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#domestic fluff fic
rainbowcaleb · 2 years
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Summary:
Essek receives a label maker. The first thing he labels is the most important.
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detective-giggles · 2 years
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Me again lol.
For the word WIP game: Lose/Lost, Awesome, Perfect, Dinner, Sleep
I am so sorry this took so long. Especially considering I only had two of the words 😭😭
Lose/lost: nothing here
Awesome: no Awesome
Perfect: no perfect either :(
Dinner: “It’s a nice night, want to go for a walk after dinner?” Carlos asked.
Sleep: “Hmmm? What’s so important at dark o’clock on the day when I need my beauty sleep the most?”
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buckyalpine · 2 months
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Bucky's baby girl who loves his metal arm.
She runs hot just like her daddy, the serum also coursing through her keeping her extra warm. She's all fussy until Bucky cradles her in his left arm and the content sigh she lets out feeling his cool metal against her warm, chubby cheek is unmatched.
It's also perfect when she starts teething. No other toys do it like daddy's thumb. She's happily tucked in the crook of his arm, two tiny hands holding onto his much larger one so she can get a proper grip and chew on his fingers. The coldness soothes her gums.
Bucky's babygirl who only falls asleep when he holds her. It's not that she doesn't fall asleep with her mommy, but she's clearly picked up this habit directly from you. Her daddy's chest is her favourite place to be and you can't complain because you feel the exact same way. There's nothing cuter than her little gummy smile while sleeping contently on daddy's chest, his metal fingers rubbing her back in soothing circles. She practically gets lost in him when he holds her, such a tiny bundle wrapped up around metal and muscle. Of course he gives you the exact same treatment after she's around asleep in her crib and you're also softly snoring moments later.
(Just a rogue thought but imagine Bucky doesn't get the playful pout you make whenever his daughter whines to cuddle up with him, taking away from his snuggle time from you. He so very clearly has time for you both. Then you have a son. The places have been switched as he watches his babyboy coo and giggle in your arms between nursing and Bucky isn't jealous of his own son but he 100% ready for his turn to be in your lap with your boobs in his face. When his son only sleeps on mommy's warm chest with all the skin to skin contact, he's side eyeing you with his shirt off, ready for cuddles immediately after. He's a menace and it's the cutest thing)
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metalmiez · 5 days
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Ineffable Husbands, happy together 🖤🤍
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„C‘mere, silly angel!“ Crowley grumbled and pulled Aziraphale in a hug that included arms and legs fully wrapped around Aziraphale‘s body, so there was no chance of escape. The joy over the tiny squealing noise the angel gave off should be illegal. No one, especially not a vicious demon like Crowley, should be so pleased with a noise like this. But he was. He indulged it. As his face snuggled into the soft curve of the angel‘s neck, he heard a sigh of defeat and he grinned devilishly.
Oh, what a good demon he was.
„Are you gonna hold on like this for long, my dearest?“
‚My dearest‘. It still felt off to be adressed like this. It shouldn’t feel so good, but it did. The demon hummed in satisfaction as the angel gave in into the touch and leaned his head against Crowley's temple.
"That's quite nice of you to-"
"'m not nice. Don't even know what this word means"
Aziraphale huffed in amusement, wriggled on of his arms free and put his hand on the side of Crowley's face, directly over the tiny snake tattoo that started to tickle in excitement.
"As you say so, darling"
Another pet name. If he had less control over his body, he'd probably blush.
"Grm"
"If you don't mind, I put some water on the boil for a nice cup of tea. So if you let go, this would be very demonic of you", the angel squirmed after some moments of embracing in silence. A little grumble escaped the demon's throat as he lifted his head. Oh, the smug idiot. Aziraphale looked at him like the hundreds of times he tried to politely send the demon away if he got one of 'the really good ones'-book he wanted to read.
Instead of letting go, Crowley rolled his eyes and pressed his lips against the angels soft cheek, lingered in the motion as long as possible, listening to his angel’s silly giggle about the sudden affection. He was happy. He really was.
Everything was like it always had to be.
🌈Happy Pride Month, my fellow Queerdos 🌈
To celebrate this occasion, I had to draw our ineffable Idiots, obviously 😂
They need all the love in S3 ❤️
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aliteralsemicolon · 26 days
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Technically, I didn't stay up.
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Just you and Spencer being fluffy when he comes home from work and falling asleep in each other's arms.
Spencer Reid X GN! Reader. 
DISCLAIMER This story is completely SFW, minors do not interact regardless!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 
Word count: 1K See notes at end for authors note, any spoilers & update schedules.
I was listening to Margaret when I initially started writing this:
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Spencer’s abnormal work hours were something you were entirely used to. You never knew when he was going to be called away and although he would text you when a case wrapped up, it was never a guarantee that he was going to make it home. Actually more often than not, he was usually hauled right back in for another case. What could you do? Serial killers didn’t really care about his convenience. Regardless, you always insisted on being present to greet him at the door, even if it meant testing your sleep schedule.
from: Spence ❤️
20:42 | The jet took off not too long ago. We should land in roughly five hours. Please don’t force yourself to wait up.
20:42 | I love you!
You were quick to respond to everything except the not waiting up part. Your plan hadn’t actually gone that smoothly, you’d fallen asleep on the couch not long after making yourself comfortable there. You didn’t hear him unlock the door. He took extra care to be as quiet as possible when abandoning his shoes and satchel at the entrance. He even put a lot of thought into making his steps as light as possible when he began to make his way to the bedroom, only to spot you curled up on the couch. 
He smiled to himself at the sight in front of him. The only lighting was a small lamp in the corner of the room, but to him, you were the brightest presence in the room. Your expression was neutral and your breaths shallow as you lay dead to the world. You looked so peaceful, he considered it to be almost criminal if he were to disturb you. He couldn’t just leave you there though. It wasn’t good for your body to be curled into a cramped position. 
Spencer made his way over to you, crouching down next to your face. He couldn’t help but admire whatever features were visible. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Honey?” he whispered when he pulled away. His voice was so soft. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he wanted you to be comfortable in your own bed. “Hmm?” Your brain registered his voice, but it took your body a second to register his presence.
Spencer still had a hand in your hair, lightly stroking it. Your eyes fluttered open momentarily before they shut again. “You’re back!” You mumbled groggily, reaching out to brush your fingers against his hand. “I am!” He whispered gleefully. Your other hand made its way to his face so you could stoke his jaw. You could feel a little bit of stubble coming in. Spencer’s ears perked up at the little giggle that came out of you when you dropped from the couch into his lap and wrapped yourself around him. 
“I’m sorry to wake you. I did tell you not to stay up.” His long arms swallow you into his embrace as he speaks. 
“Technically, I didn’t stay up.” You counter letting your hand make its way into the hair at the nape of his neck. 
“Sleeping on a surface that isn’t firm enough can contribute to back pain and because the surface of a couch tends to be softer than a mattress, it might not offer enough support for your back. Also, falling asleep while sitting up on a couch could result in your head pushing forward, which puts stress on the neck. Sleep posture is an important predictor of stiffness, back pain, and neck pain, according to several studies.” 
“Thank you Doctor. I remember why I missed you so much.” You pull back as you speak. “Who else is going to be as concerned about my sleep posture as you?”
“I missed you too.” He scoffs in amusement and smiles into the kiss you lean in for. 
You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck when you feel a yawn coming. “Let’s go to bed, okay?” He whispers, sensing your sleeping demeanour. 
“Only if I can take you with me.” You whisper into his skin. He huffs a small laugh as he pushes you off him so he can stand and offers his arms down to you. You grab them and he pulls you up. Neither of you let go of each other's hand as you walk into the bedroom. “I’m just going to brush my teeth first, then I’ll be right with you.” Spencer announces. Still ever the germaphobe.
“I’m gonna join you, that nap made my mouth all dry.” You follow behind him. Spencer grabs both of your toothbrushes and holds them out, as you grab the toothpaste and squeeze an equal amount on each brush. You then take yours out of his hand and the two of you begin brushing. You’re both trying to make up for his time away by leaning into each other, stealing glances in the mirror and smiling if you get caught. 
When you both finish up in the bathroom, you make your way back to the bedroom together. It's like both of you are incapable of being away from each other right now, even for a second. Spencer decides against changing into more comfortable clothes, wanting nothing more than to hold you. He joins you under the comforter, immediately pulling you as close to him as possible. 
Neither of you have enough energy in you for conversation right now, you’re still sleepy from your previous nap and Spencer is entirely drained from the case. Still, you acknowledge each other through light touches and kisses. Spencer’s hand now makes its way to your hair while you draw little patterns against his chest. 
‘I missed u’ 
‘I <3 u’
‘♡’
‘:)’
He doesn’t recognise the little messages, but he appreciates the feeling all the same. You begin drifting off into sleep, revelling in the warmth emitting from him. Spencer smiles when he hears light snores coming from you. He truly considers himself the luckiest man alive. You don’t hear it but before he drifts off himself, he makes his feelings known to the universe in a light whisper.
“I love you so much you know. I’m gonna marry you someday.”
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Spoilers: Fluff, Domestic! Spencer, entirely fluffy & domestic. Literally a comfort blurb for the people who take hot showers for too long and just need a hug.
AN - Hey so sorry for any errors, I drafted this in like 20 minutes to make up for the fact that my originally planned story for today would not be complete in time. Enjoy this short blurb. I was in a salty mood and made an entirely angst blurb too, but decided fluff was what society needed today. Also sorry for the shitty fucking title, my brain is shutting down. Also side note - I’m a WHORE for domestic! Spencer. I just loveeeeee when everyday tasks become so cute and fluffy and romantic. PLEASE recommend domestic Spencer stories!!!
Update Schedule: Original plan drops Monday or Tuesday (Sunday or Monday night EST time). (soooo apparently I'm a liar)
Feel free to drop helpful constructive criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)
Thank you for reading!
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dmitriene · 12 days
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john price with a breeding kink, accompanied by constant urge to fuck his potent load into you, fill your womb with his chubby little kids and see you nursing them, but what more important, to see you all swollen with his babies alone.
price respects a woman with hobbies and aspirations in life, but even more he respects to see the same woman with rounded tummy full of his children and swollen breasts full of sweet milk, to see the way his lovely darling turns all supple and squishy.
and john works hard for it to take, to fuck your glossy cunt raw without unnecessary safety and plug you with his milky cum, pounding into your swollen pussy with shallow thrusts that make his fat cock batter against your gummy cervix, feeling how your gooey walls pulse and clench around his length.
you feel each movement in your throat, accompanying it with broken mewls that slip past your wet lips, the one john kisses so lovingly, with his calloused thick fingers laying on your hips, pawing at the supple flesh as his mutton chops scratch against the skin of your face with each delivered kiss.
— “yau're doing so good, gonna look so lovely all full with my load„ he purrs in your ear, as his movements turn sloppy, hips jerking as his cock throbs in the confiness of your slick warmth, your legs circling around his hips and your cunt clamps around him, tightening, making his brows furrow with stiffled groan, as you moan sweetly.
neck arching with the way you tilt your head, letting price slot his lips against your throat, leaving trail of kisses and little marks that he litters all over your flushed skin, listening to the way your breath hitch, noises turning incoherent and high pitched — “please, john, hmmn, f — fill me, breed me up„
that's all it takes for john to moan brokenly, letting his hips falter as his cock jolted with spurting ropes of cum, filling your pulsing hole as you clenched, cunt gushing sticky slick and his smoky voice a warming purr against your ear — “such a sweit' darling for me, gonna be full with my kids soon.. just' rest' now„
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴.
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kitamars · 1 month
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lovey dovey (alt ver of the first one under the cut!)
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zeenmrala · 1 year
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blossoming romance writing prompts:
accidental hand touching
eye contact across a crowded room
exchanging secret smiles
first conversations alone
admiring them from afar
asking them about their family
visiting them at their place of work
discovering common interests
exchanging gifts for the first time
a surprise encounter
picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face
nervous embarrassment around them (blushing, fidgeting etc)
complimenting their appearance
looking at their lips as they talk
finding excuses to be alone with each other
naturally gravitating closer together
noticing their individual quirks
hello/goodbye hugs that linger
talking late into the night
clumsy attempts at flirting
sharing long term dreams, goals and aspirations with one another
playful teasing
being unable to keep their eyes off of them
attempting to find out if they are single/available
finding comfort in their scent
creating art inspired by them
sharing an umbrella in the rain, or a coat/blanket in the cold
surprising them with their favourite treat
visiting their home for the first time
confiding in them
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eideticallys · 1 year
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You Think I'm Delicious?
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
“i don’t like your new perfume.”
genre: fluff & crack
word count: 1.9k
author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
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THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HE’S A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about something—making him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through books—and even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.
So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain he’d love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure he’d go crazy over your smell. He’d tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7. 
However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
“I don’t like your new perfume.”
Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previously—playing chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didn’t love your boyfriend and didn’t have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; you’ll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.
“Excuse me?”
Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, “What’s up?” This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.
“What do you mean you don’t like my new perfume?”
Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, you’re curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.
He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasn’t the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.
God, he’s so precious, you’d keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isn’t your favorite person, and you’d love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.
“Spencer,” you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, “Out with it.”
“What?”
“You’re flushed pink. You’re picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.” You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. “Baby, for a profiler, you’re not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me what’s going on.”
He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you weren’t a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you weren’t backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.
You could hear the ticking of the wall clock—if you focused hard enough—with the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to cave—not even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. It’s kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least you’d be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom he’s pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinky—not really, you’re just dramatic like that.
“Well, for starters, I think it’s strong like I’m drowning in it,” Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didn’t have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was stronger—he’s hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.
“Are you sure that’s it? You didn’t have that problem with my previous perfume, which I’m pretty sure is much stronger than this one.” You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. “Garcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.”
At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer. 
“Tell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.” You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like he’d rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. “And you know, I’m a great profiler. I always get what I want.”
However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencer’s eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.
Oh. That’s the problem.
“Baby, I think I know what the problem is here.”
Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by you—which wasn’t your plan at all, by the way—and was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.
Although you were better at that angle, you still weren’t able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because you’re sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.
You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.
“You know, it’s not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.” Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, “I just liked it better when you smelled like me.”
Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you could’ve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.
No, you wanted Spencer. 
You wanted to be with Spencer.
So, you were shocked at your boyfriend’s display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasn’t every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencer’s face towards yours.
“God, you’re so adorable, Dr. Reid,” you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, “I could eat your face!”
“We don’t want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.”
You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain. 
“Stop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what I’m talking about!”
“I don’t.” Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. “Actually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think I’m delicious?”
You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.
“You’re an idiot.”
“No, I’m not!” Spencer protested and explained some more, “Seeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partner’s natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.”
Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.
“Aha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!”
“You know what, Spence?” You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. He’ll never know what hit him. “I love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.”
By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.
“Shut up!”
“I love you too, Spence.”
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marzylics · 19 days
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Simon Riley has never had true peace, until now. You just laying with him in bed. It was one of the mundane things he used to think were stupid about relationships, until you.
The night before he had gotten back from a long deployment. The reunion sex had you seeing stars and now it's the next morning.
Usually Simon gets up early and does a few chores maybe goes on a run but not today. Today he is happy to spend the entire day in bed as long as he has you in his arms.
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pengujoon · 8 months
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FLUSHED WITH FEVER
cont. geto suguru x reader, fluff. suguru is really clingy when he’s sick, he’s so hot he’s burning up, living together!au, intentional lowercase, really wholesome
a/n. suguru brainrot is really hitting strong huh
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you woke up to a warm, sunny morning, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. but as you stirred in bed, you felt a familiar presence around you, but something was off.
suguru was nestled close to you, and his skin felt like it was on fire, radiating an intense heat. his cheeks were flushed with fever, and he clung to you as if your touch could cool the burning sensation that consumed him.
“suguru,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his forehead. it was burning up, and he groaned softly in response. his arms were wrapped around you, holding you close, but he seemed almost desperate for relief.
you gently shifted so that you were facing him, cradling his flushed face in your hands. “suguru, you’re burning up,” you murmured, worry filling your voice.
he nuzzled against your hand, seeking comfort. “i know,” he replied, his voice shaky. “i couldn’t sleep, and i needed to be close to you.”
you couldn’t help but feel your heartache for him. “i’m here, suguru. let’s get you cooled down.”
carefully, you disentangled yourself from his grip, leaving the bed to retrieve a damp, cool washcloth. you placed it on his forehead, and he sighed in relief. you could see the agony in his eyes, but he held onto you as if your presence alone could chase away the fever.
you climbed back into bed beside him, and he immediately snuggled against your side, his body seeking the comfort of your touch. you ran your fingers through his hair, trying to bring him some relief from the heat.
“let’s get you some porridge. it’ll help you feel better.”
with a gentle smile, you disentangled yourself from his grip, promising to return. you went to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of his favourite porridge, hoping it would help ease his fever. the scent of the simmering porridge filled the kitchen, comforting and inviting.
after a short while, you returned to his room with the warm bowl of porridge in hand. you found him still curled up under the blankets, looking miserable, but the moment he saw you, his eyes lit up at the sight.
“i’ve made some of your favorite porridge,” you said, holding it out to him. “it’s ready whenever you want.”
suguru’s gratitude shone in his feverish eyes as he accepted the bowl. “you’re the best,” he whispered, his voice full of appreciation.
you sat down on the edge of the bed and helped him sit up. but as you did, he couldn’t resist nuzzling into you, his head resting on your shoulder. he ate a few spoonfuls but seemed more interested in being close to you. his arms wrapped around your waist, and he snuggled against your side.
“thank you,” he mumbled between nuzzles. “you’re always so good to me.”
you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “of course, suguru. i’ll take care of you until you’re better.”
once he finished, you set the empty bowl aside and turned to face him. his feverish gaze met yours, and in that moment, you knew you needed to offer more than just comfort food.
you moved closer, your hand gently finding its way to the back of suguru’s head, fingers threading through his hair. you felt the heat radiating from him, but you didn’t mind. in this quiet, intimate moment, you leaned in, and your foreheads met. your touch was soft, and your eyes locked with his, offering a silent reassurance that you’d be there for him.
suguru closed his eyes, his hand resting on your cheek, and he whispered, “thank you for taking care of me.”
your heart swelled with affection, and you continued to run your fingers through his hair, giving him the comfort he craved. in this close, loving moment, you knew that your presence was the best medicine for him.
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nanami in today's episode... mappa is never beating the gay for nanami allegations
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celestialwrites · 3 months
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jealousy dialogue + prompts ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
@celestialwrites for more!
♡ “why don’t you just go back to her?!” “who?”
♡ “if you want (character) gone just say so!”
♡ character A talking with an old friend while character B just sits and watches. [little did they know, the old friend was talking about how lucky A is to have B.]
♡ “i never took you for the jealous type.” “i. am. not. jealous.”
♡ “maybe i didn’t like the way (character) looked at you!”
♡ “aw, darling, are you jealous?”
♡ character A being oblivious to a random person flirting but character B swoops in to ‘save’ character A from a bad flirt when in reality they were just jealous.
♡ “you’re jealous of (character)? hun, you could do so much better.”
♡ “i saw the way he looked at you!”
♡ character A gets jealous over their old fling who they swore they hated. [chaos ensues]
♡ “why do you look like you’re about to stab me? you’re not jealous, are you?”
♡ “why are you so insecure about this?” “i don’t want to be used again!”
♡ “what’s the matter with you?” “i don’t like the way (character A) looks at (character B)”
REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS<3
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fungal-rot · 1 month
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Daddy’s Girl
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summary: this is actually a part two of Sweet, Domestic Life. i’m glad y’all thought it was cute bc i love joel having a happy life and being a family man (but tbf idk if i like this or not) also i’ve been reading writing tips and whatnot and even had a friend go over this for me (she helped so much) !! i hope you can notice a (good) difference shskdhakal
warnings: your child is a menace (affectionate), f!reader, reader is referred to as mama, the daughter is nicknamed ‘Bug’, so sweet it’ll rot your teeth, i also don’t know how to properly write toddlers lol
w.c.: 1k
⁺˚°。⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆。°˚⁺
    A soft, content sigh escaped your lips as you sat on the bed, crossing your legs as you neatly folded laundry and separated each article of clothing into its own pile. Joel was not as contented; he chased your little girl up and down the hall, her high-pitched squealing bouncing off the walls as she scuttled away, and he followed in hot pursuit with heavy feet that thundered after her with every laugh and giggle.
You heard Joel ask with an accusing tone, "What do you have in your hand?" Your ears perked up, and as soon as you lifted your head, you saw your three-year-old come barreling in. With a wide, shit-eating grin plastered on her face, making her cheeks appear rounder, she held her closed fist out in front of her.
"Mama!" She hollered and rushed to the edge of the bed, her free hand gripping and fisting at the bed sheets as she clambered up the mattress and placed a tiny foot against the frame of the bed to hoist herself up, trying her best to reach you.
"Bug!" You exclaimed with a dramatic widening of your eyes, dropping the shirt you held, and raising your arms slightly before grabbing her and settling her onto your lap. Joel joined next and propped an arm against the door frame as his chest heaved from the chase he had just endured. His brows bunched together, but a playful smile stretched his lips, clearly thrilled to be a part of the game.
"Nuh-uh," he said with a shake of his head and walked forward, "Mama can't help ya." Then he reached for the toddler once again.
Your eyes narrowed as you were about to argue but stopped short as Bug screeched in your ear. The sudden noise made you recoil with a wince. Your neck craned to the side, and you arched your brows while you blinked rapidly and waited for her to simmer down.
After a minute, you tilted your head to look down at her, "You done?" You ask softly and tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear.
Her head bobbled in response, "Yeah," she sucked in her lips and shifted in your lap, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt to balance herself.
You nod back and carefully remove her hand from the shirt, preventing her from possibly tugging the collar too low. "Okay," you whisper, then turning back to Joel. You resume your theatrical act, cradling your daughter's head to your shoulder protectively as you give him a mock pout.
"Not so fast, Miller," you say dramatically, "You bein' mean to my girl?"
The little girl had her hands tucked under her chin as she peeked at Joel with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Your husband noticed this, of course, and shot her a lighthearted glare.
"If anything, she's the mean one," he retaliated with a vague gesture of his hand and moved to lay down beside the two of you. "Makin' an old man with a bad back and bad knees run around like that." He added, followed by a soft exhale as he brought his hands to his stomach and clasped them together.
You snorted faintly and observed him with mild amusement as he got comfortable. You then avert your gaze to the fidgeting child in your lap. "I heard Daddy ask what you got in your hand," you tell her, tilting your head curiously. "Wanna show me what it is?"
Her nose scrunched as she bared her teeth in a goofy grin and brought her hands from under her chin, splaying them open to reveal-
"Nothing?" Your head reeled back with a laugh. Ah, of course. She was getting her father riled up for the sake of it, truly a chip off the old block.
Joel chuckled under his breath, bringing a hand from his torso to rub tiredly at his face.
"Glad I've got my girls ta keep me on my toes." He mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he opened his eyes again and glanced between you. Your daughter wormed free from your hold and crawled onto Joel's lap, her little hands splayed across his chest as she gazed down at him.
" 'S'a joke, Daddy." She explained, her shoulders bobbing up and down with a happy lilt in her voice. "Bellie told me." Ah, that would explain it. Joel couldn't deny that Ellie's favorite pastime seemed to be finding ways to get under his skin, and now that had also expanded to his other daughter.
" 'Course she did," Joel replied, flicking his gaze to you, his expression mostly neutral with a faint look of amusement. You noticed your daughter's lip slightly parted with a soft yawn, and her eyes dropped ever so slightly, which signaled the two of you that she was starting to get sleepy.
"Yeah, bein' a li'l menace is tirin' ain't it, Bug?" Joel cooed playfully and touched her back, gently lowering her to lay against his chest.
You watched the interaction fondly and felt your heart flutter.
You couldn’t deny it; your daughter was a daddy's girl through and through, always seeking out the time she could spend with him, running to him with open arms when he came home after patrol, and always being under his feet, which he would always welcome with equal enthusiasm.
You finished folding the rest of the laundry and gathered each pile, placing them in their respective spots within the dresser. As you worked, you listened as Joel quietly sang, "Bye, Baby Buntin," his words slowly trailing off as he did. You turned back to see the pair fast asleep, the two embracing each other.
A warm feeling rushed through your body, and you silently padded over to the bed, reaching for the comforter folded at the end and throwing it open. You placed it over the pair and gently kissed each of their foreheads before turning off the lamp, then snuggled in next to them and closed your eyes, savoring this moment of peace and contentment.
⁺˚°。⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆。°˚⁺
sorry it’s so short ahh !! i just wanted to write something real quickie. thank you for reading and comments/reblogs are always appreciated <33
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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months
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Just Like Dad (1 of 4)
Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, brief mention of pregnancy, canon-typical swearing, Simon is a girl dad
Word Count: 890
A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series
Filling out a parent questionnaire leads to Simon having to answer a hard question.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad
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“Daddy.”
 A small fist curls around the bottom of Simon’s shirt, tugging. He glances down, finding his daughter there holding out a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” Simon takes it from her, his gaze shifting to the black ink.
“It’s for school.”
It’s a questionnaire. Simons scans over the questions quickly before returning his gaze to his daughter. “Give me a second, love.”
Simon packs up the files he brought home from work. Grabbing a pencil, he strolls out to the living room, his daughter on his heels. Simon takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, placing the paper and pencil on the coffee table. His daughter snags a pillow off the couch, dropping it on the floor next to his legs. Sitting, she stares at him expectantly.
Simon nods toward the paper. “You need to practice your letters.”
She groans. “But it’s about you!”
Simon slowly slides the paper and pencil over to her. She pouts but takes up the pencil, the graphite tip poised above the first line.
“Name,” she says, glancing up at him.
“You know my name.”
She squints at him and looks back at the paper, taking her time to write each letter. She holds it up and Simon smiles. It’s stilted and a bit sideways, but it’s there. She asks several more questions like favorite food and color. Simon doesn’t understand the point to it but they’re likely doing a project on a parent.
“Job,” she says, expectant.
Job. His occupation. That’s a fucking complicated question.
“Military,” he answers.
She frowns. “How do you spell that?”
“Sound it out.”
She does so slowly, elongating each letter as she writes.
Simon glances over her shoulder and chuckles. “That’s an ‘i,’ darling.” He points and she aggressively erases her mistake.
When she finishes, she looks up at him. “Explain.”
Explain. Explain.
Explain…what?
That he kills people? That he negotiates the release of hostages? That he faces violence every day he’s on the job? That he sees some of the worst in people?
How the bloody hell does he explain all that to a six-year-old girl? How does he summarize the violence into a watered-down version that’s digestible enough for her, her teacher, the other students, and her school.
Simon swallows. “I stop bad people from doing bad things.”
She blinks. “Do I have to write all that?”
Simon barks a laugh. “It’s one sentence.”
She silently mimics him, shaking her little body in annoyance as she begins to write. Simon has no idea where the attitude comes from, but it’s likely from Johnny.
“Next question,” prompts Simon once the sentence is written down.
She hesitates and then turns in his direction. “Can I be like you when I grow up?”
Could she? Yes. But the very idea of her in the line of danger frightens him. It twists his stomach, knowing all the things that could befall her if she were to follow in his footsteps. Simon’s gut-instinct is to tell her “No.”
“Why do you want to be like me?” he asks.
She shrugs. “You’re strong. I want to be strong like you.”
“You don’t need to do what I do to be strong.”
“Uh, no,” she says, matter-of-fact, peering at the next question.
Fucking hell, she’s going to be an absolute hellion when she hits puberty. Sighing, Simon rubs at his temple. For some reason, he glances away from his daughter, his gaze landing on you in the hallway. With your hand cradling your slightly swollen belly, you watch on with an amused expression.
Number two. Will this one be like her? Wanting to do what he does?
“Daddy.”
Simon turns back to his daughter. She points at the paper with the tip of her pencil, head tilted slightly to the side.
He leans forward. “What’s the next question?”
“What does your day look like?” She grins up at him, ready for his answer.
Simon hears your soft laugh from the hall, and then your footsteps across the carpet. Your hand reaches out to cradle the back of Simon’s neck. On instinct, he lifts his arm, resting his hand on the small of your back.
“Go on, Simon. Tell her,” you tease, knowing that he’s struggling to form an answer.
“Do you put your mask on first?” The question is innocent but Simon laughs anyway.
“No,” he chuckles, gently taking the paper and pencil from her. “I kiss your mother first.”
Simon drags you in for a kiss.
“Ugh. Gross.” She makes a face, tiny nose scrunching up in disgust.
“Still want my job?” Simon presents the paper and she snatches up in her little fist.
“No thanks,” she sing-songs, stuffing the paper in her backpack, crinkling it up.
You hide your grin in Simon’s shoulder, and Simon tugs you closer. “Good save,” you murmur.
Simon presses his lips to the top of your head. “She has one of my masks.”
“I know,” you giggle. “Found it under her pillow this morning. I put it in your bag.”
“Was it covered in your makeup this time?”
“Had to wash it.”
Simon shakes his head in exasperation. He’s not annoyed. Just perplexed. He doesn’t understand why his daughter wants to be just like him.
It’s because she doesn’t know.
No. She doesn’t know. But one day she will. She might even change her mind.
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie
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dmitriene · 4 days
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john price that deals with constant dark urges inside his head everytime he thinks about you, looks at you, eyes darkening and body buzzing and itching with the urge to see you at his feet, at his disposal, no matter that you already belong to him.
he wants you between his muscular thighs, your legs at either side of his foot, humping at his old combat boots that he found hidden deep in shoe rack, your puffy and slick with drool lips stretched around the full girth of his fat cock.
your mound glides right against the the toe of his boot, bumping against your clit rapidly, your drenched panties leaving a shiny wet path, slick folds parting with john's foot tapping up just slightly, making you mewl around the thickness of his cock buried deep in your throat.
it makes his heavy hand at the back of your head, tangled in the locks of your hair, tighten their hold and the head of his cock throb and glide past your gag reflex, your eyes fluttering with brimming tears.
nose in john's pubic hair, thick mush heavy at your senses with your cunt fluttering and pulsing, still sopping wet all over his boot without faltering the movements of your hips, tongue moving heavily, licking at the underside of his veiny, sopping length, mouth watering at the taste of his precum.
he mouths some praises, the one that barely stores at the back of your mind against the background of his stiffled, smoky groans and wet sounds of both your mouth and cunt, stuffed full.
you don't even notice how john's hand leaves your hair to grasp at your neck, tightening his hold just slightly, imagining the way you would look with a collar there, bolds letters of — “property of captain john price„ engraved possessively.
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴.
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astralnymphh · 2 months
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how do you think ellie would scold a child? not necessarily scolding but like yk?🗣️🗣️ maybe like your toddler had been acting a little bratty and wasn’t listening
i’m crying i need to have children with her
♡♱— god i love writing for domestic!ellie best trope out there, but anywho, i think ellie is quite gentle and honestly more playful if anything. do you remember how she spoke to the sheep while she was rounding them up? that's her tone. a drawled series of "come onnnn.."'s and succinct "hey."'s, both tuned of composure; a soft agenda. bent at the hips and crooked at the knees, pillared arms relying all upper weight upon said knees, a dangling ray of copper slipped from it's loose ear-tuck (most notable thing, duh) streaking across halcyon features as she spoke. and born from her sweet consoling, was a silent cherub partial to the softness and entertainment that those cottony words offered; "hm? whaddaya' say? think i could go for some old-fashioned dress up." definitely has some sort of bribing system in-hand though, which isn't ideal, and you scold her for it. innumerably, you've strolled into your child's room after a tiresome argument with a wobbling toddling toddler who only replied in intelligible babbles that may have resembled a word yet didn't really concoct the coherent likeness of one— to find that damned auburnhead engaging some past-bedtime playtime, "oh? you want me to be the princess this time? okay okay, since i don't mind.." crossing your arms and tutting obnoxiously enough to perk the ears of your indulgent wife, clad in a plastic and rhinestone tiara.
"i mean.. she stopped.. awkwardly punching me in the knee, and i get to be a princess. that's a win, right?"
MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP
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