#he loves holding my hands and nose kisses

[luveline]

reader getting really stressed out about being pregnant for the first time and so hotch just makes her sit down and he totally pampers her for the day?? idk u asked for hotch reqs and this is just the first thing i squeezed out my brain

thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1.2k

There are many things that come with being pregnant. Joy, for sure, but hardship and doubt overwhelmingly. You’re always treating an ailment you didn’t expect to have or worrying that things won’t be ready —that you won’t be ready. 

You’ve developed a bad habit. You can’t stop picking at your hands. Your skin is drier since you’ve been pregnant and the further along you get, the worse it becomes. You scratch at a dry patch between your fingers, wince when it hurts, but continue until there’s no dry skin left to pick, just raw soreness. It’s the first time you’ve made yourself bleed. 

“Are you doing it again?” Aaron asks from the hallway.

You drop your guilty hands down and turn away from his approach. “No, I’m not.” 

“You are, aren’t you?” he asks, a smile in his voice. His hand is warm where he takes your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Show me.” 

“No.” 

“Show me,” he says again, not asking. 

You were supposed to be doing the dishes, but you’d noticed your baby bump was getting in the way, which was oddly beautiful for a few seconds, but was quickly just another imposition in a day full of small annoyances. It is never going to get any easier, your stomach will continue to grow as the baby grows and your body accommodates her, and when you do have her you’ll have to find a way to wash dishes with her held to your chest or on your hip. And it’s lovely, it’s what you signed up for, you can’t wait to be a mom and love your baby, but that’s a big change, too. 

Now you're tail-spin panicking about your life and your hands take the brunt of it. Aaron can’t stop you, but he always tries. 

“I can’t understand why you do this,” he says, parting your fingers gently to assess the damage, “it must hurt. Can you stop?” 

He asks with a mixture of humour and fondness, his eyes on yours and a small smile playing on his lips to encourage a better mood. You don’t have much to give, but you smile back. 

“I know I shouldn’t pick it,” you say. 

“But it’s hard to stop,” he surmises, bringing your hand to his mouth for a soft peck against the back of it, far from your broken skin. 

“I’m just worried.” 

“Oh, I know,” he says, pulling at your hand as he takes your hip in his other and drags you into him. Your bump immediately blocks the way, but bodies are soft, and he keeps on pulling until you’re squished together. 

He smells like something particular. Not cologne or deodorant, not soap or laundry detergent. You can’t put your finger on the scent, your cheek pressed against his shoulder and your nose to his neck, thinking. It’s a sugary smell, but it’s cloying, too, like you’d touch the smell and have a residue on your fingers.

“I changed the air freshener in the bathroom,” he says quietly, his face turned down to yours. 

You don’t bother asking how he knows what you’d been thinking. He’s your mind reader. 

“It was making me feel sick,” you say unnecessarily. 

“I know. Let’s go sit down, my girl.” 

My girl, you think, not sure if you should roll your eyes or hug him tighter. 

You let him lead you from the kitchen to the living room, where he helps you down onto the nice couch, much too nice for babies. You can’t imagine it will stay very clean, but perhaps you’re being cynical. Still, you lean back against the cushions and rub your cheek into clean leather. 

Aaron takes the faux rabbit fur throw from the armrest and shakes it out over you with care, tucking it under your legs, and kissing your cheek as he secures it behind your back. All tucked in, he holds your hands together atop the blanket to encourage you to feel the texture. It’s a good distraction from picking at your hands, which he knows. Aaron knows everything. 

“What do we need?” he asks. “A drink? Dinner’s easy tonight, I’ve promised Jack we’ll make lasagne. Does that sound good to you?” 

You’re honestly not sure. You're quiet for a moment too long. “Sorry,” you frown. 

“I can make you anything you want. It doesn’t bother me.” 

“I feel a little like I’m acting over the top about this.” You’re pregnant. Millions and millions and millions of women have been pregnant. 

“About what?” he asks, sitting beside you on the couch, your blanket untucking under his legs. “Being tired? You can’t decide.” 

“About everything, I guess.” 

“Well, when you figure out what it is that’s making this,” —he puts a hand to your belly— “over the top, you can let me know.” 

You lift your chin. He kisses you soundly. 

It’s nice to be loved like this. 

“What’s up with my baby?” he asks, giving your stomach a soft rub. “Is she moving today?” 

You lean back and he understands that to mean he should feel lower, where you can feel the baby’s weight more clearly. “Not much moving. She gave me a good kick earlier.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I think so.” 

He feels along the bottom of your stomach politely. It’s a little funny, the baby wouldn’t exist without him being rather less polite, but it’s also lovely. You can trust him to be a great father because he’s already an adoring husband. If he treats you with a never ending supply of tender caring and soft touches, it’s easy to picture how he’ll treat your girl. You’ve never once doubted him, and he’s never hurt you. You don’t think he could. 

“There?” he asks, putting his hand to the right side of the bump. 

You can’t be totally certain, but you’re sure he’s right. “Right there, handsome.” 

Things are far less stressful to think of when he’s near. He reminds you in something as small as a thumb to your belly that everything will be taken care of. You’re not half as alone as you feel, and neither is your baby. Aaron can do the dishes while you’re unable. He’d do them even if your only reason was that you didn’t want to. 

“Hello,” he says, charmed, eyes glowing with excitement as you encourage your shirt up over your stomach for a better view. Aaron places his hand to your naked skin, palm hot. “I love you.” 

He has to tap you under the chin for you to know who it is he’s talking to. “I love you, too,” you say quickly. 

He smiles, before his attention falls completely to your stomach once again. “And you, sweetheart. I love you. Can you say hello?” 

He has to talk for a while, but eventually your baby moves. 

Your shoulders relax. You close your eyes and let him murmur to you both, peaceful for a desperately needed half an hour.

[coff33andb00ks]

LANDO + 36 AHHH 🤍

36: unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

Lando is clingy. Not in a bad way, it's actually endearing how much he craves physical touch. It doesn't matter what's going on, he needs to feel you. He's a hugger, a hand holder, an arm around your shoulder, head in your lap on movie night, thighs touching in the back seat, and though it can sometimes be annoying you love it. It's like he knows that each touch - the hand squeezes, every hug, each time he leans against you, all the big and little touches throughout the day - he knows that it heals the scared girl you keep locked inside you.

You love it, truly. But...

Lando's also hot. In the attractive sense yes of course, but also temperature wise. He's a furnace and still chooses to dress in hoodies and sweaters and jackets like he's freezing. You can handle it during the day - mainly because he can't cling to you and always has to do some work - but at night it's torture. Or it was. Until you finally told him you couldn't fully sleep in his arms all night or you'd roast alive. Since you'd told him at three in the morning, sweating and standing in front of the fan, he hadn't acted hurt or asked if you even loved him. He'd apologized and asked if he could at least hold you until you were almost asleep.

Compromise? In this economy? You'd agreed, and in the weeks since you've been able to sleep without worrying you'd be smothered by his heat.

He holds you and doesn't fight you when you wiggle away for your space. Sometimes you wake up to his leg over yours or his hand on your chest or his face in your neck but it's not hard to wriggle into a more comfortable position. And you make sure he gets plenty of cuddles and hugs when you're awake.

He's obviously tired as you get ready for bed and you know he's worn out. He doesn't talk about his occasional insomnia much but you know it's there, lurking and waiting for a time he needs as much rest as he can get before it rears its ugly head again. As you get into bed he sighs and reaches for you.

"Are we getting boring?" He mumbles the words against the back of your neck, his nose pressed in your hair.

"How do you mean?" you ask, grunting as his arms tighten around you, his body curling closer.

"S'posed to be putting my kids in you."

You roll your eyes. It's been his goal since you became official and he realized that his occasional fuckboy tendencies weren't going to scare you off. "It's fine baby, you can do it in the morning."

"M'just tired," he mumbles. "Still wanna fuck you though."

"I know. Go to sleep, you can do it later."

"K." He kisses your neck and wriggles closer. Until you think he wasn't joking the time he said he wished he could crawl under your skin and stay.

You read for a while, until his breathing evens and you feel him relax fully, his arm heavy over you. The heat is overwhelming and you carefully slide free, switching off the lamp while he rolls away with a sleepy groan. And you know for sure that he's exhausted because in the time it takes you to fall asleep he doesn't wiggle close again.

You dream about the kids he keeps saying he wants to put in you. Beautiful little babies with his eyes and messy hair that wreak havoc in the best way just like their dad. And in your dream you think to yourself that having his kids wouldn't be so bad...

When you awake he's still on the other side of the bed. His face is pushed into the pillow and despite the gentle snoring and sheet marks on his cheek he's still adorable to you. His arm is stretched towards you and as you become aware of your body you see his hand.

Clutching yours.

Fingers intertwined, thumb hooked over yours, his knuckles white. He's clinging to your hand like it's a lifeline and oh, you feel guilty for telling him you didn't want him holding you all night. You can tell his hand searched for yours - his arm is twisted in the sheet and yours is too And you wonder if he was able to even sleep properly until he was holding onto you, or if it had been a blind search in the night by both of you, because you know deep down your body craves his touch as much as he craves yours.

With your free hand you untangle the sheets and he stirs. And while he reaches for you with his other arm and pulls you close he's still asleep, still clutching your hand. You never want him to let go.

[monamipencil]

— right here | j.ww

⋆ pairings; wonwoo x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, stalker themes, angst, fluff, 90s! au ⋆ w.c; 2.9k+ ⋆ warnings; stalking, a brief non-con talk (doesn't actually happen), masturbating (m.&f.), almost phone sex, stealing of panties, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, he's a bit toxic and an idiot, he's a law student, reader's parents are mentioned as strict and conservative ⋆ a/n; yeah... tried to make it dark and failed miserably. and yes wonwoo reads kafka and you can't change my mind.

stalker! wonwoo who also loves horror movies and hence loves to pull little pranks on you.

“so, gotta boyfriend?” his voice is distorted by the voice changer before it reaches you on the other side. he sighs dreamily, eyes focused on your figure as you cook dinner.

you're not wearing any pants, just an oversized shirt. even though he knows your answer, he waits for you to reply. you blow the soup before tasting it, your landline phone pinched between your shoulder and ear.

“why do you ask?”

wonwoo smiles, leaning against the tree in your backyard. it's almost the same age as you. he knows that. he also knows you live with your parents 'cause they want to protect their little girl from the world. and that you're all alone for tonight, and you share his taste for horror movies.

you move around the kitchen, occupied with the dish. “'could take you out on a date,” he suggests.

you roll your eyes with a scoff, but a small part of you wants to entertain the idea. the idea of going on a date with your digital fling for 3 months does sound enticing. you let the idea sink in as you stir the contents of the pot.

wonwoo groans when you lean your elbows on the counter, giving him a perfect view of your ass. the navy blue underwear, or is it black? he squints his eyes and looks closer. whatever it is, it has him rock-hard beneath his pants.

“did you stub a toe?” you ask with amusement to which he laughs. your visage changes when you realise what he could be doing on the other end. “wait, what are you doing?”

“what do you think i'm doing?” he smirks, watching you move off the counter and closer to the phone body. you twirl the coil cord with your fingers and bite your lip.

“I don't,” you take a deep breath, “know.”

he pulls a cotton underwear from his blazer pocket and presses it to his nose, inhaling your scent. his cock twitches with need, and he suppresses a groan. holding his wireless Nokia 6110 between his shoulder and ear, he undoes his jeans.

it's freezing cold outside, and the risk of mosquitoes is high, but he simply doesn't care. wonwoo pulls his cock out, hissing at the cold air biting his tip. he wraps his fingers around the base, lazily stroking it before wrapping his cock with your underwear that went missing a couple of days ago.

you're at a crossroad in the kitchen. a part of you basks in this debauchery, and the other knows that this very well could be some middle-aged pervert or some 12-year-old messing with you.

“you're so pretty, princess.” he grunts into the phone, hips bucking into his hand.

“you don't even know how I look like..” you trail off, lowkey turned on. wait no! he could be an old man, ew.

he chuckles, eyes darting towards your figure leaning back on the counter with your pouted lips and knitted eyebrows. “maybe..”

wonwoo presses your panties on his tip with his thumb, teasing his slit. his breath quickens and worry looms over your features at his silence.

“you don't know the things I want to do to you.”

you roll your eyes again with a sigh. “really? i wonder what it could be.” the boredom in your tone amuses him.

“I want you to sit on my face,”

a scandalised gasp erupts from your throat before acting nonchalant again. “oh yeah? what else, ghostface?” your breath falters, and your stomach flips. you don't even want to think about what's happening between your legs.

“I'd slowly kiss down your body and make you come undone in all ways.”

well, shit. your legs snap close and bite your lips to stop any embarrassing noises from spilling out. the logical part of you drowns in the wave of horniness that hits you. wonwoo doesn't wait for you to speak and continues.

“I want to strip you bare and make love to you.” his hand movements quicken when he sees you slip a hand down your panties. he sucks in oxygen like he's deprived of it. the cold bites at his skin and his breaths turn foggy, but the thought of you warms him from inside.

your thoughts muddle, and any common sense is thrown out the window when you feel your arousal sticking to your panties. you can't offer him many words, and it brings you embarrassment at how easily you fold. to keep up your facade, you scoff into the speaker but wait for him to speak up.

but the line disconnects, filling you with disappointment and wanting. you place the phone on the cradle and sit down on the floor. the disappointment doesn't deter you from touching yourself to the thoughts of him. you wonder how he sounds in real life and imagine him doing the things he spoke of.

your toes curl as you apply pressure to your clit, rubbing it incessantly. your other hand plays with your nipples, pinching and rolling them over your t-shirt. you try and try but can't climax. you pull out your hands with anger and annoyance.

burying your head in your knees, you think of blocking him but realise he's probably using *67. the hiss of the boiling snaps you back to reality, and you stand up in a hurry to look at the food. you groan, looking at the sad-looking dish staring back at you.

the telephone rings, piling up on your irritated state. “what?” you bark, teeth grinding and knuckles turning white.

“come outside,” a low voice tells you.

“what?” you repeat, softer this time. before the gears in your brain could turn, you find yourself at the front door, turning the knob. it feels like whiplash when your eyes land on the person outside.

“wonwoo? what are you doing here?”

now, why the hell was your ex-boyfriend at your door? and wait.. is he your ghostface?

the possibility—possibility? it's the fucking truth. he's the one who's been calling you anonymously for 3 months and filling the hole in your romantic life. the very hole that he left.

he looks the same—almost the same—but then you notice the faint ring of dark circles, the tiredness in his eyes, and, is that your panties hanging from his blazer pocket?

it doesn't take long for your pent-up emotions to flood your senses and suddenly, you're pulling him in, and locking your hands around his neck. you press your lips to his and let his hands wander your body.

 “wonwoo, fuck!”

you throw your head back on the handrest and tug at his hair roots. his tongue laps at your cunt, and his nose brushes your clit as you lay fully bare on your couch. wonwoo’s grip on your hips holds you down while he slurps and sucks on your hole, tongue prodding inside every now and then.

his soft lips mold with your pussy lips, and his over-grown hair tickles your inner thigh. his hungry eyes meet yours before he pulls away with your fluids glistening on his skin. he ascends on you like a predator sizing up its prey. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down.

the soft material of his t-shirt presses against your burning skin, and you feel cold without his warmth. “off,” you huff, tugging at the cloth. he obliges with a smile. soon he joins you on the couch, and feeling his bare skin on yours elicits a variety of emotions from you.

you’re ready to break down and cry but also have the urge to slap him along with the cauterizing need to have him inside you. he stills for a moment, silently looking for reassurance to go ahead. you tilt up your head, kissing him softly and breathing him in. you forgot how intimate it felt to share your breath with another.

wonwoo kisses your forehead and moves back, positioning himself between your legs. “condom?” you croak.

“I don’t have one.”

eyeing the hesitant look on your face, he continues. “I haven’t slept with anyone … after you.”

you crash your lips against his, tongue pushing past his lips. you moan wantonly, and the noises of wet kissing reverberate through your eardrums. you card your fingers through his lush black locks and tilt your head, kissing him deeper and slower.

your core pulsates as his hands rediscover your body. goosebumps rise on your skin when his thumb brushes against your hard nipple, and you shiver, feeling his cock on your thigh. you gasp for air, pulling away. his hands brush down your back to your ass, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers.

wonwoo leans back on the handrest, helping you to position on his cock. you sink down on his cock with his help. you moan in unison when you bottom out. his raw cock kissing your insides sends a flurry of tingles through your body.

you grind down to stimulate your clit. shameless moans escape your lips when he thrusts up, balls slapping against your ass. his hands make a home on your hips as he continues drilling his cock inside you. you throw your hands around his neck, pressing yourself against him. you don’t kiss him but place your lips close to his, and with every moan and whimper, your lips brush against his.

you lose yourself in pleasure, in the way his cock splits you open and in the way he sucks on your nipples. one of his hands moves down to rub your clit as he keeps sucking on your nipple. he moves to the other one, swirling his tongue around the bud.

your body trembles with stimulation, and you bounce on his cock harder, desperately chasing your high. wonwoo detaches from your tits to press a hot kiss against your lips. you moan against his lips, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten with each thrust.

his tip kisses your insides, and your arousal forms a creamy ring around the base of his cock. you're way too gone, lost in the warmth of his hands and the depth of his onyx eyes.

a certain thrust and the rubbing of his hand has you trembling above him. your legs give out, and you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath.

“I can't—I,” wonwoo shushes you and repositions his hands on your ass, gripping it as he thrusts upwards into your cunt. the sheer force of his thrusts makes you whimper and dig your fingernails into his broad shoulders.

“wonu,” you draw out his name as your face contorts in pleasure.

“yes, princess?” the nickname never fails to fluster you, and the rich timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. he leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and chest.

“please, I want to—want to cum.”

he nibbles on your earlobe, wetting the skin with his tongue. “mhm. but bad girls don't get to cum.”

“bad girl?” you whimper, “but I didn't do anything!”

“y'sure, princess?”

“yes!”

“you started talking to a stranger on the phone. yes, it was me. but you weren't aware.” you whine when he slows his pace to a stop. you clench around his length, chasing for some friction.

“you started locking your windows. I thought you liked it when I used to climb into your room through your window—”

you cut him off, “you broke up with me for your stupid friends!”

“and.. I left it open for the first few days after you left...” your voice reduces to a whisper.

“I'm sorry, princess.” he starts. “but it seemed like you moved on with your little church boy,” he hisses through his teeth, voice lacing with venom.

“joshua is my friend.” you hiss back.

wonwoo clicks his tongue, hating the taste of his name on your tongue. the chances of you kicking him out if this keeps up are high. so he changes the topic.

“y'k how badly I wanted to climb into your room? to take off your blankets, and push aside your panty. you would like that wouldn't you?”

“for me to have my way with you while you're asleep? even if you wake up, you'll let me hit it like a slut, right?”

your pussy flutters around his cock and you whine, hitting his chest. wonwoo smirks and leans into your ear, “dirty, dirty princess.” his voice drops an octave.

“I was peeping on you all this time. you wore my shirts, princess? love me that much? hmm?”

you hide your face in his shoulders but feel his smile radiating through his voice. “fuck you.”

“you are,” he grips your hips, pulling out halfway before slamming his cock back in. your slick arousal drips down your thighs, uncomfortably. his cock stretches your gummy walls and the coil in your stomach tightens.

it's hard to adjust to his animalistic pace and you're overwhelmed. lust and passion clouds your senses and the coil snaps. the orgasm crashes over you and your lewd moans fill the room. your body trembles above his and you grip onto him for dear life.

your first orgasm in three months is mind-numbing. wonwoo continues to thrust, chasing his orgasm. he grunts when you violently clench around his length, forcing him to cum.

warm ropes of cum decorate your walls and the wet sounds of sex halts as he pulls you closer. he rests his forehead on yours, sharing his breath with you.

by the time you calm down, you're flooded with shame and the reality of what just happened. his arms and the sound of his heartbeat is no longer comforting. removing his arms around you, you stand up.

you hiss and clench your thighs at the ache between them. his essence drips out of your hole down your thighs, a reminder of what you just did.

wonwoo sits up, worry filling his system as he watches slip on your t-shirt and move away from the couch. he wants to say something, but what can he say? hey, sorry for leaving you and stalking you. 'think we can get back together?

he cringes at himself and watches helplessly as you move towards the vinyl record holder. you pull out a vinyl he recognises and place it on the player.

‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac fills the room, and you walk back to the couch, sitting with space between you two. the soft strum of guitar and drums calms his nerves.

“why?” you fiddle with your fingers, refusing to look at him as you ask. he sighs and shifts a little closer, t-shirt covering his body and glasses back on. “I,” he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I had doubts about … us.”

“I didn't think we'd work out and my friends seemed to agree. I—I'm sorry.” he holds his gaze down with shame.

“it was stupid, i know. but I thought our differences won't work out.”

“how can you decide it before anything actually happens?” you bark at him, your heart clenches with frustration.

“I—”

‘and if you don't love me now, you will never love me again’

wonwoo cringes inwardly. who would have thought that the song he used to dance with you to would represent his life now? he cannot find words to express what he wants to say. two years of majoring in law and literature down the drain.

he simply moves closer till his thighs press against yours and leans his head on your shoulders. “did you only miss me for my body?”

“no!” his defense comes a bit stronger, and he hugs you closer. “no. it's not like that. I missed you.”

‘I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain’

you take his face in your hands, kissing his lips softly. but you break it as soon as your lips meet and drag him upstairs to your room. your grip on his tighter, harsher, like you're trying to prove a point.

wonwoo doesn't protest that he's naked and lets you drag him away. reaching your room, you pull him inside and show him the stacks of books lining your nightstand.

he adjusts his glasses and squints at the books. he saw you buying books and reading them almost every night. he wondered how your conservative parents suddenly allowed you to read books, let alone ... law books?

“law books. I fought with my parents and bought them, just so that we could talk about it because I don't know shit about law!”

you're sobbing, tears cascading down your cheeks, and he feels his heart skip a beat or two. his eyes dart towards the other books on your shelf, Sherlock Holmes and Kafka, his favorites too.

he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. he smiles at your faux protests and holds you softly.

wonwoo doesn't tell you but he has his own collection of Fleetwood Mac vinyl records lining up in his shelf. he bought Delta of Venus and A Spy in the House of Love, even though he doesn't like the vulgarity of the books you secretly read.

he holds you closer, and for anyone who looks into your windows, they'd only see the silhouette of a single person. your sobs quiet down, and he whispers soft apologies into your skin.

and wonwoo discovers that love is simple after all. love is reading Law and Kafka in your moonlit room filled with '60s rock music.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag (send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆smudged kisses⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, tiktok trend)

You looked at your reflection in the small mirror on fratboy!Jaehyun's desk, bought especially for you. Your makeup was looking good, good blush placement, no separating foundation, and no creasing under your eyes. All you were missing was your lipstick.

You turned in your chair, "okay, I'm ready, are you?"

Jaehyun looked up from his phone with furrowed brows, "what is it again?"

You sigh with a roll of your eyes, you'd explained countless times and even showed him the videos you wanted to emanate. "It's a TikTok trend! I'm going to put on my lipstick, but uh oh! I smudge it and then you use you thumb to swipe it away- gently. I pan the camera to you and you have lipstick marks all over your face. Make sense?" You explain while you show him one of the videos you had saved.

His eyes leave your screen with a smirk, "so we get to kiss?"

You shove his shoulder, "you act like we don't kiss everyday. Anyway, do you get it now?"

He nods with a very smug smile, "It's crystal clear, baby."

You use your phone camera to put on your lipstick and than cup Jaehyun's cheeks to begin pressing the bright red lipstick all over his face.

He laughed, his breath fanning over your face with every giggle and laugh that escaped him. You pressed kissed over his cheeks, his nose, on his eyelids, his chin, above his mouth, and his forehead. You pulled away to assess your work and smiled affectionately, his cheeks were red from the lipstick but also his flushed cheeks. "Ready, my love?"

He nods, and you start the video with the music filtering through the speakers of your phone. One hand holds your phone and the other holds your lipstick as you drag it over your bottom lip.

When the lipstick "accidentally" drags outside your lips, Jaehyun's thumb appears and wipes it away gently. You pan the camera over to him and he smiles at you adoringly before leaning forward to press his lips to yours, the only spot left on his face with no traces of your red lipstick.

He pressed a series of pecks against your lips which makes you laugh against his mouth. The last thing the camera sees before you drop your phone is Jaehyun smiling before pressing his lips against yours in a longer kiss with his hand cupping your cheek. You were sure whoever saw the video could guess that the kiss they saw was not as short as the others.

[nottsangel]

okay patrick definitely fucks most of the time but love making with patrick WOULD GO INSANEEEEE (i need him)

god yes…. the thing with patrick is, he is somehow really great at sensing your mood, so when you’re feeling low or just need to be loved, he instinctively knows exactly what to do. he’ll shower you with so. much. praise. “gonna take care of my pretty girl.” and “you’re so fucking beautiful baby, can’t believe you’re all mine.” with his hands roaming every inch of your body while his lips leave kisses everywhere, taking it slower than usual.

he’ll give you multiple orgasms that night, his entire focus on you as he makes you cum on his face, around his fingers, and all over his cock.

his fingers will rub lazy circles on your swollen clit as he kisses you passionately with his other hand holding your jaw, before he pushes his fingers into you, causing you to moan into his mouth. his long fingers expertly move inside of you, having no trouble finding your g-spot instantly as he makes you cum in no time. “you gonna cum, baby? fuck, that’s a good girl.”

next, he’ll spread your legs, hands pushing against your thighs as he sloppily fucks you with his tongue, his nose simultaneously bumping against your clit. the way you pull his hair got him moaning into your cunt, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as you arch your back, coming all over his face.

and when he’s finally inside of you, it’s deep, slow strokes, making sure you feel every part of him inside of you, massaging your inner walls so perfectly as he rubs against all the right spots. he’d pepper your neck with kisses while his thumb slowly rubs circles on your clit while he whispers sweet words into your ear. “my pretty girl, doing so good, hm?” “yeahh, that’s it baby, let go f’me.”

ੈ♡˳

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Una Noche En Medellín | Javier Pena x f!Reader

summary: a long day playing pretend at a wedding leads to... exactly what you'd expect.

pairing: javier pena x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. javi smoking, mention of a fictional pregnancy, ONE motherfucking BED BABY! mention of previous p in v, fingering, brief f!oral. this is pretty tame, y'all. reader has hair.

wc: 2.4k

an: this is my entry for the summer lovin' challenge thought up by the wonderful @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i can literally only apologise for this being so late. i scheduled it in the wee hours and got my dates SO wrong.

my brief was a wedding, javi, and the moodboard you can see in the header. this was so much fun, and my first time posting for our fav dea agent - i hope you enjoy!

divider from @saradika-graphics

The fabric of your dress clings uncomfortably to your skin, sweat glistening under the warm lights of the hotel as you step into the elevator. Hair damp at the nape of your neck, thighs chafing a little as you shift on aching feet, you turn from your tired reflection in the mirror back to the closing doors. 

You watch, drowsy, as Javi presses the button to the tenth floor, one thick finger lighting up the numbers. The same hands that have been on you all evening, long into the night. Squeezing, holding, twirling. He stands with his back to you now, shoulders tense and squared. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you’d pissed him off.

You slump a little against the mirror behind you as the elevator swoops and glides upwards, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Neither of you had thought it’d be easy. But neither had you thought it would be so exhausting. 

Exhausting to remember the details of your cover, to explain that the reason you weren’t drinking was because you’d recently discovered you were expecting your first child. Exhausting to navigate the knowing looks and slaps on the back, the hands on your non-existent bump, trying to make it look convincing. Following Javier around the room, his hand in yours; whispers pressed into the conch of your ear, your hairline - intel exchanged, wrapped in the pretence of humour and affection. Bodies pressed together in a way that should have been unprofessional, but not in a way that was unfamiliar.

The mission had been a success. 

Under fairy lights and between bubbles of champagne, blanketed by the heady heat of Medellín, you’d wound your web. Dancing and talking, sharing cooing compliments with the other guests, letting people watch and believe as you’d kept each other close, the proximity of Javi coming so easy with the thump of bass and threat of danger. Recognising the faces taped and pinned to corkboards in the office, matching voices to crackled radio frequencies, red string to red crosses.

Never standing in one place for too long, never speaking English, never looking surprised, always looking so in love. Draped across his lap with one hand on your hip and the other splayed against the small of your back. Your face tucked into his neck as you relayed information against his jawbone. His kisses to your shoulder as he told you Steve and Carillo were already on their way to the targets’ addresses. Not out of each other’s sight for more than a minute. 

It had been so easy it was almost laughable.

The cartel’s informant would be on his way to his hotel, and his impending arrest, now. The rest of the guests, the family and friends, would soon catch wind and begin to disappear, to turn on each other. And it would be like you and Javi were never there. Blending with the disco lights, melting into the shadows. 

For now, all you need is some rest.

The elevator bell dings for the tenth floor, and you watch as the doors slide open with a quiet hum. Javi turns his face, barely, to make sure you’re still with him, hand twitching at his side as though he wishes to reach for yours. 

It’s hard to turn the performance off. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, wedding band glinting in the light, as he steps out into the hallway. You follow, reaching into your purse for the key card, watching the slump of his broad shoulders stride up the hall, the sweat-curled hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been running your fingers through it twenty minutes ago, cooing something about wanting to take him to bed that had only been a half-lie. He’s been warm and firm against you all night, always within reach. There’s not a scrap of your dress or an inch of your skin that doesn’t smell like his aftershave. And you’re not too proud to admit how much that turns you on.

He leans against the doorframe with one arm when you reach your room, lips lifting in a smirk.

You pull a face at him as you swipe the key card and open the door.

‘What?’

He shrugs as he watches you step into the darkness, waiting only a moment before following and flicking on the light.

‘Just - didn’t think you had it in you, cariño. Never thought you could dance like that.’

You scoff at him as he closes the door, leaning against the coolness of the wall to unclasp and take off your heels.

‘Surprises are part of the job, Peña,’ you grin, ‘Didn’t think you’d be so good at pretending to enjoy a wedding reception.’

‘I’ve had practice.’ He quips, unbuttoning another two of his shirt buttons, white linen against the gold of his skin, sweat gathered at the hollow of his throat. Something burns in your chest - wanton and willing.

He flips on another light as you throw your heels to the side, pausing in the mouth of the room before it opens to the sleeping quarters. You press a palm to his warm back, trying to urge him forwards before he speaks.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’

You step from behind him to stand at his side.

Illuminated, glowing in the bedside light before its backdrop of glimmering city lights, is a single, king-size bed; crisp white sheets neatly tucked beneath the mattress.

You bite your cheek, looking at Javi. His stormy brow, his clenched jaw. 

‘This was supposed to be a suite.’ You murmur.

You want to be angry. Want this to be the thing that ruins an otherwise successful day. But you’re so warm, so tired. You only want a shower and a place to sleep. And you’ve had many worse places than this to do exactly that. 

‘We could call the front desk,’ Javi says, as a yawn pulls at your jaw, ‘See if they can switch us to a room with two beds.’

You shake your head, and he glances at you, surprised.

‘It’s late, and bad for our cover. We can share.’ A small frown teases between his dark eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘We’re fake married, remember?’

You step past him, smoothing the sheets with your hand. Cool. Soft. You could lie down now and die happy.

There’s the distinctive shnick-whoosh of a lighter behind you, and when you turn, Javi’s face is lit by the soft glow of a cigarette.

‘How could I forget,’ he says, breathing out a rush of blue smoke, ‘When mi esposa has been the life of the party all evening.’

You purse your lips playfully.

‘I thought you enjoyed being my husband, Alejandro.’

A sultry smile softens his features.

‘Sure, cariño.’

You wink at him as he brushes past you, linen against silk. He smells so good. Clean and masculine, something so Javi cutting through it that you can feel that burning move from your chest to pool between your legs.

He breezes through the curtains shrouding the balcony, and you turn into the bathroom, inspecting the array of toiletries, and the towels, fresh and white, waiting for you. You turn the shower on, setting the water to cool before reaching for the zip at the back of your dress. You twist fruitlessly for minutes, but the heat, the dampness of your skin makes the fabric hard to adjust, the zip impossible to catch. A well of frustration rises up your throat, and you clench your jaw.

Hands pressed against the porcelain of the sink, you look into your own eyes in the mirror. Tired, hot. Not too proud to ask for help.

Javi is stood on the balcony, forearms resting against the railing, smoke curling around his strong silhouette. He turns at the sound of the curtains moving behind you, and you smile as he leans back to watch you approach.

His appraising look is appreciative. Sexy.

You turn your back to him, to those eyes.

‘Unzip me?’

You wait for what feels like an eternity. Rocking slightly where you stand, breath catching in your lungs. Every muscle in your body tightened in anticipation.

Goosebumps break out over the small of your back as his fingers trace the line of the zip, up, up to your shoulders. They skim the fabric there, catching your bare skin before settling at the slider. He pulls, slowly. So close you can feel his breath on your neck. Pulls it all the way down so that the dress falls loose at your chest, so it would take only the smallest movement for the garment to drop to the floor. 

His palms slip beneath the silk, curving around your waist. On instinct, yours follow, catching and holding them in place as you sigh at the feeling of his nose tracing your neck. His thumbs stroke the contours of your back.

‘Que linda, bebita.’ He breathes, and you fight the moan surging up from your belly. You hum, leaning into him even as you whisper,

‘I didn’t say undress me.’

A short burst of air at your shoulder, a barely noticeable kiss against your hot skin to disguise his amusement.

‘Wasn’t going to.’

It’s your turn to huff a laugh.

‘We can be professional for a night.’

‘We can.’ He murmurs, and the heat of his body behind yours is lost almost immediately. You sway a little, a smile on your lips as you step back towards the bathroom. You know Javi is watching.

He always is.

He told you. That night in Bogotá, bodies pressed against, pressed into each other. Your legs wrapped around his waist, claw marks red-raw up his back as you’d moaned and cried for him. The wet squelch of your cunt as he worked you open, as he fucked you, as he crooned into your mouth how you’d been all he’d thought about since you stepped into the bullpen. So fucking smart, so capable, so sexy. How you’d been driving him crazy - lips crushed against your temple as you clenched around his cock.

That whole night, how good it had been, how heady. No one had ever made you come like that.

You’d not called the next day, having slunk out of Javi’s room some time in the early hours of the next morning. He’d never asked you why you hadn’t stayed. You’d never spoken of it again.

It was stress relief. Never anything more than two people blowing off steam. Never anything more than two people giving into an obvious attraction.

But that night doesn’t seem so far away as you wash away the sweat and soap from your body, as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Doesn't erase how you feel him watching, how close he feels, even separated by the door.

And though the shower is cool, your blood still runs hot. Pumping and burning with want in your veins, arousal so strong it makes you giddy as you wrap a towel around yourself, leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Javi is sat on the edge of the bed, naked save only for his boxers. The sight of him takes your breath away.

He's so broad, hard and soft in all the places he needs to be. And he's so pretty. Perfect little pouty mouth, deep, dangerous eyes. There’s no cigarette dangling from his lips, nothing in his hands as he clasps them between his spread knees. You think about sinking down between them, pressing your cheek against the bulge outlined below the smattering of hair at his navel.

You step towards him, and he watches with blown, hungry eyes.

You stop in front of him, still wrapped in the towel. He reads your mind like he always does. In the bullpen, the offices, the field. With a gun or a cigarette or a pen in his hand, Javier Peña knows what you need. He parts the towel, sliding his palms across your naked hips, holding you before him. You can’t breathe, can’t speak. It’s too hot in the room, in your body. You can feel slick sliding against the tops of your thighs, spread right up to your clit. So wet it should be criminal. 

Javi clicks his tongue, moving his hands so he can spread you open with his thumbs. He pouts at you, small tilt of his head. 

‘Pobrecita.’

You'd roll your eyes if it were any less true, if he weren't swiping one thumb through your wetness, over your clit. You suck a breath in before moaning brokenly. He grins, wolfish, up at you. 

‘What were you thinking about in that shower, cariño?’

You smile down at him, eyes half-closed. 

‘You.’

He hums, moving his thumb again. You shudder, knees giving a little. His hand at your hip tightens. 

‘Good girl.’ He coos. 

Your hand flies to his shoulder with a garbled cry as he presses tighter, moving the digit faster. He knows how to work you, knew before he'd even touched you. You're on fire, pussy tightening as your hand travels up his neck, before tangling with the curls at his nape.

That's it.

You can hear how wet you are. The only sounds in the room are the buzz of the city below, your fast breathing, and the movement of Javi’s fingers. He’s building you up to it, astoundingly fast. The sight of him, sat on the edge of the bed, spellbound by what he’s doing to you, the noises you’re making, the sight of you bared to him. Makes you want to touch him, too.

Does that feel good, bebita?

So good, Javi.

But just as it seems so close, as you can feel yourself start to clench and pulse and twitch, he slows. Slows the rhythm of his thumb right down to deep, languid circles, keeping you right on the edge as he loosens the towel and lets it drop to the floor, as he leans forward to reverently press his forehead to your belly. He breathes in deeply, and you flex your hips towards him. He nips at your skin, and you whine as he laughs.

‘I think about it,’ he breathes, voice deep and thick, nuzzling into the crease of your thigh, ‘That night in Bogotá. Tell me you think about it, too.’

You hiccup, nodding. Fisting his short hair.

‘All the time,’ you gasp, ‘All the time, Javi.’

He groans, moving to lick a hot, wet stripe through your folds, right up to your clit. It’s like fire, electricity. Your body jolts against him, every nerve ending bending towards him, flinching into this sweet torture.

His lips are shining with your arousal when he pulls away to look you in your eyes.

‘Let me have it. One more night, in Medellín. Let me have you.’

[eggyrocks]

35MM CHAPTER TWENTY: pizza time!

track number twenty: fade into you by mazzy star

masterlist

The sun is starting to set when he knocks on the door. The blue dusk reminds him of her. Akaashi sent his psychiatrist an email about upping the dose of his anxiety medication before he left. He rocks on the back of his heels. He’s taking Kuroo’s advice. Or at least, he’s trying to. He overthought everything to death until nothing in his head even held any meaning. His nose is bruised purple, and his chest rises and falls visibly with each heavy intake of breath.

The door opens. For the split second he can see the doorknob turn, he sends a silent prayer that it’s not one of her roommates that answers and, if it is, that it’s not the scary one that slammed his fist into his face. It’s answered. She opens the door.

Her t-shirt hangs loose on her shoulders and sweatpants are low on her hips. She narrows her gaze at the sight of him and Akaashi takes that as not a good sign. And it’s not like she moves to slam the door in his face, but Akaashi doesn’t want to take the risk. He steps forward into her apartment and says. “I like you.”

She steps back, expression sort of unreadable. “What?”

“I like you,” Akaashi repeats, taking another step closer. “I like you a lot. I like everything about you. I think you’re beautiful and the way you think is beautiful. I like that you change the way I think, and I like how everything feels better when you’re around and I want to be with you all the time.”

The words seem to hit her slowly, taking a second to settle into her skin. Once they do, she backs further into her apartment. Akaashi follows, taking slow, hesitant steps, watching as she leans against her kitchen counter. “I don’t,” she starts, and then takes an heavy breath. She turns her head and looks him in the eye. “Did you mean it, when you kissed me?”

“Yes,” Akaashi breathes out. “I meant it.”

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek and looks off to the side. “I don’t like the way you played with my feelings,” she confesses, and looks down at her feet, blinking like she’s trying to force away her tears. “I don’t like the way you made me feel like I didn’t matter to you.”

Without thinking much about it at all, Akaashi takes two long strides to close the gap between them. His arms go around her shoulders, and he pulls her into his chest. “I’m sorry. I was overthinking and I know I made everything worse. But you matter to me. You matter to me so much that I’m going to do all the things I’ve been too afraid to do.” And Akaashi can’t help himself. He kisses the top of her head and tightens his hold on her. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

She tilts her head back to look up at him. Her eyes are wet and watering. She sniffs. “Well, my roommate broke your nose. So, I guess that kinda makes up for it.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Does it look that bad?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head. “I think you look handsome.”

Red tinges his cheeks. Akaashi can feel it as it spreads. And he thinks that he should come up with some sort of flirtatious quip in response, but he’s looking into her eyes and he feels lost. He doesn’t have a grip on any of his conscious thoughts. The only thing that he can really hold onto is that he thinks he really might be in love with her.

So Akaashi leans down and uses the tip of his nose to nudge her head up slightly, and he kisses her. Again.

It’s different now. There’s a different sort of charge to it. Akaashi feels this persistent sort of buzz under his skin as he leans in deeper to her. He kisses her there, in the middle of her kitchen, with no regard to the world around him. It’s like it doesn’t exist. It’s just her and her body heat and the way she is entangled with him.

And his self-control is already hanging on by a thread, so when she drags her hand up his neck and tangles it in the roots of his hair, he snaps. His hands wrap around the bottom of her thighs, and in one swift movement, he’s lifted her onto the countertop, giving him more access to her, in her entirety.

Akaashi’s convinced, then. He’s in love. Pathetically so. He can’t decide if he should take the time to tell her or not. The decision is made for him.

“Surprise! It’s pizza time! Pizza-oh my god.”

They pull apart from each other with a gasp. Akaashi launches himself to the other side of the room. Bokuto Koutarou stands in the doorway of her apartment, mouth slightly agape, a box of pizza in one hand. He stares blankly at the scene before him.

She, still seated on the top of the counter, reaches for the first thing she can get her hands on and flings it directly at her brother’s face. It’s a dish rag. “Oh my god, get out.”

Bokuto doesn’t even flinch as the dish rag hits his face and falls directly onto the pizza box. Akaashi holds his breath. “Fine. I seem to have lost my appetite, anyways. Wonder why.”

He leaves, then. Walking backwards out the front door. He takes the dish rag with him. Akaashi blinks.

->fun facts!

at first when bokuto asked akaashi not to date yn he was really just was joking but then after it kept getting brought up he started to get suspicious; he thought if he kept saying 'oh MAN akaashi would DEFINITELY for sure tell me!' it would make him tell him

but it did not even a little so now bokuto actually kind of feels bad that he made him feel more anxious about the whole thing

bokuto 1000% killed the mood when he showed up but yn and akaashi retreated to her room and talked a lot about their feelings for each other and shared maybe more than one little kiss and decided an exclusive status would work best for them

akaashi is one text away from throttling atsumu his flirting with yn always got under his skin but now he has no reason to hide his budding annoyance

hinata won the bet

one more chapter left!

once more i am NOT proofreading

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @bookworm-center @kettlepop @makkiroll @atsumou @eyes-ofhell @kawaii-angelanne @ryeyeyer @k8nicole @mydearchoso @phoenix-eclipses @lixie-phoria @suitstars @reneny @scxrcherr @ueknightbl @iluvaquaphor @sleezzsister @barricadesenthusiast @staygoldsquatchling02 @hyunskzza @nemesii @sereniteav @crimsoncamra @gsyche @evening-latte @rrosiitas @kunimix @kitnootkat @aquariarose @iluv-ace @sparkei @gl6ss

[spencerreidenjoyer]

take care of you | spencer reid x reader

Sometimes, Spencer needs you to take care of him.

wc: 3k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: submissive!spencer, s2/glasses spencer, pegging, face sitting, face riding, cunnilingus (fem!reader)

a/n: couldn't stop thinking about spencer in glasses getting absolutely wrecked. i love him so much!!!! (you can also find this fic on ao3!)

You can tell how much Spencer needs this. He’s been stressed out from work – sure, his job is always kind of stressful, but he looks so exhausted that you feel it in your bones.

Spencer’s never been good at asking for help, either. But the sluggish way he’s been moving around lately, his eyebags somehow even darker than usual, even Penelope texting you after a rough case to take care of Spencer: they all tell you that Spencer needs you more than ever.

“Hi, my love,” you greet from the couch when he opens the door. 

Spencer jumps slightly, perhaps not expecting you to be home when he’d gotten to the apartment. He relaxes quickly enough, his tight-set features easing up as he sees you. He smiles, kicking off his shoes, and is quick to let you wrap your arms around him. He melts into your grasp. 

“Hey,” Spencer says in a soft voice, but he hugs you so tight you feel a little breathless. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love,” you hum into his neck, nose ticklish from how his hair is growing out, curling beautifully at the nape of his neck. “Rough day?”

“That’s an understatement,” Spencer sighs. “God, I needed this.”

While you’ve been dating for more than a year, Spencer being happy to touch you always makes you feel proud – it reminds you that you’re special to Spencer, that Spencer trusts you. 

“I know, sweetheart,” you say softly, your hand petting his soft hair. “Do you want– Do you need me to take care of you tonight? To shut your brain off for a little bit?”

Spencer’s sharp intake of breath is loud in the otherwise silent apartment. He pulls away, wet, brown eyes looking into yours. “You– Really? How did you–”

“I guessed you needed it,” you say, reaching to hold his hands in yours. “Do you need that?”

“Yes, please.” Spencer’s voice is practically a whisper. 

“Come on, love,” you smile, tugging him into the bedroom.

You take care of him like this: taking off his tie, undoing the buttons of his shirt, kissing him as you undo his belt and push his slacks off. Spencer is laid on the bed for you, only in his underwear, laid out bare for you.

Spencer looks so cute wearing his glasses, and you tell him that when he moves to take them off. He blinks at you. “Do you want me to keep them on?”

“Yeah,” you say, grinning. “Makes you look extra fuckable.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, smiling, but Spencer’s mouth falls open in a gasp as your hand reaches for his cock, touching him through his briefs. His cock jumps at your touch. 

You sigh contentedly. “You’re so pretty like this, Spence.”

He whimpers, lower lip pulled between his teeth. “You’re too nice to me.”

“I just want to take care of you, love.” You hum, meeting Spencer’s eyes as you slip your hand down the waistband of his underwear, wrapping your hand around him. 

“Oh–” He moans at the contact, hips instinctively bucking up into your touch. “Mmm, please.”

“Want me to fuck you, baby?” 

Spencer nods, but you can tell he’s still on edge, attempting to give up control. He’s never been too good at that.

You lean forward to kiss him. He moans, kissing you back quickly enough, desperate and hungry. He needs you, wants you, and the attention makes you preen.

You’ve pushed Spencer’s underwear down by now, unabashedly stroking his fully-hard cock. He’s leaking all over your hand now, so the slide of your hand on him is easy. His moans against your lips turn you on to no end, getting him off while he’s like this almost feels like your duty. 

“Come on, baby,” you murmur as you pull away. You’re met with a whine from Spencer, like he’s too far gone to realise you plan to give him more, instead of just taking his pleasure away from him. 

This is good. His colleagues have always joked that Spencer’s IQ drops when he’s around a pretty girl. Maybe you’ll be able to stop his overthinking mind tonight.

“Oh, don’t pout, darling,” you coo, finding it amusing how Spencer is basically throwing a fit over how you’ve stopped kissing him, stopped touching him. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

Spencer’s face is red in an instant, like he’s shocked at the sudden brazenness of it all. He pulls his lips into a thin line, sheepish, but he nods. You smile and say, “Then let me get ready for you, darling.”

He finally lets you go, but his eyes are wide and wet as he looks up at you, as you stare down at him. He looks like he wants to ask you something, but can’t find the words. “Tell me what you want, Spence.”

“I want– Can I touch myself? While– While you get ready?” He’s tripping over his words, and you feel like screaming into your hands just because he’s so cute. 

“Yes, darling. Don’t make yourself cum just yet, though,” you hum. “Wanna see you cumming on my cock.”

Spencer lets out a whimper, nodding as he wraps his hand around himself in an instant. He’s desperate, needy, and you feel so crazy about him that you feel the adrenaline in your veins as you get your harness out. Your hands shake as you attach your pink, sparkly dildo to your harness, as you take your clothes off (Spencer stares at you, making you feel so desired), strapping your harness on tight. 

In your bra with a dildo strapped to yourself, you sit between Spencer’s legs, spreading for you as he lays back on the bed you share. Lube is squeezed into your fingers, you warm it up between your thumb and index. You notice the way Spencer isn’t fully out of it yet, not in the way you want him to be.

So, leaning forward, you take Spencer’s cock between your lips, enveloping him in wet heat inch by inch. You watch his face morph with pleasure, perfectly ruined by your mouth. He always gets like this when your mouth is on him, loses his mind a little, loses the words to verbalise his pleasure. (And he always has the words.)

Spencer lets out an open-mouthed gasp, delicate and needy. His large hand comes up to his face, pushing his glasses up like he needs to get a better look at you. Spencer is desperate, eager, hips stuttering up into your mouth. You push his hips down with a firm hand. He moans.

You take the lead as you suck him off, acting more of a distraction as you rub your fingers over his hole, slick with lube as you get him to ease up. Spencer’s always been stubborn, but when you have him like this, he gives in rather easily. 

“Fuck, please, please,” Spencer’s begging now, and you’re so turned on you feel your head spin, your heart pounding in your chest. You slip a finger in, giving Spencer the pleasure he needs, and he moans so sweetly you feel like you need to fuck him right now. 

Now that he’s a little less on edge, you pull off of him, focusing on fingering Spencer. You work him open rather meticulously, coaxing him open slowly. When Spencer’s in a headspace like this he gets needy and a little helpless, letting you take the lead (and not helping much). He whimpers and gasps as you fuck one finger into him, then two, hitting that sweet spot inside of him as you get him to relax. His cock twitches with every stroke of your fingers, leaking pathetically all over his soft stomach.

“Feels good, darling?” you hum.

Spencer moans. “Yes, so good. I– So good.”

“So pretty for me, Spence,” you sigh, smiling up at him. You slip a third finger into him and he cries out so pathetically you feel like you’re losing your mind. “You sound so pretty too.”

“Fuck,” Spencer gasps, as your fingers work inside of him. His face is pushed into the pillow underneath him, his glasses sitting awkwardly from the angle. He’s wiggling his toes, writhing, and you can tell that he wants more. He tries to say something else, but it comes out garbled. 

You pull your fingers out, and when Spencer whines from the loss, you coo, “Okay– Okay, darling. I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

You press a kiss to the soft skin of his inner thigh, and when you look up at Spencer, he smiles so wide. You want to kiss him. You pucker your lips at him obnoxiously, and he giggles. 

Getting on your knees between his legs, you slick up your strap with more lube. Spencer is sickeningly adorable as he watches you stroke the dildo, a perversion of the way it usually goes. Spencer looks enthralled, as if you stroking yourself is doing something for him, even if it doesn’t do anything for you. You smirk at him, and his cheeks flush.

You wrap your hand around Spencer’s cock and stroke his cock with whatever’s left on your hand. The extra slick slide aided by the lube makes Spencer jolt and buck his hips, your hand feeling particularly amazing on him. 

“Come on, baby,” you coo, as you press the blunt head of your strap to Spencer’s hole. “You’re gonna take me in so well, aren’t you, Spence?”

Spencer is all gangly limbs, but he’s so desperate that he feels so small underneath you. His cock is leaking, and his flush has moved from his face all the way down to his chest, which rises and falls as he breathes hard. His gorgeous, lovely eyes don’t leave your frame. No matter what, he looks at you like you hung the stars.

“I will,” Spencer says softly, adoration in his tone. He’s holding his breath, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he looks up at you. You smile at him, before you press your strap into him. His mouth falls open and his eyes flutter shut, gasping as he feels you inside of him.

You press into him so slow, taking your time, your head spinning with how pretty Spencer looks under you. While you always enjoy the sight of Spencer on top of you, he’s gorgeous like this too. Spencer’s always a little timid, submissive for sure. You find it cute. Sometimes, taking care of him like this just makes sense.

You watch as Spencer swallows you up greedily, the length of your strap disappearing inside of him. He shudders as you press your hand down on his lower abdomen, the softness of his stomach grounding you as you start to piston your hips. “Is that good, darling? Feels good?”

He nods hastily with a whimper. The bottoms of his glasses have fogged up, with the gentle sheen of sweat on Spencer’s skin and how warm his face must be by now. He’s sinfully innocent, and you resist the urge to bite him. 

Instead, you wrap your hand around his cock. He moans loudly, eagerly. You curse, your own arousal heightening even with the lack of physical touch. You keep thrusting into him, getting off on the way Spencer squirms and whines. “You sound so pretty like this, Spence.”

“Please,” Spencer groans, his voice coming out whiny and broken. “I’m so close, I wanna–”

“Already?” You feign your disappointment, even though you can’t blame Spencer for being needy in the slightest, especially since you’ve made it so easy for him to let himself go tonight. “I’ve barely had my fun with you, baby.”

He gasps, hurried and desperate: “I– I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

To be fair, you weren’t planning on denying Spencer of an orgasm, but you’re more than happy to take Spencer up on that offer.

You grin. “Cum for me then, Spence.”

You watch his features scrunch up with pleasure as his orgasm hits him, his load splattering all over his stomach, dribbling down your knuckles as you stroke him through it. It’s adorable, the way his hips stutter, the way his mouth falls open in little, incoherent gasps as he orgasms.

You feel like you could admire him like this forever, the softness of his frame and features, the gentleness as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. Spencer smiles once he catches your eye, sheepish at your intense gaze and the attention you’ve given him. 

Sitting up, Spencer’s hands reach for your waist, fumbling to undo your harness. It’s adorable, and you rest your hand on his to get his attention. He looks up at you, hair messy, eyes wide. You kiss him softly, slowly, Spencer reaching up to cup your cheek as he kisses you back sweetly. 

You feel the harness loosening around your hips on the left side of your body, and it makes you pull away with a grin. “Multitasking, I see.”

“I want to make it up to you, my love,” Spencer says quietly, earnest. “I’m just in a hurry to get to it.”

You laugh, kissing the corner of his grin once more before you let him get back to undoing your harness. You take your panties off, tossed aside to be dealt with later, and Spencer dips his fingers between your legs. You feel his long digits swipe at the wetness that’s gathered there already. “You’re so perfect.”

“How do you want me, darling?” you hum, moaning softly as his fingers start to rub at your clit. 

“Like this.” Spencer lays back, pulling you forward by your thighs, until your body is hovering over his neck, just enough where you can meet Spencer’s eyes. 

“Oh,” you say. “You- You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. I want you to sit on my face,” Spencer says simply, and you feel like melting. Sure, you’ve been together a long time, but you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious, being close to Spencer like this. Will you be too heavy? What if you suffocate him, or worse, crush his neck? He can clearly tell you’re overthinking it, because he adds, “Come on. Please?”

“This is one hell of a way of making it up to me,” you laugh. 

Spencer’s completely serious about it, though, as he furrows his brows. “I mean it. You’re not going to hurt me. It’s statistically improbable that you’d break my neck or something. You’ll feel good, and I will too. I’ll be careful if you’re worried.”

“Okay,” you say softly, feeling slightly more comforted by Spencer’s words. He presses a kiss to your thigh, smiling up at you.

Spencer pulls you closer, urging you to sit down. You don’t put your full weight down on him at first, but the way he pulls you down onto him startles you, so you can’t even attempt to control how hard you sit on his face. He moans when you’re seated, as you feel his lips between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit. His glasses are askew on his face but it’s too late for Spencer to take them off, and it doesn’t look like he cares to, either.

Spencer’s a god at giving head – Lord knows where he learned that from – but it’s even better when he’s needy. The best orgasms you’ve had were after Spencer was particularly worked up, extra needy over you, and dove between your legs like his life depended on it.

Today is somehow even better.

Maybe he’s made pliant by the way you fucked him earlier, but it feels so right, the way Spencer coaxes your hips forward. With his glasses digging into your thighs and his arms hooked around your legs, Spencer pulls you towards him, letting you ride his face to get you off. It’s like he needs to make you cum, like he can’t carry on if he didn’t.

There’s an added desperation you feel, deep-seated in your bones, wanting Spencer to pleasure you like you did with him. It’s never been transactional with Spencer, both of you naturally wanting to please – but Spencer is so sweet and kind with you, and you’re turned on to no end because of him. 

You feel his tongue lap at you, over your leaking hole, over your swollen clit. You feel so loved, so taken care of, just like you took care of Spencer. You only see the rims of his glasses, his brows furrowed and his eyes presumably squeezed shut as he eats you out, but God, you adore him. 

“Please, Spence,” you moan. You feel like you can’t explain it, but you ramble, “Feels so good, you’re– You’re so good for me, baby.”

He moans, pulling you closer to him like he can’t get enough of you. You’re afraid he won’t be able to breathe, but he’s doing just fine burying his head between your legs, giving you everything you need. He pleasures you like he needs it too. 

Everything is just right, his eagerness to make you orgasm, coupled with the way your head is spinning from his lovely submissiveness from earlier. Spencer is perfect, and you think you should do this more often.

You rock your hips forward, letting his hands guide you through the motions. He’s got a one-track mind, only focused on your pleasure, and you’re shaking with your orgasm before you even know it. You cry out as your orgasm wracks through your whole body, your thighs clamping down on Spencer’s face. His own moans are muffled between your legs, which push you further over the edge. You ride out your orgasm just like that, with Spencer whimpering as you use him. 

You put Spencer out of his misery when your hips slow to a stop, pulling back as you roll onto the mattress next to him. He looks like he’s in bliss, like he could’ve died happy between your legs. He turns to look at you, the lower half of his face wet with slick, his glasses sitting skewed on his nose. He swoons, “You’re the love of my life.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “I know, darling.”

You lean over to rest your head on him contentedly. Unfortunately, despite how satisfied (and admittedly tired) you are from tonight, Spencer seems to have other ideas.

“You’re hard again,” you note, eyebrow raised curiously.

Spencer smiles sheepishly. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Let me take care of you, then.” With your hand skirting down his stomach, you press your lips to his, with his sticky chin and all.

“Happily,” Spencer grins.

[trulyumai]

Looking Past the Fire

Paring: Messmer x Reader

Synopsis: Between the shadow lands, laid Messmer. And between that? His darling wife.

Warnings: Talk of Death

A/N: Ive officially began the DLC and I am WASHED. Also this big nosed fella has been taking over my mind please send help. (I love it)

Enjoy!

For whom could ever love him as much as his wife once did? 

She would be there, to carry his heavy soul, kiss the bruised skin and wipe away the rotting blood. 

His wife was ever so patient; wiping at his dirtied frame carefully, cautiously. Like he was someone who deserved it, needed it. He got used to such loving touches, it was dangerous. His family scoffed behind his back- mumbled about his newfound weakness. But between his own blood was a wall of fire, and between that was her. 

In truth, he craved coming back home, to her, and her adoring frame and sappy expressions. 

He would always call out to her. 

“My love?” His voice was so soft, much more than one would ever guess a man like him would- could carry. 

A man of death and flame. 

“Over here, darling!” And he would see the back of her head, peeking up from the windowsill that laid just in front of their kitchen. 

She would always be in the flower filled garden, tending to each plant with care until her fingers were overtaken with blackened dirt.

She’d lift herself high then, peek over at him with blinking lashes. A serene expression always to be seen when gazing upon the red haired man. 

Messmer without thought would walk forth, to her, and her sun kissed cheeks. 

As if in a daze the man wouldn’t dare avert his eyes; for the goddess in front of him was enough to hold the attention of such a man of power. 

His head ducked under the wooden back door. His back would crack loudly almost every time, and sometimes a groan of protest would leave the pale man’s lips. 

And he would reachout, gently coaxing the woman to him once more, he wanted- needed to feel her soft skin against his rough and war torn body. 

She’d listen of course, and would press her frame to his without further delay. 

Messmer would allow his arms to wrap around her, with his nose digging into her neck to smell the sweet scent of sweat sticking to her damp skin. 

“Husband,” she giggled, hearing his sighs of contentment. 

“I’ve missed you, has the trip fared well?” 

The wind picked up, the giant yellowing trees swayed with the breeze and Messmer could no longer subdue his mind to the stress it was in mere moments ago. 

Right before he placed himself in his wife’s presence, the worries of the palace laid upon his shoulders. 

His command, his power, his reign- 

“Husband?” 

How would she react to the bodies littering the field, the broken families, the hierarchy?

Her fingertips grazed his cheek.

“Hm? Oh, yes, the trip was easy, my wife,” 

The knight picked a fallen leaf that had laid upon her hair carelessly. 

“I’ve established safe perimeters. None shall lay harm to the south for quite some time.” 

She smiled. 

“Of course you did, my strong Knight. For who could be more of a protector than you?”

Bile reached up to the man's throat, it burned his insides with spite and regret. 

His wife was ill informed, she hadn't heard of the burning castle walls- with its soldiers laying crumpled and burnt in his wake. 

In fact, he hadn’t been a knight for the order in many moons, his siege had taken over much of the shadowlands, in which he was close to winning.

For none could stand the fiery ambition held between his sword and gaze 

He was a protector yes, but only for her. 

Messmer let out a deep laugh, it was short and muffled by his lips. 

The knight leaned down and began to trail kisses down his wifes temple, to her jaw, then finally, her lips. 

With a tilt to the head their mouths met, he placed a pale hand on the back of her head, pushing her to meet his lips with more strength. 

Nipping lightly the girl's hands fisted upon his armor, lightly trying to push herself away from the man- most likely for air. 

He complied, and smiled as she let out a gasp for air with pink cheeks and lidded eyes. 

Taking his thumb he brushed it upon her chin, clearing up the saliva that had dribbled down. 

She leaned into his palm, and Messmer once more felt the bite of regret nip at the edges of his mind. 

“Are you staying the night?” Her voice, barely above the howling wind, brought him back. 

Messmer hummed, his hand found the back of her waist. 

“I have dinner going, i'll make your place at the table.”

He only nodded his head as she padded off, not taking his eyes off the darkened clouds approaching their vicinity. 

From the corner of his eye, Messmer eyed the rising smoke. 

The south let out a plethora of darkened fumes, the village there laid in smoldering, blackened ash. 

Of course the south laid safe and ill of enemies; for he had cleared its population down to nothing. 

The land may never return to its original state with its burnt hills and mountains.

“It's ready, my love!” 

Messmer turned back, meeting the gaze of his lover by the doorframe. 

Little drops of rain plopped onto his loosened hair, no longer did light shine through the gray skies, but muffled streams of sun. 

He turned his back to the village, the smoke and bodies. 

For a more important matter was at hand now; the happiness of his wife.

[illyrian-lady-of-the-night]

Monster Trio Preferences- Where they like to kiss you

I got carried away with Zoro's sorry i'm not sorry. Not edited

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Luffy loves to kiss your nose. His favorite thing to do is catch you by suprise because it makes you laugh everytime.

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

You sit at the table waiting for lunch talking to Sanji. The door slams open hitting the wall and your captain walks in.

"God dammit Luffy your going to put a hole in my wall," Sanji said clearly irritated. "And I told you I'd come get you when lunch was ready," Luffy ignored him and kept his eyes on you. Before you could ask him what he wanted Luffy sprints full speed up to you, grabbing your face he turns your head and places a gental kiss on your nose. You giggle giving him a playful shove, "Geez Cap I thought something was wrong,"

Luffy wraps his arms around your shoulders and looks at Sanji. "I'm not here for food i'm here for (Y/N)"

He picks you up and brings you to the figure head where you both sit and Luffy talks about his day. You chime in now and then but when Luffy is on a roll, to catch him off guard you kiss him on the nose. He stops mid sentence surprised at your action.

“Hey that’s my job he says’” kissing you back. This goes on for a while you two going back and forth kissing each others noses.

———————————————————————

“How long do you think they will do that for” Nami asks Usopp who is standing next her.

“Probably until one headbutts the other on accident,”

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

RORONOA ZORO

Zoro's favorite place to kiss you is the top of your head. He loves how small you are compared to him and he likes to smell your hair, but he'd rather land on his own sword then tell you that.

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

Living on the 1000 Sunny was always fun, the boys were loud and something was always happening. Today however your anxiety was through the roof and you just wanted piece and quiet and to be alone. You tried to hide in the girls dorm but Nami was practicing with her Clima-tact. You went to the baths to try and relax, but Brooke was in there practicing his singing because 'it has the best accoustics on board.' All you wanted was Zoro but he was training in the crows nest and just looking up at made your stomach turn with anxiety.

Sighing you go to Chopper, knocking before you enter his office. "Come in," Opening the door you feel your shoulders relax seeing that he was the only one there. Chopper smile fell as he saw you, knowing something was wrong as you didn't great him as your normal cheery self.

"Hey Chopper," you say laying down on the bed "Do you have anything for anxiety?"

Chopper's face lightens when he understands what going on. He smiles softly going over to his cabniet. He pulls out different herbs and starts to use his mortar and pestle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly making sure not to be too loud. You look at your hands in your lap holding them together so they don't shake. There's nothing to talk about, you've been anxious all your life living fine with it. However today was the worst you've felt in months.

"I just woke up with this weight on my chest and a pit in my stomach and nothing has help," you say tearing up. "And all I want is my Roro but I look at the crows nest and want to throw up,"

You let the tears fall not worrying about Chopper seeing you he's seen you worse. He walks over to you handing a steaming cup of tea.

"Lavender, Chamomile, and Valerian for your anxiety it also might make you sleepy, do you want me to go get Zoro for you?" Chopper asked, there was a reason why everyone loved the doctor he would do anything to make you feel better physically and mentally.

You nod staring into your tea. "Thank you Chopper,"

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

Zoro walked into the office his presence taking up room. When you see him you immediatly bawl from all of the emotions in your system. He rushes over to you not noticing Chopper shut the door to give you guys privacy.

"Hey, hey doll what's going on," Zoro says softly wrapping his sweaty body around you kissing the crown of your head. You tell him about how you felt waking up and your search for your own space all day. How when ever you looked at the crows nest you were nauseas.

"And all I wanted was you, but it's ok I have you now," you say sniffly. Zoro kisses your head agin resting his lips there for a moment. He stands up taking you with him.

"What are you doing?" you ask him as you plant your feet on the floor your face in his chest.

"Chopper said that you need deep presure for anxiety," Zoro said in a matter of fact tone wrapping his arms around you holding you tight. "And I can kiss the top of your head this way," he says breathing in your shampoo.

VINSMOKE SANJI

Sanji's favorite place to kiss you is your pussy neck. He loves when you try and squirm saying his name in a giggle.

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

Sanji had been making dinner for hours and for a good reason it was your birthday and you only deserved the best. When he asked you what you wanted to eat for dinner your request was anything but simple sea king sushi.

Luffy and Usopp have been fishing all day waiting for one that was Sanji aprove. Once they had caught one that had a good meat to fat ratio Zoro cut it into managable pieces. Now Sanji was locked by himself in the kitchen with a 'Screw Off' sign on the door.

———————————————————————

You were anything but lonely partying with the crew but you still missed Sanji, maybe you should have chosen something diffent. You should've known Sanji would put 110% into anything he does for you.

You lean back in your chair by the fire Usopp had started, the sun was setting on the horizon it was beautiful. Letting out a content sigh you take a drink your sake.

Suddenly you feel the tickle of Sanji's stubble on your neck before he kisses you. Scrunching up your shoulder you let out a giggle.

"Sanji your back," A smile spreads across your face.

“(Y/N)-swan I will always come back you don’t have to worry,” he said kissed you ok the other side of your neck.

Sanji stood up clearing his throat. “Now who’s hungry,”

Before he could finish what he was saying Luffy’s arms were on the inside of the door frame ready to launch himself into the kitchen, Zoro, Sanji, and Frankie had to hold him back so you could sit down first.

[milliesfishes]

Re:writers block- Um either one of the with their like 2 year old daughter😭

OHHHHH MY GOODNESS I LOVE

Billy:

Billy was born to be a girl dad- he’d be so, so doting on her. like you knew when she was born she’d be a daddy’s girl and you were just fine with that because you wanted her to adore him. he’d take her on his horse and she loves it, always asking when daddy’s gonna take her again. he’d come home from work and pick her up and spin her around- you always knew when he was home because you’d hear your daughter’s giggling from the kitchen. he’d come in with your baby on his hip all smiley. “hi mama.”

you’d smile as he gave you a kiss, telling your daughter to give mommy a kiss too. and your sweet little daughter always did, much to your delight.

“Look so pretty,” he’d tell you, bouncing your baby on his hip and looking at her. “Ain’t mama pretty?”

“Pretty!” your daughter would exclaim, waving her little hand at you. she'd been named Charlotte when she was born, but he took one look at her rosy cheeks and said they looked like cherries. and that was what he called her. you loved watching them together, leaning on the porch railing after you were done cleaning up. they’d be in the garden, and she’d show him the flowers she picked and grasped in her chubby fists. it was adorable: Billy and his Cherry.

he'd see you on the porch and wave you over, tugging you down to sit with him, with your knees resting on his thigh, your feet between his legs. Cherry would come over and sit on his leg, showing you the few more flowers she had aquired and pushing them into your hand.

"for me?" you'd smile. "how lovely."

billy'd watch the whole scene with a soft smile on his face, then put his arms around the both of you, his cheek resting on your head, his other hand holding Cherry to his chest. "lookit m' girls," he'd say, kissing your cheek and then the top of Cherry's head. "lucky man, I am."

(President) Coryo:

I think of Coryo as the type of dad who'd absolutely spoil his child, but especially if it was a daughter. you'd worried Coryo would be more absent since the baby wasn't a boy, but you didn't think he could have loved her more than he did. he'd hold her on his lap while he was doing paperwork, bouncing her on his knee and letting her draw little hearts on his proposals.

he'd dress her in pretty things just as he did you, and spoil her with little presents. you always said you were lucky your daughter was so sweet or else she'd be a monster with how he let her get her way.

if you had a difficult birth, Coryo would have been slower to warm up to the baby than you were, at first looking at her as something that nearly killed you. but the minute he held her he was smitten, rocking her back and forth, a smile melting his usual stoic expression. it warmed your heart to see them together. he'd make sure his daughter had every advantage in the world, everything she wanted was at her fingertips.

he always said she looked like you but you thought she was all Coryo, with his pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. seeing the face of someone you loved in your little daughter only endeared her to you more.

after a long day of work, he'd stand up and stretch, heading into the nursery to see her, the bright spot in his day. sometimes you'd already be in there, standing beside her bed and watching her sleep.

he'd wrap his arms around you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder, watching her too.

"has she been asleep long?" he'd ask, kissing the side of your head, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of your sleeping baby.

"just a few minutes," you'd say, and he'd bury his nose in your hair, smiling softly.

"she's beautiful, isn't she?" he'd murmur into your hair.

"yes," you'd lean back into him. he said the same thing every time and you loved it. "she is."

[little-star-library]

Okay, but hear me out.

Imagine Astarion has you at the mercy of his devotion, whispering to you in a seductive tone in his native Elven tongue while he takes his time teasing and caressing you with no hesitation to keep you on the edge for as long as you can bear. He would only smile with a mischievous glint in his eyes, knowing that you have no idea what he’s saying. Could he be degrading you as he slowly torments you into a blubbering mess? Is he whispering you sweet praises as he kisses a trail down your body, nipping and licking at your skin until you can’t stand it anymore? It doesn’t matter because you can’t help but whimper and submit to him, letting him ravish you over and over again up to the point where all you can think of is how badly you need to come undone by his touch, those honeyed words turning into a cacophony of guttural moans as he loses himself in your pleasure.

“Oh, meleth nin, you sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

And when the two of you are in the throes of passion, all but inconsolable to each other when he worships you with his cock buried deep within you, Astarion has no filter whatsoever as he loses control over how good it feels to be wrapped around you with complete love and trust in the heat of the moment.

“Fuck—damia, sweetheart, you feel so good, so warm and beautiful like this. Mmph—so fucking good. Melin tye, ohh melin tye, I love you so very, very much. Ah, I-I’m so close…”

It’s overwhelming to comprehend how much he actually cares for you, but in the best way imaginable. Even when you would disregard the sex, you made him feel whole again, that he was a person who was worthy of love and respect. But that didn’t stop him from cherishing you in all the most wonderful ways and there was no doubt in your heart that you would do the same for him.

“That’s it, darling, let go for me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock. I’ve got you, my solicallor, light of my life. Come for me.”

His words are your undoing with a cry of his name on your lips and an explosion of stars take over your vision and your clutching onto him as tight as you can as he continues to rut his hips deeper within you to prolong your orgasm before he falls apart right alongside you, softly groaning into the crook of your neck as he fills you with his seed. You can hear his voice muffled against your skin, but can’t quite make out what he said in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy. As you try to catch your breath, you rake your fingers through his disheveled curls and kiss at the crown of his head and he hums in delight, curling his arms around your torso to get almost impossibly closer to you in the comfortable silence.

“What was that you just said, Star?” You whisper gently and that coaxes him to look up at you with a small smile adorning his face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my love.” He smirks knowingly while he peppers a few kisses across your chest, almost as if he was keeping a secret.

“Oh come on, don’t gimme that.” You pout and give him your best doe eyed look to further persuade him. “Please tell me?”

Astarion huffs at your persistence, but chuckles lightly when you boop him on the nose and ultimately relents at the smile you give him that he adores so much.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” he purrs, interlacing his fingers with your own to bring your hand up to his lips and gingerly kiss your knuckles.

Your heart flutters at the unknown phrase and hearing him speak those Elven words in such a sweet and dulcet tone has you mesmerized while he captivates you with his amorous gaze.

“And what does that mean?”

“…You hold my heart forever.” He whispers in a hushed voice. “Well, that’s the simplest translation, anyway.”

You don’t think that you could ever fall even more in love with this man than you already were, but here you are, with your breath caught in your throat and tears beginning to well up in your eyes. And without any hesitation, you pull him forward to meet you halfway to kiss him in an overflowing amount of passion and tenderness.

“You hold mine forever too,” you mutter into his lips. “You always have and always will. I love you with all of my heart, Astarion.”

You can feel him smile as he continues to kiss you, his fangs faintly pricking at your bottom lip in a teasing manner.

“And I love you, my dear. With everything I have.”

~~~

(I’m not sure if these phrases are 100% accurate since I had to do a little research, but here are the translated Elven phrases I used.)

- meleth nin: my love

- damia: a term of endearment for sweethearts/lovers

- melin tye: I love you

- solicallor: warm light of the sun

- ai armiel telere maenen hir: you hold my heart forever

[dark-frosted-heart]

True Vows to the Pitch Black Bride - Roger Barel

The 2024 wedding event

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

(W-what do I do…)

Amidst the solemn atmosphere, I stood anxiously before the altar.

(I feel like I’m about to pass out…!)

Filled with both anticipation and anxiety, I couldn’t get any sleep last night.

(Not only that, the tightness of the corset was making me dizzy…)

We’ve yet to say our vows or exchange rings, but I started feeling faint.

It doesn’t look like Roger’s noticed.

(He’s unaware…)

Old pastor: Let’s now exchange the rings.

He took the proof of our vows and lifted my left hand.

(I looked down to hide the fact that I didn’t get enough sleep)

Looking at my ring finger, I saw it wrapped in silver.

(Pretty…I’m really Roger’s wife now)

I felt a sting in my nose as I remembered how I got here.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think a day would come where I’d be able to marry a man who wasn’t even interested in marriage.

(In fact, when I decided to hold a ceremony, he didn’t reject it, but he didn’t look too enthused either…)

As a rationalist and an egoist, he didn’t see the need to hold a ceremony—

(I told him I wanted one so it happened)

—but he never rejects anything I want and makes it happen.

It’s what I love about him.

I slid the ring on his finger with trembling hands and saw his smile through my veil.

Old pastor: Now let’s seal your vows with a kiss…

I straightened up and faced him, but for some reason, he didn’t lift my veil…

Kate: Roger?

The moment I said his name—

Kate: Huh?!

—He easily threw me over his shoulder.

Kate: W-what are you doing?!

I flailed in protest, but he was completely unfazed and walked away from the altar.

Roger: Sorry, but I got no interest in showing others the best kinds of faces the woman I love makes when kissed. Thanks for coming. We’re gonna enjoy ourselves now.

With a smile as bright as the sun—

Kate: Please wait! Wha…

Roger: Stop moving, it’s dangerous.

—We ran off into a London after the rain.

--

(I didn’t expect him to run all the way back to Crown Castle with me over his shoulder…)

I was hiding my face in embarrassment as he set me down on my bed.

Roger: Go to sleep.

Kate: Huh?

A hand slid through the gap in my dress to loosen my corset and he sighed when he saw how relieved I looked to be free from it.

Roger: You haven’t been getting enough sleep.

Kate: H-How…

Roger: Usually your heart beats pretty fast when you’re nervous, but it’s been pretty slow since the ceremony started. You can’t hide it from me. Sleep deprivation’s bad for your health.

When he tried to pull the sheets over me, I grabbed his arm to stop him.

Kate: The ceremony’s still not over yet!

Roger: It’s over. To be honest, I noticed this morning but didn’t say anything because you were looking forward to the ceremony.

Kate: That…

(I’m the one that wanted the ceremony, so it’s frustrating to leave it unfinished)

My frustration must have shown on my face because he patted my head.

Roger: It worked out. You did good. 

His kindness warmed my heart, but then I remembered that there was one thing we haven’t done yet.

Kate: Kiss! We haven’t kissed to seal our vows!

Roger laughed at my words.

Kate: What are you laughing at? It’s important.

We haven’t kissed to seal our vows yet.

Roger: You’re right, we only said our vows earlier.

He sat on the bed and planted his hands beside my head.

Roger: But before that, I already made my vow to you.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: I stole everything from the woman who loves me, and I gave everything. At this point, it’s too late for “in sickness and in health”. I’ve already kissed those lips and sealed our vows dozens of times now.

I felt my body heat up at the realization that every kiss was a vow.

(This whole time, Roger’s been making vows)

Roger: But if you want it, then I’ll lock it in.

He leaned over to straddle me with his usual smile and cupped my cheek with a large hand.

Roger: I’ll be yours for as long as I live. Do you swear to be only mine?

I placed my hand on his cheek and replied.

Kate: I swear. I’m all yours.

The smile on his face as he got closer shot through my heart and I locked in my love with the hunter who stole everything from me, vowing ourselves to eternity. 

[pigjournal]

He'd love me if I was a girl

[popquizhot-shot]

Ume comfort because my vice principal made me cry onstage while i was anchoring an event💀

If there’s ever one thing that Umemiya hates, it’s seeing you upset.

Whatever you maybe be upset about, when he sees you sad, he makes it his personal mission to get you to feel better. He hugs you and kisses your forehead and cracks stupid jokes to coax even a huff of a laugh out of you.

So imagine the absolute heartbreak he’d have when he saw you sobbing your heart out when he came to surprise you.

He freezes first, face falling dramatically as he takes in the sight before him, your face peeking out and eyes staring at him like a kicked puppy.

A small broken, “Ume.” is what gets him to move and cup your face in his hands, trying his best to wipe his tears away to no avail, since more just keep dripping.

“Oh baby,” he coos when you let out a small sob and bury your face in his chest, “Let it all out, my love.” his hand strokes your back comfortingly.

Each little whimper only shatters his heart even more, he feels such pain to see you so sad. And a festering anger grows in his mind towards whoever made you feel this way.

“Tell me what happened, angel.” he says softly but assertively, pulling back to look you in the eyes, his hands still holding your face.

You hiccup and give in, trying not to break down again when you recall what made you feel so shitty.

Umemiya is pissed at the asshole who made you cry, and as much as he wants to go give them a piece of his mind, and maybe his fist, he needs to be with his baby now.

“Shhh, you’re alright now, i’m so sorry that happened. You didn’t do anything to warrant such a stupid reaction from them. What a dick.” he rolls his eyes dramatically before holding your hand in his and kissing each knuckle, as well as the tips of your fingers, some of which are torn up due to your stupid habit of biting the cuticles off of your nails when you’re anxious.

He looks closer at the skin, raw and red with some light bleeding, and frowns again. Taking your hands in his and squeezing them, he kisses the back of your fingers, “I’m always here for you, okay?” he all but whispers, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Ume hates seeing you cry. There’s nothing worth more in the world than seeing you cry, but a small selfish part in him will always relish that fact that you will always look to him for comfort. Even if you might be normally closed off, the fact that you trust him enough means the world to him.

He hugs you tight, nose buried in your hair. He rocks you a little as your arms tighten around his neck and he hums softly, smiling a little as you chuckle into his neck.

“Thank you, baby.” you whisper.

“Never thank me for things like this.” he answers, kissing the top of your head, “I love you, okay?”

“I love you too.” you smile and he can feel your lips quirk up against his neck.

“Now, should I send Sakura or Hiragi to deal with the ass who made you cry?” he raises and eyebrow and you laugh.

“Ume!

“What?”

[angronsjewelbeetle]

Two drabbles?? In one night?? Damn I'm on a bit of a roll here lmao.

Tagging @whorety-k <3

Rest.

The room is cool, almost cold, as Corvus's quarters often are, but the bed is warm and cosy as you slip under the soft covers. Your usual spot is toasty, as if someone has been lying in it just minutes before. You smile a little as you settle yourself, your head resting on a downy pillow. Mere moments later, the covers shift, tucking themselves up under your chin and snugly around you, the touch of a cool hand brushes your face ever so gently. "Evening, Corvus," you mumble sleepily, not even having to open your eyes to check who it is as the other side of the bed dips, the sheets lifting as he too settles in. "Good evening, Moonbeam," he murmurs, a smile in his voice as he reaches over to brush a hand through your hair and to softly caress your face. Your eyes crack open to catch a glimpse of it, he smiles fondly at you, chuckling as he touches a featherlight tap to your nose. You giggle and snuggle more into the blankets, he sighs and you can feel the way the air seems to un-tense around him as he relaxes, hair spilling over his pillow like a pool of ink, darker than the night's shadows.

He looks contented, one hand sliding over to stroke your arm as you face him. His eyes hold nothing but affection, and his slow blinking and steady breathing lulls you to relax as well. "Cosy?" He asks, voice rolling like lush black velvet; you grunt sleepily in response. He chuckles again, "good," he says, "rest, my darling. You deserve it," he strokes your hair again, brushing it from your face. "I wish you the sweetest of dreams, my precious Moonbeam," he inhales deeply, "I love you," he whispers to your sleeping face, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your hand before tucking it back under the covers so it doesn't get cold.