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m4rv3l-girl · 3 months ago

Text

Slowly…

Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while, but have yet to explore anything more intimate than making out like teenagers. Maybe things will change when Bucky finally faces his fears.

Warnings: smut. Oral f!recieving. Protected p in v sex. Slight fear of intimacy. Touch starved Bucky?

The hum of the Stark Tower HVAC system was basically white noise.

Bucky Barnes sat sprawled across the couch, one arm looped loosely around Y/N’s shoulders, the other cradling a steaming mug of chamomile tea. Both of them contently sleepy. The windows stretched tall across the living room wall, casting gold-tinged light from the setting sun over the exposed brick and sleek furniture, remnants of Tony’s compulsive over-design.

Y/N, nestled into Bucky’s side with a blanket tugged over both of their legs, sighed softly. Her head was tucked perfectly beneath his chin, like it belonged there. Bucky liked that. He liked that a lot more than he’d ever admit aloud. Especially since Sam would absolutely never let him live it down if he caught wind of Bucky Barnes being the little spoon. Again.

“You know,” Y/N said, voice low and thoughtful, “you’re actually not as terrifying as everyone makes you out to be.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, lifting his mug in mock salute. “Thanks, doll. I’ll make sure to update my LinkedIn.”

She laughed against his chest, the sound vibrating into his sternum and tugging a rare, genuine smile from him. “No, seriously. You’re... sweet. You hold the door open. You bring me coffee just the way I like it. You’re weirdly obsessed with The Great British Bake Off.”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“Oh, come on. You cried when Rahul won.”

He groaned, tilting his head back against the couch and covering his face with the vibranium hand. “I didn’t cry. I just - had feelings. That’s normal. Rahul is a very talented man.”

“You’re soft.”

“I’m six feet tall and made of war crimes.”

She snorted. “You’re my soft war crime.”

“Jesus Christ.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. The kind that only came after months of slow trust-building, of soft confessions over late-night tea, of tentative hand-holding and the quiet awe in Bucky’s eyes when she didn’t flinch away from the cold press of metal fingers. It wasn’t perfect, Bucky still had nights where he woke up gasping, sweat-soaked and angry at ghosts only he could see, but Y/N never left. Never treated him like he was broken or dangerous. Just… human.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed being seen as human until she came along.

“You ever think about…” Y/N began, then paused, fingers tracing idle shapes along his thigh. “Us. Like, going further?”

Bucky blinked, the words taking a second to register through the sleepy haze.

“Further?”

She tilted her head to glance up at him, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. Like… more than just kissing on your couch and pretending we don’t both want more.”

Oh.

Bucky’s breath hitched, but not from discomfort. Not exactly. More like the entire world had suddenly gone still and very, very focused.

He’d thought about it. Of course he had. He was a hundred and six years old, not dead.

But there was always a wall. Not one she had built. Y/N had never rushed him, but one he’d carried with him since Hydra carved up his mind like Thanksgiving turkey. Intimacy meant vulnerability. And vulnerability had always gotten him hurt or used.

“I do think about it,” he said finally, voice soft. “All the time, actually.”

Y/N shifted slightly, giving him room to see her expression. She looked open. Patient. Like she wasn’t expecting anything except honesty. That helped. That grounded him.

“But I also think about messing it up,” he admitted. “I think about what if I freeze up? Or what if I have some flashback in the middle of it and ruin everything?”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she said immediately. “You could never ruin this.”

He wanted to believe her. Hell, part of him already did. But old instincts didn’t die easily. He reached for her hand with his metal one, letting their fingers twine together. That felt real. Solid.

“I guess I just need to know you’re okay with taking it slow. That you don’t feel like you’re waiting for me to turn into someone else.”

Y/N’s smile was soft and fierce all at once. “Bucky, I didn’t fall for the Winter Soldier. I fell for the guy who leaves sticky notes on the fridge reminding me to drink water. Who calls Sam ‘bird brain’ like it’s a love language. Who watched all three Lord of the Rings movies with me even though he thought Frodo should’ve just used the eagles.”

“Don’t tell me I was wrong.”

She laughed, then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay with slow. I’m okay with whatever pace you want. I’m here because I want you.”

Bucky let out a slow breath, tension he hadn’t realized he was holding bleeding from his shoulders. “Okay,” he murmured. “Then yeah. Maybe we take that step. Sometime soon.”

A beat.

The quiet stretched out like a warm blanket, thick with anticipation. Bucky’s thumb traced the line of her knuckles, and the room felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He knew he could say no. He knew she’d understand. But the way she said it - so gentle, so earnest - he couldn’t find the words to refuse.

“Soon,” she murmured, reading the hesitation in his eyes. “Whenever you’re ready. I just - I want you to know that I’m here. That I want to be there for you, every step of the way.”

Bucky nodded, his throat tight with emotions he hadn’t let himself feel in so long. It was strange, this feeling of safety, of belonging. It didn’t sit easily with him, but it was growing more familiar with every beat of her heart against his side. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.

“You make it easier, doll,” he said finally. “You make a lot of things easier.”

Y/N leaned into him, her arm curling around his waist. Her hair smelled faintly of coconut shampoo and mint toothpaste. The scent was comforting, like home.

“I’ll always be here for you, you know that,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. “For all the hard parts. And the easy ones too. For the baking shows and the bad jokes and the quiet nights just like this one. I’m all in, Bucky. Whatever it takes to help you feel whole again.”

The weight of her words settled into his chest, nestling in alongside his beating heart. It was a heavy burden, but somehow, with her, it felt lighter.

They watched the light change outside the window, the sky deepening into shades of purple and pink. The sounds of the city grew distant, swallowed up by their shared warmth. Bucky’s arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she curled into him, her hand coming to rest over his heart.

It was a promise. A silent vow.

He took a sip of his now lukewarm tea and sighed, the warmth of her against him a stark contrast to the cold metal of his arm. It was moments like these that made him feel alive, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, he could have a life beyond the shadows of his past.

“What’s the first thing you’d wanna do?” he asked, turning to look at her. Her eyes searched his, looking for any signs of doubt or fear. But all she’d find was the truth. The reality was that, at present, their sex life was non-existent.

Y/N thought for a moment, her expression softening into a smile. “I don’t mind….what would you want to do..?” She didn’t want to commit to something that he wasn’t comfortable with.

Bucky considered this.

"I just want to be with you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I want to hold you, and kiss you, and just… explore. Nothing crazy, just… us. Getting to know each other that way."

Her smile grew, lighting up the room even as the shadows grew longer. "That sounds perfect," she whispered.

The air was thick with a tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. He could feel the pulse of her heart beneath her palm, and he knew she felt his too, a steady rhythm that grew stronger with every breath they took together.

They sat for a while longer, just watching the day turn to night. Bucky's mind raced with the possibilities of what this could mean for them, but he forced himself to stay present, to enjoy the simplicity of their entwined fingers and the warmth of her body.

Eventually, Y/N sat up, her hand slipping away from his heart to rest on his cheek. She turned to face him, her eyes searching his, looking for any trace of doubt. But all she found was a man who was ready to take the next step.

“Okay,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s go slow. We’ll figure it out together. No pressure, just us getting to know each other more intimately. I’m here, Bucky. We’re in this together, remember?”

Bucky nodded, his pulse quickening at the thought of what lay ahead. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to be this open with someone, to let go of the fear that had become second nature. But with her, it felt possible.

They stood up, and he set the mug of tea down on the side table with a gentle clink. Y/N reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. She led him to the bedroom, her movements sure and unhurried.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn just enough to allow the fading light to cast a soft glow over the bed. Bucky felt his heart rate spike as she turned to face him, her gaze never wavering from his own. She stepped closer, her hand sliding up to his chest, then around to his neck.

Her touch was tentative at first, a gentle question. But as Bucky leaned into it, she grew bolder, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her thumb brushing against his lower lip. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath, and she leaned in to capture his mouth in a kiss that was sweet and full of promise.

Her other hand slid down his side, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Bucky’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, the heat between them growing with every second. The kiss deepened, and he felt the first stirrings of something he’d almost forgotten - desire, untainted by fear or duty.

When they broke apart, panting slightly, Bucky opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him. She reached for the hem of her shirt, her movements slow and deliberate. He watched as she lifted it over her head, revealing the soft curves of her body.

He took a deep breath, his metal hand hovering over her bare skin for a moment before he let it rest gently on her waist.

Y/N's eyes searched his, looking for the answer to the unspoken question. Bucky nodded, his decision made.

They moved in unison, Bucky helping her to remove the rest of her clothing, his movements slow and careful, as if handling something fragile and precious. Each piece of clothing that fell away revealed more of her, and with it, a part of her soul that he hadn't seen before. Her trust in him was palpable, a silent demand that he not break her. And he knew, with a sudden fierceness, that he never would.

Her skin was warm under his touch, and she shivered as he traced the outline of her collarbone with his thumb. He felt his own heart racing, a thunderous beat that echoed in his ears.

They lay down on the bed, the mattress giving slightly under their combined weight.

Her eyes never left his, the same gentle expression on her face that had been there since the moment she’d brought it up. He felt the pressure of her hand, the softness of her skin, and the way her breath hitched as he kissed her again, his metal fingers brushing against the softness of her stomach. It was a strange sensation, this mix of cold and warm, of hard and soft, of past and present.

Bucky’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but he pushed them aside, focusing only on the here and now. He didn’t want to think about the past, didn’t want to ruin this moment with the specter of his former life. This was about them, about what they were choosing to build together.

He leaned over her, pressing tender kisses along her neck and collarbone, feeling the thrum of her pulse beneath his lips. Her skin was like silk, and her scent was intoxicating, a blend of warmth and vanilla that he’d come to associate with home. Her breathy sighs were music to his ears, each one a silent encouragement to explore further.

Her fingers danced over his shoulders, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she guided him closer, urging him to explore. His heart hammered in his chest, a reminder of the life he had reclaimed, the humanity he had fought to keep.

Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if they were both trying to convey the depth of their feelings without words. Bucky’s hand traveled up her side, feeling the curve of her hip, the softness of her skin, the warmth that emanated from her core. He was acutely aware of every touch, every breath, the way she arched into his mouth when he kissed her just right. It was as if he was mapping out a new territory, one that was uncharted and full of wonder.

The room was filled with the sound of their mingled breaths, the rustle of fabric, the quiet sighs that escaped their lips. Y/N’s hand slipped under his shirt, her fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. He stilled for a moment, waiting, but she didn’t pull away.

Bucky felt something unlock inside of him, a door that had been sealed shut for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there. It was a rush of sensation, of need, that made his head spin and his heart race. He kissed her again, harder this time, his hand sliding down to the small of her back, pressing her closer.

Y/N’s legs parted, inviting him in, and Bucky’s heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never been this intimate with someone who knew all of him, who had seen the darkest corners of his soul and chosen to stay. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He took a moment to breathe, to steady himself. He didn’t want to rush this, didn’t want to scare her away with his intensity. But when he pulled back, her eyes were dark with desire, matching the pulse in his veins. She didn’t look scared. She looked hungry.

They moved together in a dance that was both new and familiar, their bodies speaking a language that didn’t require words. He felt the heat of her skin, the softness of her curves, the way she molded against him as if they’d been made for this. It was a revelation, a reminder that he was more than the sum of his parts.

Bucky’s hand slid up her thigh, his thumb brushing against the lace of her underwear. He felt her shiver and knew that she was just as ready as he was. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart. This was it. The moment he’d feared and craved in equal measure. But with her, it didn’t feel scary. It felt right.

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. He raised his arms, letting her pull it off. The cool air of the room kissed his bare skin, making him shiver. She traced the lines of his abs with her fingertips, her eyes taking in every inch of him with a mix of awe and affection.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice a warm caress against his ear.

Bucky felt a blush creep up his cheeks, a rare and welcome sensation. He’d never been one for compliments, but coming from her, it felt like the most profound truth he’d ever heard. He kissed her again, his hand sliding up to cup her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm.

They moved together, exploring each other with gentle touches and whispered sighs. Bucky’s mind was a blur of sensation, each new discovery a revelation. The way she tasted, the way she felt, the way she made him feel. It was like coming home after a long, cold war, finding warmth in the most unexpected of places.

He felt her hand on the elastic of his sweatpants, and he stilled for a moment. This was the part that had always been a minefield before. But she didn’t look up at him with fear or hesitation. Just love. So he let her continue, his breath catching in his throat as she touched him, skin to skin.

Y/N’s hand was warm and sure, and Bucky couldn’t help but gasp as she touched him, her thumb rubbing against the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband. The fabric was the last barrier between them, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

With a trembling hand, Bucky reached down to help her, his heart racing as he pushed his pants down. The coolness of the air against his skin was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and he watched as she took him in, her eyes wide and filled with a hunger that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t been in decades.

They kissed again, a kiss that was more than just a meeting of lips, it was a declaration of trust, of love, of the shared hope that this could be the start of something beautiful. He felt her hand slide down, her fingertips dancing against his skin, until she reached the bulge in his boxers, and he let out a soft groan that seemed to resonate through the very core of his being.

Her hand was tentative at first, exploring his hardness with gentle strokes. But as Bucky’s grip tightened on the sheets and his breathing grew ragged, she grew bolder. Her touch was a whispered promise of what was to come, a gentle reminder that she was here for him, that he wasn’t alone.

He slid his hand down to cover hers, their fingers intertwining as they found a rhythm that sent shockwaves through his body. The warmth of her hand, the softness of her skin, the way she looked at him - it was almost too much to handle. But he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it, craving more.

With a tremble, Bucky reached for the clasp of her bra, his metal digits fumbling slightly. But she was patient, smiling up at him as he finally managed to free her from the garment. Her breasts were perfect in his eyes, the soft mounds fitting perfectly into his palms. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, watching as they pebbled beneath his touch, and she gasped into his mouth. The sensation of skin against skin was electric, sending currents of pleasure through him that he hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He’d been so afraid of this moment, but here it was, and it was nothing like he’d feared. It was gentle, it was kind, it was everything he’d hoped for.

He broke the kiss to kiss his way down her neck, her chest, her stomach. He took his time, savoring each new inch of her that was revealed to him. Y/N’s breath hitched as his mouth reached the apex of her thighs, his tongue tracing a line along her inner thigh before dipping closer to where she was wet and waiting for him. He felt a small twist of doubt and self consciousness, he hadn’t actually done this since the 40s.

Her legs fell open to encourage him, and Bucky took a moment to breathe her in, to appreciate the trust she was giving him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She assured. He kissed her gently, his tongue teasing against her slit, her taste a rich mix of sweetness and desire. Y/N’s body arched off the bed, and she let out a soft moan, her hand sliding into his hair to guide him, to show him just how she liked it.

Bucky took his cues from her, his touch gentle and explorative. He’d never been with someone who knew the extent of his past, who had seen the monster he’d been made into. But here she was, her body open to him, welcoming him in. Her thighs trembled around his head as he worked his way down. His tongue found the spot that made her gasp. She was wet, slick against his mouth and he groaned, his cock pulsing with every soft whimper she made.

He could feel the tension coiling in her, tightening like a spring. Her hips began to move in time with his strokes, her breath coming in short and sharp gasps. He didn’t know how to do this, not really. But he knew he wanted to make her feel good. So he listened to her body, her sounds, her whispers of need. He focused on her reactions, learning what she liked, what made her squirm, what made her moan.

Small, quick flicks of his tongue over her clit seemed to send her reeling.

Y/N’s hands tightened in his hair as he worked her over, her body shaking with the force of her restrained pleasure. He could feel it building, the way she moved against his mouth, her legs tightening around his head, her breaths turning to pants. Her nails scraped against his scalp, a delicious pain that only served to drive him on, to make him want more, to make her feel more.

And then she was coming, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, her muscles clenching around his tongue. Bucky felt a surge of pride, of accomplishment, of pure, unadulterated joy.

He pulled back, kissing his way back up her body, feeling her pulse throb against his lips. She was beautiful, so beautiful, laid out before him like this. “Bucky,” she breathed, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. He leaned over her, his forehead touching hers. “You’re sure?” he whispered. She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Bucky reached for the bedside drawer, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled out a condom. He’d had them there for months, hopeful and terrified, but they’d remained untouched. The foil packet crinkled in the quiet room, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the wake of their shared intimacy. Y/N watched him, her eyes never leaving his face, her trust in him unwavering. He rolled it on, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest, the echoes of fear that had haunted his every intimate moment. But as he positioned himself over her, her legs wrapping around his waist, he knew he could do this. For her, with her, he could overcome his worries.

He pushed inside her, slowly.

The world outside the window had gone dark, but the room was bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Her eyes were wide, watching him with a mix of excitement and concern, and he knew he had to get this right. For her, for them. Her heat enveloped him, and he felt his own walls crumbling, the last of his barriers falling away. He’d never felt this connected to anyone before, not like this. It was as if they were two lost pieces of a puzzle finally finding their place.

Their movements grew more frantic as the passion built, their kisses deep and desperate. Bucky felt the ghosts of his past trying to claw their way back in, but he pushed them away, focusing solely on the woman beneath him. Her nails dug into his back, her legs tightening around him as she matched his rhythm, urging him on.

The sounds of their bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of sighs and gasps and moans. Each thrust was a declaration of his need for her, each kiss a promise to keep her safe. Bucky’s heart thudded in his chest, a drumline of hope and desire. He’d been so afraid of this moment, but here it was, and it was nothing like the horrors he’d anticipated. It was raw and real and everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Her nails scored down his back as she arched up to meet him, her breaths growing shallower, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. Bucky felt the tension in her body, the way she tightened around him, the soft mewling noises that escaped her throat. He’d never felt so alive, so present in the moment. Each stroke was a promise, a declaration that he was here, with her, and nothing else mattered.

Their bodies moved in harmony, a dance that transcended the chaos of the world outside. His metal hand found hers, their fingers entwining as if to anchor themselves in the present. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his touch, the way she clung to him as if he were her lifeline. And maybe, in a way, he was.

The world narrowed down to just the two of them, the only sounds the slap of skin and the harsh pull of their breathing. Bucky’s eyebrow was furrowed. He watched her face, the way her lip got pulled between her teeth in concentration, the softness of her cheeks flushed with passion.

Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she neared the precipice again.

Their passion was palpable, a force that transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls.

Her eyes flew open, meeting his, and in that moment, something changed. He saw her, not just the woman he desired, but the person who had seen his darkest moments and chosen to love him regardless. And she saw him, not as the damaged soldier, but as the man who had fought to survive and come back to life.

Their movements grew more deliberate. Bucky’s rhythm slowed, his strokes deepening, as if trying to etch himself into her very being. He felt her inner walls quiver, a sign that she was close, and he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. But he wanted to give her everything she needed, to show her just how much she meant to him.

Y/N’s breath was a pant on his skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He leaned in, pressing kisses along her jaw, her neck, the soft skin of her collarbone. They were both hurtling uncontrollably towards the edge…

Her body tensed around him, a silent plea, and Bucky knew he couldn’t hold back anymore. He thrust into her, feeling her nails dig into his back as she cried out his name, her body shattering into a thousand pieces. He watched her come undone, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure that sent him over the edge.

With a guttural groan, he followed her, his orgasm tearing through his muscles, leaving him trembling and spent. He collapsed onto her, his heart hammering against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The warmth of her body was like a medicine to his soul, a gentle reminder that he was more than just a weapon, that he was loved.

They laid there for a few moments, their hearts beating in sync, the only sound in the room the gentle rustle of the blanket around them. Bucky felt the warmth of her skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, and the reality of what they had just shared settled heavily on him. It was a moment that had been months in the making, a moment where fear had been vanquished by love and trust.

He leaned up on his elbow, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. He couldn’t help but trace the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling the heated skin under his fingertips. He’d never felt more alive, more human, than he did in that moment.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a softness that made his chest ache. “More than okay,” she said, her voice a whisper.

He leaned down to kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her lips. Her hand slid up his chest, her touch featherlight and reverent. It was as if she knew just how much this meant to him, just how much of a milestone it was.

They lay there, tangled in the sheets, their bodies still slick with sweat. Bucky’s mind was racing, but in a good way. He’d done it. He’d faced his fears and come out the other side. And she was still here, her arm wrapped around his waist, her breathing evening out as she snuggled closer to him.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice still rough from their earlier exertions. Y/N opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile. “For what?” “For making it okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “For making me feel like I can do this. Like I’m not just some… some broken toy that nobody wants to play with anymore.”

Her eyes had a glassy pain in them. “Bucky, you’re so much more than that. You always have been. And I want to play with you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

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A small gift 🎁🫶 (We’re ignoring mistakes)

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky fluff #bucky smut #soft bucky #fluffy #Be gentle with bucky #Touchstarved bucky

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aventurineswife · 23 days ago

Note

Can I geeeeeeet reader getting absolutely wasted and crying over a pic of them with their s/o (Kaeya, Aventurine, Kaveh, or Ratio), who then walk in on them like that. When asked what’s wrong, reader just sobs “I love him so much! He’s so beautiful!” (Cuz they don’t even recognize who they’re talking to cuz they’re so drunk)

Drunk on Love

Tags: Kaeya x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Confessions, Slight Angst, Established Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Soft Comfort, Light Teasing, Gentle Affection.

Warnings: Alcohol Use, Crying, Mild Language, Overwhelming Emotions, Characters Taking Care of a Drunk Reader, Excessive Sappiness.

The tavern air is thick with the scent of wine and the warmth of too many bodies pressed close together. Your head spins, the rim of your glass tilting precariously in your unsteady grip. You've had… how many drinks now? You lost count somewhere after the third.

But it doesn’t matter. Not when you’re clutching your most prized possession—a slightly crumpled photograph of you and Kaeya, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his usual smirk softened into something more genuine. The sight of him, even in a mere image, has your throat tightening with emotion.

“I love him so much,” you murmur to no one in particular, fingers stroking the picture like it’s some sacred relic.

A shadow falls over you, and a familiar voice—silken, teasing—cuts through the fog of your inebriation.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

You blink sluggishly, barely registering the man now standing before you. He’s tall, elegant, with striking blue hair and an eye that twinkles with mischief even in the dim light. If you were even a fraction more sober, you’d recognize him in an instant.

But right now, all you see is a stranger.

He crouches down to meet your gaze, concern flickering behind his usual amusement. “Care to tell me why you’re drowning in wine and tears?”

You hiccup, pressing the photo against your chest as if to protect it. “I just—hic—I love him so much!” Your voice wavers, and fresh tears spill down your cheeks. “He’s so beautiful. He’s—he’s perfect.”

Kaeya blinks, and then, much to his own surprise, laughter bubbles from his lips. “Oh? He must be quite the catch, then.”

“He is!” you insist, completely missing the smirk tugging at his lips. “His stupid hair—so soft—his voice—ugh, it makes my heart melt!” You dramatically thump your fist against your chest for emphasis, eyes shining with a lovesick haze. “And his smile—his smile! I’d die for it.”

Kaeya exhales, shaking his head in amusement. He’s flattered—more than flattered—but he also can’t let this moment pass without a little mischief. “You must really adore this man.”

“I do!” You clutch the picture tighter, brows furrowing in determination. “If I saw him right now, I’d—I’d—”

He leans in, voice dropping into a velvety whisper. “You’d what?”

You squint at him, your drunken brain struggling to process the sudden proximity. And then, like a grand revelation, it finally clicks.

Your gasp is so dramatic it could belong in a stage play. “KA—”

Before you can finish, Kaeya’s hand is already over your mouth, his laughter barely contained. “Shhh, love. No need to wake the entire city.”

Your eyes widen, then water all over again. “K-Kaeya!” you wail against his palm. “You’re here!”

He sighs, shaking his head before pulling you into his arms. “Yes, yes, I’m here. Now let’s get you home before you profess your love to the entire Knights of Favonius.”

You sniffle into his shoulder, still clutching the picture. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kaeya chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

The world around you is a blur—spinning, tilting, swaying with every sluggish blink of your eyes. The dimly lit lounge, the luxurious drapes, the faint hum of music—it all fades into the background as you stare at the picture in your hands.

Aventurine’s signature smirk stares back at you from the glossy surface, his arm draped lazily around your shoulder. The way he looked at you in that moment, the amusement laced with something softer, something real—it has you sniffling pathetically into your drink.

“I love him,” you slur, swiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your ridiculously expensive coat—one that he bought for you, because “no partner of mine should be seen in anything less than luxury.” “He’s so beautiful.”

A low chuckle, rich and teasing, cuts through your daze. “Well, darling, I can’t say I’ve ever heard a more glowing review.”

You lift your head, vision swimming. A figure leans against the bar beside you, decked out in the finest attire—dark green, gold accents, gambling motifs woven into every detail. A hat tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his sharp, enchanting eyes.

Your breath catches. “You look like him.”

Aventurine’s smirk widens. “Oh? And who, pray tell, am I impersonating?”

You clutch the photo dramatically, thrusting it towards him. “This man,” you declare, nearly toppling off your seat. “He’s perfect.”

Aventurine’s laughter is genuine now, the kind that shakes his shoulders. “Now that’s a compliment worth savoring.”

You grab his wrist, peering up at him with wide, watery eyes. “I’d bet my soul on him.”

He pauses at that, his playful demeanor faltering just slightly. Then, with a smirk softer than before, he leans in, brushing a thumb over your damp cheek. “Careful, sweetheart. I might just take you up on that wager.”

Sumeru’s night air is warm, but the alcohol burning in your veins is warmer. You’re slumped over a table in the tavern, a picture of you and Kaveh clutched in your trembling fingers. His golden hair, his crimson eyes—his smile.

Tears slip down your cheeks as you trace the outline of his face. “I love him so much,” you whisper, barely coherent. “He’s so… so beautiful.”

A chair scrapes beside you, but you’re too lost in your misery to notice. A familiar voice, gentle yet exasperated, reaches you.

“[Name]…?”

You sniff, barely glancing up. “Go away.”

Kaveh sighs, but there’s fondness in his voice. “Now why would I do that when my beloved is busy drunkenly serenading my photograph?”

Your lips wobble. “Kaveh?”

“Yes, my dear?”

You blink at him, then hold up the picture. “You look just like him.”

Kaveh stares at you. Then, with a soft chuckle, he cups your face, brushing away your tears. “That’s because it’s me, love.”

Your heart swells, and with a dramatic sob, you throw yourself into his arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kaveh lets out a breathless laugh, catching you effortlessly. “I know, love. I know.”

Ratio wasn’t expecting to find you in this state—slumped over your desk, eyes glossy with unshed tears, a picture gripped in your trembling hands.

“Love?”

You lift your head, eyes unfocused. “Ratio…?”

He folds his arms, raising an amused brow. “Care to explain why you’re weeping over my image like a tragic protagonist?”

Your lower lip trembles. “You’re just… so beautiful.”

Ratio stares at you, then lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

And yet, as he wipes your tears away, a small smile tugs at his lips.

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youneedsomeprompts · 1 year ago

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~ SUBTLE LOVE ~ WRITING PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous request: hi!! idk if this has been req before but do u have prompts for subtle love? it will take some time for u to realise that their actions are somth u do out of love. thank u!

Feel free to use and reblog!

Part 1 (kinda): ~ GENTLE LOVE ~ PROMPTS

listening attentively when the other is talking

taking the other into consideration whenever making a decision

smiling at the other to encourage them

taking over the other's tasks to disburden them

the last thing they're thinking about before falling asleep is always the other

sitting back and staying quiet to leave the stage for the other

giving the other their space, knowing they need it

enjoying the sound of the other's voice

distracting the other when they see they're distressed and close to freaking out

trying to learn every way to put a smile on the other's face

experiencing this strange feeling in their chest when the other comes to them for support and a word of kindness

"You can call me. Day or night. I'm there for you."

enjoying the most basic time spent together just sitting next to each other, each doing their own

hyping the other up

being their biggest cheerleader

checking up on the other regularly when they know they're not feeling their best

thinking about the other at the most random times

'Oh, this coffee has such nice latte art! I wonder if [person B] would like it.'

'Oh, there's a new movie showing in the cinema about an ice skater. [Person B] once did ice skating. Would they like this movie? Or are they even better at ice skating than the ones in the movie? I'm sure they're the best ice skater!'

stopping themselves from messaging the other too often

sharing their food with the other

always making another coffee/tea when they're making one for themselves because sharing is caring

smiling by instinct when they see the other

^ breaking into a grin and being unable to stop it

sending the other little notes of encouragement to show that they're thinking of them

"You're doing just fine. I know you've got this."

promising to catch up, even when there is no time at the moment, they're making sure it doesn't go under

"Wanna talk about it later? I will make time."

making the other a priority

giving their honest opinion when it's asked

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cloudyluun · 3 months ago

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Perfectly Imperfect

Summary: Y/N and Harry share a quiet, intimate evening, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. When Y/N tells him she’s ready, Harry treats her with endless patience and love, making sure she feels safe every step of the way. Though the moment isn’t perfect, it’s theirs.

A/N: My loves!! 🥹💗 This one is so soft and intimate, and Harry is just the sweetest, most patient angel!! I wanted this to feel real, full of love, trust, and tenderness. As said in this request. I hope it makes your heart all warm and fuzzy!! Thank you for reading, and sending you all the biggest hugs!!

Word Count: 3,8k

Warnings:

Explicit sexual content

Loss of virginity

Pain/discomfort during sex – Mention of initial discomfort, burning sensation, and difficulty adjusting.

Tears/emotional intensity

Blood mention – Small amount of blood described.

Consent-focused interaction – Constant verbal check-ins and reassurance.

Aftercare – Detailed care and comfort post-intimacy.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The evening was slow, unhurried in the best way. The kind of night where the outside world melted away, leaving just the two of them wrapped in the golden glow of soft lamplight and the warmth of each other's presence.

Harry’s apartment felt impossibly cozy, plush cushions, blankets piled on the couch, the distant hum of a carefully curated playlist filling the quiet spaces between their words. The scent of something faintly sweet lingered in the air, remnants of the dessert they had shared after dinner. A movie played on the television, the volume low, but neither of them were really paying attention.

Y/N was curled up against Harry’s side, her legs tangled with his, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns over his forearm. It was such a simple touch, but it meant everything. She could feel his steady breathing, the occasional squeeze of his fingers against her thigh, the way his thumb ghosted back and forth over her skin in a rhythm that felt instinctual. She felt safe. And that was what mattered most.

The thought had been lingering in her mind for days, maybe weeks—long enough for it to take root, for it to grow into something more than just a fleeting idea. At first, it had been just that: a thought, a possibility that she had entertained but wasn’t quite ready to act on. But things had changed. Harry made her feel different.

It wasn’t just the way he touched her, though that was part of it—the way his hands never wandered without purpose, how he always seemed to ask permission without words. It was the way he looked at her, like she was something to be cherished, something precious. It was the way he spoke to her, soft and patient, never pushing, never demanding.

And that’s how she knew she was ready.

The words formed in her throat before she could second-guess them. Soft, hesitant, but certain.

“I think I’m ready.”

She felt the way Harry stilled beneath her. Not tense, not alarmed, just still. He processed her words in real time, a slow blink, a small inhale, before shifting to look at her fully. The flickering light from the television cast delicate shadows over his face, but she could still see everything—the concern in his eyes, the way his brows twitched like he was about to ask a million questions at once but held himself back.

His fingers found her cheek, brushing along the curve of her jaw, tilting her chin just enough that she couldn’t look away. “Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper, a careful thing.

Y/N swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

Harry’s thumb ghosted over her bottom lip. “You’re sure?”

She could hear the weight behind his words. He wasn’t asking for reassurance for himself—he was giving her an out. An opportunity to change her mind, to take a step back if she needed to. There was no rush, no expectation. She didn’t hesitate. “I want this. With you.”

A slow breath left Harry’s lips, his shoulders deflating, like he had been bracing for something else. His fingers curled around her cheek, his palm warm and grounding. He studied her for a moment longer, searching for any flicker of doubt, anything that would make him pause. But all he found was certainty. He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “Okay, love.”

There was a pause, a shift, like something in the air had changed between them. The unspoken tension from earlier—the one that had settled between their bodies, lingering just out of reach—was now tangible.

But this time, it wasn’t uncertainty. It was anticipation.

Harry let the silence stretch between them. His fingers traced along her jaw, slow and reverent, his gaze never wavering. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, and it wasn’t just about the way she looked. It was everything—her trust, her vulnerability, the way she was giving this part of herself to him without hesitation.

Y/N’s breath hitched as his lips brushed over hers, soft at first, just the ghost of a kiss. A question. A promise.

Then he kissed her again, deeper this time, as his hands found her waist, pulling her just a little closer. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing. Every movement was measured, deliberate, designed to make her feel safe, cherished. His fingers traced the hem of her shirt, a silent request, and when she nodded, he lifted it over her head, discarding it somewhere behind them.

His lips barely left hers, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. “So perfect,” he whispered against her skin. “So good for me.” His words sent a shiver through her, warmth pooling low in her belly.

She felt the roughness of his calloused fingers against the soft skin of her waist, sliding up, teasing along the underside of her breast before finally—finally—brushing over her nipple. She sucked in a breath, her body arching instinctively into his touch.

Harry groaned, low and deep. “Love the way you react to me.” He rolled the sensitive peak between his fingers, watching the way her lips parted, her lashes fluttering.

He leaned down, taking her nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it just to feel her shudder beneath him. His free hand splayed across her back, grounding her, keeping her close.

Y/N let out a soft whimper, her fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against her skin. The sound went straight through her, making her thighs clench around his waist.

But Harry wasn’t done taking his time.

He eased her down onto the couch, kissing a slow path down her stomach, his fingers working on the waistband of her leggings. “Lift your hips for me, baby,” he murmured, and she did, letting him pull them down along with her underwear in one smooth motion.

A flush spread across her chest, warmth crawling up her neck as she laid bare beneath him. But she wasn’t nervous. Not with him.

Harry settled between her thighs, pressing a kiss just above her knee, then another, trailing higher and higher. “Been thinking about this,” he admitted, voice husky. “Been wanting to taste you.”

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, and Harry must have noticed because he groaned, his fingers gripping her thighs just a little tighter.

Then he kissed her there—soft at first, just a teasing press of his lips against her.

Y/N gasped, her back arching as his tongue traced along her folds, slow and deliberate. He was savoring her, taking his time, learning what made her sigh, what made her whimper.

He flicked his tongue over her clit, drawing a sharp inhale from her lips. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against her. “Let me hear you.”

She had no control over the sounds slipping from her mouth as he worked her, his tongue alternating between soft, teasing licks and firm, focused strokes. Her thighs trembled, her fingers twisting in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer.

Harry moaned against her, the vibration making her hips jerk. “Fuck,” she whimpered, and he hummed in approval, gripping her thighs tighter as he devoured her.

The pressure built quickly, heat coiling in her stomach, her body tensing with the impending release. “Harry”

“I’ve got you, love,” he soothed, pressing his tongue flat against her clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles until she shattered beneath him.

Her thighs clenched around his head as pleasure flooded through her, her entire body trembling as he guided her through it, his hands firm on her hips, keeping her grounded.But he didn’t stop.

She barely had a moment to catch her breath before he was kissing his way back up her body, dragging her onto his lap. “Again, baby,” he murmured, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her to straddle his thigh.

Y/N’s head was spinning, but the need in his voice, the sheer adoration in his eyes, made her move. She pressed herself against him, gasping at the pressure, at the way his hands steadied her, encouraged her. He guided her movements, slow and steady, letting her find her rhythm, his lips brushing against her ear. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

And she did. She rocked against him, chasing the friction, feeling the heat build all over again. Harry’s hands never stopped moving—trailing up her back, gripping her waist, tilting her hips just right. His lips were everywhere—her neck, her shoulder, her jaw—whispering sweet praises against her skin.

“That’s my girl.”

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.”

“Let go for me, baby.”

She tumbled into her second release with a soft cry, her body shuddering against his. Harry held her through it, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pressing soft kisses to her hair as she came down.

Breathless but still sure.

The weight of the moment settled between them—heavy in the best way, filling the space with warmth and something almost sacred. Y/N’s body was still trembling, her mind hazy from pleasure, but even through the overwhelming sensation, she knew this wasn’t the end.

Harry knew it too.

He was still holding her, his hands gentle as they traced slow, soothing patterns across her back, grounding her. His lips ghosted over her temple, murmuring soft praises that made her chest tighten with something unspoken. “So perfect,” he whispered. “So good for me.”

She melted into him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him—clean and warm, mixed with the faintest hint of cologne and something entirely him.

His hands skimmed down her sides, resting on her waist as he shifted beneath her. She could feel him—hard and heavy, pressed between them, the evidence of just how much he wanted her. And she wanted him, too.

She swallowed, her heart pounding as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. There was something unguarded in his eyes, something raw and devastatingly tender.

“I want you,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening on her hips. “Are you really sure?”

She nodded, her hands coming up to cup his face. “I’m sure.”

His eyes searched hers, looking for even the slightest hesitation. But there wasn’t any.

Still, he didn’t rush. He never rushed with her.

Instead, he shifted, gently guiding her onto her back, settling between her thighs with deliberate slowness. His lips found hers again, softer this time, reverent. Like he was memorizing her, mapping out every part of her he hadn’t already claimed.

His fingers trailed down her body, brushing over her stomach before dipping lower. He slipped two fingers inside her, moving slow, preparing her all over again, making sure she was ready.

Y/N whimpered, her hips rolling instinctively toward his touch. “Harry,” she gasped, fingers clutching at his biceps.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” she breathed. “I promise.”

He hesitated for only a moment longer before finally reaching between them, lining himself up. The tip of his cock brushed against her entrance, already slick and glistening from how worked up she was.

But even with all the preparation, she still felt tight, still felt that flicker of nervousness.

Harry noticed instantly.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. He nudged in just a little, barely entering her, letting her body adjust at her own pace.

The stretch was more intense than she had expected. A sharp, insistent pressure that made her body go rigid beneath him, her fingers gripping onto the sheets as she tried to will herself to relax. The initial burn spread through her like a slow-moving flame, and instinctively, her thighs clamped tighter around him.

Harry felt it immediately—the way she tensed, the way her breath hitched, her entire body instinctively fighting against the intrusion. He froze, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking softly over her heated skin. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, voice drenched in tenderness. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another to the tip of her nose, his lips featherlight. “You’re doing so good for me, so good. But we can stop. Anytime, okay? Just say the word.”

She shook her head, a small, shaky breath escaping her lips. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted this—with him. She had thought about this for days, weeks even, and she had never felt safer with anyone than she did now. Even through the discomfort, the unfamiliarity, there was nowhere else she would rather be than right here, wrapped up in him, giving him this piece of herself.

“I want this,” she murmured, voice soft but resolute. “I trust you.”

Something shifted in his gaze then, something warm and reverent, like he was seeing her in a way he never had before. He nodded slowly, dipping down to capture her lips in a kiss so sweet it nearly made her melt.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against hers. “We’ll go slow. You just tell me what you need.”

And he did go slow, agonizingly so. He rocked forward just an inch, letting her adjust, then another, always watching her face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. His hands never stopped moving, fingers tracing idle patterns along her hips, massaging gently at her sides, keeping her grounded in him, in this moment.

But it still hurt. Even with all the patience in the world, even with how careful he was, the stretch was relentless. Her nails dug into his shoulders, holding onto him like an anchor, her breath uneven.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes before she even realized they were there. Not because it was unbearable, not because she regretted it, but because it was overwhelming—the weight of it, the intimacy of it. The sheer vulnerability of it all.

Harry noticed instantly. He always did. His expression crumbled, something pained flashing across his features before he dipped his head down, brushing his lips over her damp cheeks, kissing away the evidence of her struggle.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered against her skin. “I know, I know. ‘M so sorry. Just breathe, baby. Breathe for me.”

A sudden sting bloomed deep inside her, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers tightening their grip on him as her body fought to adjust.

Harry froze. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice tight with restraint. “Sweetheart, I—shit, I know. I know. ‘M so sorry, baby.”

A flicker of red smeared where they were joined, a tangible mark of this moment, of what she had given him, something so fragile and precious. His jaw clenched at the sight, guilt flashing across his features even though she had reassured him over and over that she wanted this. That she had chosen this.

He tried to move, to ease some of the pressure, but the second he did, she let out the softest wince, her body recoiling slightly. His forehead dropped to hers, breath shuddering.

“We don’t have to make this perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “We can stop, baby. Right now. It doesn’t have to be anything more than this.”

She blinked up at him, her vision still slightly blurred with unshed tears, but she shook her head. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to push through, to move past the discomfort and settle into this feeling of being so wholly his.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just... give me a second.”

He did. Of course he did. He stayed still, his body barely moving, his weight supported by his forearms so he wouldn’t press down on her too much. He let her adjust, let her breathing steady, let her decide when she was ready. His lips never left her skin, pressing slow, reverent kisses along her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Soft praises spilled from his lips, each one more patient than the last.

And when she finally felt ready, when the sting dulled into something more manageable, she gave him a small nod.

“You can move,” she whispered.

Harry exhaled slowly, as if he had been holding his breath this entire time. His hips rolled forward, just the tiniest bit, testing. His touch was delicate, his movements careful, like he was afraid of breaking her. And maybe, in some way, he was.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t some earth-shattering moment of pleasure, some blissful crescendo of passion. She didn’t come this time, and that was okay. He didn’t make her feel like she had to. He just held her. He kissed her. He told her how proud he was of her, how much he loved her, how beautiful she was like this, bare and vulnerable in his arms.

And when it was over, when he finally pulled away, his first instinct wasn’t to take care of himself, but to take care of her. He kissed her forehead, brushed the damp strands of hair from her face, whispered, “You did so good for me, sweetheart.”

And she believed him.

Her body felt different, tender, a little sore, but wrapped in a warmth that had nothing to do with the sheets tangled around them and everything to do with him. She barely noticed the way her breath still came unevenly, her muscles weak and trembling, until Harry was shifting beside her, brushing the back of his fingers down her cheek.

“Let me take care of you, love.”

She didn’t protest when he pressed another kiss to her forehead and slid out of bed, moving with quiet purpose toward the bathroom. The distant sound of water running filled the air, accompanied by soft rustling—cabinets opening, bottles clinking together. The warm, floral scent of rose and vanilla drifted into the room, and her lips curled into the faintest smile.

He was drawing her a bath.

The realization sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her, something deep and overwhelming settling in her chest. She’d always known Harry was thoughtful, always so gentle and attuned to her, but this—this was something else entirely. This was devotion.

By the time he returned, she was blinking sleepily at him, her body too heavy with exhaustion to move. He chuckled softly, crouching beside her, brushing a few damp strands of hair away from her face.

“Come on, sweetheart. Bath’s ready for you.”

She let him lift her, his hands strong but careful as he carried her to the bathroom. The air was warm, steam curling through the soft candlelight, and the sight that greeted her nearly took her breath away.

The bathtub was full, the surface of the water dotted with delicate rose petals, their deep crimson and soft pink hues floating amidst the gentle foam of bubbles. A few flickering candles lined the counter, casting a golden glow over the space, the light catching on the deep amber bottle of bath oil he’d added to the water. The scent of roses was richer here, blending with the faint traces of lavender.

She turned to him, her heart swelling. “Harry…”

“I wanted to make it special for you, baby.” He ran a soothing hand down her back. “You deserve it.”

Carefully, he helped her into the warm water, easing her down as her sore muscles sighed in relief. The heat wrapped around her like a cocoon, soothing the ache between her thighs, and a soft moan of contentment slipped from her lips.

Harry smiled, his dimples peeking through as he knelt beside the tub, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt. “Feels good, yeah?”

She nodded, already sinking deeper, letting the petals drift lazily around her arms as she closed her eyes for a moment.

Harry didn’t just leave her there. He stayed, always so present, his fingers tracing along her arm before he reached for a soft washcloth. He dipped it into the warm water, then ran it over her skin, slow and reverent, as if cleansing her was an act of worship. He worked gently, wiping away the lingering remnants of sweat and love, murmuring sweet praises all the while.

“So beautiful.”

“M’so proud of you, angel.”

“Love you more than anything.”

His voice was a balm, each whispered word soothing her more than the water ever could.

At one point, he reached for the bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before working it through her hair with practiced ease. His fingers massaged her scalp, and she sighed, tipping her head back slightly as he washed away the remnants of the night with the same patience and tenderness he had shown her in bed.

When he was done, he kissed her temple and whispered, “Stay as long as you want, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”

But she didn’t want to stay in the water forever—not when Harry was waiting for her.

When she finally let him help her out, he wrapped her in a thick, fluffy towel, pressing a kiss to her damp hair as he whispered, “Let’s get you comfy, yeah?”

Back in the bedroom, he dressed her in one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing just above her knees, the fabric swallowing her up in a way that made her feel impossibly small and safe. He tucked her into bed, then climbed in beside her, pulling her against his chest.

His arms curled around her, holding her close, his fingers drawing slow, soothing patterns on her back.

“D’you need anything, baby? Water? Something to eat?”

She shook her head, sighing against him. “Just you.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his lips pressing to her forehead. “Always, love.”

As her eyelids grew heavier, she heard him whisper one last thing against her skin, a quiet promise she knew he would always keep. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby @harryscherries28 @michellekstyles

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2jihiir0 · 8 months ago

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circa 1986 at the Munson’s trailer 🚬

#steddie comic #hurt/comfort #steddie #very tender and emotional because I’ve been in my feelings lately #steddie angst #steddie fluff #at least I think it’s fluff idk ?#steve harrington #eddie munson #gentle and soft and heartbreaking #myart #steddie fanart #mini comic #should I do more of these ?

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katsus-mistress · 6 days ago

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Katsuki has sex the way Hozier describes sex. It's not about the bodily pleasure. It's the person. It's getting close to them. Digging into their skin and making a home there, lit by a fireplace and cozy and soft. Soft. It's about the softness of it. Sex with him is like coming home.

He doesn't care what you look like. You're his person. It's not rose-tinted lenses, he's fully maroon in love. It's you, your body, your love, his love. He's so devoted to you. It lingers in every touch.

#i kmow hes told me himself #hes such a soft lover boy deep down #intense yes but also soooo soft #so soft #hes so gentle in love #treats you like glass #hoping nothing not even himself shatters you #katsuki <333 #keeshu yaps #bnha #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 10 months ago

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Please, someone stop me from listening to Josh Groban, because otherwise I will end up DRAWING ANOTHER "MOTTIE AT BED" ARTWORK.

Like seriously, I cannot.

When I hear him sing "You have no idea" all I can hear is Mathias singing to Dorothea AND MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT.

IT'S EXPLODING WITH SOFT TENDERNESS.

(and I have become the joke of my own household, because my husband, loving Josh as much as I do, now DOES IT ON PURPOSE OF PUTTING HIM ON OUR SPEAKERS, especially when he sees that I am busy working on something not Mottie-related. He knows how my brain works. HE KNOWS IT. So if sometimes you see me derailing, IT'S MR. NEMO'S FAULT AS WELL).

#Nemo babbles #good gods today I need to get stuff done #and here I am #brain empty only Mathias thoughts lol #ok tbh Mottie thoughts #but gods #it's the fluff #the unconditional love #the type of love that is born from the soul #the one that is built on trust and respect #the one where you know that you are loved completly #flaws included #fml #FML #I honestly either go from obsessive toxic ships (Mephistea am look at you) to most wholesome. Like there is no in-between.#And if you wonder why I jump in between #it's partially because I am easily distracted #but also because I need to give my own brain some respite from the different kind of emotions that these things elicit in me #as I said often #I feel ALL that I write #And that is true for good and bad emotions alike #Mephistea is intense as a ship #like INTENSE LIKE FIRE #And Mottie instead is soft and gentle #so I need to balance out #otherwise I run the risk of burning out lolololl

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klausysworld · 4 months ago

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Human Highschool Playboy Klaus x Virgin Reader

Reader has a crush, klaus is a player, she is in love he doesn’t care, they have sex (one night stand and he‘s gone in the morning) it’s her first time

Then later e.g: on a party she a little drunk

They talk she cries and tells him it was her first time

He feels guilty and takes care of her

Then they have sex and he’s extra soft

Love your work xoxo❤️

The Softness Within

High School was easy for Klaus Mikaelson.

He could breeze through it with a smirk on his face and a bunch of guys patting him on the back as he made his way through the hall with another girl on his arm, always different from the week before.

For Y/N it was a little more difficult.

People would shove past her, let her stumble into the nearby lockers or purposefully smack the top book from her hands to the floor, laughing as she just watched it slide down the halls that haunted her day after day.

There was only really one thing that she looked forward to each day and that was seeing Klaus.

She knew he probably didn’t even know who she was but he wasn’t cruel to her like other boys were.

He didn’t shove her or tease her. A few times he’d even smiled at her.

It was rare for her to even bother showing up to a party, for some reason she had. Maybe because she actually liked the girl who was throwing it.

But for whatever reason that she was there, she ended up flush against the wall, music blaring as her mouth moved with Klaus’s desperately.

His hands tugged at her dress roughly and she pulled back, a little anxiety in her eyes.

Both Klaus’s hands cupped her face as he pulled her back into a kiss.

“I want you.” He murmured to her, his voice so low that it made her fold almost instantly.

They ended up at her house, Klaus pushing her down into the mattress as he groped roughly at her thighs. It was clear that his body was hungry for her, almost as starved as her heart was for him.

The night wasn’t as blissful as she’d imagined it.

He was a little rougher than she’d have liked for her first time, it stung more than she’d been prepared for. Hurt.

Eventually the ache dulled and it started to feel better, she started to cling to him.

Klaus’s fingers had slipped between her legs whilst his hips rutted to hers.

Her little moans fueled the heat between them until she couldn’t breathe.

Time had somehow crawled and raced by all at once until sleep had taken them both.

When it came time to wake, Klaus must’ve done so long before her for the space where he’d been was already cold.

There was no stopping the tears from slipping down her soft cheeks as she clutched her pillow between her hands.

For the first time in a long time Y/N missed a couple days of school.

Her body was exhausted, her heart humiliated.

Still, eventually she went back to school.

She ignored him in the hall, not that she thought he’d notice her anyways, and made sure not to sit anywhere near him in any classes.

Y/N didn’t plan to go to any party ever again but one of her friends ended up dragging her to one, she was already reluctant so her friend decided not to tell her that it was at Klaus’s house.

She only realised when she bumped into his older brother, he’d scoffed under his breath and muttered about having too many teenagers in his house.

Y/N felt sick in an instant.

Which was how she ended up in his upstairs bathroom, too many people were fucking in the ones downstairs that she had to go to the third floor to be in a quiet room where she could freak out and be sick.

That was how Klaus found her, sobbing over a toilet seat and trembling as the occasional gag shook her body.

“Y/N?” He questioned gently, kneeling down beside her and rubbing her back gently. “Did you drink too much, love? You didn’t take anything right?” He asked with a concerned frown.

Her head shook as she moved back, her back resting against the edge of the bathtub, the coldness making her flinch as she sniffed.

Klaus grabbed some tissue to wipe her mouth and settled in front of her.

His head tilted a little, trying to catch her eyes which were now glued to the floor as her eyes struggled not to let anymore tears fall.

“You need some water, sweetheart?” He asked and she wanted to just say no and walk out but her throat was sore from the crying and retching. He softened when she nodded and disappeared for a minute or two before coming back with a glass of ice cold water.

His arm slipped round her shoulders with ease as he helped the glass into her hands and watched her drink it, mumbling encouragement.

“I’m sorry,” She whimpered, her tears dripping into her water making him wince a little and pull the glass from her. “I didn’t know it was your house- I didn’t even wanna come.” She cried and he frowned, shushing her gently.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong, love? You don’t need to be sorry, I don’t mind you in my house.” He smiled, stroking her back gently. She sniffed and fell silent.

He probably didn’t even remember that they had slept together.

She was probably no good, utterly forgettable.

Klaus watched her expression sadden, a look of hopelessness.

“You didn’t want to see me again.” He realised after a moment. His hand kept rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay, most girls get a little embarrassed after one-night stands. You usually avoid people for a while? That’s okay, I get it.” Klaus nodded, trying to be understanding but it made her cry harder.

“I don’t- I-” She sniffed and choked a little on her words. “I’ve never slept with someone before- I don’t know what I’m doing.”

His entire face shifted at that.

“Oh.” He whispered, nodding slowly.

The deep realisation that he’d taken Y/N’s virginity was one thing but remembering how he’d been that night, it was no wonder that she’d been avoiding him.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He muttered, his arms circling her a little tighter to try to offer solace. “I should have… I should have…” His voice died off as he looked down at her, the stains across her cheeks and the redness in her face made his stomach twist.

“Did I hurt you, Y/N?” He murmured, frowning as he looked her over. The dress she was wearing this time covered her arms too, she didn’t want anybody to see her skin, to see her or touch her. Klaus. It was so Klaus didn’t want her.

“The bruises are gone now.” She mumbled, using the tissue to wipe her eyes and her nose. “It didn’t hurt that much after a bit. I liked some of it, I just didn’t expect…I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I would’ve been gentler if I’d known.”

Klaus sighed to himself, ashamed.

“Come on, at least let me look after you know.” He helped her up and brought her to his room, kissing the top of her head and telling her to sit on her bed.

“You can sleep here tonight, you’ve been drinking. I’ll get you some pajamas, okay?” He pet the top of her head gently.

Klaus couldn’t believe he’d left her room in the night, letting her wake up hurt and alone.

Didn’t even realise she hadn’t been in school until he really had to think about it.

She looked a little stiff when sitting in his bed, in his shirt and the plaid pajama pants he’d gotten at Christmas but never wore. Klaus smiled a little at the sight of her, he knew she wasn’t after the same thing the other girls in his bed had been. She was just upset, hurt and yearning.

Someone should have been looking after her and that night it should have been him so for tonight he’d make up for it.

Klaus got changed in his bathroom, for the first time since he was a kid he put on actual pajama pants, like the ones he gave Y/N, but after consideration decided against wearing a shirt too.

When he stepped back into the room, she was settled under the covers, sniffling quietly.

The heat from his body mingled with hers as he climbed in behind her. His arms gently pulled her away from the edge of the bed and to his chest. She melted quickly, the firmness of his chest felt protective. Klaus helped her roll to face him, guided her face to his bare chest.

“Let me look after you, love.” He murmured, his fingers massaging her head slowly.

“How?” She mumbled sleepily and his lips twitched up.

His head dipped to taste her lips, but this time she pulled away. Klaus nuzzled into her ear gently.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me show you what I should have last time.” He pleaded with her, his hands stroking her back and his arms. Her head nodded subtly and he pressed his lips to hers again, this time being able to savour the feel of her.

So soft and warm.

Klaus rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him with her legs either side of him. His hi;s gently rolled against hers, his hands held onto her waist and rubbed her back slowly.

“You’re so sweet, love.” He muttered to her, pulling his lips from hers and kissing down along her neck and gently sucking to find the spot that made her squirm.

“There it is.” He mumbled when her breath got all cough in her throat and her body pushed back against his. Klaus grazed his teeth over the spot, leaving a dark mark in her skin whilst his hips ground up with a little more need.

The quiet little half sounds she was making weren’t enough for him, he needed her to feel what she deserved.

So he trailed his mouth down, his hands lifting the shirt to reveal the beauty beneath. She was rolled back onto her back, him hovering over her. Both his hands followed the shape of her hips up to her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples whilst she panted and whined. Her face blushed red and her hands shook as she tried to push his hands down.

“It’s alright love. Just feel it.” He murmured as he gently pinched her, chuckling softly at the way her body arched. “Such a good girl.” He praised, smiling when her pussy rubbed up against him through their clothes in response.

The heat from his mouth on her stomach made her fingers tangle into his curls, following his movements as his head lowered down.

He could hear how fast she was breathing, nervous probably.

Still he tugged the pants back down her legs so he could settle between her thighs. He eyed her core as he kissed along her inner thighs gently, gradually getting rougher and sucking red marks.

A moan of desperation left her when his tongue delved to taste the sweet wetness that had gathered. His mouth nuzzled in, his eyes closing as he teased her clit, his tongue nudging over the hood to encourage her to swell.

“Klaus..” She whimpered, her thighs already shaky. He hummed softly, the vibrations making her squeal and tug on his hair. “I can’t-” She gasped but Klaus only grinned into her as he circled her puffy little bud.

“You’re such a good girl, should’ve done this last time. Just got too desperate to feel you on me.” he mumbled as he lifted his hand to tease her entrance with his forefinger. A loud moan left her when he curled it inside her and he groaned, his other hand going down to slide beneath his pants and soothe himself.

“Ah…” She cried as he grunted into her clit, his lips still sucking her in as he stroked himself teasingly.

Klaus slipped his tongue down to taste as she fell apart, her cum like heaven in his mouth as he squeezed himself.

His body shifted up, mouth leaving a litter of wet marks up her legs as he knelt between them. “So beautiful.” He mumbled, looking down at how her skin glistened as she panted. “I’m gonna take you slower this time, okay?” He nodded to himself, crawling over her.

“W-wait…” She whispered, her skin still flushed and her features anxious.

He looked down at her, a look of understanding in his gaze as he leant down to kiss her cheek.

“It’s okay.” He assured quietly, nuzzling into her jaw. After a moment of listening to her breathing and resting his head down against hers, he felt her nod against him.

“I’m ready now.” She uttered and he nodded back before kissing her lips.

Her body was a little tense as he pushed into her, slowly edging himself in. Klaus needed to keep reminding himself that he needed to take his time for her.

His hips rolled so steadily, giving her time once he rested inside her.

“Are you comfortable, love?” He asked and she nodded, her hands shaky as she reached up to hold onto his back. Her hands lay flat against his shoulder blades, feeling the strength he possessed as they flexed beneath her touch. “I’m gonna move now” He whispered, his brows furrowing as her nails pressed into his skin. Her body fluttered around as he drew his hips back and then forward again.

The whimper that left her made him groan, his hands slid to her hips, trying to pull her closer so he could get as deep into her as possible. “You feel so good.” He mumbled, “You felt good last time, I should have told you. Should’ve worshipped you-”

His words were abruptly cut off as he moaned.

Klaus’s head fell down as her whines filled the room whilst her hips rutted up against his. “I need” She whimpered and he grunted softly.

“I know, sweetheart. Bloody hell you’re desperate.” He groaned faintly and bucked into her. His mouth left a stretch of wetness across her skin, encouraging a pattern of goosebumps whilst her body twitched and tightened with his.

The faint thump of the music merged with the knock of his bed frame against the wall.

Her sounds stroked something inside him, drove him.

Klaus’s head went back, a pant leaving him as he clung to her.

His head nuzzled down against the side of her neck when she clamped down around his cock, effectively bringing him over the edge with her and milking him with every last pump of his hips.

The warmth of her skin stuck to his as she held onto him, he could feel her sweet face damp with tears as he tilted to kiss her forehead. “I’ve got you, love.” He murmured quietly against her hair. “Gonna look after you” He mumbled as he gently pulled out of her and carried her over to his bathroom, flicking his shower on. He kept her in his arms, he could feel her tense as if she thought he might drop her but he knew well enough how strong he was.

Her head rested against the side of his, soft sounds leaving her as his hands cleaned her gently. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled with a small smile. “Relax against me.”

Y/N obeyed with ease, her body exhausted and her heart craving.

The softness he used on her as he dried her off and changed her back into clothes, laid her out in clean blankets and held her in his lap.

“Gonna be here when you wake up okay?” He whispered, cupping her cheek. “Goodnight my love.”

From that day things were different.

Klaus would throw his arm over her shoulders in the hall, his buddies knew not to go shoving her unless they wanted at least one black eye and Y/N felt a whole lot more confident in being herself. She felt safe knowing Klaus was there and that he chose to be there. That he could be gentle even if he sometimes seemed a little rough around the edges.

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bilightningwriter-writing · 4 months ago

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PSA for "Prompt" tags

*Only tagging every prompt tag I can think of because there's a common issue that's getting worse in all of the ones I follow*

Many new writers here seem to not understand what "prompt" or "inspiration" or even "list" tags are for. I've seen many who just seem to go, "Oh, this says otp/fluff/angst in it, I should put that on my post!" Which, no, that's not how it works.

What "prompt" (and similar) tags are for:

- generic inspiration

- ex: character A and character B go on their first date, what happens?

- list of words/things meant to *prompt* ideas

What "prompt" (and similar) tags are NOT for:

- answered asks from prompt lists (just say "prompt fill" or something)

- original writing/fic writing posts

- something that's more of a writing update than an actual prompt

Like, maybe it's just me because I don't see anyone really addressing it. I also tend to just block repeat offenders (aka those who do this often), so others who are also bothered most likely do the same. But it's been a growing issue, especially in niche prompt tags that already don't get enough activity with people making those prompts.

I get it, you're excited and want others to see what you've written. Which is understandable! But putting red balls in a "Green Balls Only" bin is just going to get people annoyed at you and your blog blocked. Technically, yes, things are related, but that doesn't mean it should be in there.

Categories are made for a reason. Please be aware of others, and if you're unsure what goes in a tag, look at the popular section of that tag. Granted, that's not always perfect (as I see a lot of Stranger Things or MCU fic posts get enough notes that they clog even that section), but it's a start.

I'm going to let this circulate for a while before I start blocking people again. Because, good news! You can remove tags from existing posts, and then your post will stop showing up in that tag. And I really don't want to inadvertently block someone I might enjoy reading. Just, you know, with the proper tags.

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dr-demi-bee · 9 months ago

Text

Day 4-------------------Read on A03------------------------------

Pairing: Rujyr x Astarion Prompt: Gentle Act 3, fluff, Redeem!Durge, SFW

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you alright, darling?”

Rujyr turns to look over her shoulder as Astarion enters her dark tent. Those bright teal eyes peering out of the dark never fail to arrest him - startling in their brilliance - but the sight of her now causes his breath to catch. The slight tiefling is sitting on her bedroll with her knees to her chest, her tail coiled tightly around her. She sniffles noisily, her soft blue cheeks wet with tears.

“Oh, love.”

He’s quick to join her, sitting beside her and pulling her by the shoulders to lean into his embrace. He tucks his face against her hair, shushing her gently as she tucks her face against him. Even when she’s distraught, Rujyr is mindful of her horns - always careful in how she leans against him. How such a sweet, gentle creature could be a Bhaalspawn is hard to fathom. This peaceful little monk, so full of love and care...

Today they had finally encountered the infuriatingly disgusting Lord Gortash. The way he had glommed onto her hands in a greedy possessiveness, smiled at her as if greeting a spouse come home from war. Astarion’s lip curls with a disdainful sneer at the memory.

Astarion just holds her closely, stroking his hand softly up and down the expanse of her back, mentally counting the ridges along her spine as he gives her the space to sort out her feelings.

“What did he say to you, Ru?” He finally murmurs softly. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you came out of that room.”

Rujyr makes a soft sound, winding her arms around his torso.

“I hardly understood,” Rujyr answers. Her tail snakes it’s way around his leg, a desperate plea for contact. “No more comforting than anything we’ve found so far.”

Astarion huffs a soft, singular laugh. “How much worse could it possibly get?”

Even as he gests he curls his hand around around her back to hold her hip, snuggling her even closer against him. He braces himself for the worst - but how much worse could it be than her having a hand in this whole mess? Astarion raises his free hand to card through the silky strands of her midnight hair, loose for the evening.

“He claimed we were more than collaborators,” she finally manages. “That we were....partners. Lovers.”

Astarion stills for a moment, his hand still threaded through her hair. With a scoff, he mutters, "The gall of that bastard... You're no one's 'anything.' You never have been, and you never will be. To suggest such things... The audacity."

He scowls, his eyes narrowed in annoyance as he continues to hold her close. He’s never thought of himself as the jealous type. Never. But hearing this... It rubs him the wrong way, to think that someone might presume to lay claim on Rujyr. She is a free spirit...

"I want to dismiss it outright," she murmurs against his shoulder. Her hands clutch desperately to him, as if afraid he'll leave. Ru's voice is small, threaded with fear and hurt. "But in flashes of memory- it- what if it's true?"

Astarion can feel her grip on him, can hear the panic in her voice. The raw, aching vulnerability makes his heart clench. This isn't his Rujyr. His Rujyr is fearless, unflinching, and so very tough.

"It's not," he says firmly, his hand still running through her hair. "Even if it were, does it matter? It's not you if you don't remember. You're not responsible for what happened then."

She's quiet for a long moment, leaning heavily against him. The way the spade of her tail flicks against his leg, Astarion can tell she's thinking - probably much too hard and much too cruelly towards herself.

"You're not angry...?" Rujyr breathes when she finally breaks the silence.

He gives another scoff, shaking his head as if her words are the most ridiculous things he's ever heard.

"Angry at you? How could I possibly be angry when you've done nothing wrong? No, love, I'm angry for you. I'm angry that feckless rodent would dare to speak to you like that."

Leaning in just a fraction, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his free hand rubbing a soothing circle on her hip.

She tilts her head just enough to look up at him, teal eyes peering at his own ruby depths. Her brows steeple and her lips are drawn in that worried pout of hers. Uncertain or unconvinced.

Astarion gazes back at his love, his expression softening as he meets her gaze. With a quiet sigh, he reaches up to smooth his knuckles against her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Ru," he murmurs, his voice low and gentle, "I'm not angry with you. Honestly, love, I know better than most just how little control you can have over your own thoughts, feelings, and memories. You're not the woman Gortash spoke about - you're the woman here, now, with me."

Her eyes flutter shut as she soaks in his words and his touch. Rujyr's expression remains puckered, but her limbs grip tighter. Astarion can feel the way she tenses, as if frightened if she lets go he'll slip away. There's a pang deep in his chest at the thought.

Always so afraid he will leave - vanish from her like smoke in the wind. That the restless roiling in her heart, her mind, the darkness that coils through her blood will somehow take him away from her.

"There's no getting away from me, love," he teases, his voice soft as he continues stroking her hair and her hip. "You're stuck with me now - for better or worse."

"Promise...?"

He chuckles softly at the word, but his expression remains serious, sincere. He pulls Rujyr a little bit tighter against his chest, his gaze locking firmly onto hers.

"Promise," he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm not going anywhere, Ru. You're stuck with me."

She lifts a hand a places it delicately against his face, cupping the curve of his cheek. Rujyr steadies her breath, allowing her mind to calm in the quiet reassurance of him. Of those steady red eyes and the firm hands always soothing against her skin.

"I love you, Star," she murmurs, "No matter what happens."

Astarion's lips curve into a small smile as he feels her touch like a warm, comforting flame against his skin. The way she says his name - his nickname - makes his heart flutter and skip a beat.

"I love you too," he whispers in return, his voice slightly breathless as he gazes down at her. "No matter what."

He pulls her even closer still, wrapping his arms snugly around her back and drawing her flush against his chest. The elf presses a soft kiss between her horns before lowing them back against the bedroll. Rujyr shifts to snuggle closer against him and pillows her head on his chest, her tail winding firmly down the length of his leg.

Astarion lets out a gentle huff of laughter as she drapes herself, cat-like, across his body. Comfortably familiar, and the warmth of her holding tight to him is just as reassuring for him as it is for her. He brings a hand down to slowly stroke up and down along the curve of her spine, his touch gentle and his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm beneath her head.

"Comfortable, darling?"

"Always, with you," Rujyr answers.

His fingers toy absently with the small spikes of her vestigial wings and she makes soft humming sound.

A fond smile tugs the corners of his lips as she hums at the touch of his fingers. He continues to trace the curve of her spine, his hand moving slowly, lazily, up to the base of her hairline and back down towards the small of her back.

"Flatterer," he teases, half-muffled by another kiss to the top of her head. Even as lost and confused as they both find themselves, unmoored by the tides of fate, they can at least find comfort in each other.

Holding one another in these gentle embraces is home. No matter what came before.

@lanafofana @lastlight-inn @waterdeep-weavemoss

@crimson-and-lavender @feedthepheasants @spooky-lil-bee

#soft and gentle fluff #astarion acunin #astarion #durgestarion #durge x astarion #oc: rujyr #dr d's blurbapalooza #my writing #kinktober #flufftober #bg3 fanfic

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19silvermirrors · 10 months ago

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Qijiu Week 2024 Day 4 - Feast (of your touch) 🌸

#qijiuweek2024 #qijiu #qijiu week #yue qingyuan #shen qingqiu #svsss #shen jiu #yue qi #fluff #soft #gentle #so in love #caress

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

Can I geeeeet Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Ratio waking up with their s/o (male reader please?) after an “eventful” night and the reader apologizing profusely for how many marks he ended up leaving?

“We Made Love, and I Bear the Proof”

Tags: Alhaitham x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Male!Reader, Established Relationship, Post-Intimacy Fluff & Teasing, Suggestive Themes, Light Angst (Guilt/Shame Over Marks), Banter & Playful Arguments, Mutual Affection & Possessiveness, Soft/Teasing Dom Energy (Alhaitham & Ratio), Flustered/Subtly Needy Energy (Kaveh), Morning After Vibes, Physical Affection & Gentle Comfort.

Warnings: Suggestive Content (Mentions of intimacy, marking, and possessiveness, but no explicit smut), Marking/Biting/Scratches (Characters are covered in hickeys, bite marks, and scratches from the previous night), Mild Alcohol Mention (Kaveh’s piece briefly implies he might’ve had a drink the night before), Light Power Dynamics (Ratio & Alhaitham being smug/teasing about being marked up, Kaveh being flustered about it), Mild Swearing (Casual cursing in dialogue).

A/N: I may have went a bit overboard... Whoops-🧍‍♀️

The early morning light filtered through the curtains of Alhaitham’s bedroom, casting golden hues across the sheets. The crisp Sumeru air carried the scent of sandalwood and ink—his usual. The warmth beside you remained steady, unwavering, even as you stirred.

You blinked blearily, still hazy from the eventful night before, and shifted slightly. That was when you noticed them—faint scratches trailing down Alhaitham’s toned back, deep red marks along his throat, and a particularly dark bruise blooming just above his collarbone.

Your stomach dropped. "Shit."

Alhaitham’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze already fixed on you like he had woken long before you. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something smug in the way his fingers traced absentmindedly along your wrist, as if committing the weight of you to memory.

"I'm so sorry," you groaned, face buried in your hands. "I—uh, I didn’t realize I got that carried away—”

"Clearly," he cut in smoothly, voice still thick with sleep. "But I don’t see why you’re apologizing."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "Because you look like you got into a fight with a particularly aggressive lion—and lost."

Alhaitham hummed, finally sitting up, the sheets pooling at his waist. He stretched, his toned torso catching the morning light in an unfairly appealing way, before he turned his head slightly to observe the marks you had left on his skin.

Then, in a tone far too nonchalant for the situation, he smirked. "If anything, I’d say it’s a victory."

Your face burned. "Alhaitham."

"You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands to yourself," he reminded you, shifting so that his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. "And now you’re embarrassed?"

"I wasn’t trying to maul you—"

"Hm. Could’ve fooled me."

You groaned, shoving your face against his shoulder in sheer mortification, but the warmth of his skin, marked by you, only served to make you more flustered. His chuckle rumbled in his chest, sending a shiver down your spine.

"It’s fine," he murmured, fingers threading lazily through your hair. "Besides, I like the reminder."

His lips brushed against the fresh mark on your neck—the one he had left in return. A possessive streak glinted in his gaze when he pulled away.

"Now, are you planning to take responsibility for them, or shall I return the favor?"

You swallowed thickly. Oh, fuck.

The soft glow of morning bathed the room in warm gold, but the real warmth was beside you—Kaveh, tangled in silk sheets, his hair fanned out like the most intricate masterpiece ever crafted.

He looked peaceful, lips parted slightly in his sleep, his breathing steady. And then—oh.

Your eyes trailed down his bare skin, and guilt punched you in the gut. His porcelain skin was covered in evidence of last night—deep, dark bruises along his neck, light scratches ghosting over his shoulder blades, and a particularly harsh bite mark at his hip.

You barely had time to process it before Kaveh stirred, blinking sleepily at you with those vibrant eyes. He stretched with a soft groan, his arms raising above his head, exposing more of your handiwork.

Your guilt doubled. "Shit—Kaveh, I—"

His gaze followed yours, and when he spotted the marks littering his skin, his face exploded into color. He immediately yanked the sheets up, flustered beyond belief.

"You—!" His voice cracked, and you had never seen him this red before. "You—look at what you did!"

"I'm so sorry," you rushed out, hands raised in surrender. "I—uh—I wasn’t thinking—"

Kaveh buried his face in his hands, groaning in a mix of mortification and something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"I look like a damn canvas!"

"You are an artist’s muse," you teased, earning a weak swat to the arm.

"Don’t flatter yourself," he mumbled, voice muffled. Then, after a pause, his hands lowered just enough for his eyes to peek through his fingers. "...You really got carried away, huh?"

"I didn’t mean to—"

"You bit me, you menace!" He gestured dramatically to the mark at his hip, and you covered your face in shame.

"I’ll make it up to you," you promised, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder in silent apology. Kaveh sighed, still visibly flustered, but he didn’t pull away.

"You better," he huffed. Then, quieter, "But... maybe I didn’t totally mind."

Oh? You grinned against his skin. "Noted."

Morning arrived in quiet stillness, but your mind was not at ease.

Ratio, the insufferably intelligent, sharp-tongued man currently lying next to you, was covered in proof of your inability to control yourself. His skin was marred with bruises—your fingerprints at his waist, faint bites trailing up his chest, and a particularly deep mark at the base of his throat.

You were so fucked.

"Uh..." You swallowed. "Ratio, I—"

His striking eyes, sharp even in the haze of sleep, cracked open. He studied you in silence, gaze flickering down his own body as he took in the damage.

Then, in a voice infuriatingly even, he mused, "Fascinating."

You choked. "Fascinating?"

"Your enthusiasm last night was... excessive." He traced a faint bruise at his wrist, lips twitching slightly. "But I’ll admit, the empirical evidence is intriguing."

"Ratio, I practically mauled you!" You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "I—fuck—I got carried away—"

His amused hum interrupted you. "So, you’re apologizing?"

"Obviously?"

Ratio tilted his head, violet strands falling over one eye as he considered you. His lips curved ever so slightly.

"Then allow me to pose a counterargument," he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against your ear. "If you were truly remorseful, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that again."

You froze, heat crawling up your neck.

Shit.

Ratio chuckled, the sound like silk and steel. "What? Cat got your tongue?"

You scowled, shoving him back onto the mattress in sheer frustration.

"You are insufferable."

"And yet, you seem to enjoy suffering." His smirk deepened. "Shall I prove that hypothesis?"

You barely had time to react before he flipped the situation entirely—pinning you against the sheets, his sharp, knowing gaze drinking in every ounce of your flustered state.

You were so, so screwed.

475 notes · View notes