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vibelladonna · 24 days ago

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❛ 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── ·

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: After an unexpected rescue mission in the rain, you and Crowe find yourselves back in your cozy apartment with a rescued kitten snuggled up and safe. The night takes a gentle turn toward intimacy as the shared warmth of your bond grows deeper.

Amidst horror movies and stolen glances, quiet affection blossoms into something undeniable. Will Crowe finally let his walls crumble and allow you closer, or will he keep you at arm’s length?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's (@fantasia-kitt) intentions. Spoilers From Day 1 and Day 2 The Kid At The Back. (More like Inspo lines)

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: Gender Neutral! Reader, Cuddling, Pillow talk, Fluff then Smut, Making out, Heavy Touching, Neck kisses, dry-humping, moaning, praise (receiving, and giving), Some hair pulling, and oral sex (giving).

I hope you all enjoyed my little creation! I’m definitely diving deeper into the Tkatb fandom—it’s just too much fun and full of mysteries to explore. With winter break here, I might even write more in the future. Also, Crowe deserves some love! There’s so little fanfiction about him that I couldn’t resist writing this!

The rain fell in relentless sheets, hammering against the pavement and turning the city into a glittering mosaic of slick streets and refracted light. You and Crowe barely made it back to your apartment, soaked to the bone, arms laden with grocery bags. Crowe cradled something against his chest—a tiny, drenched kitten trembling within the warmth of his vest.

“Here,” he said, his deep voice resonating with a softness that caught you off guard. There was a tender urgency in his tone as he carefully shifted the kitten into your hands. “This little one needs warmth.”

You nodded without hesitation, setting the groceries down with a thud and immediately rifling through your closet. Old t-shirts, a scarf you hadn’t worn in years—it all piled into a makeshift nest inside an empty shoebox. As you worked, Crowe watched in quiet approval, his tall frame silhouetted in the warm light of your apartment.

The kitten let out a faint meow, curling into the soft fabric as though it had found sanctuary. Crowe crouched beside the box, his dark brown hair still damp and half-undone from the rain. Strands clung stubbornly to his sharp jawline, which he brushed aside with a graceful flick of his fingers.

“You’re soaked,” you said, gesturing toward his clinging black button-up, which outlined his broad shoulders and hinted at the strong, lean frame beneath. “Go shower before you catch a cold.” He hesitated, his deep blue eyes flicking to yours, searching for something unspoken. Then, with a small nod, he rose and disappeared toward the bathroom.

When it was finally your turn, the hot water felt like heaven on your chilled skin. Steam wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to chase away the vivid image of Crowe—his quiet care for the kitten, the rain tracing the contours of his face, the almost regal grace in his movements. He was magnetic, the kind of person you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.

When you emerged, bundled in an oversized hoodie and fleece shorts, Crowe was already seated on your couch. He’d traded his drenched clothes for a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants you’d lent him. The casual attire softened his presence in a way that caught you off guard. His long hair, now untied and damp, framed his face with unintentional elegance, every strand catching the glow of the lamp behind him.

The plan was to watch a movie—something simple, a classic slasher with predictable jump scares. But your attention refused to cooperate. As the ominous soundtrack droned on, your eyes kept drifting to him. His profile was serene, his gaze distant yet intensely thoughtful. He shifted slightly, and you became acutely aware of the small space between you.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, and intimate, as if the question wasn’t meant to be shared with the world. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

You blinked, startled by the question and the way his attention focused solely on you. “Another one of your trivia questions, Crowe?” you teased, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your chest. Stretching your arms casually, you laughed lightly, but he didn’t respond in kind.

Instead, he leaned closer, the air between you charged with something unspoken. His breath brushed your cheek, sending an involuntary shiver through you.

“Wh-why don’t you answer first?” you stammered, the words barely audible.

He chuckled a low, warm sound that made your skin prickle. Then, to your surprise, he rested his head on your shoulder, the weight of him both grounding and electrifying. Before you could muster a response, he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the erratic drumming of your heart.

“Dodging the question, huh?” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement but carrying an undercurrent of something more profound.

“Well…” He paused as if searching for the right words. “If I could have anything in this world… I’d want more time. More time to be with you. More time to spend like this.” His voice softened, tinged with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

“Kind of selfish, huh?” His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, and your chest tightened at the sight. His gaze was downcast, his usual confidence replaced by something raw and unguarded. Though he smiled faintly, it didn’t reach his eyes.

At that moment, you didn’t know whether he was speaking to you or himself, but the desperation in his expression was unmistakable. And it left you breathless.

“You’re staring,” Crowe murmured, his lips curving into a faint, teasing smirk. Your cheeks burned, the heat spreading up your neck as you realized how obvious you’d been. “Your hair’s long,” You blurted out, instantly regretting the flat, unpolished observation. Your hands fidgeted in your lap, betraying the nervousness.

Crowe raised a brow, his fingers lazily trailing up to brush through the loose strands grazing his collarbone. The motion was unhurried, almost calculated. “Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity but mostly playful provocation.

“No! No, it’s…” You stumbled over your words, your voice dropping to a softer register as your gaze lingered on his hair, the rich brown strands catching the light. “It’s nice,” They finally said, the admission almost shy.

Crowe chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent a flutter through your chest. “Just nice, huh?” he said, his amusement laced with challenge. His gaze swept over your face, reading your every reaction as if it were a game he’d already mastered. “Not beautiful? Stunning? Majestic like a warrior’s mane after a victorious battle?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play off the embarrassment. “I wouldn’t go that far…” You mumbled, your voice barely audible as they looked away.

He laughed again, the sound brighter this time, the sight of his smile drawing your attention back to him. You were captivated, the world narrowing to just Crowe at that moment. His movements were subtle but deliberate as he leaned closer, the distance between them shrinking.

His voice dipped to a low murmur that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “But what if I said I want you to go that far?”

As he spoke, his hand moved, fingers brushing just barely against the edge of yours where they rested in your lap. The contact was featherlight, yet it sparked like static electricity, sending a straight jolt. You froze, your breath hitching, the heat in your cheeks now rivaling the pounding in your chest. Crowe’s eyes, gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, locked onto yours.

“Can I…?” Your voice wavered, your hand hovering uncertainly in the air between them.

Crowe tilted his head slightly, his intrigue evident in the slow curl of his lips. “What is it you want to do, hm?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His steady gaze never left yours, his stillness almost daring you to close the distance.

You hesitated, your hand trembling as it lingered in the space between them. Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as they searched his face for any sign of hesitation. Instead, his expression softened, and with a slow, almost imperceptible nod, he gave his silent permission.

Your fingertips brushed against his hair, hesitant at first. The strands were softer than they’d imagined, slipping between your fingers like silk. You exhaled a shaky breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. “I just… wanted to feel it,” they murmured, your voice a quiet admission.

Crowe’s eyes closed briefly as if savoring the light touch. A subtle shiver ran through him, but the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable. When he opened his eyes again, they were locked onto yours, their intensity making your pulse quicken. "Satisfied?" he asked softly, though the teasing glint in his eyes suggested he already knew the answer.

"Is it as majestic as I described it?" Crowe’s voice carried a blend of playful mischief and genuine curiosity, his dark eyes twinkling as he watched you.

Your hand continued its gentle motion, fingers gliding through the soft strands of his hair, your touch almost reverent. The faint blush creeping across your cheeks betrayed you otherwise calm demeanor. You tried to focus on the rhythmic motion of your hand, but the sensation—his hair softer than you’d expected—was strangely grounding and intoxicating all at once.

Your breath hitched as you felt the weight of his gaze on you, an intensity that seemed to see more than you were ready to reveal. Still, his playful tone softened the tension, coaxing you to respond. "It’s... softer than I expected," You admitted, your voice barely louder than the whisper of the rain against the windows.

Crowe’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Smoother, you say?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in, ever so slightly, his breath ghosting across your cheek.

"Just how soft did you expect it to be, hm?" Your heart stuttered; senses heightened, catching the faintest details—the warmth radiating from him, the subtle scent of his cologne—close to blueberries mixed with something uniquely Crowe.

Your fingers trembled as they brushed the strands of his hair framing his face, the silky texture tantalizing against your skin. Crowe’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring your touch. "Does it bother you to keep it this long?" You ventured, voice tentative, almost fragile in the intimacy of the moment.

He opened his eyes, meeting yours with a softness "No," he murmured. "But sometimes... it gets in the way while I’m running errands around the building.”

You felt the corners of your lips curve slightly, a tiny, conspiratorial smile. "You always be working and take care of everyone else… even me.” You mentioned, your voice quiet yet firm. "Let someone take care of you for once."

Your words seemed to catch him off guard. His gaze darkened—not with anger but with a vulnerability so raw it made his breath hitch. Slowly, his hand reached up, fingers roughened by life’s demands, brushing against your cheek with a tenderness they hadn’t expected.

"I’m not used to that," he admitted, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes searched yours, as though seeking assurance. "I don’t... usually let myself be taken care of."

The weight of his confession settled between them. You found yourself unable to look away. Your free hand came to rest on his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your fingers. You traced idle patterns there, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath the surface, grounding yourself in his presence.

"Why not?" You asked softly, your voice like a gentle breeze coaxing the truth from him.

Crowe’s gaze flickered down, watching the slow, deliberate movements of your fingers as though they held answers he didn’t yet have. He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. "I’m... not sure," he confessed, his tone contemplative. "I guess I’ve always been the one to look after others. It’s just what I know."

His honesty hung between them like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. You let the silence stretch, your hand still tracing circles on his shoulder. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in just enough for your forehead to graze his, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the gap.

"Then maybe it’s time you let someone teach you."

Crowe’s eyes flicked back to yours, locking onto your gaze. There was a flicker of surprise and uncertainty in his expression as if the very idea of someone wanting to take care of him, let alone you, was an entirely foreign concept. And yet, it carried a strange allure, something that stirred deep within him. He didn’t speak at first, his silence hanging between them like an unspoken question.

Finally, he gave a small, tentative nod.

“You… want to?” he asked, his voice tinged with both wonder and disbelief. His brow furrowed, his cheeks warming with an unmistakable blush. “You’d want to… take care of me?” His voice softened further, almost shy. “Like how? What… what are you gonna do?”

You tilted your head, lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. His earnestness, the vulnerability in his question, made your heartache most sweetly. You let the moment linger, the air thick with unspoken emotions, as if to let him absorb the gravity of his trust in you.

Your hand, which had been resting lightly on his shoulder, began to move in slow, deliberate strokes. Your fingertips brushed across the fabric of his shirt before traveling to the base of his neck, where they lingered, tracing slow, deliberate circles against his skin. The heat of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, his breath catching in his throat as his body instinctively leaned into the sensation.

“How about…” You murmured, your voice was soft and soothing, almost like a lullaby. “…you let me decide that?”

Crowe swallowed hard, his mind racing with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. The thought of relinquishing control was daunting, almost terrifying. And yet, the softness in your voice, the gentleness of your touch, coaxed something in him to let go. He hesitated only for a moment before nodding again, this time with a hint of more certainty.

“All right,” he said quietly, his voice laced with surrender. “I… I’ll let you decide.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, at the quiet admission that he was willing to trust you in a way that seemed so out of character for him. Crowe, the ever-composed, always-in-control student council leader, allowing himself to be cared for—it was a rare, precious moment.

You adjusted your position slightly, your movements are fluid and intentional. Your hand on his neck urged him to lean back against the couch as you shifted closer. “Relax,” You whispered, encouraging yet firm. Your other hand came up to gently push him back, just enough for him to rest more comfortably.

His eyes darted to yours, seeking reassurance, before he finally allowed himself to recline. His shoulders sagged slightly as the tension began to flow away. You shifted beside him, your thigh brushing against his as they leaned in closer, your presence grounding him.

“Close your eyes,” You instructed.

He obeyed, his lashes fluttering shut. The world around him faded into darkness, leaving only the sensation of your touch and the faint rustle of fabric as you adjusted yourself once more. Your fingers continued their soothing motion at the nape of his neck, and he felt your legs shift as you moved deliberately.

Before he could fully register the change, your thigh slid over his lap, your weight settling as you straddled him. The closeness, the intimacy of your position, sent a rush of warmth flooding through him. He inhaled sharply, his hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides, though his touch remained hesitant, unsure.

You leaned in, breath warm against his cheek, lips hovering just near his ear. “Just let me take care of you,” You murmured, your voice low and soft, a seductive blend of promise and reassurance.

Crowe exhaled shakily, his body betraying his need to resist, yet failing. He could feel himself yielding, the last threads of hesitation unraveling in your presence.

Your lips brushed against his ear, a fleeting caress that sent shivers cascading down his spine. You shifted, pressing your body closer as you straddled him fully, their closeness intoxicating. He could feel your heat, your heartbeat steady against his, as you moved with deliberate intention. Your fingers trailed gently along his jawline, your touch light as air but carrying an electrifying weight.

"Let go," You whispered again.

Crowe’s hands, which had been gripping your sides in an instinctive bid for control, faltered. They trembled slightly before slipping away entirely, falling to rest in his lap as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations they was awakening. “I…” he began, his voice thick and strained, but the words caught in his throat.

“Please?” You asked, tilting your head as your lips found the curve of his neck. You pressed the faintest kiss there, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Slowly, deliberately, you began your descent, lips tracing the line of his neck with tender persistence. You paused just long enough to let him feel every lingering kiss, every fleeting brush of your mouth, before moving lower.

The tension in his body craved and flowed with every touch. He tensed as your lips found the hollow at the base of his neck, then relaxed again as they pressed a kiss just above his collarbone. You smiled against his skin, sensing the shiver that coursed through him.

Your hands moved in tandem with your lips, sliding from his jaw to the nape of his neck, your fingers threading gently through his hair. “Just feel,” They murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as they continued your path, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses along his chest.

Crowe’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your movements. Every kiss, every touch, seemed to peel away another layer of his guarded composure, leaving him bare and vulnerable before you. He closed his eyes tightly, surrendering completely to the unfamiliar yet exhilarating flood of sensations.

You paused for a moment, lips hovering just over his sternum. You looked up at him, a soft hum of satisfaction escaping as you took in his expression—the furrow of his brows, the slight parting of his lips, the way his head tilted back just slightly. He was yours at this moment, completely and utterly.

"You’re doing so well," You whispered against his skin, pressing another kiss to his chest. "Just keep letting go."

His fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. It was the only anchor he could find as he surrendered to the sensations flooding him, a steady burn that spread through his chest and pooled in his lower stomach. His breaths came in shallow bursts, and his body quaked under the unfamiliar weight of letting go, of yielding control.

Every nerve was alive, hyper-attuned to your touch, and the soothing cadence of your voice was like a salve for the storm within him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself. When your lips brushed the hollow of his throat, a tremor passed through him, sharp and undeniable. His hand twitched, releasing its grip on his sweatpants, fingers ghosting over the edge of your shoulder as if seeking permission to hold onto yours instead. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and finally managed to whisper your name.

“Please…” His voice cracked, barely audible, but the sound carried a rawness that struck you. “…Wait a sec.” You paused, lips hovering just above his skin, breath warm against his neck.

A flicker of something gentle crossed your expression as you sensed the vulnerability emanating from him—the way his chest heaved, the fine tremor in his frame, and the palpable tension that coiled beneath your touch.

"Yes...?" You murmured, tilting your head slightly to catch his gaze. Your eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and playfulness. He inhaled shakily, trying to form the words. His heart pounded against his ribs as though it sought an escape. "I can't…" he started, his voice rough, words tumbling out before he could stop them. "We can't… everything feels… intense."

Your lips curved into a soft smile, a hand coming to rest over his chest, where his heartbeat thundered against your palm. "I know," They said, your voice like a quiet melody. Your lips brushed the pulse point in his neck, featherlight and deliberate. "It's a lot, isn't it? But you’re doing so well."

He stiffened beneath you, his hands finally rising to hold your arms, steadying you but also grounding himself. "That’s not my point," he rasped, voice breaking slightly. He pulled back just enough to see your face. "I have loved you since the day I met you. I need to know how you feel��before we…" His breath caught, his gaze searching yours. "Before we go any further. I don’t want this to be… casual."

The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken emotions. You froze, his confession ringing in your ears. For a heartbeat, you didn’t move, your thoughts whirling. But then, warmth spread through your chest, melting the tension that had momentarily gripped you. Slowly, your hands rose to cradle his face, thumbs brushing gently against his cheekbones.

"I…" You began, voice soft but trembling. "I feel the same. I have for so long, but I was scared. Scared to lose you, scared to ruin this… us."

Relief washed over him, his hands falling to your waist as he let your words settle. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. "I never wanted to risk us either," he admitted. "But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending."

Your lips parted, a shaky laugh escaping as you leaned your forehead against his. "No wonder you kept finding excuses to spend more time with me," You teased, your voice low, tinged with affection. Your fingers trailed down to rest on his chest, "You can be selfish with me, Crowe. I’m yours, you know that. I’ve always been yours."

His lips curled into a tender smile, the vulnerability in your voice and the weight of your words filling him with a kind of courage he hadn’t known he possessed. He tightened his hold on you slightly as if afraid you might vanish if he didn’t. "I’m yours too," he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. "And I don’t just want time with you. I want everything. All of you."

Your breath hitched as his thumb traced along your jawline, his touch delicate yet firm, leaving trails of warmth. His other hand slid from your waist to your back, holding you securely. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"May I?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You felt the question in your core, chest tightening and loosening all at once. Your body leaned into him instinctively, every fiber of you being answering before your voice could. When you finally spoke, words were a whisper against his lips. "Yes. Please."

Crowe moved slowly, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that belied the intensity coursing through him. The kiss deepened naturally, a shared hunger and longing driving them closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressing against his.

Crowe’s lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a purpose that left no room for doubt. His hand on your waist tightened, drawing you closer until the inner part of your thighs brushed against his lower abdomen. The heat of his body was a sharp contrast to the cool dampness still clinging to the air.

Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, instinctively tugged, earning a low, almost inaudible groan from him. The sound sent a shiver through you, making your heart race even faster. Encouraged, you deepened the kiss, your lips parting slightly to invite him in. His response was immediate, a soft flick of his tongue against yours that left you dizzy.

Crowe pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his own. His breaths are heavy, matching yours, and you beheld his red face and hair messier than before. His eyes, those piercing deep blue eyes, searched yours for any hesitation.

“Am I going too fast?” he asked, his voice husky and lower than usual.

You shook your head, barely able to form words. “No… it’s perfect.”

At that, his lips quirked into a small smile—rare and heart-stopping. “Is this a dream? I hope not. If I’m in a dream, please tell the sleeping me to never wake up. I want to live in this dream forever.” His free hand slid to the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly deeper into his lap. The movement was fluid like he’d imagined this a hundred times before.

“Will this convince you it’s not a dream?” You lean closer to his face and place a peck on his cheek. “Mmm.. maybe. But I think this would convince me.” He captures your lips swiftly. He pries your mouth open by pushing in his tongue, exploring you further, and muffing your moans with his intense kiss.

You gasp, now feeling one hand slip beneath your hoodie, splaying across the bare skin of your lower back. The other tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further. His lips left yours briefly, trailing along your jaw and down the column of your neck to nibble at the soft flesh.

“Now people will… know you’re mine.” You gasped when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot, and he chuckled softly against your skin. “You sound so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. The rhythm of his heart beneath your palm was as erratic as your own, a reassuring sign that he wasn’t as composed as he seemed.

“Crowe,” you whispered, barely able to hear your voice over the pounding in your ears. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his expression raw and unguarded.

“Please say my real name,” he murmured, his tone almost pleading.

“Jericho,” you corrected, savoring the way his name felt on your lips. He let out a shaky exhale, his hands tightening their grip on you. His lips found yours again, this time rougher, more desperate.

His hips shifted beneath you, and the friction drew a soft moan from your throat. “Do you have any idea,” he breathed between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted this?”

The heat between them was undeniable, the air practically crackling with energy. Every touch and every movement seemed to amplify the heady rush of desire rushing through their veins.

When his hips rocked against your own, another soft gasp escaped your lips, the friction so new, so sweet. Jericho presses himself against you, feeling the bulge within the confinements of his pants.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, steadying yourself as your thoughts became hazy with each press of his lips to your skin, proceeding to attack your neck with nibbles, determined to leave multiple marks instead of one.

Your voice, already breathless, managed a shaky reply, "No, but I... I'm sure it's half as long as I've wanted you." Suddenly, he pulled you closer, his hips rocking gently against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each movement brought a gasp or a groan to your lips, the friction between you growing more heated with every second.

“Please let me make you wonderful,” Jericho murmured against your neck, his voice low and soft… all of it was a delicious yet torturous sensory overload.

And at his murmured plea, your breath caught in your throat, snapping your consciousness back. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Jericho," They managed your voice a ragged breath. “I’m the one supposed to make you feel good.”

Jericho pulled back slightly, enough to meet your gaze, "You... already make me feel good," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Just being here with you... it makes me feel more alive than anything else." His eyes filled with love, desire, and lust. “Would you let me?” He begged, “I promise to make you feel great. I want you to feel amazing.”

His words were spoken with such sincere conviction and lust. The raw honesty in them, the way he looked at you… You couldn't help yours; your fingers left his shoulders to gently cup his face. “I don't just mean at this moment," They said softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "I mean... I want to make you feel good in every way possible. I want..."

You faltered, unsure how much you dared to say aloud. Instead, you shifted, sliding off his lap and onto your knees before him. The movement was fluid yet intentional, your gaze never leaving his as you knelt at his feet,

Jericho swallowed, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of you at his feet. It was a sight he had never imagined before, yet now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. "What... what are you doing?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

You could see the surprise, the hint of confusion mixed with a heady sort of excitement in his eyes as they knelt before him. The position was submissive, yes, but it gave you a unique sort of control over the situation.

Your hands, now free, rose to rest on his thighs, your fingers tracing small circles on the inner fabric of his sweatpants. Your voice was soft and firm

"I'm taking care of you," They said quietly. "So just... lean back and relax." Your hand slithers to the base of his sweatpants.

Jericho let out a low, shaky breath as your fingers brushed his skin, the fleeting touch electrifying. Shivers coursed up his spine, and he bit down on a gasp, his eyes dark with a mixture of lust and anticipation. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked softly, his hands hesitating for a moment before helping you slide his sweatpants and boxers down in one smooth motion.

You hesitated, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “No… Is that a bad thing?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head immediately, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “No, it’s not a bad thing,” he said, his tone gentle yet weighted with emotion. “If anything… it makes it all the more special.” But then his expression shifted, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. He looked at you almost apologetically. “I’m sorry about this.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Hm? About what?”

The moment the fabric pooled at his feet, the answer became crystal clear. Vulnerability washed over Jericho as he leaned back slightly, his chest rising and falling with steady, deep breaths. Your eyes widened in surprise, freezing as they landed on the sight before you.

He cleared his throat, a hint of self-consciousness in his tone. “Uh… it gets a little bigger when I’m fully hard. Just thought I’d warn you.” His cheeks flushed a light pink, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usually composed demeanor.

For a brief moment, you were speechless, caught between awe and disbelief. The sheer size of him was… impressive, to say the least. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat suddenly impossible to ignore. A nervous laugh almost bubbled up, but it was stifled by the intensity of the moment.

“I… see,” you managed to say, your voice soft but tinged with a teasing edge. Your lips twitched into a small smirk. “A little bit bigger, huh? I’m curious to see just how much more it grows.”

Jericho chuckled lightly at your words, his nervousness easing ever so slightly. Still, he reached out, his hand brushing your arm as if to steady both of you. “Take your time,” he said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your nervous energy. “Ease into it. And, uh… it’s okay if your teeth touch, just—maybe try not to bite down?”

A laugh escaped you this time, a blend of amusement and nerves. “I’ll do my best to keep my jaws in check,” you teased, the shy undertone in your voice making the moment feel strangely intimate.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached out, your touch tentative but curious. The warmth of him against your palm was startling, the weight and solidity grounding you. Your grip adjusted instinctively, firm but careful, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jericho.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gave a quick nod. “You won’t,” he assured you, his voice rough with restraint.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something intoxicating in the way his eyes burned with trust and desire. Leaning forward, you let your lips brush against the sensitive tip of his cock, soft and deliberate.

A low, guttural moan escaped him, his head falling back against the bed. His hands clenched at his sides, resisting the urge to move and disrupt your rhythm. “Gods,” he muttered, his voice breaking.

Encouraged by his reaction, you placed a series of soft kisses along the reddened head, your movements exploratory yet tender. Jericho’s breaths grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each passing second. He forced himself to remain still, his muscles tensing as he let you set the pace, his desire to guide overshadowed by his determination to let you take your time.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you continued, the moment feeling raw and unfiltered. Slowly, the tension began to melt away, replaced by a shared sense of trust and discovery.

Jericho sighed when they took his lenght in your mouth. It’s already bigger than when he first pulled it out, quickly growing hard despite his reluctance to hold back. You feel it press in past your lips, dragging across your tongue, and finally hit the back of your throat. That’s it. That’s as far as it goes, right?

Looking forward, you can see that he’s not in your mouth. “Try to relax your throat,” he tells you. “That’s it, you’re doing good.” Jericho prasied. His voice sends goosebumps across your skin as his massive cock slides even further in, going partially down your throat.

“Make sure to breathe through your nose,” he added.

Your hands are on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants. You’re gagging slightly, trying to keep it under control and focus on breathing. After what feels like forever, your jaw is sore, and your throat aches.

Tears fill your eyes, which Jericho notices and looks at you guiltily before moving one large hand over to gently rub the top of your head. “Good girl,” he says, “you’re taking me well.”

The statement makes heat spread over your face. Then you remember that you’re supposed to be making him cum. The thought of it makes you excited somehow. You feel the urge to pleasure him, to make him feel good. He’s been so sweet to you, after all. He hasn’t moved at all, letting you do things at your own pace. Looking up at his face, it’s clearer than ever how gorgeous he is.

You tighten your lips around his base, your tongue gliding across the underside of his cock while your tight throat constricts around his tip. He looks down at you suddenly, deep blue eyes slightly widened. You give him a tentative swirl of your tongue.

He can’t tear his eyes away as he watches you work your magic on him. The sight of you, the feel of your tongue, it’s the most incredible and overwhelming thing he’s ever experienced. He can’t help but let out another deep, guttural moan as the sensations wash over him. “Gods, yes. Just like that,” he pants, his voice low and rough.

“You’re so good at this. So damn good.” He reaches out, gently tangling his fingers in your hair, not to control your movements but just to have something to hold onto.

The inside of your mouth felt nice and warm, causing him to shudder from the sensation. Eventually, his hand grips your hair and, for the first time, unintentionally thrusts into your throat. You feel a bit of force from him as he pushes your head down, his cock going halfway down your throat and almost choking you.

Jericho lets out a low moan as you suck faster, wanting to hear the desperate need for ecstasy while taking pleasure from each sound he makes. He grips your hair roughly and throws his head back, but you don’t seem to mind. After all, you want him to make more sounds.

You take the entire cock inside your mouth again, feeling the cock becoming harder than before, nodding your head up and down and swirling your tongue around his cock, making sure to aim for the tip as well, savoring the pre-cum taste. Your eyes travel to his face, beholding the euphoric expression as he bites his lips, feeling you lick the slightest bit of cum that leaks from him,

Jericho could barely hold himself together as you pleasured him, his head spinning and his body writhing. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with lust and intense with love.

“You’re... you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, his voice rough and breathless. “…God.” His moans and gasps are like music to your ears, fueling that excitement as they suck and move your head in all the ways that they know will drive him wild.

“Mmh.” You suck faster and faster, your fingers fumbling with his balls as your swallow his cock even deeper down your throat—he didn’t think any more could be possible.

He’s so deep in your throat that whenever you thrust his cock in, your nose nearly touches his pelvis. Jericho can’t help but thrust your mouth down his needy cock down your throat again.

Immediately, you feel his warm cum flood your mouth, coating the back of your tongue and oozing down your neck. His hand quickly releases you, “Sorry, love, I couldn’t help it…” He mutters another apology. His face looks slightly flushed, and he’s breathing a little harder.

Oh god, he looks so hot right now—is all you think about, feeling the growing dampness between your legs as you stare up at him, his now soft cock still in your mouth.

“No one’s ever made me feel this way before. Gods, you’re... incredible,” Jericho murmurs, his voice heavy with awe and lingering desire. His words hang in the air, electric and intimate. The way he looks at you—half in disbelief, half in reverence—sends a shiver down your spine.

Without hesitation, you lean forward, your lips brushing against the velvety, slick surface of his cock. Your tongue darts out, teasing the sensitive tip, and you savor the salty-sweet taste that lingers there. Slowly, deliberately, you begin to suckle, your tongue swirling and pressing against every ridge and curve. A soft moan escapes his lips, though he quickly clamps his mouth shut, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

Jericho’s chest heaves and his hands grip the soft couch beneath him, knuckles whitening as he fights to stay still. His breath hitches, and he glances away, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he battles the urge stirring within him. His jaw tightens, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to find you.

“You’re... you’re sure you want to keep going?” he asks, his voice strained and hoarse. Despite the question, his fingers reach out instinctively, trailing down the side of your face.

His touch is warm, trembling ever so slightly as if he's trying to ground himself. “I don’t want to wear you out,” he adds, his brows furrowing even as his lips part to let out a shallow exhale.

You pause for a moment, meeting his gaze with a soft smile, and your heart clenches at the mixture of vulnerability and yearning in his eyes. There's a rawness to him, an unguarded honesty that makes your chest tighten with affection. His concern feels genuine, but so does the hunger simmering beneath his words—a need he can’t quite hide.

Jericho looks down at you again, his heart pounding so loudly you can almost hear it. His disheveled hair falls into his eyes, and he brushes it back absentmindedly, the action making him seem almost boyish in his tenderness.

Despite the way his breathing is still uneven, he manages to smile faintly. “You’ve already done such a good job,” he says softly, his fingers brushing over your messy hair in an almost reverent gesture.

You feel a pang of something deep and inexplicable—a selfish kind of love, one that makes you want to claim and cherish every part of him. The thought takes root in your chest, blooming with a quiet intensity.

Jericho’s hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw, and you realize that, for this moment, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here, tangled in his warmth his selfish love.

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── ·

#tkatb crowe #jericho crowe ichabod #the kid at the back vn #the kid at the back Crowe #crowe x reader #crowe ichabod #the kid at the back Jericho #smut #jericho ichabod #the kid at the back #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb smut

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sanakimohara · 2 months ago

Text

[ DIVE ] - L. F.

pairing: felix x fem reader (established relationship)

summary: post concert Felix taking his extra energy out on you.

playlist:

type: drabble/no real plot

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + SMUT + ORAL + IMPLIED FREE USE + SOFT DOM FELIX

a/n: I had time and realized I haven't been writing much for Lix, so I had to fix that.

Felix, who adores it when you play with his hair while he fucks you -especially after he and the other members deliver another chaotically entertaining performance on their world tour.

Felix, who is drenched in water and sweat by the end of the night, finds you in his dressing room, watching you pick up messes and rearranging things even though you aren’t official staff, feeling the energy he hadn’t spent out while performing, going straight to his cock as he observes you for a moment.

Felix walks over to you like a magnet pulled in by gravity, cornering you with a tender smile, and you instantly return to the gentle expression. Nothing you can say distracts him; every question about the concert you have gets a short answer as his hands slide past the hem of your skirt, running along your warm and bare skin hidden underneath.

Felix, who isn't fazed that you neglected to wear panties, is ever so grateful, whispering short praises in your ear as he slides the skirt down your hips and watches it pool at your feet. You let him do what he pleases, more than happy to help him unwind, and despite trying to coerce a conversation out of him, you’re glad to be shut up with a pattern of sloppy kisses and muttered commands he knows you’ll follow in a heartbeat.

Felix hums softly and deeply in his chest when you tug at the silky strands. He feels proud of himself for making you feel good and wants you to pull his hair as often as you wish.

Felix, who ties his hair back when he needs to get a taste of you, is quick to drop to his knees and pry yours apart so his head rests between your thighs and his mouth finds your cunt all the easier.

Felix, who doesn’t care that you’re writhing mess in minutes, already dropping what you’re doing to gaze at him through softened eyes with a grateful smile on your lips.

Felix, who looks you dead in the eyes like a lovesick puppy when his tongue runs up and over your clit, warm and fixated on your every expression, the tender muscle explores your cunt inside and out until you’re shivering closer to a high.

Felix flashes you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen when he pulls away to push your legs up to your chest, soft hands holding them there by a grip on the back of your thighs as he dives straight back into eating you out.

Felix laughs softly at your hushed sighs and breathy moans filling the air, hoping whoever passes by the backstage dressing rooms can’t hear you over the lingering cheers of the crowd he just performed for, and he is glad you’ve grown out of being shy about them hearing you.

Felix, who always seems to need hydration on stage -constantly dousing himself in water when the chance arises- is now openly selfish with lapping up your arousal as it trickles out of you and onto his tongue.

Felix looks more than proud of himself, seeing your flushed and exhausted face disappear behind your hands as you try to regain composure. He plants chaste kisses on your inner thigh with a cheeky grin tugging at his lips.

“How are you not tired…?” you whine, refusing to admit that his obsession with dumping his post-concert energy on you wasn’t thrilling.

Felix clicks his tongue, feigning a thoughtful moment as he guides your legs to relax around his waist, smirking when you swallow a moan feeling his covered hard-on press into your bare cunt, “You know how to fix that for me. Don’t you, baby?…”

You nod slowly without a second thought, melting under his weight, returning the slow kiss he pressed to your lips as you traced your hands along his sweat-damp face to run through his tousled and drenched hair.

“Always…” you mutter against his mouth, smiling when he bites his lip satisfactorily at your answer.

a/n: fuck Donald Trump and double fuck everybody who voted for him. There I said my fucking peace…

other links: don't fucking ask…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

You’re welcome. Bye. Credits to creator. 🖤

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leeknot · 1 month ago

Text

His Possession

Pirate!Jungwon × Mermaid!Reader

MINORS DNI

Jungwon had been watching you for weeks, lurking in the shadows of your lagoon. He’d heard the tales of a mermaid who lured sailors to their doom, but when he first saw you, it wasn’t your song that enchanted him—it was the way your beauty defied every legend.

You should have been more careful, but his cunning was unmatched. When you rose to the surface to investigate his ship, he’d sprung his trap, his net laced with magic to bind you. Now, you sit trapped in his quarters, glaring at the infuriatingly smug pirate captain.

He lounges in his chair, one boot propped on the desk, his sharp eyes raking over you with a mix of fascination and triumph. “You’re even more beautiful up close.” he drawls, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver down your spine. “A treasure worth more than any gold I’ve ever stolen.”

You hiss, slamming your tail against the glass. “Let me go, pirate, or you’ll regret it.”

Jungwon chuckles, unbothered by your threats. He stands, approaching the tank with that lazy confidence that makes your blood boil. “Oh, I don’t think so.” he says, leaning in close. His breath fogs the glass as he smirks. “You’re mine now, little siren.”

You press your palms against the barrier, meeting his gaze with defiance. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” he murmurs, his voice softening. His fingers trail along the glass, tracing the line of your jaw. “You’re dangerous, aren’t you? But so am I. And I always get what I want.”

Despite yourself, his boldness sends heat coursing through you. There’s something maddeningly magnetic about him—the way his eyes glint with challenge, the way his voice drips with teasing promises.

When he turns away, you think he’s finished, but he pauses at the door. “Get comfortable.” he says over his shoulder, his smirk widening. “You’ll be here a while. Unless, of course, you decide to behave.”

He leaves the room, locking the door behind him. You glare at the empty space he occupied, seething with anger and trapped energy. Hours pass, and you find yourself pacing restlessly in the tank, your tail slapping against the glass in frustration.

As the ship sways gently with the waves, you notice the moonlight casting ethereal shadows across your naked form. The chill of the sea breeze occasionally hits your sensitive skin through the tiny gaps in the enclosure.

The ship's crew passes by your tank occasionally, whispering and pointing, their eyes wide with wonder and fear. You hear them murmuring about their lucky captain, who's brought back the most beautiful mermaid they've ever seen... alive.

The ship comes to a halt around midnight. Footsteps approach your chamber - heavy, measured, familiar. Jungwon stands outside your tank, bare chest visible through his open shirt. He carries a tray with food and water. His eyes trail down your body before meeting your gaze.

"Thought you might be hungry." he says, setting the tray on a small table beside the tank. His voice is low, raspy from sleep or something else.

He picks up a small, ornate key and unlocks the tank door. The mechanism clicks open, and he pushes the door gently until it swings wide. Jungwon steps inside, closing the door behind him. He locks it again, this time with a different key.

"You need to eat." he says, picking up a small bowl filled with exotic fruits and some kind of shellfish. He kneels down in front of the tank, his bare chest level with your eyes. "And I need to make sure you stay healthy. For... science."

He places the bowl inside the tank, pushing it towards you. His presence fills the small space, the salty tang of the sea mixing with his clean, soapy scent. He watches you intently, his expression thoughtful. "You're not going to try to escape, are you?"

His hand brushes against yours as you reach for the fruit, sending an unmistakable spark between you both. His breath catches slightly, and you can see the pulse in his neck quicken. "Beautiful creatures like you should be careful." he whispers.

"You never know who might try to capture you again." His gaze lingers on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breast. "Or what they might do to you once they have you." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You should eat. And then..."

A small, wicked smile curls his lips as he leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "And then..." he traces a finger along your jawline, "we might find something... more interesting to do." His other hand splashes into the water, gently stroking your tail fin.

"Something that might make this time in captivity... less painful." His eyes darken with desire, and he moves even closer, his breath hot against your ear. The water around you seems to warm with his presence. "Something that might make you forget you're even trying to escape."

Jungwon's fingers tighten around your tail fin, holding you in place as he leans in closer. His lips brush against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Something that might make you wish you never left the tank in the first place." He pauses, his heart pounding against his chest.

"I could feed you, take care of you, keep you safe..." he murmurs, his hand slowly stroking your cheek. "And in return, you could be my little mermaid, always happy, always smiling, always..."

"...ready whenever I want you," he whispers, his voice laden with desire, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Think about it, beautiful... staying locked up, but living in pure pleasure." His other hand continues its rhythmic motion on your tail, causing ripples in the water.

His breath hitches as you catch his finger between your teeth, teasing but not biting down. His pupils dilate, and he moves closer, one hand supporting himself against the tank wall while the other remains on your tail. "Little minx..." he growls softly.

He leans in closer, his face hovering just inches from yours. "You have no idea what you're playing with," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky tone. His thumb presses against your tongue, encouraging you to open your mouth wider.

"If you were human, I'd swear you were flirting with me." He chuckles darkly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His thumb slides into your mouth, checking your teeth. "Open wider." he commands softly.

As you comply, he lets out a low moan. "Such a good girl," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His thumb strokes along your tongue as he continues to hold your tail fin possessively. "Just imagine... no more swimming free, but no more worries about predators either."

His free hand moves to caress your cheek, pulling you closer. "Just endless days spent in each other's company. I'd pamper you, protect you..." His thumb continues its rhythmic movement in your mouth, "And in return..." he murmurs against your lips.

"...you'd let me worship every inch of this beautiful body." His other hand slides down your tail, tracing its sensitive underside. "All that silky skin, those perfect curves..." His voice catches in his throat. "Wouldn't that be better than struggling alone in the ocean?"

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, only to replace it with his lips. He kisses you deeply, his hand on your tail guiding it to wrap around his waist. "Say yes." he whispers against your lips.

"Say you'll stay with me, be mine." His hand on your tail tightens, pulling you flush against him. "Say the word, and I'll make you the happiest little mermaid in the world." His eyes search yours, eager and hopeful. "Please..."

You feel his desperate plea as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tail coiling around yours possessively. "Answer," he begs, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "Will you be mine?" He swishes his tail impatiently, waiting for your response.

"I-I..." You stutter, your heart racing at the intensity of his gaze. His tail wraps around yours so tightly, it's hard to breathe. "Y-yes." you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His face lights up with a triumphant smile, his tail uncoiling slightly to allow you to breathe easier. "You're sure?" He asks, his voice laced with uncertainty, as if he can't believe you'd actually agree to be his. "You'll really be mine?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. You look into his eyes, seeing the desperate longing there, and something inside you melts. "I promise," you say, your voice stronger this time. "I'll only ever be yours."

"I belong to you." you whisper, your voice filled with a mix of submission and desire as you rest your head against his chest. Your tail shivers slightly from the intensity of his possessiveness. "Only you..." you add softly, nuzzling closer.

Jungwon's hands roam your body, his fingers trailing over your scales and fins with wonder. He pulls you even closer, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss as his other arm wraps around your waist. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, his excitement palpable.

He breaks the kiss briefly, his eyes gleaming with desire. "You're so... different," he murmurs, exploring your wet hair, your glistening skin. His fingers trace the delicate webbed edges of your fins. "And yet... here we are,"

Without warning, he lifts you easily, carrying you towards the shoreline where the water meets the sand. "I want to explore every inch of you." he growls, setting you down gently on a patch of smooth sand near the water's edge.

He sits down himself, his knees in the shallow water. He reaches out, gently stroking your tail fin. "Can you... can you change shape?" He asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

You nod, a soft smile on your lips as you concentrate. Your tail begins to transform, the sleek scales fading into smooth human skin. Your fins morph into arms and legs, your gills disappearing as you take a deep breath of air.

Jungwon's eyes widen in amazement as he watches the transformation. "That's... incredible." he breathes, reaching out to touch your now-human legs. His hand runs up your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You're even more beautiful as a human." he whispers, leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss. His hands continue to explore your body, now fully capable of touching every curve and line. "But I must confess," he says with a husky chuckle.

"Right now, I need you." he says more urgently, guiding you onto his lap so you're straddling him. His hands move to support your waist as he kisses your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Have you ever..." he asks softly, checking your innocence.

His fingers trace your spine tenderly "Tell me... has anyone else touched you like this?" His breath is warm against your ear "Has anyone else made you feel like this?" His kisses along your neck become more insistent "Never." you breathe out, pressing yourself closer.

He inhales your scent, his hands tightening around your waist possessively. "Good," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I want to be your first... in every way." He growls softly, his hands sliding down to your thighs, spreading them wider to sit on his lap.

"Look at me," He demands softly, his hands tilting your face towards him. His gaze is intense, filled with affection and desire. "I want to see your face when we do this for the first time." He explains, his thumbs stroking your cheeks tenderly.

You look into his eyes, seeing the raw emotion and desire. Your heart flutters with nervousness and excitement. He leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss as his hands guide you to lower yourself onto him.

You feel the head of his thick, human cock pressing against your tight, virgin entrance. You bite your lip, unsure if you can take him. But he's so gentle, so patient, holding you close as he waits for you to be ready. "You're so small and tight."

"Shh," He whispers, hushing your nervous expression. "And you're a virgin," He states, his hands gently parting your thighs wider. He uses his thumbs to wipe away a tear from your cheek. "We'll go slow, okay?"

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as he slowly pushes forward, breaching your entrance with the tip of his cock. You gasp against his mouth, feeling a sharp pain as he stretches you open. He freezes, letting you adjust to the new feeling.

"Look at me." He rasps, his voice low and gentle. You open your eyes, locking onto his gaze as he slowly pushes forward, stretching you open inch by inch. You whimper, the pain overwhelming you. He gently shushes you, wiping away your tears.

"You're doing so well," He praises, his voice filled with love and adoration. "Just a little more, my love." He whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. With a final thrust, he fully sheathes himself inside you, breaking through your virgin barrier.

You let out a choked cry, tears streaming down your face from the mixture of pain and fullness. His strong arms wrap around you protectively, holding you close while you both adjust to the intense sensation. "I know it hurts now," he whispers, kissing your temple gently.

"But it will start feeling good soon, I promise," He murmurs, slowly rolling his hips, moving inside you with gentle thrusts. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling, your inner walls clenching tightly around him. He groans softly, his face contorting with pleasure.

As he continues to move, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a strange, tingling sensation. You find yourself arching into his thrusts, seeking more of the unfamiliar feeling. He smiles against your skin, his hips moving faster, deeper, filling you completely with his human cock.

His hands roam your body possessively, his touch gentle yet firm. He lifts your leg over his shoulder, opening you up even more to his deep thrusts. You can feel him hitting a spot inside you that makes you whimper and arch your back, seeking more of the strange sensation.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he holds your leg in place, hitting that spot inside you over and over again. "You like that?" He growls, his voice hoarse. You can only whimper in response, your nails digging into his back as you cling to him.

He demands, his voice a low, possessive snarl as he continues to fill you with his human cock. "Say you're mine." His pace is brutal, his hips snapping against yours as he claims you completely. "Say it, my little mermaid."

Your body responds to his commands, arching into him as he slams into you again and again. "I'm... I'm yours." You gasp out, the sensation becoming too intense. He lets out a satisfied groan, one hand gripping your waist while the other tangles in your hair.

His pace becomes frantic, each thrust hitting deep inside you as he loses control. "Cum for me," he growls, one hand finding its way between your bodies to rub firm circles on your clit. "Squeeze my cock with that tight pussy, let me feel you come apart."

His words push you over the edge, your body convulsing as he continues to pound into you. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath and grunts filling your ears as he finds his release, filling you completely with his hot seed. "Mine."

He repeats, his body shaking with his orgasm as he holds you close, his cock still throbbing inside you as he rides out his climax. Finally, he collapses onto you, both of you panting heavily as you try to catch your breath. "Fuck." he mutters, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

After a few moments of recovery, he rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. "You're mine now," he says possessively, his hand resting on your hip. "And I'm never letting you go."

He nuzzles your neck, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he marks you with his scent. "My woman," he murmurs, his voice rumbling against your skin. "My everything."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of possessiveness, love, and satisfaction. "I love you, little one," he says softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "And I'll spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me."

#enhypen #enhypen × reader #kpop smut #leeknot #enha #× reader #jungwon smut #jungwon × reader #jungwon #enhypen oneshots #jungwon oneshots #smut #enha smut #jungwon imagines

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wonlvures · 1 month ago

Text

A QUIET CONNECTION — YOO JIMIN (PT.1)

PAIRING: Girlfriend!Karina x Girlfriend!reader

GENRE: fluff, romance

SYNOPSIS: Y/N, lost in a book, unexpectedly meets Karina, and through a shared conversation about the escape found in art—whether through stories or music—a gentle connection forms between them, leading to the promise of more moments together, as both women realize this fleeting encounter could be the start of something meaningful.

The café was quiet, the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, and the world outside felt distant. Y/N sat by the window, her fingers wrapped around a warm cup of coffee, her eyes glued to the pages of the book in her hands. She had always loved this café for the calm it provided—no rush, no noise, just the soft hum of background music and the occasional sound of a barista calling out an order.

She’d come here often, escaping into her stories as the outside world faded away. Today was no different—until the door opened and a new presence caught her attention.

Karina stood just inside, scanning the room. She was tall, with long, dark hair that framed her face, and a certain quiet intensity about her that immediately caught Y/N’s eye. She had that kind of presence—something subtle but magnetic. Y/N couldn’t help but watch her for a moment as she looked around for a seat.

Their eyes met for a brief second, and Y/N quickly looked back at her book, feeling a strange flutter in her chest. She wasn’t the type to get distracted easily, but there was something about this woman that seemed to draw her in.

Karina hesitated, then, almost as if on instinct, she walked over to Y/N’s table.

“Hey,” Karina said softly, her voice a little tentative, “Is this seat taken?”

Y/N looked up, startled for a moment, but then she saw the warm smile on Karina’s face and felt an unexpected calm wash over her. “No,” Y/N said quickly, smiling back. “You’re good. Please, sit down.”

Karina hesitated for just a moment longer before sliding into the seat across from her. She ordered a coffee from the counter, then returned to the table, settling in with a quiet, almost shy energy.

Y/N found herself watching her again, curious about this stranger who had just appeared in her little world. There was a softness to Karina’s features, but also something unspoken—like there was more beneath the surface. Something familiar. Something that made Y/N’s heart beat a little faster, though she couldn’t explain why.

Karina seemed to feel the same kind of quiet pull. She glanced at Y/N’s book, her eyes lingering for a moment before she spoke again. “What are you reading?” Her voice was gentle, like she was testing the waters, unsure of how to start.

Y/N glanced down at the book in her hands and smiled. “It’s just a novel I’ve read a few times,” she said. “It’s one of those stories that pulls you in, you know? Like, you can’t stop reading once you start.”

Karina’s eyes lit up with interest. “I get that,” she said, her gaze now fully on Y/N. “I love music for the same reason. It’s like I get lost in it, and everything else just fades away.”

Y/N found herself nodding, her fingers lightly tapping the rim of her coffee cup. “Yeah, exactly. I think that’s why people love art—whether it’s books or music or something else. It’s like you get to leave everything behind and just exist in that moment.”

The conversation felt easy, natural. They weren’t strangers anymore; in those few moments, a quiet understanding had formed between them. Karina seemed to relax, her posture softening as she leaned in slightly.

“Do you read a lot?” Karina asked, genuinely curious. Her voice was softer now, more personal.

Y/N shrugged. “I guess you could say that. Reading is like my escape. I love stories where I can get lost in someone else’s world. It’s like a break from everything that’s real.”

Karina smiled, the warmth of it reaching her eyes. “I get that,” she said again, her voice low and thoughtful. “I think that’s why I play guitar. It’s my way of feeling... connected, I guess. Like when the music flows, everything else just falls away, and it’s like I’m part of something bigger.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the way Karina spoke—so open, so sincere. It wasn’t often that people shared things like that so easily. But with Karina, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You play guitar?” Y/N asked, her voice soft with interest.

Karina nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, I’ve been playing for years. It’s... the one thing that’s always made sense to me.”

Y/N felt a spark of connection, something deeper than just a casual conversation. She wanted to know more. “I’d love to hear you play sometime,” she said before she could stop herself.

Karina’s eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in surprise. “You’d want to hear me play?”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady but soft. “I think it would be amazing. I’ve always loved music, but I’ve never really learned an instrument. There’s something about the way it can make you feel like everything else is just... background noise.”

Karina’s expression softened, a flush creeping into her cheeks. She looked down for a moment, clearly flustered by the compliment, but when she looked back up at Y/N, there was a warmth in her eyes that made Y/N’s heart race.

“I’d love that,” Karina said, her voice barely a whisper. “I think... maybe I’ll even write something for you.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “I’d really like that.”

The conversation between them shifted into quieter moments. The air around them felt charged with a quiet energy, something unspoken that hung between them like a secret. Karina and Y/N both felt it—the pull, the connection, the way everything around them seemed to disappear when they were together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden light across the café, Y/N’s eyes fluttered to the clock. It was getting late. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew she had to.

“So, um,” Y/N said, biting her lip nervously. “Would you maybe want to do this again? Grab coffee sometime?”

Karina’s heart fluttered, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’d really like that,” she said softly. “More than you know.”

They both stood up, reluctant to end the moment, but neither of them wanting to overstay it either. The world outside seemed a little less intimidating now, a little more inviting. There was a promise in the air—an unspoken understanding that this was just the beginning.

“See you soon?” Y/N asked, her voice low, almost shy now.

Karina nodded, her smile gentle and warm. “Definitely.”

As they parted ways that evening, both women walked away with the same thought: This was just the beginning.

#𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐕𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#kpop #kpop gg #aespa #aespa karina #karina x reader #yoo jimin #CHiT CHAT WiTH KAE !

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hiitsm · 7 months ago

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Pulses and Pauses

Pulses and Pauses is for 18+ only.

Smut, Safeword use (nothing too major), Fluff

You had just brushed your teeth and completed your night routine. As you walk toward the living room light switch, ready to turn off the lights and head to bed, your thoughts drifted to Alexia. She was going to be late tonight, attending an event she didn't want to go to but had to. Since a plus one wasn't allowed, you stayed home for the evening. Secretly, you hoped to see your girlfriend earlier than expected, but she hadn't returned home yet.

You sighed softly, knowing you would have to manage to fall asleep without the comforting embrace of your girlfriend's strong arms. It had been a tranquil day, and you were eagerly anticipating cuddling up with her, having momentarily forgotten about the event she had to attend. The two of you had shared a quick dinner together, but she had to leave promptly to avoid being late.

Lost in thought, you were about to reach for the light switch when the sound of keys clattering in the door froze you in your tracks. Seconds later, your girlfriend stood in the open doorframe. She appears slightly tired, but her face softens with a gentle expression as she lays eyes on you.

Throughout the entire event, Alexia couldn't help but think about you. Your excitement when she arrived home for dinner earlier was palpable. You wanted to be with her, to talk, to listen, even to learn about football from her. Everything you did, you did for her, and she couldn't shake that thought. It was drawing her toward you, like a magnetic force. It's what she wants in the woman she'll spend a lifetime with. It's all she ever dreams of.

It's also why she's feeling an intense attraction towards you in this very moment. She always finds herself drawn to you, but somehow, this feels different, more potent. As she looked up at you upon opening the door, there you stand, clad in one of Alexia’s oversized grey Nike Club Tee, draping effortlessly over your frame and cascading just past your butt.

A few droplets of water glistened around the neckline of the shirt, remnants of your shower, leaving your hair still slightly damp. Beneath the shirt, you wore only boxers, and the cold air circulating through the apartment caused your nipples to harden through the shirt slightly, drawing her gaze involuntarily.

In that moment, she felt overwhelmed, but in the most exquisite way possible, captivated from the second her eyes met yours.

She closed the door swiftly, and before you could even finish your excited "Hola, bebita! How was your—" she practically pounced on you. Her hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you into a tight embrace as she pressed her lips fervently against yours in a fiery kiss. It caught you off guard, and you needed a moment to adjust. This was anything but tranquil, and you struggled to keep up with her fervor, but her passion was relentless.

The kiss showed no signs of stopping, if anything, she pulled you closer, drawing you into her with an intensity you hadn't thought possible. Her desire was palpable, and you found yourself responding, gently gripping her neck as you surrendered to the moment, even if it felt a little fast-paced for you today. The sheer passion in her actions made it clear how much she wanted this, and you couldn't bring yourself to halt it, even if it took you by surprise.

After a few more minutes, she slowly pulled back, her soft smile still lingering as she gazed into your eyes with a tender intensity that made your heart flutter. You couldn't help but blush under her loving gaze.

"Jump," she whispered quietly, her words drawing a confused frown from you. "What?" you asked, puzzled. With a gentle touch, she brushed her thumb against your frown before giving your underbutt a playful squeeze, holding it tightly in her embrace and repeating, "Jump."

Suddenly, understanding dawned on you, and you complied, jumping lightly as she caught you effortlessly in her strong arms. The two of you shared a joyous laugh as she spun you around a few times before making your way to your shared bedroom, wrapped up in each other's warmth and laughter.

The playful banter faded quickly as your girlfriend gently tossed you onto the bed, albeit with a hint of caution to avoid hurting you. You lay there, your shirt slightly ruffled upwards to expose your stomach. Your Calvin Klein boxers hugged your core. Alexia licked her lips as she gazed at you, a sight you always found enticing. You yearned to kiss her softly and slowly, to make love to her with tenderness and care.

But before you could act on your desires, she had other plans. With surprising strength, she grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly and laying you onto your stomach. You grunted softly, feeling her grip tighten, causing a slight discomfort. "Careful, Ale," you managed to grunt, but she was too engrossed in what she was seeing to hear your plea.

She reached for the waistband of your boxers, pulling them off until they rested just under your butt, her gaze lingering on the soft curve. Her lips parted slightly as she licked them again, her attraction towards you palpable and only growing stronger.

With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, you felt her kiss your butt, starting softly but quickly turning rough as her teeth grazed your flesh and she sucked, leaving a mark. As she inched closer to your butt cheeks, discomfort began to creep in. The pace felt too fast for you, despite her intentions coming from a place of love. You didn’t want to halt her actions, but the rapid progression left you feeling uneasy.

Your words spilled out before you could catch them, "Ale, amor. Please stop. Stop!" Your hand moved instinctively towards where she was, and in an instant, Alexia shot up, her expression shifting to one of concern.

Gently, she laid you back on your back, allowing her to inspect you, while also softly replacing your boxers up again. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel incredibly safe and cared for.

"Lo siento mi amor, estaba tan atrapado en ti, lo siento. ¿Estás bien? ¿Te lastimé?" Alexia's words tumbled out in Spanish, a sign of her worry, and you were grateful for your language classes that helped you understand her clearly. "It's okay, I'm okay," you assured her, your voice calm despite the rush of emotions. "I'm sorry, but it was just a bit too fast-paced for me today and—" You trailed off, unable to finish, as your girlfriend began shaking her head fervently.

"No, I’m so glad you shared your boundaries with me. You don’t ever have to apologize," she insisted, her voice gentle and her eyes filled with regret.

Moved by her sincerity, you reached out, cradling her face gently in your hands. "I love you, and I definitely want to continue, but at a slower pace, if that’s okay with you," you explained, searching her eyes for understanding.

"Sí, mi vida. I don't know what happened, I just felt so attracted to you... I always feel that way, but this felt different," she stammered, struggling to find the right words.

"It’s okay, we can explore that another day if you want to," you suggested, your words bringing a smile to her face and a nod of agreement.

Her gratitude was palpable, and in that moment, the depth of your connection deepened, rooted in mutual respect and understanding.

"Slow paced," she murmurs, a gentle smile playing on her lips. She leans in to give you one of the softest, most tender kisses you've ever experienced. Your tongues dance together in perfect harmony, her hands placed just right, caressing your sides with a delicate touch. You let yourself sink slowly back onto the bed, pulling her along by her shirt, inviting her into this softened pace with you.

Her kisses linger, soft and teasing, each one drawing you deeper into her embrace. In this gentle, unhurried moment, you feel utterly safe and cherished. You surrender to the slow rhythm, ready to give yourself completely to her. The soft moans escaping from your girlfriend echo the depth of her feelings, signaling that she too is lost in this intimate, shared space.

As she gently pulls away, her finger delicately traces a path from your collarbone down to the fabric covering your breasts. "When I opened the door and saw you, I saw the most beautiful girl, with the most perfect breasts. Your nipples seemed to be waiting for me," she murmurs, her gaze captivated once more as her fingers gracefully follow the contours of your breasts, brushing over your sensitive nipples. Her words, coupled with the tender caress through the cloth, coax a soft moan from your lips. "Let’s remove this beautiful t-shirt, bebita," she whispers, her voice a blend of admiration and desire.

With gentle assistance, she helps you slip out of your shirt, and you return the favor, helping her shed her clothes until both of you are clad only in your underwear. Alexia hovers above you once again, her hips finding a rhythm against yours, core to core, with only the thin, smooth fabric of your underwear separating you. This subtle intimacy, the barely-there barrier, is something she finds incredibly arousing. A fact you know all too well.

Her slow, steady pace sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy. With each kiss on your neck and every gentle caress of your breast, the combination of sensations threatens to push you over the edge. Alexia's touch is expertly guided by her intimate knowledge of your body, effortlessly finding and teasing your most sensitive spots, heightening your arousal with every tender touch.

Summoning all your willpower to delay your climax, you surprise your girlfriend by swiftly flipping the two of you so that you're now on top. She grunts in surprise, but a grin spreads across her lips as you lean in to kiss her.

"You just want to be on top, mi vida," she teases, her arms leisurely resting behind her head as she gazes up at you. Her sexy arm muscles ripple enticingly, and without hesitation, you find yourself drawn to them, sucking on her right arm muscle before playfully finishing with a bite. "That was hot, amor," Alexia moans softly into your ear, her voice filled with satisfaction and desire.

Her sweet words fuel your desire, and with a fervor ignited by her encouragement, you pepper her upper arm with kisses, trailing down to her neck where panted breaths escape her lips in response.

Your lips continue their journey, trailing along her collarbone before lavishing attention on her beautiful, full breasts, unable to resist the temptation they present.

As you softly lick her nipples, she squirms beneath you, her movements eliciting a rush of arousal within you, a testament to her desire.

"Keep going, amor," she whispers, her eyes closed in pure satisfaction, a sight that never fails to stir something deep within you.

With a sense of reverence, you continue your exploration, kissing down towards her lower abdomen until you reach the waistband of her slip, a pause filled with anticipation for what lies ahead.

You slowly and gently pulled off her slip, relishing the anticipation in her eyes as you teased her with your deliberate pace. When she realized you weren't going to rush, impatience flickered in her gaze, and you couldn't help but grin mischievously as you rose from the bed, a soft flush warming your cheeks with the excitement of what was to come. Your girlfriend had a way of bringing out this playful, uninhibited side of you, and you reveled in it, putting on a show just for her.

With the soft melody of imaginary music playing in your mind, you moved with a graceful sway, your movements fluid and inviting. Though you had no clothes to remove, you had your boxers, Alexia's favorite, hugging your lower abdomen just right, accentuating your curves and leaving your full, enticing butt on display. You turned around slowly, grinding your hips softly to the rhythm, offering her a tantalizing view of your backside.

As you moved, you heard the shifting of the bedsheets behind you. Before you could react, Alexia was standing close, her body pressed against yours as she joined in the dance. She ground down into you, her front fully against your back, the sensation sending shivers down your spine, while her hands roamed all over your body, focusing mainly on your breasts, where she kneaded them softly, her touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"I love doing this with you, amor," she whispers softly into your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I love that you put on a show for me," she adds, nipping at your earlobe teasingly.

"Just for you," you pant slightly, turning in her grip to face her. With a gentle push, you guide her back onto the bed, where she lies on her back once more. Slowly, you peel off your own boxers, eliciting a hungry gaze from your girlfriend.

"Do you like my butt?" you ask innocently, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

"I love your beautiful butt," she responds, her eyes sparkling with desire, and you can't help but grin in response. Turning away, you position yourself strategically, pulling your legs sideways as you grind down onto her core with a tantalizing rhythm.

"Look at you being all flexible like this," your girlfriend moans appreciatively, but she resists the urge to throw her head back, her gaze fixated on your enticing curves. Her eyes are glued to your butt, captivated by its beauty, unwilling to miss a single moment of the mesmerizing view before her.

With each deliberate movement, you put a lot of effort into your grinding, feeling yourself getting worked up quickly, edging closer to climax. The sound of Alexia's breath hitching in her throat tells you she's reaching that edge too, at the same time as you.

"Gosh, I love this so much. I love you so much," she grunts, her words filled with passion and adoration, before you feel her hands gently squeezing your butt, adding to the intensity of the moment.

"This is embarrassing, but I don’t feel like I can hold back anymore, not after you put on that show," Alexia grunts, her breaths growing heavier by the moment.

"It’s okay, I’m getting there too," you reassure her, feeling the mounting pressure of your own impending climax. Determined to share this moment face-to-face, you shift your position so that you're facing each other, allowing for deeper connection as you continue to grind together with increased pressure, both on the brink of release.

Seconds later, you both find yourselves panting heavily, reaching your climax together in a rush of shared ecstasy. As you fall forward, Alexia is quick to catch you, her arms wrapping around you protectively. You remain like that for a while, catching your breath, basking in the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

Alexia's fingers find their way into your hair, gently scratching your scalp as she presses soft kisses against your temple. "This was perfect," she murmurs softly, her voice filled with tenderness. "You are so perfect," she adds, her gaze locking with yours.

"Soft and slow is perfect with you," she whispers against your lips, and you respond with a contented sigh, smiling up at her.

"Life is perfect with you," you declare, sealing your words with another soft kiss on her lips, feeling the warmth of her love enveloping you both.

Note: Thank you for reading! I'm always eager to hear from fellow writers and readers. If you have any feedback, suggestions, or just want to say hello, please feel free to reach out. I value kindness and constructive criticism, so let's support each other on our creative journeys.

Have a nice evening!

🫶

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso smut #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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fanbasetwo · 9 days ago

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anton who's hired by your mother as a family doctor and has a spicy crush on you 🫦

Ꮺ . , MEDICINES FOR THE YOUNG , L.CY !

sena’s note ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 made this a drabble instead so that I could focus on other asks, thank you for requesting anon <3

You had recently decided to visit your hometown—a quiet place by the coast. The air was cool and refreshing, but even as you settled back in, you found yourself longing to leave again.

When you arrived, you weren’t expecting much company. That changed when you met Anton—or Chanyoung, as your mother called him. He was staying at your house because your mom had hired him as the family doctor. And while you greeted him politely, something about him felt off.

Anton was only a couple of years older than you, with an easy charm that seemed to win over your family in no time. Your mother especially adored him, maybe even more than she did you. No matter how much you insisted that your family didn’t need a live-in doctor, your mom wouldn’t hear it. Anton had already claimed his place in her heart.

At first, you just brushed it off. But after spending a couple of weeks around him, you started noticing things. The way his presence made your heart race, how you’d catch yourself glancing his way when he wasn’t looking. He was annoyingly attractive—lean, toned, with muscles that were hard to ignore, especially when water glistened on his skin after he worked out.

You hated to admit it, but he was magnetic. And while you resented how easily he fit into your family, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from wandering.

What you didn’t realize was that Anton noticed everything. The way your voice softened sometimes when you spoke to him, or how you’d come up with excuses to be near him. He’d never cross a line—always keeping his touches casual, fleeting, and respectful—but there was an unspoken tension neither of you could deny.

“Anton? Are you in there?” you called, knocking on his door harder than necessary. Your irritation was obvious, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at him or yourself.

You knocked again, your voice sharper this time. “Lee Chanyoung! Mom’s calling you for dinner! Get your ass out here already.”

As your voice echoed through the hallway, Anton sat behind the door, frozen for a moment. There was a flicker of guilt in his chest, but he couldn't deny the heat your words stirred in him. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and he was determined to keep it that way. For now.

Unbeknownst to you, Anton struggled to stifle a guttural moan that rumbled deep in his chest. His hand pumped furiously up and down his rock-hard, throbbing cock, the swollen shaft twitching with need. Beads of pre-cum leaked from the flushed, angry red tip, staining the front of his black pants a telltale white.

He couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine you. The way you moved, the sound of your voice—it all set his body on fire, consumed by a lust he could barely contain. As a gentleman, he knew he shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't want you with such desperate, aching hunger. But fuck, he did.

Struggling to maintain control, he watch as his own hand worked faster, tighter, squeezing his shaft with a firm and tight grip. His hips bucked into his fist, seeking more friction, more pleasure. The wet spot on his pants grew, spreading like a map of his growing arousal.

Each word that fell from your lips was like a match to gasoline, igniting a blaze of desire in his cock. He didn't want you to leave, not now, not ever. The thought of you departing in just a week filled him with a desperate ache, a longing he couldn't put into words. And yet he knew, he'd have to let go.

God, how he wished he could tell you, could confess the depths of his craving. But he knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that revealing his true feelings would only lead to ruin. He couldn't taint his reputation, his carefully crafted profession and image, for a silly little crush. So the poor guy would have to just digest it all with his own medicine to soothe his young desires.

join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

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cherrynflowergarden · 5 days ago

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જ⁀➴ midnight kiss || matt sturniolo

sturniolo masterlist taglist

the room was a whirl of color and chatter, with shimmering lights and upbeat music setting the scene for the year-end party. matt leaned against the wall, nursing a glass of sparkling water while keeping a watchful eye on his girlfriend, who was in the center of the room, laughing and dancing with a group of friends.

he couldn’t help but smile. she was glowing in her outfit, a stunning shimmery black dress she’d picked out after much deliberation. every so often, her gaze would drift to him, and when their eyes met, his usual ‘i’d be anywhere but here’ demeanor softened into something so tender.

as the countdown to midnight began, the crowd around them grew louder. someone turned the music down, and the collective excitement surged.

“ten… nine…eight…seven…”

she made her way through the crowd, her heart racing. she could feel matt’s eyes on her, the intensity of his gaze like a magnet pulling her closer.

“six…five… four…”

she reached him, her face lighting up with a smile that could rival the new year fireworks. “hi,” she said breathlessly, tilting her head up to meet his eyes.

“three…two… one…”

“happy new year!”

cheers erupted around them, but it all seemed to fade as matt set his drink down and cupped her face with his calloused hands. without a word, he leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss—soft, deliberate, and full of the promise of the new year.

she completely melted into him, her arms winding around his neck. the noise of the party disappeared entirely, replaced by the sound of her heartbeat and the feel of his lips against hers. when they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, and he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

“happy new year, love” he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion.

she grinned, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “happy new year, matt.”

and just like that, the year began, wrapped in the warmth of their love.

an; HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVIES I LOVE YOU GUYS SM URG it's 3 am as i post this heh :3

tags; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-bell @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf @blahbel668 @my-dinos-life-is-good @ssturniolo92 @lilly6110 @lou-larcher5 @arminluvrr @mxryxmfooty @gabri3la-sturns @bellsboops @f1-and-shiz @emely9274 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @unx100to @strnlslut

@mattslovergirlie @sarakpalsd @sweetobservationface @shadowthesim @mattslolita @cupiidk1lls @urloveanaa @t1llysblog @meatball10 @fiowerbeds

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schemmentigfs · 2 months ago

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okay don't get me wrong I'm absolutely obsessed w daddy mel and think it's so fucking hot BUT what about a fic where Mel gets a bit too carried away and r doesn't want to say anything until later

Push and Pull

Summary: Melissa gets too carried away during sex. But you don’t tell her anything until next morning.

Warnings: smut obviously, a bit of angst at the end, mommy kink, dirty talk, mel IS ROUGH.

tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota

Melissa had always been passionate when it came to sex. When she was in the mood, she would make sure to take the lead, never leaving any room for hesitation. She wasn’t just good at it—she thrived on knowing how to work your body, how to push you to the edge and pull you back again with every calculated touch. Her confidence was magnetic, and you had long since gotten used to the way she cursed, barked out orders, or made you beg when she wanted to.

But tonight was different. There was something in the way she moved, almost feral, like she was releasing something darker, something pent up. Maybe it was work. Maybe it was something you missed. Either way, she didn’t seem to be holding back tonight.

Your skin tingled from her rough hands as she gripped your thighs, forcing your legs open wider as she kneeled between them. There was no teasing, no slow build-up this time. Her green eyes were locked onto yours, filled with raw hunger, but this time her usual playful edge was missing. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t checking in with you with those little glances she often did before pushing further.

“You want this?” she growled, her voice gravelly as she ran the silicone tip of the strap over your stomach, dragging it up to your chest without even giving you a moment to answer. “Want Mommy to fuck ya?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip, trying to anticipate her next move. But there was something off. Normally, Melissa would take her time. She’d trace the strap between your folds, test the waters—both metaphorically and literally—before making a move. Tonight, however, she skipped those steps. She didn’t reach for the lube that always sat on the nightstand, didn’t ease you into it with her fingers.

Your breath hitched when the cool, firm head of the strap grazed your chest, teasing your nipples as Melissa pressed the toy against you with a sense of urgency. You should’ve said something. You knew you should. But it was hard to break the moment when she looked so determined, so lost in her own need to take control.

“Look at you…” the redhead woman muttered, more to herself than to you, dragging the head of the strap down to your entrance, pressing the tip lightly against your folds but not pushing in yet. “So good and obedient for Mommy.”

Your heart raced. She was moving fast. Too fast.

Melissa’s hands gripped your hips roughly, angling you up toward her. She leaned in, the full weight of her dominance pressing into you, and with a rough thrust, she was inside. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, your body tensing as the strap stretched you without warning.

She didn’t give you time to adjust. The moment she was in, she started to move, pulling out only to slam back in again, each thrust faster than the last. Her hands gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your skin as she cursed under her breath, muttering things you couldn’t quite make out through the haze of sensation.

Your body responded out of habit, the pleasure mixing with the sharp discomfort. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ride out the intensity, hoping it would fade into something more bearable. But it didn’t. Melissa wasn’t slowing down, wasn’t softening her pace. She was relentless, hips snapping against yours with the kind of force that normally would’ve sent you over the edge, but tonight, it felt like too much.

You grabbed the sheets, holding back the protest rising in your throat. You didn’t want to stop her. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. It wasn’t like the older woman to be rough without checking in, but she was so lost in her own world, so caught up in the heat of the moment, that it felt impossible to break the spell.

“Fuck, this pretty pussy is so tight and wet,” your girlfriend whined, sounding like a nasty dog. “And it’s all mine. Every inch belongs to me.”

“Yes, Mommy. All yours.”

“Good girl. Come on, now take Mommy like the fuckin’ slut you are.”

The burning sensation started to spread through your core, each thrust dragging painfully against your walls. Your breath quickened, a mix of pleasure and discomfort building, and still, you didn’t say anything. Melissa’s voice was harsh, her words a blur of growls and demands, and you could feel her pushing you to the brink, not realizing she was pushing you too far.

You whimpered, trying to adjust, trying to relax, but your body wasn’t cooperating. Melissa’s pace was unforgiving, her grip on your hips bordering on painful as she thrust harder, faster, her breath coming in rough pants. You wanted to tell her to slow down, to ease up, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

She let out a low growl, hips bucking forward as she pushed you down into the mattress, the headboard rattling with each thrust. Melissa’s fingers dug deeper into your skin, and you could feel the tension in her body as she drove herself closer to her own release, unaware of how your own body was struggling to keep up.

“Holy shit,” she hissed, barely audible, her breath ragged and wild. “You take it so fuckin’ good…Like the obedient whore you are.”

You forced a moan, trying to make it convincing, trying to match her intensity even though your body was screaming for her to stop, or at least to slow down. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You didn’t want to disappoint her, didn’t want to be the one to break the moment when she was so deep into it.

The redhead’s pace faltered for a moment as she ground into you, her forehead dropping to your shoulder, her breath hot against your skin. You thought maybe she would slow down, maybe she’d catch on. But she didn’t. Instead, she surged forward again, hips slamming into you harder than before, the bed creaking beneath the force of it.

You bit back a cry, your nails digging into her back, the discomfort turning into something sharper, more urgent. And still, you said nothing. You didn’t want to break her focus, didn’t want to ruin whatever was driving her tonight.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” she muttered against your neck, her lips brushing over your pulse before she pulled back to look at you, her green eyes dark and wild. “So fuckin’ good.”

But as she kept moving, as the pressure built and the pain became more pronounced, you realized you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You needed her to stop. You needed her to slow down before it became too much.

“Mel,” you finally gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Too much.”

She didn’t hear you. Or maybe she didn’t register it. Either way, she kept going, her body relentless as she drove you toward the edge, her focus so intense that it felt impossible to pull her back.

You didn’t stop her. Or even tried to say the safe word.

“It’s not enough. I need you, I need more.” She stuttered, getting ready to fuck you from another angle.

The older woman forced you into your stomach, your ass in the air as she thrust into you from behind, the rhythm fast and hard, bruising. Each slam of her hips against your ass sent a shockwave of pain through your body, and you bit into the pillow to muffle your sounds, not wanting to upset her, not wanting to break the moment even though you were overwhelmed.

Her hands gripped your waist, her nails digging into your flesh as she pounded into you relentlessly, her moans mixed with curses as her voice grew rough with pleasure. You could feel the heat of her body behind you, her frustration pouring out with every thrust, and still, you didn’t stop her.

It wasn’t until the last few moments, when she collapsed on top of you, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm, that you felt some of the pressure release. She stayed buried inside you as she caught her breath, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You could feel her skin burning with heat, her heart pounding against your back.

Your girlfriend placed wet lazy kisses and light bites on the curve of your spine. Moaning softly at the salty taste of your post-sex sweat and scent, she sighed heavily as she rubbed and brushed her nipples against your back with the gentlest of movements.

Quietly, after a couple minutes of silence, you whispered. “Lis?”

Melissa signed softly. “You’re so warm and soft, so good, I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You didn't say anything. You just lay there, letting her hold you as the soreness settled deep into your muscles. Eventually, she slipped out of you and fell asleep, her arms still wrapped around you like you were her anchor. You stayed still, your body aching, your mind reeling from how far she’d pushed you, too tired to process what had just happened.

You were too exhausted to say anything. Too overwhelmed to process what had just happened.

The next morning, you woke to the soft sound of birds outside the window. Melissa was still asleep beside you, her chest rising and falling softly, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow. You winced as you shifted in bed, the soreness in your body a reminder of how rough things had gotten last night. Your hips ached, your ass still throbbing with the aftermath of her bruising grip.

You tried to sit up, but the movement was too much, and you groaned quietly under your breath. The sound must have woken Melissa, because you felt her stir beside you, her arm lazily sliding over your waist to pull you close.

“Mornin',” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep. Her hand slid down your body, fingertips brushing the bruises on your hips, and you tensed involuntarily. Melissa didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she hummed softly, her hand drifting lower, already seeking to touch you again.

“Let me have you again, amore,” she whispered against your ear, her breath warm against your neck. She started kissing your shoulder, her lips moving in lazy, affectionate presses against your skin. You knew where this was going, knew she wanted to have you again, but your body flinched involuntarily as her fingers traced the bruises she’d left the night before.

“Babe…” you began, your voice hoarse. She didn’t hear you. She kept kissing you, her body already moving to press against yours, her knee nudging between your legs. You tensed again, flinching away.

“Wait! Melissa, wait.”

Your girlfriend froze, her breath catching, and she pulled back to look at you, her brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft but concerned. You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.

“Last night… You—” you bit your lip, the words heavy on your tongue. “You were… rough, Mel.”

Her green eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean? I thought—” She trailed off, her hand still resting on your hip, and you winced as her fingers brushed over the bruises again.

“Melissa,” you closed your eyes for a while, sighing softly.

“Shit,” she breathed, pulling her hand back like she’d been burned. She sat up quickly, her face paling as she took in the marks on your body, the way you were wincing every time you moved. “Oh my God. I—”

You watched as the realization hit her, her eyes widening in horror. “I hurt you,” she whispered, her tone cracking. “Fuck, I—”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at you, her hands trembling. “I didn’t mean to, baby, I swear—I just—I got carried away.”

You sat up slowly, wincing again at the soreness in your body. “I know you didn’t mean to,” you said quietly. “But… it was a lot, Mel. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t.”

Melissa’s face crumpled, and you saw the tears spill over, sliding down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with guilt. “I didn’t even realize—I thought you wanted it like that.”

You shook your head gently. “I didn’t. Not like that.”

The redhead covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You reached out, gently taking her hand and pulling her closer. “It’s okay,” you said softly, your heart aching as you saw how broken she looked. “We just need to talk about it next time. I’ll tell you if something’s too much.”

Your girlfriend nodded, but her tears didn’t stop. She buried her face in your chest, her body trembling as she clung to you, her guilt consuming her.

“I love you,” she whispered brokenly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. I love you so much.”

You kissed her forehead softly, holding her close as her sobs quieted. “I love you too, Mel. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

And as you held her, you knew that you would be.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x you #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #wlw

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valkyrieromanoff · 1 month ago

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God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE: SAUNA

synopsis: trapped in a sweltering sauna with Anakin, a tense confrontation unravels hidden truths about his fractured marriage to Padmé, leaving you torn between guilt, forbidden desire, and a fragile connection that defies reason.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, angst

words: 3.0k

a/n: hello there, I confess that I started writing thinking it would be something hotter, maybe something happening, but then I started listening to 'Love is pain' by Finneas, and it ended up being more depressing than I imagined, anyway, I hope you like it ;) I appreciate the comments to know if the story is flowing for you too

Say it's not okay to feel that way It's real, you may not make her happy So what's wrong with me? If honestly, I wanna be the only way she can be

You left the pool in a rush, every step feeling heavier than the last. Avoiding Anakin had become a survival instinct. You muttered something about a headache to Luke, your voice barely steady, and excused yourself, desperate for escape. Anakin had suggested walking you to your cabin, concern evident in his eyes, but you’d refused—your heart pounding, your resolve teetering. You had to get away before you slipped further, before the line you shouldn’t cross blurred beyond recognition.

In the sanctuary of your cabin, you stripped off the bikini and stepped into the cold shower. The icy water hit your skin like a shock, chasing away the warmth he’d left lingering. You lathered soap onto your body, each motion deliberate, as if scrubbing away the memory of his touch—the way his hands had grazed your thighs, the way his eyes had traced every curve.

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over your face, but the memories were relentless. His rough, calloused hands on your skin. That low, gravelly voice that curled around your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Heat pooled in your core, an ache that refused to be washed away.

Stop it. You forced your eyes open, breath unsteady. This was dangerous—a free fall with no safety net. You couldn’t let yourself get lost in these thoughts.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, needing something—anything—to pull you back to reality. Grabbing your phone, you opened the notes app and started a list. Pros and cons. Maybe seeing it in black and white would make it easier to resist.

Cons: he’s married, he’s Luke’s father, he’s much older. It’s reckless. Dangerous. Wrong.

Each point was a red flag, glaring and impossible to ignore. Rationally, you knew this. But your heart pounded, a traitorous rhythm that whispered other truths.

Pros: the way his eyes lingered on you, seeing more than anyone else, the warmth of his touch, the strength in his hands. That smile—dangerous, disarming, a weapon you had no defense against and the way your body responded, drawn to him like a magnet, every nerve alive and yearning.

You stared at the list, fingers trembling. The cons screamed caution, logic, self-preservation. But the pros—the pros were written in fire, each memory a brand on your skin, a temptation that refused to be ignored.

You can’t let this happen. But deep down, a darker, quieter voice whispered back, What if it already has?

_____________

“Come on, it’ll be nice…” Leia stood insistently at your cabin door, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe the massage will even help with your headache. You know, sometimes it’s more psychological than physical—stress and all that.” Her voice softened thoughtfully, her genuine concern shining through.

Beside her, Padmé nodded, the white terrycloth robe draped elegantly over her frame. “If you don’t like it, you can leave early,” she added gently, her tone soothing. “Just try to relax a little. You seem tense.”

Her kindness cut through you like a knife. The warmth in her voice, the sincerity in her eyes—it felt like a cruel reminder of the line you’d already crossed in your mind. Padmé wasn’t some distant, untouchable figure; she was right here, extending her hand to you, offering comfort. A good woman. A devoted wife. A loving mother.

How could you do this to her? The bitter taste of guilt churned in your stomach, rising like bile. She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the betrayal lurking in the corners of your heart, the passion you’d allowed to bloom for her husband.

It had been easier when you’d painted her as unreachable, cold—a distant figure, more concept than person. A political figurehead. A symbol. But now? Now she was real, flesh and blood, standing before you with empathy in her eyes and concern in her voice. Each word, each gentle look, felt like a condemnation.

“I don’t know, I…” The words barely escaped, your voice a whisper, cracking under the weight of shame. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths. You couldn’t pretend everything was okay, not when the guilt was a stone in your chest, pressing down, suffocating.

Warm tears blurred your vision before you even realized you were crying. Padmé’s eyes widened, her brow furrowing with concern. She stepped forward, her hands resting gently on your shoulders, guiding you into an embrace.

You clung to her, your sobs muffled against the soft fabric of her robe. Her touch was comforting, maternal—everything you didn’t deserve. Each tear that fell was laced with guilt, each sob a silent confession. She held you, whispering reassurances, her kindness only deepening the ache inside you.

“Why are you crying, dear?” she asked softly, pulling back just enough to search your face.

The lie slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I miss my parents.” The words tasted hollow, but Padmé’s smile was understanding, her eyes filled with a compassion that twisted the knife deeper.

A few minutes later, the three of you walked together to the spa, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken truths. Leia and Padmé, already dressed in their robes, went straight to the massage area. You watched them, the weight of your guilt pressing down, a constant reminder of the betrayal you carried.

An employee handed you a robe, gesturing toward the changing room down the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last, the simple fabric in your hands a tangible symbol of the role you played—the lie you lived.

The mirror in the changing room reflected not just your image but the conflict etched in every line of your face. This trip was meant to be an escape, a simple act of kindness for a friend. But here, in the quiet moments between words, it was becoming a battle you weren’t sure you could win.

Should you turn left or right? You hesitated, brow furrowed, as you left the locker room. The ship felt like a maze, each identical hallway blurring into the next. It must be the last door at the end. You convinced yourself, hands stuffed into the pockets of your fluffy robe, heart pounding with an unease you couldn’t shake.

The moment you pushed open the fogged glass door, a wave of heat enveloped you. The air was thick, oppressive, making your cheeks flush from the contrast with the cooler hallway. Your eyes scanned the room—large wooden benches lining the walls, steam rising in ethereal curls.

This isn’t the massage room, you realized, your pulse quickening. There should have been stretchers, calming music, not this suffocating heat. You turned to leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps froze you.

Anakin.

He stood there, a white towel wrapped low around his waist, another draped around his neck. Droplets of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the flickering light. His hair, damp and tousled, framed those piercing blue eyes that locked onto yours.

Panic surged. You spun around, hands fumbling with the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Desperation mounted as you pounded against the fogged glass.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop.” His voice was calm, almost soft, but the weight of it made you freeze. His fingers closed around your wrist, gentle but firm. “They lock it for the duration of the sauna,” he explained.

You jerked your arm away, as if his touch scalded you more than the heat. Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you avoided his gaze, staring at the floor instead.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for twenty minutes, angel,” Anakin murmured, his tone laced with something dangerous. He took a step closer. “Are you sure you want to spend that time sulking over there?”

You shrank back, clutching your robe tighter. “Don’t touch me,” you whispered, voice trembling with something between anger and fear.

His smile didn’t falter. That infuriating, knowing glint remained in his eyes. “You didn’t complain about my touch earlier today,” he said, the words a sharp jab, dragging the memory out into the open.

“Is everything a fucking joke to you?” The words escaped in a rush, your voice raw, quivering with anger and shame.

Anakin raised his hands, his expression a mix of confusion and defiance. “Wow, angel. What the hell bit you?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the thick air. Moving past him, you sank onto the sauna bench, eyes fixed on the floor. “Why?” The question was barely more than a whisper.

He frowned, pacing, frustration etched into every line of his body. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Padmé.” The name was a raw wound, guilt twisting in your chest. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s… she’s kind. She’s everything.” Your voice cracked, the words a confession and an accusation all at once.

Anakin’s jaw clenched, his steps faltering. “Oh, so you’re feeling guilty, and you decided to take it out on me?” His voice was sharp, defensive, but there was something else beneath it—a fracture, a hint of something deeper.

Tears pricked your eyes. “You don’t deserve her.” The words were out before you could stop them, trembling with conviction.

He stopped pacing, exhaling a strangled sigh. For a moment, he stared at the door, as if the answers lay beyond it. “You don’t know shit,” he muttered, frustration threading through his voice.

You stood, anger and shame boiling over. “I know you shouldn’t have cheated on her.” You pointed a shaking finger at his chest, each word a stone thrown, heavy with accusation.

Anakin’s eyes flashed, something raw and dangerous surfacing. “Look, angel, I didn’t do it alone.” His voice dropped, low and rough. “In fact, you seemed pretty eager at the time.”

The truth of it hit you like a punch, leaving you breathless. His words weren’t just a defense—they were a mirror, reflecting the darkness you were trying so hard to avoid. You’re just as guilty. The realization twisted inside you, a storm you couldn’t escape.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand collided with his cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the steamy room. Shock and guilt hit you immediately, your eyes wide, breath shallow. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, stumbling back. But before you could escape, Anakin’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm, knuckles white.

“Do you want to know the truth?” His voice was low, rough, the words simmering with something raw and dangerous. “Do you want to know the fucked-up truth about the ‘happy family’?” His face was so close to yours that your noses almost touched, the heat between you both stifling in more ways than one.

You swallowed hard, locked in his intense gaze, fear and something else—something thrilling—warring in your mind. He let go of your wrist, the sudden release making you stumble, falling onto the bench.

Anakin sighed, running a hand through his damp curls, his eyes distant. He sank onto the bench beside you, the space between you filled with a heavy silence. He didn’t look at you; instead, his gaze fixed on some point in the past only he could see.

“Padmé was my first love.” His voice was quiet, a mix of nostalgia and sadness. “I met her in school. She was a few years ahead of me, barely noticed I existed, but I swore I’d marry that girl one day.” A small, bitter smile played at his lips. “I met her again in college. I was nineteen. It was like those years had only made the feelings stronger. We thought we had everything figured out.”

You watched the way his fingers twisted together, the vulnerability in his posture unfamiliar. He was always so controlled, so intense. This was different—raw, unguarded.

“I proposed on our third date. Stupid, right?” He laughed, but it was hollow. “We got married that year. We were barely adults, but the love… it felt invincible. We thought we had our lives in our hands.”

You listened, your heart aching at the weight in his voice, the way his words carried the residue of dreams gone wrong.

“I joined the army right after. Months apart, letters are our only connection. It was hard, but it was worth it, our love worth it. Padmé got pregnant, and when I found out I was going to be a father... It was the best day of my life.” His eyes flickered with a light that dimmed as he continued. “I left the army when the twins were born. Padmé had just been elected, and I always knew she was always going to outshine me… Her future would be brighter”

His knee brushed against yours, the touch grounding, almost accidental. Yet it felt like a tether, holding you in the moment.

“The first few years were... perfect. Like an eternal honeymoon. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of. The wife. The kids. It felt like nothing could go wrong.” His voice faltered. “But it did. Slowly. Quietly. I don’t even know when we fell out of love. Was it the mornings waking up to an empty bed? The nights she worked late, barely noticing me anymore? I felt like I was falling down her priority list”

He laughed, a broken sound. “Maybe it was my fault. My jealousy of some stranger she met while I was gone. The arguments. The things I said that I can’t take back. I tried, but… she cried. And it was always my fault.”

You didn’t say anything, each word settling like a stone in your chest. Your heart ached—not just for him, but for Padmé, for the ghost of the love they’d lost.

“Leia and Luke were ten when we finally sat down and had a real conversation. We laid it all out. Everything.” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “We should have divorced. We both knew it. But Padmé had just been elected to the Senate. She was already under scrutiny, criticized just for being a woman in power. If we divorced her career could have collapsed.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. This wasn’t what you’d expected. The image of their perfect marriage crumbled in front of you, replaced by something real, something flawed.

“We stayed together. Not out of love, but because we couldn’t afford to fall apart.” He finally looked at you, his eyes raw, haunted. “That’s the truth.”

You opened your mouth, searching for words, but nothing came. What could you say? He’d laid bare a part of himself you’d never seen, and the weight of it pressed down on you both. The guilt you felt twisted deeper, sharper, yet there was something else—a desperate need to comfort him, to ease his pain.

Your hand hovered near his, hesitant, the boundary between what you wanted and what you should do blurring. “Anakin…” you whispered, your voice soft, unsure.

He didn’t pull away, but the space between you was heavy with everything unspoken. In that moment, all you wanted was to bridge the gap, to offer solace. But you knew the line was thin, the risk too great. So you stayed there, the silence wrapping around you both, an unsteady truce in the heat of the sauna.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper. Your hand rested on his, a tentative connection.

Anakin’s eyes softened, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not like we go around telling people.” There was a bitterness in his voice, a weight beneath the casual words.

You swallowed, the questions swirling in your mind too heavy to hold back. “But how? It’s been years. You’ve been married for over twenty years… How did you make it work?” Confusion and curiosity tangled in your voice, the pieces of his story not fitting the perfect image you’d held of his family.

He tilted his head, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his tone lighter, but his eyes held a depth that pulled you in. He turned your hand, his fingers sliding between yours, the contact sending a jolt through you.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “We’re married on paper, but that’s all it is. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. We stay married because… well, it’s easier that way. For Padmé’s career, for the image we’ve built. We can’t marry other people, but we… find companionship where we can.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the confession hitting you like a wave. This wasn’t the story you’d imagined.

Anakin’s expression was unreadable as he continued, his voice calm, almost detached. “I’ve had my fair share of… casual encounters. And Padmé has had hers. We have an understanding.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for judgment.

The words felt surreal. “You just… ignore it? The other people?”

A flicker of something—pain, maybe regret—crossed his face. “We don’t talk about it. We don’t need to. It’s none of my business what she does, just like it’s none of hers who I spend my nights with.” He exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “I’m sure she and her secretary, Sabé, have something. I’ve never asked. It’s… easier that way.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You tried to process it, to reconcile the man before you with the image of the family you’d known. There was a sadness in his voice, an emptiness that tugged at something deep inside you.

Your thumb brushed gently over his knuckles, the gesture instinctive, an attempt to offer comfort. “That… sounds lonely.”

His eyes met yours, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the truth beneath. “It is.” The admission was soft, raw. A single word that held years of quiet suffering, of nights spent in an empty bed, of dreams that had slowly unraveled.

Your heart ached for him, for Padmé, for the fragile facade they’d built and maintained for so long. You wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between you. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you sat there, your hand still in his, the heat of the sauna wrapping around you both. The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with everything you couldn’t say—the understanding, the guilt, the unspoken connection that pulled you toward him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #dilf anakin x reader #dilf anakin #alternative wolrd #star wars #hayden christensen

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

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They Find Out You're Pregnant: One Piece Boys

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 5.7K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

Y/N's POV

The scent of sizzling spices fills the air as Sanji orchestrated a culinary symphony in the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen. His deft hands move with practiced grace, a dance that spoke of passion and expertise but for once his cooking wasn’t what got my attention. I’m sidling around Sanji, who’s lost in his world of sizzling pans and aromatic spices. The kitchen is his main, a place where he commands both ingredients and flames with the finesse of a maestro. Today, however, my attention isn’t fixed on his culinary mastery. It’s drawn, instead, to the sizeable tub of salted caramel ice cream tucked away in the freezer, calling to me with its irresistible allure.

With a casual lean, I snag a spoon from the drawer and make a beeline for the freezer. The cold air greets me as I retrieve the tub, feeling its frosty chill through the container. My taste buds dance in anticipation; there’s something about this particular flavour that has become inexplicably magnetic.

Returning to the kitchen island, I take a seat, propping myself up on one of the stools, spoon in hand. Sanji, ever engrossed in his culinary creation, doesn’t seem to notice my ice cream indulgence. He moves with a fluidity that’s almost hypnotic, each movement deliberate and purposeful.

I twist off the lid of the ice cream tub, the gentle scent of caramel filling the air. With a satisfying clink, the spoon dips into the creamy goodness, gathering a generous scoop. As I lift it to my lips, the richness of the caramel mixed with the slight saltiness dances on my taste buds, a delightful sensation that brings an unexpected comfort.

Glancing over at Sanji, I marvel at his expertise. Despite my seemingly distracted state, his instincts as a chef seem to extend beyond just the realm of cooking. His attention to detail is impeccable, noticing even the subtlest shifts in preferences. Sanji hums a tune under his breath, his focus unwavering. I continue to enjoy my impromptu dessert, relishing the smooth, cold sweetness against the backdrop of Sanji's culinary artistry.

As Sanji begins to fry food, the enticing aroma of spices fills the air once more. He orchestrates the sizzle and crackle of ingredients in a symphony of flavours, the tantalising scent mingling with the lingering sweetness of the ice cream. But as I sit there, spoon poised for another scoop, an unexpected wave of nausea washes over me. The once delightful taste of caramel now feels overwhelming. With a sudden heaviness, I place the tub of ice cream on the counter, the thud echoing louder than intended.

Sanji glances over, concern etching into his features as he notices my abrupt change in demeanour. "Are you alright, my love?” His voice, laced with worry, cuts through the sounds of the kitchen.

I manage a weak nod, but the queasiness intensifies. Without another word, I push myself off the stool and dash towards the bin, my footsteps echoing in the galley. The retching sounds reverberate in the room, a stark contrast to the harmonious melody of Sanji's cooking. Embarrassment floods me as I lean against the counter, my breaths ragged, trying to steady myself. Sanji, ever the attentive soul, swiftly moves closer, concern etched in every line of his face.

“Maybe it’s… yeah, it’s the combination of flavours.” I manage between breaths, feeling utterly mortified at the sudden turn of events. An anxiety plating in the back of my mind as I’m late for my period and have been for a week now but that’s not that unusual with the resent stresses.

Sanji's worry melts into understanding, his eyes softening with compassion. "It happens," he reassures, his hand resting gently on my back. "Sometimes, tastes change unexpectedly. Let's get you some water.” With Sanji’s comforting assurance, I try to shake off the unease gripping me. As he moves to fetch water, a sudden surge of panic knots my stomach. My mind races, the memory of my late period lingering like an unspoken secret.

“Sanji,” I blurt out, my voice quivering, catching him mid-step. His brows furrow in concern. As he turns back to me, his expression a blend of care and curiosity, “I’m late…” I manage to confess, my words stumbling out in a rush. Embarrassment and anxiety collide, painting a flush across my cheeks.

“Late…?” His voice trails off as he tries to understand me, brows furrowed.

I tug gently at his wrist, feeling a desperate need for support, for someone to share this unexpected worry with. "I don't know what to do, Sanji. It’s been a week, and… and I don't know if it’s just stress or…”

With my confession hanging between us, Sanji's eyes widen in realisation, the pieces clicking together as my distress becomes palpable. Before either of us can utter another word, another wave of nausea overwhelms me, and I lurch towards the bin once more, heaving with a force that leaves me breathless. Sanji’s concern deepens as he rushes to my side, his hands instinctively reaching for a glass of water. "Here, drink this," he urges gently, his voice laced with worry.

Gasping for air, I manage to steady myself and accept the water, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Sanji's swift actions and unwavering support feel like an anchor in this sudden storm of uncertainty.

”Come on," he says softly, guiding me towards the nearby couch, his arm securely wrapped around my shoulder. He kneels in front of me, his eyes searching mine with a mix of concern and care. "Are you sure?”

I nod weakly, the weight of the moment heavy on my shoulders. "As sure as I can be," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Sanji's expression softens, his hand gently resting on mine. "We'll figure this out together," he assures, his voice filled with a determination to be there every step of the way, “I love you so much. We’re gonna be parents.”

Y/N's POV

The sea breeze whips through my hair as I stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, watching the waves dance beneath the golden sunlight. Another adventure alongside Luffy and the crew—a thrilling escapade filled with laughter, battles and unforeseen challenges.

But lately, there’s something different. A subtle fatigue creeps in, and I find myself yawning during moments of respite. It’s unlike me, the one who is usually brimming with boundless energy. Yet, I brush it off, attributing it to the rigorous journey. Each day brings its own set of adventures, and with it, an inexplicable weariness that shadows my every step. Yawning becomes a constant companion, stealing moments of wakefulness in between our exploits. Climbing rigging, engaging in battles, and exploring uncharted territories—all thrilling, yet each exertion seems to compound this unexplained exhaustion.

There's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of something unfamiliar. It tugs at my thoughts during quiet moments, a persistent reminder that something isn’t quite as it should be. Yet, I struggle to grasp its elusive form, brushing it aside amidst the excitement of our journey.

The crew carries on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, their spirits high as they revel in the thrill of the adventure. Luffy’s infectious laughter, Zoro’s unwavering determination, Nami’s calculating mind—all paint a vibrant picture against the backdrop of the vast ocean. Amidst the chaos and camaraderie, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment, a solitary island amidst the bustling sea. My fatigue persists, a constant companion whose origin remains an enigma.

Luffy, with his endless curiosity and knack for noticing the smallest details, seems to pick up on my weariness before I even acknowledge it. He catches me dozing off during our travels, his wide grin turning into a puzzled expression.

"Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?" His voice, filled with genuine concern, cuts through the hustle and bustle of our adventurous escapades.

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired. It's nothing, really.”

Luffy's concern persists, evident in the furrow of his brows as he gazes at me with unwavering attention. His wide, innocent eyes betray his curiosity, searching for answers that even I can't provide. "You sure?" He asks, his voice tinged with a childlike sincerity that tugs at my heartstrings.

Luffy’s concern, like an unwavering beacon of warmth, persists despite my feeble attempts to brush off my weariness. He shifts closer, his arms encircling me in an unexpected but comforting embrace from behind. His embrace is gentle yet reassuring, as if he could shield me from the exhaustion I can't shake. I can't help but chuckle softly at the suddenness of his affection, feeling a sense of ease washing over me as I lean back slightly, finding an unexpected comfort in his embrace. The weariness that had been pulling me down seems to dissipate for a moment, the warmth of his care a soothing balm to my tired soul.

But even amidst this comfort, Luffy’s intuition remains unyielding. His embrace lingers just a moment longer, his gaze still searching for answers, as if he could decipher the unspoken truths hidden behind my worn-out facade. His childlike sincerity tugs at my heart, urging me to share what I can't quite articulate.

"I'll be fine, Luffy," I say softly, trying to reassure both him and myself, though doubt niggles at the edges of my words. His concern is a testament to his unwavering loyalty and care, a reflection of the bonds we share as a crew.

Despite my attempts at reassurance, Luffy's gaze holds a depth of understanding that transcends words. He doesn't press further, but the lingering concern in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent promise to stand by me, no matter what uncertainties lie ahead. And as we carry on with our adventures, I find solace in the unspoken support of a friend who seeks to understand even the mysteries hidden beneath a worn-out smile.

His wide eyes dart between mine, a silent conversation unfolding, his desire to understand evident in the furrow of his brows. And with that unspoken exchange, he reluctantly accepts my explanation, bounding off with a promise to resume our adventure. He heads off in the direction of Nami and Robin who are talking quietly, asking them something that has them squealing and gushing over something and the three begin tot talk animatedly but too far away for me to hear.

It doesn’t take long for me to find out as Luffy’s is calling for my attention, “Hey, Y/N!” His voice is tinged with excitement. His finger points at something I hadn’t even noticed,— my slightly protruding belly, a subtle change that had slipped under my own radar as I just thought I had put on weight from the feasts Luffy makes Sanji make for us, “I think you’re gonna have a baby!” His exclamation echoes across the deck, his unfiltered joy a testament to his unique perspective on life.

The crew halts, their expressions ranging from astonishment to joyous disbelief. I stand frozen, stunned by Luffy’s innocent declaration, a revelation that I had yet to fathom. In the moment that follows Luffy’s proclamation, a bewildering realisation sweeps over me. His words—“you’re gonna have a baby”—linger in the air, and as the crew's astonished gazes shift between us, it finally dawns on Luffy that he's not just declaring my news; he's announcing his own impending fatherhood.

His wide eyes widen further, mirroring the astonishment painted across the faces of our crewmates. And then, in a flash of comprehension, a radiant grin spreads across Luffy's face, an uncontainable joy that sparks a cascade of laughter. "Wait, wait, wait! We're having a baby?!" His voice rings out, his expression a mix of disbelief and unadulterated happiness.

Without another thought, Luffy bounds over to me, his infectious laughter filling the air. He scoops me up in his arms, spinning us both around in a whirlwind of uncontainable joy. Laughter erupts from him, a symphony of excitement and wonder as he revels in the revelation. "We're having a baby!" His exclamation echoes across the deck, a declaration that marks the beginning of a new, unforeseen chapter in our adventures.

The crew, initially stunned by Luffy's proclamation, now erupts into cheers and congratulatory exclamations, their astonishment giving way to celebration. Amidst the whirlwind of laughter and cheers, Luffy's sheer delight becomes infectious, melting away any lingering shock. And as he continues to spin us both around, his joy becomes mine, intertwining our destinies in this unexpected, thrilling journey toward parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Thousand Sunny. It's a peaceful afternoon, the gentle sway of the ship lulling me into a sense of tranquility amid our bustling adventures. Zoro, the swordsman of unwavering determination, has always possessed an uncanny ability to notice the subtlest of changes. Today, however, would mark the day he’d discern a change within me that I hadn't yet comprehended.

I find myself sitting at the ship's bow, the soothing melody of the waves a comforting companion as I stare out into the horizon. The day had started like any other, yet a lingering unease gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, a sense of unfamiliarity that dances just beyond reach.

Zoro’s presence, like a shadow eternally by my side, draws closer. He settles nearby, his stoic gaze fixed on the horizon. "Something on your mind?" His voice, gruff yet tinged with a subtle concern, pierces the calm.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the disquiet that has nestled itself within me. "Just thinking," I reply with a forced smile, hoping to brush off the weight of my contemplation.

But Zoro, with his unwavering perceptiveness, doesn’t seem convinced. He turns slightly towards me, his gaze assessing, as if trying to decipher the unspoken layers of my thoughts. His eyes, a testament to his keen observation, seem to search for answers that even I'm not yet ready to acknowledge.

As the day stretches into twilight, I notice Zoro's observations becoming more pronounced. He notices the slightest changes—a subtle fatigue in my stance during practice, a hesitancy in my movements that betray a newfound caution.

"Training not going as planned?" he asks casually, a hint of curiosity laced in his words.

I chuckle softly, attempting to mask the undercurrent of uncertainty. "Just feeling a bit off today, I guess."

Under the tangerine hues of the evening sky, Zoro’s scrutiny becomes more palpable. Each swing of my practice sword seems to carry an unusual weight, my movements betraying a faltering rhythm I can't seem to shake. Zoro, a steadfast presence beside me, doesn’t miss a beat. His intense focus during our training sessions amplifies, his watchful gaze tracking every subtle shift in my stance, every hesitancy that sneaks into my strikes.

“Having trouble finding your footing?” His question, tossed casually into the air, holds a knowing undertone that catches me off guard. I offer a fleeting smile, a feeble attempt to cloak the turmoil brewing beneath the surface but I wave off his concerns.

But Zoro, with his uncanny ability to read between the lines, doesn’t let the matter slide. His observant nature persists, his inquiries wrapped in the guise of casual conversation, yet laden with an unwavering determination to unravel the mystery veiled within my uncharacteristic unease. As the sun begins its descent, casting shadows that dance across the ship’s deck, Zoro’s gaze lingers, a silent sentinel amidst the encroaching dusk. His dedication to noticing the subtleties, the nuances that escape ordinary observation, serves as an unspoken reassurance in the face of my growing uncertainty.

The day had settled into a tranquil calmness, the colours of the sky merging into a breathtaking canvas of oranges and purples as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Zoro's concern had become a constant companion, a silent understanding that had evolved beyond mere words.

"Feeling better?" He asks one day, his voice holding a touch of solemnity that catches me off guard.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Not quite myself, to be honest," I admit reluctantly, feeling a sense of relief in sharing even a fraction of my uncertainty.

Zoro’s expression softens imperceptibly, a rare gesture from the stoic swordsman. "If something's on your mind, you know you can talk about it, right?" His words, though simple, carry an unspoken promise of support.

I lean into his touch, finding an unexpected solace in his gesture. Resting my head on his sturdy shoulder, we both gaze out at the horizon, where the sun casts its final golden rays over the endless expanse of water.The tranquility of the moment envelops us, a sanctuary within the tumultuous uncertainty. Words become unnecessary as the serenity of the scene seems to bridge the unspoken gap between us. The weight of my worries feels a little lighter, shared in the unspoken language of companionship and understanding.

“I think I’m pregnant.” I mumble and Zoro's hand, which had been gently clasping mine, tightens slightly at my confession. His gaze, usually steady and composed, flickers with a blend of surprise and an emotion I can't quite place. For a fleeting moment, the tranquility of our shared moment is replaced by a charged energy—an anticipation that crackles between us. His grip on my hand relaxes, only to shift purposefully, cupping my chin with a tenderness that catches me off guard. His eyes, a storm of emotions, meet mine, and without a word, he pulls me closer, closing the distance between us with a possessive intensity.

In that instant, our lips meet in a fervent kiss, a silent affirmation of the unspoken dreams that had nestled in the depths of our shared future. His kiss is filled with a passionate reassurance, a promise of unwavering support and a newfound sense of purpose that we hadn't realised we were seeking.

As the golden hues of the setting sun paint the sky with their final strokes, our connection feels more profound than ever, transcending the unspoken barriers that once stood between us. The weight of my revelation seems to dissipate in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by an overwhelming sense of unity and anticipation for the journey ahead.

When our lips finally part, the tranquility of the moment returns, albeit tinged with an exhilarating sense of possibility. Zoro’s eyes, though still reflecting surprise, hold an unwavering determination—a silent vow that together, we will embrace this new chapter, our shared future now intertwined with the unexpected joy of impending parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The Red Force sails calmly across the cast expanse of the sea, the ship’s sturdy frame cutting through the gentle waves with a reassuring rhythm. Shanks, the legendary and enigmatic pirate, is as astute as he is charismatic. Little did I know, he would be the first to sense the subtle shifts within me that heralded a new chapter in our lives.

It begins with small gestures—a keen observation and a caring intervention—undetectable threats woven into the fabric of our daily interactions. Shanks, with his affable demeanour and keen intuition, notices the nuances I hadn’t yet recognised within myself.

One tranquil evening aboard the ship, I reach for a glass of wine, eager to unwind after a day of adventure. Shanks, however, intercepts the bottle before I can take a sip from it, “Not tonight.” He murmurs with a gentle smile, his gaze filled with a knowing reassurance.

Confusion clouds my features for a fleeting moment, but Shanks’ unwavering resolve speaks volumes. He offers no explanation, but his subtle gesture carries an unspoken wisdom that halts me in my tracks. A realisation flickers within me—an inkling that there might be more to Shanks’ intervention than meets the eye.

As my hand instinctively reaches for the bottle once more, Shanks, with a graceful and deliberate motion, holds it just out of my grasp. His other arm, strong and reassuring, encircles my waist, drawing me closer until I’m pressed against him, our closeness enveloped by the gentle sway of the ship. Before I can voice my confusion or protest, Shanks silences any questions with a tender yet fervent kiss. His lips, a whisper against mine, convey a message that words couldn’t encapsulate—an unspoken reassurance, a depth of understanding that transcends any explanation.

Caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of the moment, my initial confusion dissipates in the warmth of his embrace. There’s an inexplicable comfort in the way he holds me, in the way his lips mold against mine, as if he’s communicating a profound truth without uttering a single word. In that fleeting moment, amidst the whispers of the ocean breeze and the lull of the ship, I sense the depth of Shanks’ concern—a concern that goes beyond a simple denial of wine. His actions, though unconventional, carry an unspoken promise of protection, a silent vow to shield me from something I hadn’t yet comprehended.

As the tender moment lingers, Shanks whispers against my skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. "Be a good girl and stick to water tonight," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and genuine concern. His words carry a cryptic weight, an allusion to something I've yet to fathom. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck, a gesture that feels both protective and intimate. "Don't want to hurt our prodigy," he adds, his tone hinting at a revelation that eludes my understanding.

Confusion and curiosity dance within me as Shanks kisses my jaw once more before releasing me. He walks away, the bottle of wine in hand, leaving me to decipher the enigmatic puzzle he has laid out. His cryptic words linger in the air, stirring a flurry of thoughts and emotions. "Hurt our prodigy?" I mull over the phrase, trying to unravel its meaning amidst the waves of uncertainty that crash within me.

The realisation dawns gradually—a glimmer of understanding emerging from the depths of my contemplation. Shanks’ words, though veiled in ambiguity, carry a hidden truth—a truth that I'm hesitant to acknowledge but can't dismiss. Could it be? The notion takes root tentatively within my thoughts, an unspoken realisation that I might be carrying something precious, something that Shanks, with his astute intuition, has sensed long before I even considered the possibility.

In a whirlwind of emotions and burgeoning realisations, I sprint to Shanks’ private quarters aboard the ship. The air crackles with a blend of uncertainty and a burgeoning anticipation that propels me forward. Racing through the door, I almost tear my shirt off, desperation guiding my movements as I position myself before the mirror.

With an anxious breath, I angle myself sideways, my eyes searching for the slightest hint of change. There it is—a subtle curve, a gentle swell that hadn’t been there before. My hand hesitantly hovers over my stomach, tracing the faint outline, a tangible proof of the truth that begins to solidify in my mind.

Before I can fully grasp the enormity of the revelation, strong and familiar arms envelop me from behind, gently covering my hands that rest upon my stomach. Shanks, with a silent understanding that transcends words, rests his chin on my shoulder, a comforting presence in this whirlwind of emotions. Tears blur my vision, a mixture of disbelief and an overwhelming rush of emotions cascading through me. Shanks' quiet embrace, his unspoken support, serves as a grounding force amidst the storm of thoughts racing through my mind.

In the mirrored reflection, I glance at Shanks, my voice laden with uncertainty, "You're not upset?" His frown, reflected in the glass, catches me off guard, stirring a fresh wave of apprehension within me.

Shanks gently turns me around to face him, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Upset? Y/N, I've never been more thrilled," he confesses, his voice a steady reassurance that eases the knot of worry in my chest. "I've wanted this with you, with all my heart.” His words, laden with sincerity and unwavering affection, wash over me like a soothing balm. In that tender moment, surrounded by the depth of his love and his longing for a future we hadn't anticipated, the flood of emotions begins to settle.

As I process his heartfelt confession, Shanks’ demeanour takes on a mischievous glint. "Now, why don’t you get undressed?" he suggests, his voice a playful tease, though his eyes burn with an intensity that stirs a different kind of heat within me.

Surprised by the sudden shift in tone, my cheeks flush crimson. "Shanks, I..." I stammer, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected boldness but then again it was Shanks. But before I can protest further, his lips capture mine in a fervent kiss, a passionate affirmation of his desire and unwavering affection. His hands trail down my sides, urging me gently to comply with his playful suggestion.

In that moment, amidst the emotions and revelations, a sense of exhilaration surges through me—a shared understanding that despite the unexpected turn of events, our love and passion for each other remain as fiery and unyielding as ever. And as we lose ourselves in the passionate embrace, the uncertainties and worries of impending parenthood momentarily fade into the background, replaced by an intense and intimate connection that binds us together in this newfound chapter of our lives.

Y/N's POV

The Thousand Sunny basks in the warm sunlight as a peaceful day unfolds on the seas. The tranquility is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Dracule Mihawk, the enigmatic and formidable swordsman. His presence aboard our ship sends a ripple of curiosity among the crew, but for me, it's a moment of both surprise and delight.

I rush to meet him as he steps aboard the ship, his sharp gaze meeting mine with an inscrutable intensity. His usual stoic demeanour remains unchanged, but a subtle warmth flickers in his eyes as he greets me with a restrained nod.

“Mihawk.” I breathe, a mix of excitement and curiosity lacing my voice, “What brings you here?”

He inclines his head slightly, his tone softening imperceptibly, “I wished to see you, nothing more.” As he speaks, I feel a pang of discomfort building within me—a sudden wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me. I try to hide it, but Mihawk's perceptive nature doesn't let it slip by unnoticed. His brow furrows ever so slightly, a minute indication of concern. "Are you feeling unwell?" he inquires, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness.

I attempt to shrug it off, summoning a weak smile. "Just a passing thing, nothing to worry about.” But Mihawk, with his keen observation skills, remains unconvinced. His scrutiny intensifies as he observes me closely, a silent but unmistakable display of attentiveness. As the discomfort escalates, I find myself rushing to the ship's railing, a sudden urge to empty my stomach. The violent bout of vomiting catches both Mihawk and me off guard.

Concern etches itself onto Mihawk's otherwise impassive features as he moves closer, his hand resting lightly on my back. "This doesn’t seem like 'nothing,'" he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of worry.

I try to downplay it, despite the relentless churning in my stomach. "Just a bug, probably," I manage between strained breaths, attempting to mask the unease bubbling within me.

But Mihawk, with his unyielding intuition, sees through the facade. "It's more than that," he asserts, his gaze penetrating, seeking answers I'm not yet prepared to acknowledge. The silence between us is charged with unspoken questions, an undercurrent of concern that we both struggle to articulate. Despite my attempts to evade the truth, Mihawk's perceptive nature latches onto the possibility that eludes my own awareness. "Have you noticed any other changes?" His inquiry is gentle but direct, his unwavering gaze locking onto mine.

I hesitate, grappling with the enormity of what his question implies. "I... I'm not sure," I falter, the weight of his question sinking in.

Mihawk nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable yet filled with a palpable sense of understanding. "Let's find out," he suggests, guiding me to a quiet corner of the ship where we can speak privately. The rest of the crew disappearing back downstairs to give us privacy as they can gage the seriousness of the conversation Mihawk and I need to have.

He sits on the bench and I go to join him, sitting next to him, but in one smooth move he pulls me onto his lap with a surprising ease. His arms wrap securely around my waist, ensuring I’m steady against the rhythmic movements of the vessel. His touch, though firm, carries a comforting assurance, ground me amidst the uncertainty that hangs in the air.

In the cocoon of his embrace, I feel a rush of emotions—vulnerability, anticipation, and a glimmer of hope intertwined. Mihawk’s presence, his unspoken support, is a reassuring beacon of amidst the tempest feelings swirling within me. He leans in closer, his voice a soft murmur against my ear, “We’ll figure this out.” His words, through simple, carry a weight of determination and a promise of solidarity that resonates deep within me.

With a steadying breath, I meet his gaze, finding an unexpected solace in the depths of his eyes. The unspoken understanding between us weaves an invisible bond, strengthening our resolve to face the unknown together. As the ship rocks gently with the ocean's sway, our private conversation unfolds—a candid exchange filled with a raw honesty that transcends words. Mihawk listens attentively, his silence a canvas for the emotions and uncertainties I pour out.

“I’ve missed my period Mi,” I tell him softly and Mihawk's demeanour remains composed, yet a subtle shift in his expression betrays a momentary pause, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. His touch, tender and deliberate as he brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes, betrays the depth of his emotions, concealed beneath his stoic facade.

The weight of my revelation hangs between us, a pregnant silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of the ship slicing through the gentle waves. Mihawk’s eyes, usually enigmatic and inscrutable, now reflect a spectrum of emotions—concern, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper that I struggle to decipher. He exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, the depths of his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. "I see," he responds softly, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of consideration.

As the words linger in the air, a wave of apprehension washes over me, uncertain of how he'll receive this unforeseen revelation. But Mihawk, with his characteristic composure, offers a calm reassurance, a quiet strength that anchors me amidst the tempest of emotions.

“Mi?” I ask quietly, shakily playing with the tufts of hair at the back of his head, twirling them through my fingers and avoiding his gaze as he’s a warlord of the sea, he’s not going to want a child, let alone a child with me.

Mihawk’s hand, strong yet surprisingly gentle, intercepts mine, halting the nervous twirling of his hair. His touch redirects my attention, guiding my trembling fingers away from their anxious fidgeting. With deliberate intent, he lifts my chin, urging me to meet his gaze, his eyes unwavering as they lock onto mine, "Stop those thoughts," he commands, his voice firm but not harsh, resonating with an unspoken intensity. It's as if he can perceive the tumultuous whirlwind of doubts raging within me, and with his unwavering gaze, he attempts to quell the storm of insecurities that threaten to engulf me.

Before I can offer any protest, any further apprehensive whispers, his lips claim mine in a kiss that silences the racing thoughts in my mind. It's a kiss filled with a passion that defies the uncertainties, a kiss that speaks volumes of his unwavering affection and a desire to shield me from my own fears. As our lips meld in a fervent embrace, Mihawk's kiss becomes a testament to his commitment, a reassurance that transcends spoken words. In that moment, amid the tangle of emotions and swirling doubts, his lips become a lifeline, a beacon of certainty in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties.

The kiss lingers, a bridge between our unspoken fears and the unyielding depth of our connection. Mihawk's touch, his fervent kiss, convey a silent promise—a promise that echoes in the depths of my being, a promise that together, we will weather whatever storms lie ahead. As the kiss concludes, a serene tranquility settles within me, a newfound sense of assurance born from Mihawk's unwavering declaration through that intimate gesture. In the quiet aftermath, his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, a mutual acknowledgment that in each other's embrace, we'll find the strength to face the unforeseen challenges ahead.

After the kiss, a soft yet resolute glint flickers in Mihawk's eyes as he gazes at me. His hand cups my cheek tenderly, his touch conveying a depth of emotion that words struggle to articulate.

"Y/N," he begins, his voice a steady reassurance, "I want this. I want this child with you." His words, though measured, carry a weight of sincerity that resonates deeply within me, "You're not alone in this," he continues, his tone unwavering. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together. I'm here, and I'm staying.”

The earnestness in his declaration pierces through my uncertainties, weaving a tapestry of assurance and commitment. His unwavering support, a promise anchored in his eyes and echoed in his words, becomes a beacon of hope amidst the labyrinth of doubts, "We'll navigate this, step by step," he assures, his voice a steadfast anchor in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties. "I'm with you every step of the way.”

In that poignant moment, Mihawk's unwavering commitment and steadfast reassurance carve a path forward—a path illuminated by the warmth of his unwavering support and our shared determination to embrace the unexpected journey that lies ahead.

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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gwens-love · 2 months ago

Text

A Touch of Fate

Summary: In a quiet village, you’ve always felt the phantom touches of a soulmate a bond that usually belongs only to witches. One autumn evening, a chance encounter with a mysterious figure changes everything.

Warnings: Emotional Themes

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: a bit shorter but oh well.

~Agatha Harkness x fem!reader~

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Growing up in a quiet village, you often heard tales about soulmates, an unbreakable bond that connected two people in ways mere mortals could only dream of. Only witches had such connections, though. To everyone else, they were just old fables passed around for entertainment. You were ordinary, with no magic or power. Yet, ever since you were young, you’d felt soft, phantom touches on your skin a brush along your cheek, a warmth on your hand. The sensations were fleeting but left a strange longing in their wake.

As you grew older, you chalked it up to imagination, but those touches never stopped. They became a part of you, leaving you with an inexplicable feeling that somewhere out there, someone was reaching out to you. Still, you’d accepted you might never understand why.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

One crisp autumn evening, restlessness pulled you to the edge of the village, where a little river wound its way through the landscape. The air was cool, and the gentle sound of the water flowing over stones accompanied you as you wandered along the riverbank, following a quiet feeling that fluttered in your chest.

You knelt beside the water, running your fingers through the cool current, when suddenly that familiar warmth enveloped your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked down, startled, as the sensation grew more pronounced, as if someone were brushing their fingers against your skin.

Then, out of the shadows, she appeared.

Dressed in layers of dark purple, flowing fabric that moved like shadows among the trees, a figure stepped forward, her brown hair cascading around her shoulders, shimmering in the fading light. Her presence was magnetic; there was an undeniable allure about her that pulled you in. She held herself with an elegance that spoke of wisdom and experience, but her eyes deep and playful were filled with a youthful spark.

“Well, well,” she said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “What do we have here? A lost soul wandering these woods?” Her voice was rich and melodic, laced with both humor and a hint of something deeper, something inviting.

You felt your heart race as you met her gaze. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else out here,” you replied, trying to mask your surprise at how drawn you felt towards her.

“Neither did I, darling,” she said, stepping closer. “The names Agatha Harkness dear, lovely to meet you.” Her voice softened, carrying a warmth that soothed the chill in the air. “Something told me I’d find someone special tonight, and I feel like I did.”

As you stood there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was different almost otherworldly. The way she moved, the elegance of her presence, sparked a mix of curiosity and intrigue within you.

“There’s something about you,” you said, glancing up at her. “You feel… ancient, like you belong to a different time.”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Ah, darling, there’s a reason for that. I’m a witch.”

The revelation hit you like a jolt of electricity. “A witch? But I thought those were just stories.”

“Most people think so,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “But magic is real, and so are soulmates.” She said with a little smirk

“Wait, soulmates?” You felt your heart race, the words igniting a spark of hope and disbelief. “Why are you telling me this? Are you saying that we are soulmates?”

Agatha’s gaze softened, filled with warmth. “Yes, my dear. The moment I saw you, I felt it a connection. The universe chose us.”

You struggled to process her words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “But I’m not a witch. How could I have a soulmate?”

The woman’s smile widened, her expression playful yet sincere. “Oh, sweetheart, magic often defies the rules we set for it,” she said, her tone rich with affection. “Sometimes it chooses those who need it most, even when they don’t fit the mold.”

“But I’m just a regular person,” you protested, shaking your head. “I’ve always thought that soulmates were for witches. It can’t be true.”

The woman’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “You may not wield magic in the traditional sense, but there’s a power in your heart that is undeniable,” she said gently. “Feelings are magic too, my dear. Your ability to love and to connect is a strength that many overlook.”

The air between you felt electric, the world around you fading as you stood before her. She took another step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Let me show you that your heart is just as powerful as any spell.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, a sudden rustling in the bushes nearby startled both of you. The momentary tension shifted your focus. “What was that?” you asked, glancing toward the sound.

Her demeanor changed slightly; the playful sparkle in her eyes transformed into something more serious. “Stay close to me,” she instructed, her voice firm. You felt the warmth of her presence, grounding you even as a sense of unease crept in.

The rustling grew louder, and you exchanged anxious glances. Then, emerging from the thicket, a creature scurried into the moonlight an ordinary rabbit, its nose twitching in curiosity. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and she chuckled softly, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had come.

“See? Just a harmless little thing,” she said, her laughter soothing your frayed nerves. “But it does remind me that the world can be unpredictable.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth return to the air around you as she stepped closer again. “What were we talking about?” she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued once more.

“About how I’m not a witch and how it isn’t possible for me to have a soulmate,” you replied, the weight of your earlier denial still hanging between you.

Her head tilted slightly, her expression thoughtful. “The universe has a funny way of bringing people together,” she said. “You may not see it yet, but this bond is a gift, and it exists for a reason. Perhaps it’s to show you that magic is not limited to spells and potions but is found in connection and love.”

Her words resonated deeply within you, stirring something long dormant. “I want to believe that,” you said, looking into her eyes, where warmth and understanding glimmered. “But it feels too good to be true.”

“Ah, darling, sometimes the most beautiful things do feel that way,” she replied, her voice low and reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Sometimes we have to allow ourselves to embrace the extraordinary.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the forest clearing. The air was thick with tension as you and Agatha stood facing each other, the world around you fading into a hushed silence.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “That you’re my soulmate.”

Agatha smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes the universe has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

“It feels like a dream,” you admitted, taking a small step closer. “A beautiful dream I never want to wake up from.”

She held your gaze, her expression shifting to something deeper. “Then let’s make it a reality.”

Your heart raced as the space between you narrowed. “Agatha, I”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her finger brushing gently against your lips. “No more words. Just feelings.”

You nodded, breathless. The intensity of her gaze held you captive, and you could feel the warmth radiating between you, drawing you closer.

“Can I?” she whispered, her voice low and inviting.

“Yes,” you breathed, every part of you yearning for the connection.

With that, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers. The kiss was soft at first, exploring, tasting then it deepened, a rush of warmth and energy enveloping you both. Her hands cradled your face, and you melted into her embrace, losing yourself in the moment.

Time seemed to suspend as the kiss lingered, filled with unspoken promises and the magic of newfound love. When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Agatha’s eyes were filled with delight.

“Now that,” she said with a teasing smile, “is magic.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Fin <3

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha x reader #mcu #marvel

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