ever.”

“You won’t,” you whisper back, just as fiercely. “You’ve got me. For as long as you want me.”

His eyes flutter open. “Forever, then.”

You smile, tears burning quietly at the edges of your vision. “Forever sounds just right.”

He pulls you in again, tucking your head under his chin, wrapping himself around you until you can barely tell where you end and he begins. His heart beats against yours like it’s trying to speak a language only the two of you understand. The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Heavy with everything that didn’t need words.

You stay like that for a while. Wrapped in each other. The sun dipping lower through the bedroom window, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Outside, the waves keep crashing. Inside, he’s holding you like he’ll never let go again.

And he won’t.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair #hunger games finnick #the hunger games #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #thg finnick

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redr0sewrites · 24 days ago

Note

overstim with shmilk...... maybe...?

hed try to overstimulate us and overstimulate himself in the process sighhhh hes going at it till it hurts for him to cum but it's so good that he just can't stop

🌀 A/n: classes r finally over and now i can lock in and write again i love my life

🌀 Cw: smut, afab reader, overstimulation, possessiveness, mating press, begging

🌀 dividers

"hnngh... hah-"

Shadow Milk Cookies' moans rise up an octave as his dick slides deeper into the soaking mass of your pretty cunt. you've long since lost count of how many times you've both cum, but he barely stutters before pushing himself impossibly deeper. you've been going at it for what must be hours, as your lover was absolutely certain that he could overstimulate you before losing control himself. however, he seems to have overestimated his abilities, as you can already see his mocking facade beginning to crumble in pleasure.

the nasty squelch of your cunt clenching around his cock with each thrust overwhelms your senses, accompanied by the vast assortment of profanities spewing from Shadow Milk Cookies lips. with each dutiful thrust inside your aching pussy, a newfound rush of curses and whines emerges from your lovers' mouth, gracing your ears in his lack of decorum. the usually so-composed and mocking Beast of Deceit was practically crumbling above you, spewing wanton nonsense as he fucked you both stupid.

sly hands trail up his back and tangle in his hair, giving a sharp tug and pulling his head back. he's got you pinned down to the bed, but the exposure of his neck grants you newfound opportunity. you lean in and press wet, sloppy kisses over his collarbone, traveling upwards to the curve of his jaw and the hollow of his throat. Shadow Milk Cookie hisses softly as you nip at the junction of his neck, his hips suddenly rolling languidly against yours as his thighs tremble. your met with the unmistakable sensation of being filled as Shadow Milk Cookie cums again, his entire body quivering as his release washes over him- and yet, he doesn't stop. he fucks his seed deeper and deeper into your cunt, moaning girlishly as fat tears trickle down his cheeks. the mess between your legs is a sight to behold, with both of your fluids smudged across your thighs and stomach.

"hhah- hnghh fuck, sso- sso fucking- ngh- soaked..." Shadow Milk mumbles incoherently, barely pausing as he slams his mushroom tip deeper inside of you. you let out a mewl of pleasure, squirming in his hold as his hands hook beneath your thighs, throwing your legs up over his shoulders and effectively folding you in half. the new position allows him to reach impossibly deeper, and you feel as though your mind is turning into mush. still, you manage to retain a bit more coherency than your lover, who babbles and mewls as you clench around him.

Shadow Milk Cookie stares at you with hearts practically floating in his eyes, unrelenting in his thrusts. his abused cock pracically burns with overstimulation, but he won't- can't stop. you feel so good, like you both are meant to fit together, and if he could spend eternity's fucking you into oblivion, Shadow Milk Cookie would. he craves you like a starving man craves meat, and his eyes glimmer with dangerous affection.

"you're.... mine." Shadow Milk Cookie slurrs, voice cracking with need as his cock twitches and sputters inside of you. barely coherent, you nod, tears brimming in your eyes as you reach what must be at least your tenth orgasm of the night.

"ffuck- Sh-Shadow Milk," you hiccup through tears, to which he sneers condescendingly. however, he can't exactly tease you, considering his state is objectively worse.

as his hips continue pistoning against yours, you begin to squirm, not sure if you're trying to pull closer or further away from the painful pleasure wracking your entire body. Shadow Milk Cookie notices almost immediately, and pulls out almost all the way before slamming his cock deeper inside of you.

"i g-guess you didn't hear me, hm?" he sneers between moans, two tones eyes bearing directly into yours. "hhah, silly little poppet- you're m-mine,"

you nod, whimpering as you stutter out a slft "m' yours !" the sound of your confirmation makes Shadow Milk Cookie let out a loud moan, before reaching his peak one final time. his spent cock barely even cums, instead just wracking him with pleasure. in one swift movement, your partner removes your thighs from his shoulders at the last second before collapsing atop of you, utterly spent.

the both of you lay in silence for a few moments, absolutely covered in slick and sweat. your practically shaking as your head swims, barely aware as Shadow Milk Cookie slumps against you. the room reeks of sex, and your cunt and thighs burn in pain, Shadow Milk Cookies cock still sheathed deep inside you.

"mm... don't fall asleep yet, w'gotta clean up," you mumble to no avail as Shadow Milk Cookie pouts, letting his eyes flutter shut. technically, he doesn't even need sleep, but he loves nothing more than pissing you off.

"hush, fool," he grumbles, poking you halfheartedly as you glare at him. "m' tired. if you want to clean up, you can."

"... im gonna get you." you grumble, pinching his sides in exasperation, causing him to yelp. you immediately find yourself pushed off the bed and onto the floor, and you screech as Shadow Milk Cookie laughs.

"you should know better to provoke me, doll," he coos condescendingly, and you groan. "now crawl back up here, will ya? it's dreadfully cold without you."

you flip him off before doing exactly as he asks, and Shadow Milk Cookie giggles softly as you curl up beside him. "aww, i guess you really do like me!" he teases, and you groan, shoving your head into a pillow.

"just shut up," you grumble, muffled by the pillow currently engulfing your head.

"how cruel! being shushed by my own lover- the horror!"

"goodnight, Shadow Milk."

your eyelids begin to flutter in exhaustion, and it isn't long at all before sleep claims you. however, just before you drift off, you swear you hear a soft whisper of "goodnight, my poppet" in response....

🌀A/n: sorry if this sucks i genuinely have been unable to write for like the past few months UHRRHHRRHRHG i am having such bad writers block its genuinely killing me. on a lighter note !!! things have been looking up a lot for me irl and classes r finally over! and then. on top of that. not that many of u are interested in my romantic escapades but lemme just say i think a girl ive lowk liked for a while is into me too... URGH pls god let me have this beautiful brown eyed butch i promise i wont fumble this time i can handle it

#shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #crk x reader #crk x you #crk x y/n #crk smut #shadow milk smut #shadow milk cookie smut #crk imagine #crk #crk fanfic #fem reader #x reader #smut #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom smut #cookie run kingdom

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feinzleclerc · 1 month ago

Text

A Hundred Kisses I've Already Given You | CL16

starring ; charles leclerc x reader fem!

summary ; Where you make a list of 100 kisses very important to you and Charles.

warnings ; English is not my first language.

word count ; 5k words.

notes ; PART 2, 3, 4 & 5 COMING SOON

Then I got really excited and only the first part was 5 thousand words! 😅 The next parts will be coming soon.

MAIN MASTERLIST & CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST

01. Morning Kiss

The golden sun streams through the gaps in the linen curtains, painting warm stripes across the unmade bed. The air still carries the coolness of dawn, mingled with the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee drifting from the distant kitchen.

Charles Leclerc is half-asleep, his unruly curls tousled over his forehead, but he smiles when his eyes meet yours. His hand—marked by subtle veins and a tan from countless hours training under the sun—caresses your face with a tenderness that makes your heart race.

— Bonjour, mon amour... — he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, as he leans in for a slow kiss.

Your lips meet in a gentle, almost lazy touch, yet brimming with unspoken promises. The dawn light wraps around you both, highlighting the golden flecks in his lashes and the glow of your smile against his. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer, while the world outside—with its races, deadlines, and noise—seems to fade away.

02. Kiss on the Top of the Head

The apartment is silent, save for the sound of pages turning and a pen scratching against a notebook. You’re deep in your studies, legs curled on the sofa, laptop open, and a half-forgotten cup of tea on the coffee table. The vanilla scent of a burning candle mixes with the soft fragrance of your shampoo—something light, like cotton flowers.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders from behind, and before you can react, Charles presses his lips to the top of your head in a kiss that’s equal parts affection and longing.

— You work too hard... — he murmurs, his voice soft, as his fingers play with the ends of your hair.

You smile, tilting your head back to look at him. He’s barefoot, wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair still slightly damp from the shower, as if he’s just returned from training. His gaze is tired but warm, and when his hand brushes your shoulder, you feel the callouses on his fingers—marks of hours spent gripping the wheel.

— I need to finish this... — you protest, but you’re already leaning into him.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest, and kisses your hair again before whispering:

— Fine, but after this, you’re all mine.

03. Kiss on the Shoulder While Cooking

The smell of garlic sizzling in butter fills the air, mingled with the aroma of red wine lightly splashing in the pan. You’re focused, stirring the risotto with one hand while the other grips the wooden spoon like an extension of your arm. French music plays softly from the phone on the counter—something Charles chose, of course—and the improvised candles cast dancing shadows on the walls.

Just as you turn to grab the grated cheese, he appears behind you like a ghost. His arms wrap around your waist in a loose embrace, and before you can complain about the interference, his lips press a light kiss to your bare shoulder—right where your oversized T-shirt has slipped down.

— Smells good... — he murmurs against your skin, and you feel his smile form there, warm and familiar.

— You’re distracting the chef — you say, trying to sound stern, but your voice comes out softer than intended.

He laughs, the sound vibrating against your back, and pulls you closer, completely ignoring the fact that the risotto might burn. His hand—still with a faint trace of grease under the nails, remnants of his earlier training session—intrudes over yours, guiding the wooden spoon with gentle pressure.

— This is our risotto, not just yours. — he argues, kissing your shoulder again, slower this time, as if memorizing the taste of your skin mixed with the scent of dinner.

And when you turn your head to face him, he’s so close that your nose almost brushes his. His eyes—green like Monaco’s fields under morning sun—dance with yours, and for a second, the risotto, the music, even the faintly burning garlic in the pan—all of it disappears.

04. Goodnight Kiss

The bedroom is bathed in the golden half-light of the bedside lamp, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The bed—a territory of rumpled sheets and contested pillows—looks inviting after a long day. You're already settled in, blankets pulled up to your chin, your hair spread across the pillow like a messy halo.

Charles lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, his fingers tracing slow paths along your exposed arm. He looks at you with an expression that's equal parts exhaustion and devotion, his eyelids heavy with sleep but still reluctant to close.

— You're beautiful like this... — he murmurs, his voice rough, almost like a sigh.

You smile, reaching up to touch his face, feeling the scratchy texture of his stubble beneath your fingers. He turns his head to kiss your palm in a gesture so natural it feels like part of an ancient ritual.

The kiss is slow, sweet—as if he's trying to memorize the taste of your lips before sleep takes him. His hand cradles your face, his thumb stroking your temple as his lips move against yours in a lazy, almost sleepy rhythm. You breathe in his scent—toothpaste and something inherently *Charles*, something warm and familiar that makes you want to bury your face in his neck and never leave.

When he finally pulls away, it's just enough to murmur against your mouth:

— Sweet dreams, mon amour.

Then, with one last touch—his lips brushing your chin, quick and light as a butterfly's wing—he reaches over to turn off the light.

In the darkness, your body fits against his like puzzle pieces, and the last thought you have before drifting off is that no matter how many races he wins, nothing compares to this quiet moment when he belongs only to you.

05. Kiss on a Bruise

The afternoon sun in Monaco paints everything in gold, glinting off the asphalt still damp from a passing rain. The bikes lean against the sidewalk, their wheels spinning lazily before coming to a stop, as if tired from your adventure through the city's steep streets. You sit on the seawall, breathing deeply, your scraped knee throbbing under the salty breeze.

Charles kneels in front of you before you can protest, his hands firm but gentle as they wrap around your ankle. His eyes—green as the Mediterranean under the sun—are serious as they examine the scrape with the same focus he gives to the curves of the racetrack.

— It's not that bad... — he murmurs, though the frown between his brows betrays his worry.

The mineral water from the bottle he brought spills over the wound, and you grimace, your fingers gripping the wall behind you. He blows softly, the cool air easing the sting, and then—without warning—he presses his lips lightly to the side of your injured knee, a kiss that's more breath than touch.

— There. All better now. — He says it like a spell, tilting his face up with a mischievous grin.

You laugh, your heart beating faster than it did climbing the hill, and nudge his shoulder.

— Kissing bruises only works on kids, you know.

He rises in one fluid motion, his hands finding your waist to pull you close. His nose brushes yours, and you breathe him in—sweat, salt, and that subtle cologne he wears even on the simplest days.

— Then I'll have to kiss something else... — he whispers, and before you can reply, his lips find yours in a kiss that tastes like the sea and unspoken promises.

Your knee still hurts a little. But honestly? You can barely remember why.

06. Paddock Kiss

The paddock buzzes around you—engines being tuned, radios crackling, the hum of conversations in a dozen languages. But in the middle of the chaos, the two of you walk slowly, as if the world has slowed down just for this moment.

Your hands are intertwined, his fingers—strong and slightly rough from gripping the wheel—tangled with yours so naturally it makes your chest ache. Suddenly, he stops, pulling your hand to his lips.

A kiss. Soft, almost reverent, on your knuckles, right where a ring might one day sit.

— Do you know what I think when I see you here, in the middle of all this? — Charles asks, his voice low, his green eyes bright under the paddock's artificial lights.

You shake your head, curious.

— I think that no matter how many turns I face out there... — He presses your hand to his chest, where his firesuit still smells like gasoline and effort, — I'll always have you as my safe harbor.

Your face warms, but you don't look away.

— What if someone sees? — you tease, feigning concern.

He laughs, the sound rough and intimate, before pulling you into a quieter corner behind the team trucks.

— Then they're lucky. Because I can't hide what I feel for you.

07. Apology Kiss

The apartment still holds the echo of your argument—the silence now thick, broken only by the irritating tick of the wall clock. You're curled on the couch, hugging a pillow like a shield, staring at the window where Monaco's lights flicker like false stars.

Charles appears in the bedroom doorway, barefoot, his hair a mess from running his hands through it during the fight. He hesitates for a second—takes a deep breath—then crosses the room in three long strides.

Without a word, he kneels before you, his hands resting on your knees. His eyes, usually so bright, are dark.

— I'm sorry... — His voice comes out rough, broken.

You frown, still resisting, but he's already pulling your hand—the same one he held for the first time in the paddock, the same one he kissed after that Silverstone victory—to his lips. He presses a desperate kiss to your fingers.

— I need to apologize too— — you murmur, but he doesn't let you finish.

The kiss comes then—not on your lips, but on your forehead. Lingering, warm, heavy with everything left unsaid. You feel him tremble slightly, as if holding back something much bigger than an apology.

— I was an idiot. — He whispers against your skin, his hands now cradling your face. — I'll do better.

When you finally meet his eyes, it's just Charles—the boy who drives like a demon but holds you like something precious—and suddenly, the fight doesn't matter anymore.

You tug his collar, pulling him in. The reconciliation kiss tastes salty—half your tears, half his.

08. Victory Kiss

The paddock party roars around you—champagne popping, team members shouting, camera flashes exploding—but everything disappears when Charles spots you. He's still in his unzipped firesuit, sweat mixed with champagne foam in his wild curls, and his smile when he sees you is brighter than the trophy in his hands.

— You saw that?! — he yells, sprinting toward you like he's still going 300km/h.

Before you can answer, he lifts you into the air, spinning you like you're the podium itself. His lips crash into yours in a kiss that tastes like gasoline, champagne, and something that exists only between you two—pure euphoria.

— That was for you — he murmurs, his forehead pressed to yours, his breathing still ragged from the race.

You laugh, wiping champagne foam from his nose with your finger.

— Liar. It was for the trophy.

He tightens his grip on your waist, the number "16" on his firesuit staining your clothes, and steals another quick kiss.

— The trophy doesn't kiss me back, mon amour.

09. Healing Kiss

The blood wells up before you even feel the pain—a quick, shallow cut on your index finger from mishandling a knife while trying (and failing) to peel mangoes for dessert.

— Merde! — Charles drops the cutting board instantly, cradling your wrist. His green eyes darken with concern, examining the cut like it's a mechanical flaw in his car.

— Ow, it's nothing... — You try to pull away, but he's already bringing your finger to his mouth.

And then it happens:

His lips press against the wound in a kiss that's too warm to be just medicinal. His tongue swipes away the blood with a care that makes your stomach flip.

— Better? — he asks, his voice rough, his eyes now filled with a different kind of worry.

You swallow hard. The cut? Barely remember it. The problem? Your racing heartbeat.

— That's not... hygienic, Charles.

He grins, that mischievous charm flashing across his face.

— You're right. — He agrees, before pulling you in by the waist and capturing your lips in a kiss that's definitely not medical. — But you prefer it this way, don't you?

10. "It'll Be Okay" Kiss

The apartment is dark, only the blue glow of the TV illuminating Charles' face—the replay of his disastrous race still looping silently. He sits on the floor, leaning against the couch, an untouched bottle of still water beside him. He hasn't even touched the whiskey you know he prefers on bad days.

You kneel behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and feel the tension leave him in a sigh that almost hurts.

— I can't... — His voice cracks, rough from gritting his teeth through those final laps. — Everything I touch turns to dust.

You turn his face toward yours, your hands firm on his stubbled cheeks.

— You're Charles Leclerc. The same man who won me over during that storm in Spa. The same one who makes Scuderia tremble when you hit the throttle.

He closes his eyes, but you don't let him.

— Look at me.

When he does, you kiss each eyelid—first the right, then the left—like sealing a promise.

— There's one turn you've never messed up — you whisper, your lips hovering over his. — The one that leads back to me.

Then, slow as Eau Rouge in slow motion, he pulls you into a kiss that needs no words.

When you part, he holds the back of your neck, forehead resting against yours:

— Tu es ma boussole... (You're my compass) — he admits in French.

You smile, stealing another quick kiss:

— And you're my driver. Now get up. The next race is already waiting.

11. Nose Kiss

The room smells like Vicks VapoRub and lemon tea, the sheets tangled from your restless turning. Buried under blankets with a red nose and glassy feverish eyes, you barely register Charles entering with a steaming bowl.

— Brought nonna's soup — he announces, sitting carefully on the bed's edge like you're made of porcelain. His pride over the homemade soup is almost cute, considering he nearly burned the kitchen down last week.

You pout.

— Can't even taste it properly...

He laughs, smoothing your tangled hair—the same fingers that adjust front wings with millimeter precision now patiently detangling your strands.

— Poor little thing — he murmurs, and before you can protest, his lips brush the tip of your red nose in a kiss that's more breath than contact.

— Ew, Charles! You'll catch it! — you complain, but he's already grinning, completely ignoring biological hazards.

— I'd take a thousand sick days over one without you — he declares dramatically, his accent thicker just to make you smile.

When you finally swallow the first spoonful (surprisingly good), he steals another nose kiss—longer this time, like a seal of approval.

— Maybe my kisses work better than medicine — he teases, that familiar smirk appearing.

12. Laughter Kiss

The apartment still echoes with your last burst of laughter—the kind that hurts your stomach and leaves tears in your eyes after that terrible joke you told. Charles is nearly rolling on the sofa, his curls disheveled and face flushed from laughing.

— No way you found that funny! — he gasps between laughs, his voice pitched higher than his team radio during qualifiers.

You try to retaliate but end up laughing too, and that's when he pulls you in.

The kiss happens mid-chaos—clumsy, with both your lips still curved in smiles, teeth accidentally clashing. It's messy, and that's what makes it perfect.

— That was... our worst kiss ever — you giggle against his mouth, but he just tightens his hold.

13. Wrist Kiss

The bedroom is quiet, lit only by a soft lamp. You're lounging on the sofa with a book when Charles approaches—his steps light, like sneaking through pitlane before race start. He kneels before you, gently taking the book from your hands.

— Let me check... — he murmurs, his fingers tracing your wrist like searching for the perfect racing line.

Then his lips press against the thin skin where blue veins map your pulse. The kiss is featherlight but burns like brandy.

— So fast... — he comments, smiling against your skin, eyes closed to better feel your racing heartbeat.

— You're distracting me — you protest, voice trembling.

He chuckles and repeats the gesture, slower now, as if memorizing each thrum.

— Now it's worse — he whispers proudly, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist like he never wants to let go.

14. Secret Kiss

You're lying with your back against Charles' chest when he leans closer—his breath on your neck making you shiver before he even whispers:

— I have a secret... — His voice blends with the wind outside as his lips brush your ear.

He shares it—maybe silly, maybe profound—in details nobody else knows. When the confession ends, he seals it with a kiss below your ear, soft as the secret itself.

— Now you're stuck with me — he teases, nipping your earlobe.

You turn to face him, but he's ready—the next kiss deeper, hotter, like the secret opened a door neither wants to close.

— Better than pole position... — he murmurs between kisses, hands tangled in your hair.

15. Missed You Kiss

The apartment door barely clicks shut before Charles crosses the room in three strides—suitcase abandoned, jacket still smelling like airplane air, his gaze starving as if he'd been gone for months, not weeks.

You're halfway off the sofa when he reaches you—his cold hands framing your face like you're a dream he feared forgetting.

— God, I missed you — his voice breaks, and then he's kissing you.

It's not a kiss.

It's a reclaiming—lips seeking yours like they're the only oxygen after weeks underwater. You grip his hair, longer now, messy from travel, tasting like airport coffee. He pins you against the wall without breaking contact, as if you'll vanish if he stops.

— Fuck, I can't do races without you — he rasps between kisses.

You laugh, but he swallows the sound with another kiss—softer now but still desperate.

— Promise you won't stay away so long? — he pleads, forehead against yours.

When you nod, he carries you to bed—suitcase forgotten, world forgotten—because some hungers can't be fed with words.

16. New Year's Kiss

The beach at Copacabana pulses with life—a sea of dancing bodies, popping champagne, fireworks painting the sky gold and silver—but you two stand still in the chaos, as if time has frozen. Charles pulls you closer to the seawall, far enough from the crowd that only you exist, close enough for firework reflections to light up his face with every explosion.

He looks breathtaking—white shirt open at the collar, skin still smelling like sea salt and sunscreen, those Mediterranean-green eyes brighter than any pyrotechnics.

— Three... — The countdown begins around you, a roar of voices, but he only looks at you.

— Two... — Your fingers tighten around his, the silver ring he gave you in Monte Carlo last year cool against your skin.

— One... — He doesn't wait.

The kiss starts before "Happy New Year"—lips tasting of saltwater and promises, hands pulling you flush against him like he wants to merge your bodies. Fireworks detonate overhead, gold and purple raining over the ocean, but all you feel is his smile when you gently bite his lower lip.

— Je t'aime — whispered between kisses, warm as the Rio summer. The way he spins you just as the sky explodes in red, like you're dancing through fire.

— Happy New Year, mon cœur — he laughs against your mouth, voice hoarse from kissing.

17. Shadow Kiss

The street lies dark under the broken streetlamp's flickering light—that one that blinks like a secret signal. Your building stands just ahead, but Charles seems in no hurry to let you go. He stands too close, his dinner-scented shirt mixing with that cologne that made you look twice at the restaurant.

— So... — he starts, fingers playing with yours like testing a new steering wheel's grip.

You smile, leaning against his car—the same one he drove slowly just to prolong the night.

— So.

He looks at your lips a second too long, then—when the streetlamp flickers again—he leans in.

The first kiss is stolen.

Light, quick, experimental. His lips barely touch yours before he pulls back, green eyes dark in the low light, watching your reaction.

— Sorry — he lies, the corner of his mouth lifting in a not-sorry-at-all smirk.

You don't answer. Just fist his collar and drag him back.

This kiss is the opposite—slow, precise, like a turn he knows by heart. Your back presses into the car door, the cold metal seeping through your dress, but who cares when all you feel is his hand cradling your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline like he's memorizing it.

— Until tomorrow — he whispers against your lips—a promise, not a question.

18. Rain Kiss

The downpour turns Monaco's streets into silver rivers. You're squeezed under a tiny umbrella—the one Charles insisted was "big enough" but now barely covers half of each of your shoulders. Your arms press together, his shirt already soaked on one side, and you're about to complain when—

He steps in a puddle, the stumble making him lurch forward—and suddenly his lips crash into yours with the perfect timing of a rom-com gag.

An utterly awkward kiss—noses bumping, teeth nearly clacking, rainwater dripping from his forehead into your collar. You break apart, wide-eyed, then...

— Mon Dieu, what a disaster — he groans, still holding the lopsided umbrella as droplets hit your hair.

— Terrible. Two out of ten — you agree, feigning disdain while already pulling him back by his belt.

19. Snow Kiss

The Swiss valley breathes snow. Thick flakes fall leisurely, blanketing the world in sacred silence. You stand frozen in this dreamscape, tears icing your lashes, when Charles' leather-gloved hands cup your face.

— Breathe, mon cœur — he orders, rubbing his nose against your frozen one. The woodsmoke scent from the lodge still clings to his scarf.

You laugh—a rough sound echoing in the white void—and that's when he kisses you. His lips taste of cognac and dark chocolate, a perfect contrast to the cold stealing your breath. Charles pulls you against his damp coat, hands firm on your waist like he fears you'll vanish into the snowfall.

— Like your present? — he asks when you part, his eyes forest-green under snow-laced lashes.

— Not fair — you complain, trembling fingers gripping his ski suit straps. — You bring me to see snow and now I can't think about anything but you.

That lopsided grin appears—the one he wears when he's won.

— Exactly the plan, ma chérie.

And when he carries you piggyback toward the lodge—grumbling that you weigh less than his skis—you know no landscape, no matter how pristine, could ever compare to the red of his ears glowing in the chalet lights.

20. Stolen Kiss

The ballroom sparkles—gold light reflecting off crystal glasses and the newlyweds' teary eyes. You sit at the table, heels already kicked off under your chair, when Charles' fingers find yours beneath the linen tablecloth.

— Bored? — he whispers, breath warm on your ear as the best man's speech drones on.

Your navy dress—the one he said made you look like "Monaco at midnight"—feels suddenly too tight when he quietly scoots your chair back.

— What are you—

The protest dies as he leads you to the winter garden's darkest corner, where party lights arrive only in faint whispers.

— Shhh — Charles presses a finger to your lips, his eyes dark as rain-slick asphalt. — I spent the whole ceremony thinking how beautiful you look tonight.

The first kiss tastes like wedding cake. The second like salt from his starched collar. The third...

— LECLERC! — the team principal's voice booms through the garden.

You spring apart so fast your dress gets caught on his pocket watch.

— Merde — he mutters, untangling you while your face burns hotter than the reception's cognac.

When you return, the groom toasts you both with a smirk:

— Glad someone's enjoying my wedding more than me!

Back at your seat, a note waits in Charles' handwriting:

*"Next ceremony will be ours."*

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female oc #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 #charles leclerc

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suguful · 1 month ago

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ᥫ᭡ — bakugo and winning you plushies

╰➤ gender neutral , no cws

katsuki refuses to leave the arcade before winning you every plushie on display. a bold declaration, but earnest nonetheless.

“these fuckers don’t stand a chance.” his grin is almost maniac, softened only by the array of plushies overflowing from the bag at his feet. from racking up tickets from arcade games to simple claw machines, the plushies truly stand no chance in the face of a man in love.

your arms fill up quickly, and your bags even quicker. with a chest full of pride, katsuki walks the floor of the arcade with a keen eye for potential members to join your plushie family.

finally heading towards the exit, you abruptly stop in your tracks.

“oh my god,” you throw a hand out to anchor yourself to katsuki’s bicep. your eyes, filled to the brim with what could only be unadulterated yearning, lock on to something in the distance. “i need that one, katsuki.”

you croon next to him, with fingers excitedly tapping on his bare skin and eyes gleaming with mirth. the sight makes his heart briefly sieze in his chest. his eyes follow your gaze, brows furrowed with a resolve to identify the object of your current affection. underneath neon flashing lights and colorfully themed decorations, katsuki’s eyes harden — target in sight.

“say less,” he takes up arms one last time, play tokens and a stray plushie in hand. “it’s all yours, baby.”

the large brown bear sits at the highest point of the arcade, smile easy and poised cozily. the fur appears soft, and the bear appears to be undoubtedly friend-shaped.

the final boss.

later that week, katsuki grimaces at the sight of you cuddled up to the burly brown bear for the millionth time. the same brown bear he had fought for a few days prior. a frown touches his lips, and he finds himself scoffing at the sight.

surely he’d have to teach that dumb hunk of plush and fabric a lesson once you’re gone.

a trip to the bathroom is all it takes. katsuki is quick to spring into action — under the guise of adjusting the pillows and sheets for bed. so what if he shoved the bear to the opposite end of the bed, away from its previous position by your pillow ? its newfound inconspicuous spot strewn across the bed is easy to miss, and completely accidental. huffing under his breath, katsuki continues to stir at the damned smiley piece of shit.

“what’s that sound?” you return from the bathroom, freshened up and ready for bed alongside katsuki and the newest smiley addition to your bedroom. you step foot into your room, confusion gracing you as you take in the sight before you.

“lil fucker thinks he can take you away from me,” katsuki grabs the poor plushie by the face, and you wince at its smiling visage contorting under his hand. “not a chance in hell.”

“you’re joking, right?” you laugh under your breath, approaching the two in their perilous face off.

“i’m not laughing,” letting go after successfully leaving an imprint on the bear’s face, he opts to rest his arms around you instead. katsuki pulls you into a hug, encompassing a warm homeliness unmatched by all else. “it’s my turn now.”

you press yourself into his chest, running your hands across the broad expanse of his back. “it’s always gonna be your turn, actually.”

“dumbass bear’s gotta learn its place,” katsuki hums in agreement, cut off by your pull away to glower at him. “i’m fucking joking.”

#he gets jealous of ur plushies REAL #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo #bakugou #katsuki #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia

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recareels · 2 months ago

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sanctum

character: phainon warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, implied rough sex, marking (bruises and bites), implied choking/bondage with hands, implied consensual noncon, phainon feeling guilty words: 907

notes: phainon feels safest in your shared bedroom because it is the only place where he can be himself in the purest, simplest form, freed from amendments or censorships.

Before you, his bedroom had felt cold, impersonal, inhospitable. It sounds cliché—and maybe it is—but you made his dwelling a home.

He remembers the day you solidified it, the night you christened his bedroom more than just a room he retires to after a long, gruelling day. He remembers the night you turned it into his most cherished sanctuary.

“I just don’t know,” he had been saying, fingertips running along the irregular blotches blooming across your thighs—his thumbs, his palms, his teeth, ugly marks he had unknowingly carved into you, strength he had unintentionally stained your body with. “Are you sure this is…Okay? It’s not…Normal.”

Or, at least, that’s what he’d always been told. You don’t physically hurt the ones you love, especially during intimate relations. Hair pulling, spanking, biting, scratching, crying—it had all been so very wrong.

Lounging on his—now yours, our—bed, you frowned, pushing yourself up onto your knees and forcing his touch to fall away from the still blossoming bruises; trauma inflicted so deep that the marks are still developing, blood from broken vessels still seeping through layers of tissue to pool in grotesque purple beneath the thinnest layer of skin.

“Phainon, baby, listen to me.” Your hands found his face, palms cupping his jaw as if he were made of fine porcelain, tiny thumbs running across his cheeks in slow rhythmic caresses. “The only thing I will ever expect of you in our bedroom is for you to be yourself.”

Gaze holding his, your irises overflowed with love, so thick and potent it felt almost suffocating, your steadfast stare digging the sentiment into his soul, an attempt to eradicate his anxieties.

A beat passed, the breath stagnating in his lungs broken free with a singular gasp, the warmth from your love rushing down his throat to fill its place.

“Okay?” you had whispered, when you were sure you had planted that seedling of an idea deep enough in his core—somewhere where it can bloom, where it can devour his worries, where it can cleanse the rot festering in his stomach.

His palm had overlayed yours, the brimming tears wobbling precariously along his lash line threatening to spill as he blinked hard.

“Okay.”

“I don’t ever want you to hold back,” you continued, fingertips running over his cheekbone in a sweet caress, tingles ignited in their wake. “I promise I can take it—I promise I like it.”

“And if you don’t—?”

“If I don’t, I promise I’ll tell you.” Your nails dug into his cheek slightly, eyes turned serious as they searched his face. “But I will never, ever judge you.”

And in that moment he could tell, instantly, immediately and irrevocably, that you had been telling the truth; that you had just laid your soul bare and raw in his hands and entrusted him to keep it safe, to refrain from criticism or condemnation—just as you promised to do to him.

The tears had fell, then, each one streaming down his face a burden lifted from his chest, his caved ribs beginning to rise as light began to inflate his core, as acceptance and peace began to bud and flower from the seeds you had planted.

And you had caught them, kissed them, killed them with your lips and your tongue and your soft murmurs of affection, swallowed them down to hold them hostage in your belly, to keep him safe from such pain.

Ever since this instance, your shared bedroom has been Phainon’s greatest sanctuary, freeing him from the shackles of his everyday duties and obligations, releasing him from the crushing weight of the numerous titles thrust upon him without his consent—worldbearer, deliverer, heir—and allowing him to be one thing and one thing only.

Himself. Pure, unadulterated, uncensored Phainon.

You’ve let him be weak, spilling his fears and his anxieties and his self-doubts, messy and half-formed and smeared across your skin in rubs of his mouth and cracked whispers, only ever uttered beneath a sheet of moonlight.

You’ve let him be harsh, ranting about the unfairness of his situation, the unjustness of having such titles thrust upon him without wish or warning, the unreasonable requests constantly being made of him.

You’ve let him be honest, lamenting about how much he doesn’t want this—how much he has never wanted this—how desperately he longs to have a normal, simple, boring life free from the responsibilities of a future demigod, the saviour of the world.

You’ve let him be rough and sordid and nasty, let him emboss your ass with his teeth and tear at your flesh with his nails and paint your body so prettily with his shimmering seed a thousand times over. You’ve let him use you as his own personal fucktoy; let him blot his name across your skin in lilac collars of four fingers, stamped around your wrists, your arms, your neck; let him fuck you until his lungs burn and his throat is wrecked from ragged breaths, until your body’s gone limp and numb and pliable as the softest putty, until his vision is blurring and your vision is gone, shut off hours ago.

And throughout it all, you have loved him, unequivocally and unconditionally.

And he wouldn’t trade his tiny shard of heaven with you, all gilded marble and fresh linen, tucked away in a corner of the Holy City, for the fucking world.

#phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon x y/n #phainon smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #not explicitly but i'm putting it in the tags anyway so those who have it filtered can avoid it #hsr x reader #hsr x you #inky.phainon #phainon angst #phainon fluff #hsr angst #phainon hurt/comfort #hsr hurt/comfort

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pochaccoups · 3 months ago

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cw — a fluffy dad!cheol moment with his baby girl (ft. mom!reader)

“Appa, your hair is so long.”

Seungcheol’s daughter’s tiny fingers curl into the strands of his dark brown hair as he carries her from her bedroom to the bathroom. She’s right—it sweeps down the back of his neck, his bangs falling over his cheekbones. It’s the longest it’s been in years.

He sits her upon the counter facing the mirror and asks, “Yeah? Do you like it?” while batting his lashes. You’ve always told him he’s a princess raising a princess.

“I like it because it looks like mine!” she says, grabbing at her own hair. It doesn’t really, except maybe the colour, but she’s three and wants to look like her dad, so who is anyone to correct her?

He smiles fondly, his heart brimming with warmth as he grabs her toothbrush and hands it to her, squeezes a dot of toothpaste on it and watches her little hand make clumsy circles over her teeth. When she’s done, he rinses the sleep from her eyes and pats her delicate skin dry, and then it’s time to do her hair.

By now, Seungcheol has become an expert in hairstyling, probably more than even you are, having taken it on as one of his parental duties. He brushes it out, gathers half of it into one pigtail and secures it, then gathers the other half into another pigtail and secures it.

“What clips would you like, my love?” he asks, shaking the little box of her colourful hair clips.

“Uhhh, these!” she chirps, picking out a pair of pink ones with bunny faces on them.

His heart is doing spins and tumbles over his baby girl, and three years on he still can’t believe that something this cute is his creation. Although, he too can believe it because she’s also your creation. Still, every day he finds himself in awe that you had given him such a perfect little human. And she’s just sitting there, blinking at her reflection in the mirror as he slides the clips into the front of her hair and kisses the top of her head when he’s all done.

“So pretty,” he says, and he’s about to pick her up again until she makes a polite request.

“Appa, can I do your hair now?”

If she asked for the world, he would give it to her.

“Yes, baby, of course,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms. He grabs some of the storage boxes filled with hair bands and elastics, too. “Come on, we’ll go to the sitting room.”

Seungcheol places his daughter on the couch and settles himself on the floor in front of her so that she can reach his head. He’s not sure why he sits facing her, though it might be a subconscious inability to take his eyes off her, but she’s only three and she doesn’t question things too much, so she gets right to work.

Dainty fingers pull his fringe into one bunch at the top of his head and Seungcheol finds himself laughing already. He hands her an elastic and all she can really do is loosely loop his hair through it with intense concentration on her soft features that makes Seungcheol grin.

“Want me to tie it, my love?” he offers, reaching up when she nods to wrap it around his hair a few times. As he does that, she picks out a clip with a pink bow on it and slides it onto the front.

Her laughter bubbles through the room immediately, and Seungcheol’s chest flutters with affection.

“Appa, you look like Kkuma!” she exclaims, and he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket to open his camera, only to find that he, indeed, is a mirror image of his beloved Coton de Tulear. He snaps some selfies, makes sure to get his baby girl’s timid smile in them too.

“Should we go show mama?” he asks. She nods vigorously, so he plucks her into his arms, shuffling to the home office where you’ve been cooped up since 8 a.m. Bothering you is not an issue; you’d given him explicit permission to bother you unless you’re in a meeting, because otherwise your ‘job’ is you sitting there and playing mouse and keyboard.

Seungcheol lets his daughter be the one to knock on the door. In response, they hear a “yes?” in the form of your anticipatory voice. Seungcheol nudges the door open, heart warming at the sight of you in your comfiest attire, your hair pulled out of your face carelessly so that he can see every pretty feature that you graced your daughter with.

“Little princess did my hair,” he announces, pouting, winking, raising his eyebrows like he’s in a shoot. “What do you think?”

You can’t stop yourself from bursting into laughter immediately, nor can you stop yourself from leaving your chair and moving towards them so you can grab your husband’s cheeks.

“Oh, honey, you look so pretty,” you cry through giggles, watching as pink spreads over his cheeks. Affection boils inside you and you don’t resist the urge to kiss him, giving his lips a soft peck. “It suits you, appa.”

“I did it!” your baby squeals. She wants her credit, of course.

“Yes, you’re amazing, my love,” you gush, playing with the pigtails her father did. “Are you gonna do his hair like yours next?”

She gazes up at him with her big bug eyes, and you can only guess that she’s deciding that his current style is old news. “Yeah!”

“Alright then, go and do that and come back and show me, yeah?” you offer, smiling softly as she nods.

Seungcheol turns to leave, but before he can, you grab him by his shirt and bring your lips to his ear. “Don’t even think about cutting it, you hear me?”

He doesn’t have to say it for you to know when your husband has been contemplating a haircut. It’s a little longer, a little harder to manage, and you wonder how, after all the years you’ve spent gushing over his longer styles, he still hasn’t gotten it in his head to let it grow.

You free him, satisfied with image of (feigned) fear on his face. You catch him winking right before he closes the door.

#thediamondlifenetwork #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x you #svt x reader #scoups x you #seventeen imagine #svt headcanons #svt fanfic #svt imagines #seventeen fanfic #[୨୧] — starring: seungcheol

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mrsfancyferrari · 7 months ago

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Baby Fever

Summary: OP81 + babysitting a child

Song: Melting · Kali Uchis

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

It was a sunny Saturday morning when Oscar and you arrived at your sister's house, the soft sound of laughter echoing from within. Today was your day to babysit little Olivia, your sister’s five-month-old daughter.

You had always adored Olivia, with her bright blue eyes and wisps of golden hair that caught the light like spun sugar. But you weren't prepared for what the day would unfold.

As you stepped through the door, the smell of fresh coffee greeted you two, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, and you caught sight of your sister bustling around the kitchen, prepping snacks and leaving last-minute instructions.

The moment felt charged with anticipation. Your sister turned, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and you felt your heart lift in response.

“Hey! You guys are right on time!” she said, beaming at you two. “Olivia has been waiting for you!”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I hope she’s not too much trouble,” you said, glancing over at Oscar, who had just caught sight of the little one.

His face lit up with joy, and a sense of warmth filled the room.

“Oh, she’s a delight,” your sister reassured you, her voice brimming with affection. “But she can be a handful when she wants to be!”

You two made your way to the living room, where Olivia was nestled in a playpen, surrounded by colorful toys that seemed to dance with life. Each toy was a vibrant splash of color, a cheerful invitation for play.

As soon as Olivia spotted Oscar, her face lit up with excitement, a burst of pure, unfiltered joy.

“Look at that!” you exclaimed, nudging Oscar playfully. “She’s smitten with you already!”

“Hey there, little princess!” Oscar cooed, crouching down to Olivia’s level. His voice was soft and gentle, and it sent a flutter through your stomach—a reminder of the simple, profound magic that occurs when love is shared.

Olivia squealed in delight, waving her tiny arms and kicking her little legs in a frenzy of happiness. It was a sight that melted your heart, igniting a warmth that spread throughout your being.

You couldn’t help but grab your phone and snap a picture of Oscar leaning into the playpen, his eyes full of warmth and affection.

“C’mon, smile for the camera!” you said, trying to contain your own excitement, feeling the rush of happiness bubble within you.

Oscar glanced up, a playful grin on his face. “Is this going on your Instagram? I better look good!”

“Oh, don’t worry. You look adorable,” you teased, capturing the moment forever in digital form.

“Can you send me that later? I need to update my profile pic,” he chuckled, returning his attention to Olivia, who was now trying to grab his finger, her tiny grip conveying a strength beyond her size.

You and Oscar spent the next few hours immersed in Olivia's world, playing with her as if she were the sun and you two were the planets, spinning around her light.

Oscar was surprisingly great with her, holding her securely while making silly faces and sounds that sent ripples of laughter cascading from her lips. Olivia giggled, her laughter ringing like the sweetest music—a melody that filled the space around you and made everything feel right.

“Wow, you’ve got a talent for this,” you said, watching as he expertly balanced her on his knee, his hands cradling her tiny frame with such care. “Have you done this before?”

“Not a lot,” he replied, his cheeks flushing slightly. “But I guess it just comes naturally when you’re around a cutie like her.”

“Oh, so you think she’s cute?” you teased, leaning closer to them, the playful banter weaving a tapestry of connection between you two.

“Of course! But you’re cuter,” he said, giving you a cheeky wink, and your heart raced at the exchange, at the ease with which he moved between playful flirtation and sincere affection.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but inside, you felt a warmth spread through you, a glow that lingered long after his words. As the day went on, you found yourself taking more pictures, wanting to capture every fleeting moment of joy.

There was something so tender about Oscar gently bouncing Olivia on his knee or the way he would rock her to sleep, humming a tune softly, the sound melding seamlessly with the soft hum of the world outside.

“I think she’s ready for a nap,” Oscar said, glancing down at the baby, who was now starting to rub her eyes, tiny fists balled in the universal sign of sleepiness.

“Yeah, I think so too,” you agreed, feeling a sense of purpose as you two moved to put her down. “Let’s put her in her crib.”

Oscar followed your lead, and you worked together seamlessly, like a well-rehearsed duet. He carefully laid Olivia down, tucking her in with her favorite blanket while you dimmed the lights, creating a cocoon of comfort.

As she drifted off, you noticed the way Oscar’s expression softened, a hint of wonder in his eyes.

“Look at her,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “She’s perfect.”

“She really is,” you agreed, feeling a tug at your heart. “You’re really good with her, Oscar. I can see you being a great dad one day.”

He turned to you, surprise flashing across his face. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you said, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “You’ve got the whole caring thing down. Just look at you!”

Oscar chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair, the gesture endearing in its familiarity. “Well, I’m glad you think so. I guess spending a day with Olivia isn’t so bad.”

Once Olivia was sound asleep, you retreated to the kitchen, where you two prepared a quick lunch. The atmosphere was light and easy, filled with the gentle clatter of dishes and the sweet sound of laughter.

As you ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, like a river finding its course.

“So, do you want kids someday?” you asked, more curious than you realized. It was a question that hung in the air, a thread connecting your hearts in this intimate moment.

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe a couple. How about you?”

“I’ve always wanted a family,” you admitted, surprised at your own candidness, your heart racing as you shared you thoughts. “But I guess I never thought about it too much until today.”

“Why today?” he asked, leaning forward, clearly intrigued, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You shrugged, a little shyly. “I don’t know. I just see how good you are with Olivia, and it kind of makes me think...”

“Think what?” he pressed gently, his eyes searching yours, a mix of wonder and warmth enveloping you two.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a little one of our own one day,” you confessed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, the weight of your words lingering between you two.

Oscar’s smile widened, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his, a gesture that felt monumental in its simplicity. “Well, I’d be honored if we got to do that together someday.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought, and you squeezed his hand, a grin spreading across your face, a feeling of belonging blooming within you. “Yeah, me too.”

As the afternoon wore on and Olivia woke up, you found yourselves wrapped up in her giggles once again. It was a day filled with joy, laughter, and an unexpected revelation about your future together.

By the end of it, as Oscar and you watched Olivia play, you felt a longing in your heart that you hadn’t anticipated—a longing for a family and perhaps for a life with Oscar that included more than just babysitting your sister's baby.

This little adventure had opened a door you didn't know existed, and it felt like the start of something profound.

As you snapped one last picture of Oscar and Olivia, their faces illuminated with joy, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, a story waiting to unfold—one where laughter, love, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet might one day fill your home, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the cozy living room as the cheerful tunes of Cocomelon filled the air. You were nestled into the couch, a warm blanket draped over you and your boyfriend, Oscar, as Olivia gurgled and babbled in your arms.

The sweet smell of baby lotion lingered around you, and the world outside seemed to fade away, the chaotic hum of daily life replaced by the serene rhythm of laughter and animated melodies.

In this intimate cocoon, time felt suspended, as if you were in a little world of your own—a beautiful sanctuary where nothing else mattered but the warmth of your family and the joy radiating from a baby’s laughter.

“This is the life,” Oscar murmured, glancing down at the baby who was enthralled by the animated characters dancing across the screen.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, and you could feel the tenderness in his touch. “I could get used to this.” His voice was soft, laced with affection, and it made your heart flutter.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Me too. I mean, look at her. She’s adorable.” You gently bounced Olivia on your knee, eliciting a giggle from the little one, a sound so pure and delightful that it seemed to resonate deep within your soul.

Her bright eyes sparkled with excitement, reflecting the colorful images dancing on the screen, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness over this tiny being.

“She really is,” Oscar said, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Olivia’s forehead. “You’re the cutest little munchkin in the whole wide world, aren’t you?”

Olivia clapped her tiny hands in response, her eyes sparkling with delight, a captivating sight that filled the room with an infectious energy.

The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open, the familiar sound that signaled the arrival of your sister, Claire.

She walked in, her arms filled with grocery bags, a picture of bustling energy. As she caught sight of the scene in the living room, a broad grin broke across her face, illuminating her features.

“Wow, you two already look the part!” she exclaimed, setting her bags down on the table with a flourish. “Should I be worried about leaving you alone with her?” There was a teasing lilt in her voice, an underlying sense of pride mingling with her playful skepticism.

You chuckled, looking up at your sister, your heart swelling with warmth. “We’ve got it under control! Right, babe?” You directed the question at Oscar, who nodded vigorously, his eyes sparkling with determination.

“Absolutely,” Oscar replied, his voice filled with confidence. “We make a great team.” The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt a sense of unity and shared purpose envelop you both.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to take care of her for a little longer?” you begged, tightening your hold on Olivia as she reached out for your hair, her tiny fingers tangling in the strands.

The innocent curiosity of a child always seemed to capture your heart, igniting a desire to protect and nurture.

Claire raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You know you can’t keep her forever, right?” The playful challenge in her voice made you laugh, a sound filled with playful defiance.

“I mean, we could if we really wanted to,” you said, playfully sticking your tongue out at her. “Look at how much fun we’re having! Cuddling, watching shows, and—”

“And learning all about the joys of diaper changing?” Claire interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm, making you burst into laughter.

“Okay, maybe we don’t have that part down just yet,” Oscar admitted, glancing at you with a smirk, and the lightheartedness of the moment made your heart feel light. “But we can handle it. We’ve been practicing our ‘baby talk’ and everything.”

“Baby talk?” Claire laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a skill you need to master. But it’s sweet you’re both so eager.”

You smiled at Oscar, feeling a rush of affection for him. “I really am grateful you decided to come with me to babysit. It’s nice to see you in this light.” The sincerity in your voice resonated with the deeper emotions swirling around in your chest.

Oscar looked a bit flustered but pleased, his cheeks tinting slightly with a hint of pink. “Well, it’s nice to see you in this light too. You’re a natural.” The compliment washed over you like a warm wave, igniting a spark of joy and validation.

“Okay, okay, enough with the mushy stuff!” Claire teased, plopping down onto the couch beside you, breaking the moment with her playful interruption. “I just came from the store, and I brought some treats. How about a snack break?”

“Please tell me you brought cookies!” you said, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of a sweet indulgence.

The thought of chocolate chip cookies brought a flood of childhood memories, evoking a sense of nostalgia that made you yearn for those simpler days.

“Of course! But you have to share with Olivia,” Claire replied, winking at her niece. “The more sugar, the more energy, right?”

You groaned playfully, feigning horror. “Oh no, we’ll never get her to sleep!” The thought of a hyperactive Olivia was amusing, and you could already envision the chaotic giggles and squeals that would ensue.

“That’s what makes it fun!” Oscar chimed in, clearly enjoying the lighthearted banter. “More giggles, less sleep!” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and you couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in the camaraderie of the moment.

Claire started unpacking her bags, revealing an array of snacks: cookies, fruit snacks, and juice boxes. As she handed you a cookie, you took a bite, savoring the rich chocolate melting in your mouth.

“Delicious!” you declared, grabbing another one before Olivia could spot them. But Olivia had already caught sight of the brightly colored juice boxes and was reaching out for one, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Looks like we’ve got a little juice thief on our hands,” Claire said, chuckling as you quickly grabbed a juice box for Olivia. “Here you go, little one,” you said, handing it over.

Olivia squealed in delight, her tiny hands clasping the juice box, and you watched in pure joy as she took her first sip, her little face lighting up with joy that seemed to radiate around the room.

“See? We’re perfect at this,” you said, feeling a swell of pride as Olivia squeaked and wiggled with excitement.

Oscar leaned back against the couch, watching you with admiration, his gaze softening as it met yours.

“I could definitely get used to this family dynamic,” he said quietly, his words carrying a weight that made your heart flutter.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart swelling with warmth.

The joy of the moment made you realize that this was more than just babysitting; it was a glimpse into a future you both could build together, a shared vision that filled you with hope and longing.

As Olivia continued to giggle and bounce in your lap, you exchanged a knowing look with Oscar, a silent agreement passing between you.

This was just the beginning of many more beautiful moments to come, a preview of the laughter, the joy, and the unbreakable bond that family could create.

In the warmth of that living room, surrounded by the comforting presence of your loved ones, you felt a profound sense of belonging and the thrilling promise of a life filled with love and laughter ahead.

“So about that baby fever of yours?” Oscar whispers, leaning in closer, his breath tickling your ear. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he presses himself against you.

“What? Do you have it too?” you tease, your heart racing slightly as you turn to look at him, your playful smile lighting up your face.

He nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe I do. Maybe I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

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