#his cheekbones are perfect and his eyes are pretty and i love his nose and his hair is so pretty and i love his clothes and he has a nice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avatar-anna · 8 months

Text

Picnic

Part of the florist!reader universe: part one, part two, bonus

You looked down at the sleeping form in your lap, fingers tracing delicately over sun-warmed skin. Harry’s eyes were closed, his long hair curling around his cheeks and temples. This close to him, you could see the eyeliner from last night he still hadn’t managed to wipe off smudged around his eyes. He looked calm, peaceful. So unlike the broody rock singer you’d come to know.

It came as a surprise to you when Harry fell asleep on your lap. Today was the first time in a while where you and Harry were able to spend some time alone together. Between your busy schedules and him having to care for his goddaughter often, there wasn’t much time left for just the two of you. You didn’t mind, of course, you loved spending time with Lucy and seeing Harry perform at his gigs, but you liked these stolen moments too.

And Harry could be so private sometimes, so quiet about his feelings. You knew he never meant anything by it, but he definitely held back when it came to physical affection. You respected his boundaries when it came to affection, but it was nice to see him take initiative, to know he felt comfortable enough to rest his head in your lap and sleep for a while.

You invited Harry to your little cottage for a midday picnic. He’d been busier lately, writing new music and taking care of Lucy, so you thought it would be a good idea to do something stress-free and simple—a small picnic in the field behind your house. You set up your soft blanket—the one you crocheted a couple years ago—under a tree, not wanting to completely bake under the sun. There was fresh bread, cheese, juice, and chocolates packed up in your basket to snack on; you used to picnic by yourself often, but you could get used to having company under the tree behind your house.

Ever so delicately, the pads of your fingers traced the angular planes of your boyfriend’s face—the bridge of his nose, his sharp cheekbones, all the way up to his hair so you could run your fingers through it. It was soft and silky, a sign that he took good care of it. Harry’s music and stage presence was on the grungier side with his chipped nails, ripped jeans and smudgy eyeliner, but he had very good hygiene. He even had his own detailed skincare routine (though you were pretty sure that his goddaughter was behind that).

Harry’s chest rose and fell heavily as he continued dozing, his nose slightly pinched with red from being in the sun for a couple hours. He looked so serene. Like an angel, you thought. Sun-dappled skin, a smattering of freckles, and eyelashes that curled perfectly and graced the tops of his cheekbones. Leaning down, you pecked Harry’s forehead, his skin warm. Your thumb brushed over the spot you kissed affectionately.

You left Harry alone for a while, reaching for the book you brought and read it as your hand continued to card through his hair. It was the perfect moment, and you weren’t sure it couldn’t get any better.

As you read, however, you spotted the small bouquet of wildflowers you picked as you and Harry walked out to this spot. Unable to help yourself, you set your book down and nabbed a couple flowers. You pulled off the stems one by one, nestling them into Harry’s hair as he continued to sleep, completely unaware.

By the time Harry blinked his eyes open, little wild daisies covered his hair. He squinted up at you, eyes still bleary with sleep.

“Morning, sunshine,” you said.

Harry’s nose scrunched up. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Maybe an hour?”

“Oh. Sorry. Was supposed to spend the afternoon with you,” he said. He began to sit up, but before he could, you put a gentle hand on his chest.

“Wait! You look so cute, let me take a picture,” you said, quickly looking around for your phone.

Harry grumbled, but stayed put like you asked. You were pretty sure he was saying something about not being cute, but the way he rubbed at his eyes made you want to pinch his cheek.

Not wanting to move him quite yet, but also wanting to be closer to him, you set your phone down. Harry met your gaze curiously, patiently waiting for you to speak. He did that often, letting a comfortable silence grow between you until you gathered your thoughts enough to say what was on your mind. And when you did, he mostly just listened, though you never got the feeling that he was ignoring you. “Sorry, you don’t have to listen to me ramble,” you found yourself saying once. But Harry simply shook his head, a small smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologize. I like listening to you.” And that was that.

“Can I join you?” you eventually asked him.

“Course. You don’t have to ask.”

Grinning, you shuffled until you were laying beside him on the blanket. You rested your cheek against his chest, which was warm from being in the sun for so long. You weren’t sure how he was able to stand the heat in all black, but you rarely saw Harry in anything else. It was always funny to you because he came off so cold and grumpy, but he was the biggest softie there was. He might’ve had tattoos running up and down his arms and on his neck, and his nails might have been painted black, but only because his goddaughter painted them while they played “spa.”

Your hand reached below his shirt, running the pads of your fingers along his skin gently. Harry’s stomach tensed beneath your fingers, but only a little. He hummed and settled deeper into the blanket, almost leaning into your touch. Scooting up until your face was in the crook of his neck, you began to pepper his skin with kisses. Your lips sponged against his skin gently; no nipping or pressing particularly hard, you just wanted to feel him.

“This is nice,” Harry murmured, his hand coming up to rub your back gently.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” you replied, not moving away from him.

“Try me.”

You took your time answering, preferring to just kiss his neck some more. From the curve of his jaw all the way down to the base of his throat, you kissed him, smiling when his breath hitched in certain places. Stoic as he was, you’d come to learn all of the little places that made Harry gasp and groan and arch. It was a treasure hunt you were happy to go on.

“Sometimes I just want to kiss you. Like all over. And I don’t necessarily want anything out of it, I just…want to kiss you until I can’t breathe. Is that weird?”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he said. His eyes were closed as he spoke, but he suddenly tilted his head toward you, and you found yourself staring right into his eyes. His gaze was still a little sleepy, though they squinted the tiniest bit with mischief. “There are parts of me that are feeling a little left out, though.”

Harry ran a hand through your hair, his lips curving up into a smile as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

You knew that look. It was the one that always made you feel like you and Harry were on an even playing field. You were definitely more expressive than he was, which meant you vocalized and showed how much you liked him more than he did. You knew he cared for you, he just expressed himself differently than you did, which you were fine with. Harry often cooked for you, he always held your hand if you were on a date, he texted you first thing in the morning and right before you went to sleep—even when you had just been on the phone with him for hours—because you mentioned that your last boyfriend never did, and one time you caught a glimpse of his phone and saw that there were three heart emojis next to your name, even though you knew he didn't really use or like them.

But it was this look, the one he made just before he was about to kiss you, that brought you the most peace of mind, except for the excitement at what a kiss from Harry might lead to. To you, that look said it all. You felt it right down to your toes. I’m so in love with you, he seemed to say. At least that was how you interpreted it. You hoped that was how he read the look on your face.

Harry leaned in, and you were right there to meet him. His curly hair tickled your nose and chin, but the sensation was nothing compared to how his lips felt on yours. Kissing him felt like magic, like the first day of spring. It was true that Harry didn’t always express how he felt about you verbally, but when he kissed you, there was no doubt in your mind. He kissed you like he was desperate or starving, like the rest of the world fell away and you were the only two beings to ever exist. His hand gathered the material of your dress, bunching it at your hip in a tight grip, his tongue caressing your lower lip, eager to feel yours against it. He made you arch into him, wrap your arms around his neck before dipping below his shirt in search of warm skin.

After a few minutes, Harry tried to pull away, suggesting that the two of you head back to your cottage, but you clung to him even tighter, kissing around his jaw until you found the spot that always turned him to mush and sucking on it.

“No? You want me right here?” he asked, his eyes closed as you continued to nip and suck all over his neck. Your lack of response was answer enough for him. Grinning, you pulled him back down over you, and Harry was more than happy to oblige.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

467 notes · View notes

sweetiecutie · 1 year

Text

Pairing: husband! Tom Riddle x fem! wife! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kinda public sex but there’s no one around, fluff!!, kinda domestic and soft, inaccurate bc there’s no way sexy two pieces existed back in the 1950’s💀, once again my horrible knowledge of basic grammar

A/n: really felt like writing lil something for hubby Tom🥰 Sorry for disappearing for such a long period, I have lots of cool ideas and drafts but my adhd never allows me to finish any on them;( Anyways, wish you a very pleasant reading and hope you enjoy💖

It was a sultry sunny day, the kind you experience in the middle of September, when calendar summer is already gone but the sun still gladdened people with last warm days.

It took you only a few days of bothering and fake accusation of not loving you to convince your husband Tom to finally take a day off from his job at ‘Borgin and Burkes’ and go have some fun together on a beach. He was grumpy and pouty for the first half an hour, but then seemed to accept his fate, indulging your little whims and wishes.

You didn’t manage to talk him into taking a swim together, no matter how hard you tried, but Tom did, eventually, took his shoes off and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, standing ankles-deep into warm sea water, watching you dive and dork around in salty waves.

You were currently laying on your side on a soft picknick blanket facing Tom, left arm bent in elbow, head propped up on your hand, your eyes lazily wandering all over your husband’s side profile. He was laying on his back right next to you, arms thrown behind his head, nape resting on his palms.

Tom had changed. The juvenile plushness was long gone from his cheeks, instead leaving place for his sharp jawline and protuberant cheekbones. His hair was a slightest bit longer than it used to be during your school years, framing his pale face in dark silky waves. You noticed how he was nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly - a telltale sign that Tom was thinking intensely about something faraway. You fought the urge to trace the outline of his nose with gentle fingertips, knowing perfectly well how grouchy and whiny he’ll get at this action.

Your eyes wandered lower, taking in his outfit - even despite the scorching sun and high air temperature Tom refused to ditch his usual suit trousers and, this time, baby-blue shirt - instead opting to undo quite a few buttons, allowing a generous view on his pale chest.

A sudden idea visited your mind so you sat up from your semi-lying position, throwing one leg over Tom’s hips, settling yourself atop his pelvis comfortably. Your nimble fingers ran up his chest, caressing exposed areas of his skin with tender touches, all the way to his face, cradling it softly in your hands; you leaned down to scatter small kisses all over his cheeks, nose and lips.

- Y/n, what are you doing? - Tom chided you softly, the corners of his lips tugging up in slightest of smiles, even though it was pretty obvious that he was unpleased with you interrupting his thoughts.

- Trying to seduce you, - you replied stoically, not a hint of embarrassment nor unease could be heard in your purring voice.

- Right here? - Tom asked, you could hear his voice rising just a slightest bit, giving out his astonishment.

- Yeah, why not? - you said offhandedly, your lips stretching in a cheeky smile, gazing down at your husband mischievously.

- What if someone sees us? - Tom rose yet another question, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows at you.

You made a show of looking around the deserted beach, not spotting a single soul being around; not only this place was secluded by dangerously high cliffs, making it extremely hard for reaching, but also the fact that it was Wednesday - a middle of a working week - reduced chances of anyone being around to zero.

You brought your sight back to Tom, shrugging your shoulders theatrically:

- I can’t see nor hear anyone, Tommy. - one of your hands reached behind your back, gripping on the straps of your two-piece swimming suit, tugging on it slowly, un-doing the tight knot. You didn’t bother to untie the second knot on your neck, instead deciding to pull the bra off over your head, throwing it teasingly on top of your husband’s chest. - I think you’re just being a buzzkill that you are, Riddle.

You made an accent on the last word, watching Tom’s eyes wander to your now exposed tits, noticing your hardened from still unpleasantly damp fabric of your bra nipples. You cupped your breasts, pinching your nubs with thumbs and index fingers, all while slightly rocking your hips against Tom’s clothed groin, sighing erotically at the slight friction it created against your clit.

You repeated your movements a few more times, circling and swaying your hips so sensually, putting more pressure into your thrusts, increasing a pleasant feeling against both your sexes. You peeked down at Tom through your eyelashes, noting the way his chiseled jaw clenched, his dark eyes never leaving your perfect body.

You smiled widely at his hungry stare, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his chopped from salty sea wind lips - he kissed you back almost immediately. Tom’s hands came from under his nape, picking your bra from his chest and tossing it aside before coming to rest on your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your heated skin.

His slim fingers wandered all over your body, eventually reaching your plushy thighs - rough fingertips glided up and down your skin, rising herds of goosebumps in their wake, stopping on your ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel Tom’s dick hardening at your simple manipulations, his bulge growing noticeably bigger in his pants, rubbing against your soft ass with every smallest move you made. You didn’t bother taking Tom’s trousers off, just undoing his zipper and pulling his semi-hard dick out of his underwear. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping it slowly a few times, your eyes never breaking an eye contact.

You straightened up, standing on your knees; you struggled quite a bit while taking off your bottoms, since this position wasn’t the most comfortable. You heard Tom muttering quiet ‘oh god’ under his breath in feigned annoyance, obviously teasing you, for which you lightly smacked him on the chest.

Once done and completely naked you slightly scooted forward so that your awaiting pussy was hovering right above Tom’s heavy cock. You gave him a few more jerks before leading it to your slicked folds, sliding them along his throbbing shaft, properly slicking him up with your juices. After a few more moments you aligned his swollen tip with your pulsing entrance, lowering your hips slowly, gently sinking onto his length. A satisfied sigh left both of you once Tom was fully buried inside of your quivering warmth, your ass pressed tightly against his thighs.

His broad hands came to rest on the swell of your hips, molding and playing with soft flesh in between his long fingers. You let out a small whimper as you could feel Tom’s cock stuffing you full, his tip was pressed against your cervix so deliciously, all along with a pleasant stretch on your plushy walls.

You rose your hips carefully, still adjusting to your current position, sliding off half of his length, and sank back down onto his cock, providing such desired friction. You watched his adam’s apple bob as Tom swallowed heavily, and you repeated your actions a few more times, until you found a comfortable rhythm, impaling yourself over and over again on his steady cock.

Your hands came to rest on Tom’s chest, supporting yourself against his body, back arching at the pleasant feeling of his dick grazing all the right spots inside of your throbbing pussy. Soft moans spilled out of your lips as one of Tom’s hands went down to play with your clit, skillfully circling and massaging swollen nub with the tips of his fingers. Your head lolled back, a loud cry of your husband’s name rolled off your tongue as you quickened the pace of your thrusts, rocking against him so passionately.

Tom rested one hand on your nape, putting a bit of pressure into his touch, indicating for you to lean down. You did so, lowering your torso until your chest was pressed flush against his; your lips found his in a matter of moments, connecting in a fervid kiss, his tongue slithering into your mouth, making you gasp in surprise.

Your loud moan was swallowed by Tom’s greedy mouth as he unexpectedly thrusted his hips up into your perfect squelching pussy from underneath; his free hand was gripping onto your waist tightly, fixating you into this position. You broke your kiss, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck as his hips picked up a quick pace, fucking your pussy raw with his throbbing cock.

- Yeah? You like that, you little minx? - Tom rasped into your ear, his lips brushed against your ear shell, making you tremble slightly. You nodded your head ‘yes’ fervently, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck.

- I love it so much, Tommy. Please, don’t stop, please, please, - you babbled out incoherently, your mind hazed and barely working from intense pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Tom slid his hand from your nape and along your spine, all the way down to your jiggly ass, especially relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh with his fingers. The hard, smooth strokes of his cock inside your slicked pussy caused ecstasy to well up inside you, your body prickling, almost painfully, in foretaste of a nearing orgasm.

Your hands grabbed on Tom’s biceps, you could feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. You bit down onto his shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man underneath you, knowing how much he disliked when you left hickeys in such obvious places. His hand left your waist to slide in between your pressed bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

- Tom, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, - you mumbled into his skin, hot and bothered, and you felt him nod at your words, his hips picking up faster pace, snapping loudly against your pliant body.

White stars hit your vision, as you felt your orgasm rippling through your trembling form, setting every nerve in your body on fire in intense pleasure. You didn’t register all the moans and pleadings slipping past your lips as you babbled in your euphoria, your quivering pussy along with dirty words only brought Tom closer to his own release.

Tom followed you soon enough, cumming with a groan and a low moan of your name, dumping his thick load deep inside of you. You laid rigid atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths, listening to the soft whisper of wind and sea. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who broke the comfortable silence:

- A few more moments and I’d go deaf on one ear, - Tom commented and you didn’t understand what he was talking about. It took you a few moments to realize that all this time you were moaning and screaming uncontrollably mere centimeters away from his ear, surely causing a lot of discomfort, especially knowing how sensitive man was to any sort of noises.

You chuckle airily, muttering quiet ‘sorry, darling’ under your breath, your hand going up to comb your fingers through his silky, now knotted, hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

Dragging Tom all the way here was definitely a good decision.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is basically the only thing that keeps writers creating new content

3K notes · View notes

bettysupremacy · 3 months

Note

i saw you say you’d do au’s soooooo

could I get soulmate!steve x reader where your soulmate has the same marking as you, and Steve remembers reader from their past life together but she doesn’t? Obv it’s okay if not🫶🏻🫶🏻

i luv steve harrington thank u for the request!!

Within the depths of darkness, a swirling web ensnares a clandestine crew of crooks and thieves. They slink through dimly lit corners, every move silent and calculated. With nimble feet and still hands, they lie and wait, anticipating the perfect moment to strike. They’re swift with their work, moving forward, and forward till..

It’s a stark contrast from where you lay, warm and baking on the courtyard lawn, the book of thieves blocking the glaring sun from your eyes. You’d come to people watch the frisbee players, the picnickers, and studiers. But now, you lie with a book, above a blanket that has baked under the summertime sun.

“Fuck,” you murmur, glancing around at your surrounding peers. Your book has cut you.

A drop of blood forms at the tip of your thumb, gathering into a tiny bead. Without thinking, you instinctively put it in your mouth and hastily wipe it off on your leg. The book falls into the grass, forgotten and unmarked as you close your eyes. The soft hum of your music as the wind blows over your bare arms and leg lulling you idly.

Who knows how long I've loved you; You know I love you still

You can't remember where you've heard the song before, but it continues to hum. It's a distant memory as the quiet guitar tune circles your mind.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime; If you want me to, I will

The Beatles.. yes The Beatles lull you into a halcyon state. You’re lethargic as you stretch your legs, pulling them back up to bend at the knees, feet flat on the ground to mirror your back. The Beatles are pretty vintage, you suppose, maybe it’s from a past life. Regardless, It’s a pretty song. Whoever showed it to you had taste.

The air shifts, the wind no longer hitting you cooly. It’s subtle, but you notice. The sun seems to dim, and your space now seems to be shared. Maybe someone’s lost their frisbee and it’s ended at your feet, maybe the clouds have taken the day back, or it’s someone asking about your book.

Do you look? Maybe you should look. You glance, just a peek really, and.. it’s a boy. A boy that stands in the way of the sun. A boy who seems to have a halo around his head as you lift your hand to shield your eyes. No, just the sun.

The boy is tall, nearly casting a shadow over you as he stands. His shoulders are broad, but his lean, pretty frame, catches your eye. You feel discombobulated as you stare, the heat of the day now disagreeable. You feel feverish. He’s warm and inviting, handsome in a boyish way.

“Hello?” He says again, no less kind from the first you didn’t hear, you’re sure.

You pull out an earbud, confused and curious.

“Hello,” you’re sure your voice betrays your uncertainty of this situation.

His nose scrunches at the earbud he didn’t see, embarrassed. He points to your shoulder, seemingly shy. Your mark glows blue brazenly against the warm evening sun. You poke at it, expecting the color to fade, to be a trick. A mirage your eyes, of your mind, you’re not sure.

You look around the courtyard hastily. Nobody’s mark is the same cerulean blue. There’s an athletic boy across the courtyard, mark purple and un-similarly shaped. Another sits on a blanket, mark pink, and resting on his cheekbone. Numerous students surround you; none shining as brightly blue you are.

“Have you seen-“

He drops his jacket. “We’re soulmates.”

You pause. That’s your mark for sure. It sits in the same place as yours, shifted by the muscle he’s grown in his boyhood.

“Are you sure it’s me?”

He laughs, not unkindly. “Who else would it be?”

You laugh, if only for his sake, wringing your fingers apprehensively. The cut on your thumb stings as your pointer finger brushes it. The boy notices, frowning and taking a step back as to give you air. You don’t want him to think you’re disappointed, the opposite really, but surely the universe hasn’t blessed you with someone this pretty. Pretty lips and cheeks, both tinged pink now. Strong cupids bow, and kind, kind, eyes. He looks familiar.

“I’m sorry for springing this-“ he begins, but you cut him off.

“I’m not sure how to respond.” You laugh anxiously. How do people respond? You’re sure you’ve dreamt this a thousand times, each time seeing the shadow of the boy in front of you. What did you say then?

Instead, he gives you his hand, helping you off the blanket your dorm mate had helped you fold into the tote that lays dormant at your feet.

“I understand.” His eyes are so honest, you wonder if he’s ever told a lie, fibbed, or misled.

“I’m embarrassed.” You laugh shyly, picking at the loose thread on your shorts. “If i’d known..”

He doesn’t say anything, desperate for the touch he hasn’t felt in this lifetime. Pulling you in, he startles you with familiarity. One hand immediately moves to the dip in your back while the other wraps securely around your shoulder. Slowly, you reciprocate his touch.

“I’m wearing..” he pauses, laughing a little into your hair. “pretentious dinner clothes.”

Your face presses into the fresh linen of his breezy button up shirt. It’s blue, and soft, and it smells of oranges and fabric softener. It is a bit pretentious. Do you have a boyfriend now? It seems like you have a boyfriend now.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair. “If I’m coming off as desperate, i’ve been missing you.”

He’s secure around you, tight but comforting, though your breathing is stressed as confusion grasps its arms around you. Squeezing in between you and the boy supposedly made for you.

“Missing me?” You ask.

“I remember it all,” he admits. “It all, Y/N.”

You pull away, the touch no longer desired, just like the summer sun. You know you’ve met this boy in different lifetimes, but you didn’t know he could remember. You didn’t know anyone could remember.

“I don’t,” you frown up at him. It aches his soul of generations. “I don’t remember, why don’t I remember?”

He shrugs assuringly. You were able to remember last time, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. “It’s okay.”

You tug your tank down self consciously, adjusting your summer shorts by the cinched waist. The blue and white striped fabric breezes against your thighs in the august wind.

“I want to remember, though.”

“I know,” he grabs your elbows, feeling the skin of your arms almost desperately, like he’s been waiting forever. “But I have you again, you’re real, you’re here, with me.”

Your mark burns warm blue, heating your shoulder. It glows against the boys face as he looks down curiously. The boy. You don’t even know his name, but you know he’s destined for you.

“What’s your name?”

His startled eyes upset you. You should remember this, they say, why don’t you remember this. “Steve.”

“What a short name.”

There’s a smile playing on his lips. “Steve Harrington.” He corrects.

“Does Steve Harrington have a middle name?”

“John,” he laughs, you’re so you. “My dads name.”

“John.” You test the syllable in your mouth. “Steve.”

“C’mere,” he gravels, tugging your arm gently.

Slowly, to his delight, you work your way into his arms again, chest aching with familiarity. There’s a crowd forming, the blue of your shoulder catching the many eyes of the college lawn. Blue only means one thing, and it’s a rarity to see it in person. You dig your face into his chest and he sways.

“People are looking.”

“Good,” he says halfheartedly. “I’ll tell you everything, spare no detail.”

“Ok,” you nod.

“You loved the 80s.”

You laugh weakly, yearning for the memories he contains in front of you like a shoebox. “I was around for the 80s?”

“Were you?” He laughs. “You thrived.”

You grin, pulling away from him. He roams your face, fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He draws over the slope of your nose and the hills of your cheeks, drinking in the feeling of you so fully in front of him. This isn’t another one of his heart achingly evocative dreams.

His eyes darken for a moment as he watches the expressions cross your soft face.

“I really missed you.” He murmurs, solemn, almost.

“I missed you too.” You whisper, though more for the comfort of the shining boy in front of you, and he can recognize this.

A whine scratches his throat like a kicked puppy. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

You don’t know what he’s referring to. What memory he’s conjured in the wake of you, but you nod agreeably anyways.

“I promise.”

He leans down slowly, surely testing the waters. Internally, you panic.

You always thought it unreal when the soulmates frenched in movies. It felt rushed, insubstantial. He doesn’t now anyways, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth achingly. It’s soft, his lips are soft. You wonder if he can taste the balm you lazily applied while lounging in the sun that’s now dipped into the skyline. Pulling back, he smiles. Cherry in this life too.

“I know.”

- - - - -

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington fanfiction #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

317 notes · View notes

moominsuki · 10 months

Text

✎ᝰGOJO SATORU ; — hot and heavy on wheels

࿄ ! warnings - afab!reader. car sex, fingering, porn with no plot, piv, unprotected sex, creampie. / note. my first ficlet in a long while :} i’m on a gojo craze now idk he’s just perfect. minors & blank blogs dni!

mall shopping with gojo is difficult. well, to preface, it’s not difficult in the sense that he spoils you and buys you what you want without so much as a question or a plead of your round eyes. and he carries round the plethora of bags and boxes from all the shops you got lured in to without a sigh or even a noise of complaint.

it’s more so difficult because after the whole ‘ordeal’ is over, the white haired man has a look in his eye that can only be attributed to feeling a bit frisky. you chalk it up to the fact that you allowed him to sit in the dressing room while you frequented between ann summers and the like - not allowing so much as a grip to the back of your thighs and slapping his hands away when gojo tries to bite at your clavicle and grab at your ass.

“have i told you that you’re impossible?” you groan as gojo noses wet kisses at your jaw, practically throwing you in the back of his g-wagon. he’s so incredibly impatient - so much so that you scold him for throwing the delicate paper bags so haphazardly in the boot of his car and trying to kiss you so brazenly in the open parking lot.

the man chuckles, “maybe once or twice, but that’s what you like about me,” as he clambers over you to surround your smaller body with his much larger one - lifting your thigh to wrap around his nimble clad waist. you’d never admit this to your boyfriend’s face (so as to avoid the upturn of his lips falling into a smug-laced smile) but you love the days where he’s dressed and looks like this - he’s in navy blue dress trousers and a henley to match, pastel hued locks falling over his head and opaque lenses dropping from his nose bridge and he’s biteable like this - so biteable that it makes you want to tease him, rile him up so that he falls prey to your charm and sway of your hips. and while gojo does pride himself in being omniscient or whatever is along those lines, his head turns to mush when you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

gojo sits up between your legs, pulling down the frilly straps of the pale pink summer dress that he got you (it cost a pretty penny but you thanked him religiously after so he thinks he won that trade off) to reveal your breasts and he smiles, more to himself than anything, leaning down to take a pert nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. you reel at the feeling, hands finding immediate purchase in his fluffy locks and you don’t stop the whimper that leaves your plump, bitten lips.

“so receptive, aren’t you, pretty?” he asks and it’s more than likely rhetorical because he carries on pulling down the dress down your waist, until you can shake it off your ankles and it falls somewhere underneath the backseat, accompanied by his top in mere seconds.

nimble fingers creep their way down to where you really want him and his hand sneaks into your panties, smearing your desire all over fingertips so he can really get a feel and you’re writhing, all impatient and embarrassed under the heavy crystal gaze of the man, his milky lashes batting against his cheekbones.

“so wet f’me, fuck, pretty girl,” he whispers, leaning back down to press hardened kisses at your neck and collarbones - to prepare you for the two long fingers that slip into your pussy and you clench, both outward and inward.

the sound of your sloppy cunt meeting the knuckles of gojo’s hand is so incredibly loud and so incredibly wet - and he chuckles again when you try to close your eyes to ignore the stare of his ocean blues zeroing in on your facial expressions.

“wish you could see how well this pretty lady opens up for me,” and the half baked praise makes you burn, tears brimming as your damp lashes bat against your flushed cheeks. one of your hands wraps around gojo’s neck so you can place chaste, messy kisses on his mouth (lest another lewd word comes out as you’re pretty sure you could come just by his expansive and quite sexual verbiage) and the other wraps pathetically around his own that’s exploring the depths of your tight wet cavern that’s clenching sporadically.

gojo is always so messy with it: smearing your wetness all over the expanse of your cunt lips to tease at your sensitive pearl with ease; not before dipping a third finger back inside and searching for that cakey spot inside you. you cry out a meaningless, “‘toru, i-i’m- can’t, hnngh,” your hand making a weak attempt at slowing his fast acting wrist but he laughs again, like he always does when you get like this.

“need’ya to come all over my fingers, baby, can you do that?” and just like that, he sets you off, and he lifts a hand for your lolling head to fall back as the weight of your simmering climax hits you like a freight truck, damp thighs tightening over his hand and an aroused, “just like that, yeahhhh, good girl, good girl,” echoes around the jeep, which doesn’t do much to quell the overall stifling thirst in your gut.

gojo acts fast, in everything that he does, and today is no different when he slides your panties down your slender legs and strips himself till he’s nothing but washboard abs and a hardened, tan cock. he sets himself on his haunches - between your legs and your arms find purchase around his wide shoulders, and you find yourself unable to stop the kisses that press along his jugular. he’s told you this multiple times but you tend to get extremely needy after an earth shattering orgasm (his words, not yours) but he welcomes the doting nonetheless, placing himself around your head and he leans down to slot his lips against yours. you mewl when he bites down at your lower lip and the minty, citrusy taste of his tongue can only be attributed to the peppermint gum he was chewing before and the taste of yours truly.

gojo leans up once more, cerulean blues darkened and dilated.“ready for me? gonna put it in. nice and slow, just how-”

“just stop talking and do it already!”

he tuts teasingly at the raise of your voice, “so impatient.” the head of his cock knocks on your clit a couple times, running between your folds and you’re about to snap back when his cock finds purchase at the first ring of your cunt hole.

his girth sinking in and stretching you wide, his answering whine almost louder than yours, eyes threatening to clamp shut as he feeds you the long stretch of his cock. the scratchy, high pitched noise that leaves the your throat shocks the both of you and you’re suddenly reminded just how different his fingers feel from the weight of his fat cock, the puffed up veins brushing against your tender walls.

the air in the backseat of his car makes your bodies slippery with sweat - the windows are clouded with the condensation of your meandering while you squirm underneath him, your breath wheezing out of your lungs until you can’t breathe. “look at that.”

“wish you could see yourself, princess,” he gasps, a cavalier smirk on his lips but it falters when you squeeze ‘round him just right, sore cunt fluttering against the hard swell of his cock. his dark blues dim, blunt fingernails opting to stop digging into your squishy sides for leverage not to fuck deeper but to instead grip under the seat you’re on to slow himself down, because even after all this time, you feel too fucking good and he needs a minute, damn it, he’ll cum too fucking fast and you won’t get to cum at all-

the rest is a mirage, lost in the way you’re splayed out for him now, knees now bent to your shoulders and his long fingers desperately digging into the backs of your trembling thighs to hold them in the air. the position is only slightly uncomfortable and you thank your lucky starts that you’re flexible, (you kind of have to be when gojo likes to fold you in various positions) but even if it was, you don’t care, not when he’s got your breasts bouncing mutely, with his chest pressed against your jiggling ones, with each repeated, dirty slam of the tip of his cock right up against your womb until you can practically feel him in your stomach, in your throat: stealing the uncontrolled moans right from your voice box.

“look at you, squirtin’ all over me, angel,” gojo groans, stamping down the fast advent of his orgasm as arousal streams down the curve of your ass, wetting the expensive seats of his mercedes. watching the way your swollen, puffy pussy spasms and tries to force him out but it only makes him drive deeper, his pace brutal— his hips and upper back rouged red from the friction of your bodies slapping together and the digging of your manicured nails between his shoulder blades. “prettiest pussy in the whole world. you know that? wanna give you everything you want and more.”

you keen at the praise, tears dribbling down your face now, “‘toru, ‘toru, ‘s too much, i-hahhhh- ‘m gonna make a mess,” you babble mindlessly. “wan’ you to cum inside me plea- pleash, pleashhh.”

“ohh, shouldn't have said that, sweet girl. ooooh, f-fuck. you shouldn't. have- hah - said. that. fuck fuck fuck, i'm gonna put my cum right here,” he chants desperately, a big hand splaying out on your belly, pressing down hard when the head of his cock bulges against your lower tummy, as his thumb dips low, circling your sticky clit almost impatiently. the words punctuated by the heavy slap of his balls against your ass, the backseat hitting violently against the ground. his spine tenses, orgasm building in the pit of his gut and he can’t wait to feel it, to see the dribble of his cum seep between your folds. “you want it, huh? gonna take care of it f’ me, aren’t you? promise ‘toru you won't spill a drop on the seats?”

“yes, yes, i prom- promise, please ‘toru, wan’ you to cum inside me so bad!” you whine loudly and gojo leans even more forward to place a hand against the condensation on the car windows, eyes falling shut and beads of sweat dripping down and pooling in the dip of your bellybutton as he continues crowding your every senses with his smell, his stature, his everything.

gojo dramatically collapses on top of you and you sigh, having to hold onto him so you don’t slip and fall naked bottom to the hard floor of the backseat, “do you have to do that every time, satoru?”

he chuckles breathily, “no, but you like it.” you don’t reply to that, just wrap your arms tighter around him as gojo kisses your damp hair and you manoeuvre a hand to brush away the hair that sticks to his forehead.

“you know you can get up now?” you deadpan, slightly breathless and gojo ponders before snuggling closer to you.

“yeah but if i pull out, you might get cum all over the seats and i don’t know if i could explain the stain to the guy who cleans my car.”

“…remind me to never take you shopping again,” you roll your eyes, pushing him off with your hands pinching at his hips and gojo slips out with a yelp at your assault and gasps, with as much melodrama he can: “it’s already getting on the seats! quick, hmmph-”

gojo shuts up with the press of your tongue in his mouth and he’s even quieter when he feels his spent cock harden against the thigh strewn across his stomach.

he may drop a pretty penny on you whenever you beg him to take you shopping but you drop an even prettier one when you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down to lose yourself in another round once more.

besides, what’s one more stain to have to awkwardly explain to the cleaners?

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x y/n #IDK WHY THIS REFUSES TO POST #this is gonna annoy me OMG #✎𓂃uma thirsts。°˖⌕#✎𓂃stamped: (jujutsu kaisen)。°˖⌕

601 notes · View notes

yellow-berrys · 1 year

Text

dote on me | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: you are completely oblivious to the way sirius black dotes on you, and think that the way you're infatuated with him is completely one-sided. but he begs to differ.

warnings: mentions of a bad childhood, mentions of smoking, drinking and illicit substances

navigation | masterlist

Sirius Black makes you nervous and he darn well knows that. He uses those consuming grey eyes of his, filled with enigmatic interest, to his advantage. He only needs to focus them on you for a considerate amount of time for you to start burning up like a wildfire. And his nose, it’s pointed and perfect, leaving you wondering just how unfair life can be. His cheekbones are high and structured, light hitting them at glorious angles. His lips are devoid of much red. They’re this cool plum colour that looks like it’s lip gloss all the time but really isn’t. His skin is framed by smooth black hair, and the layers in his haircut are so pretty it prompted every other guy in his life to get the same one. It drives you mad that he was born with this face and that hair. It’s simply unjustified.

It would be fine if he was just a pretty face. But it’s not. It’s simply unacceptable just how nice he is. Sometimes you wish he isn’t a gentleman and that all the rumours about him being a player with a million tattoos were true, because you’re envious and adoring of him.

And like anyone, he definitely has a vice. People think it’s cigarettes for him but he definitely does not smoke. And he doesn’t drink. At parties, he’s cradling a cautiously poured glass of lemonade instead. And he definitely doesn’t do drugs, because he hangs around Remus Lupin and there’s no way he would be allowed to if he did. Remus is a little sickly sometimes, and his body is very sensitive.

He likes to say his vice is chasing things he’ll never have. Like his childhood. He thinks he has regained that. Now, maybe it’s some sort of romance. All his life he’s been mooned over. People love him, mostly because he’s beautiful, and they offer him burning hot love all the time. People think he’s one for angsty, fiery passion. But Sirius thinks that fires never last, they’re too easy to disturb and taint everything with the unpleasant smell of smoke. James once did one of his stupid Women’s Weekly quizzes on him, the one with the “Tell me your favourite colour, and it’ll tell you what other people think of you, tell me your favourite animal…” questions. Sirius had laughed, thrown his head back and answered in a complete stupor. “Black, maroon if black isn’t an answer, dog…” James had asked him what his favourite body of water was and Sirius had said “A lake.”

He had spent summers of his broken youth dipping his toes into the pretty lake by his family’s home in France, escaping from the whirlwind world inside the walls of Walburga and Orion’s chateau. It didn’t make him cry more when he cried, because it would welcome the tears into the gently flowing water.

James had smiled, “Why?”

Sirius had told him, “It’s gentle, relaxing, peaceful. The one in France was so enveloping and soft. I felt safe there.”

“Chateau?”

“Yep. I used to go out there as a little boy. It was so quiet out there and it felt like heaven, so fluid and open.”

“Hm,” James had studied the words underneath, squinting his eyes, “Ooh, that’s how you feel about love. Never knew you were the romantic type, Pads.”

He had laughed.

James had asked you too. You had giggled, “Did you steal Lily’s Women’s Weekly again?”

He grumbled, “Not again.”

“I like ponds with little koi fish swimming in them.”

“Why?”

“It’s calm in a joyful way. It’s safe and there’s always rays of golden sun and it feels so delightful and promising. Lucky too, I guess. Oh! And it’s so pretty by a koi fish pond.”

James had grinned and left promptly.

Sirius thought it was strange when he had first met you. He hadn’t ever had these feelings before, and it took years for him to shove them aside and focus on his studies, friends and mischief-making. But you were affiliated with Marlene, you were always around in some way. You and him became friends and Sirius felt those feelings resurface again.

He groans into his hands as he runs it across his face.

“Why?!” he asks Lily, who is watching amusedly.

“I’m sure you can’t help it,” she says primly, “But what if you could help it?”

He looks at her inquisitively.

“What if you acted on these feelings? It isn’t half-bad of an idea. You’re grown up, Sirius, and if you still like her that means it’s real.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What if bad things happen?”

“What’s the worst that could?”

“Death.”

“You’re already halfway there,” she rolls her eyes, “Give it a shot, maybe love will make you less sad.”

“I’m not sad!”

“Whatever, start loving, Sirius.”

She picks up her Women’s Weekly magazine and starts reading. “Ooh, there’s this quiz-”

Sirius groans.

–

“Hey darling,” Sirius strides into your apartment. Good start, he thinks.

You’re sprawled on the couch, grinning as you FaceTime Marlene and Dorcas. When you see him, you look up, surprised.

“Marlene’s in Vegas,” you say, “Didn’t she tell you?”

Marlene did tell Sirius, and even offered that he come with her and Dorcas.

You flip the camera to Sirius, and even in blurry, low quality, Facetime video he’s still very handsome.

Marlene screams, “What is that monster doing in my apartment?”

You grin, “Marls, he was looking for you.”

“Actually,” Sirius tilts his head, and if you weren’t so thick you might see the smitten look in his eyes, “I’m here for you.”

You frown, “For taxes? It’s only the start of the month. Besides, the IRS will never tail you, you’re too rich for that.”

“Can’t I spend time with you, pretty girl?”

It’s flattering, but it seems too abrupt to be genuine. You brush it off with a laugh.

“Get a load of you,” you roll your eyes, “What do you need?”

“I need you,” he attempts and the confession, although seeming flirtatious and joking, brings a smile to your face.

Marlene chortles, “Guys- I-I-I-I’m…cutt-ing…ou-ou-ou-t.” She fakes it and it’s obvious, but the FaceTime ends and Sirius sits opposite you now. He’s pretty even at seven in the evening and it makes you very nervous.

You stand up, uneased, and make towards your bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh,” you gesture to an old pile of clothes, “Marlene cleaned her wardrobe out before she left, so I decided to follow suit so then we can donate them.”

“Why’re you leaving me?” he pouts.

“You want to…stay?”

You’re so puzzled and your heart is beating far too fast for your liking. It goes pitter patter like the rain outside. It’s exhausting. The feeling might be addictive, like a good old fashioned crush, but it’s always playing with you. It feels avaricious to love someone out of your league, worth more than you have ever been.

His sudden showering of affections and doting on you, you think, is because he’s lonely. He doesn’t live with James anymore. You empathise with him, but only because you think you’ll know what that feels like in a month when Dorcas and Marlene move in together. But it really isn’t. Sirius actually thinks that you deserve all the heavy-handed loving in the world, and he always has. His apprehension towards him being the person to do the loving is slowly fading away as he sees the shy smile on your face.

“If you’ll have me.”

And you turn your head around so he doesn’t see you blush, “Okay, I’ve been meaning to get a second opinion. Whenever I do this I do it with Marlene.”

You try things on by the mirror in your bedroom, instructing Sirius to look away when needed. He isn’t much of a help at all, because he thinks you look good in everything. Which is just certainly not true.

On a whim, he suggests that because he isn’t aiding you successfully, you should help him on his own closet. In the end, you wind up in his apartment.

Sirius has never boasted about what he has at all, mainly because he isn’t proud of it. By what unethical means his trust fund has come from, he doesn’t even want to know, but he’s grateful for it. You’ve only ever seen his living room, kitchen and his small powder room, and they’re lavish and capacious to no ends. Everything subtly screams wealth and luxury. His bedroom is no different. A large bed sits in the middle, framed by expensive paintings. There’s a well made ebony table in the corner, spotless and tidy. The two armchairs in the room are, whilst clearly faux-leather, intricate and of the sort of taste cultivated only by time. A copy of the original Call of the Wild sits on a table. A bookshelf is on one side of the room, grey, stretching from the floor to ceiling. You run your fingers along the spines of the book. They’re all special editions. A simple chandelier (what an oxymoron) dangles in the middle of the room, and you find the ceiling is gilded with plaster and gold. Pictures of friends and family adorn the white walls.

His walk in closet is humongous. You gasp as he opens the door. It’s double the size of your living room. The clothes are organised by colour, style and season and there’s a considerable lack of colour. In the middle sits an accessory table, with dozens of gold watches and silver necklaces. Delicate rings and bracelets all are displayed. A glass cabinet with bottles of cologne and perfume stands next to it. The only ones you can recognise is something that resembles the Ralph Lauren logo and Dior, and then again it isn’t even the one Johnny Depp uses.

He smiles sheepishly, ashamed that he has such nice things, “I did use my own money on this. Euphemia helped me fix it up.”

“It’s beautiful, Sirius,” you’re almost afraid to touch anything. You don’t think you belong in such a gorgeous world. You don’t think you deserve it.

Sirius beams at you, “Guess there’s not a difference between it and you, then.”

Your face warms. Sirius is already taking clothes off the racks, whilst you stand awkwardly. He’s chatting, talking about where the clothes came from and who gave them to him and why he likes it so much. Your shoulders relax and you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. So far he’s through all the things he deems necessary for him to live.

“And this jumper,” he holds up a pristine Ecru crewneck, offering it to you, “Is from when I went to visit Machu Picchu with James. When we left, one of the ladies we had been staying with gave us both a handmade jumper.”

You hold the fabric delicately in your hands.

“It’s alright. It’s just clothes, darling, you can do whatever you like with them.”

He’s so nice it hurts and you grin at him endearingly, “Thanks, Sirius.”

An adoring smile finds its way onto his face as he turns to pick up the next item. You put the sweater in the “KEEP” pile.

“How did this get here?” he laughs as he pulls out a bright yellow crewneck, with a little emblem etched on the side. Immediately he tugs it on, grinning as he surveys the bright colour in the mirror.

You’re blushing away because the colour suits him so well and makes him look way softer than he usually does.

He sneaks a glance at you in the mirror, and when he sees your lack of eye contact with him he frowns.

“Are you okay?” he asks you.

“Yeah. Yellow looks really nice on you, Sirius.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm. I don’t know, it makes you look…cuddly?”

He doesn’t smirk like you expect him to, but swivels around and smiles at you again. He knows he looks like he loves you. He doesn’t mind. You’re just sitting there, confused at why he’s doing this. It’s weird and sudden and it’s definitely something he would do.

Maybe this is his new favourite jumper.

He throws it in the keep pile. You tut disapprovingly and rearrange it gently. Seeing a t-shirt, he takes his own shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. You cover your eyes, not wanting to intrude on his privacy.

Sirius is midway through putting the shirt on when he laughs. “It’s okay, princess, I didn’t ask you to look away. I don’t mind. Unless you do, then I’ll change over there.”

You peek your eyes at him, and Sirius hopes that he’s not imagining your pupils blown slightly.

And you didn’t think he could get more perfect, but he is. His muscles are toned and defined, and slightly strained as he slides his shirt on. Gosh, he makes you feel inadequate. He can’t know you want him, so you grin as if you’re unaffected.

“That’s cute,” you nod.

And the process repeats. Sometimes he takes off his pants too, leaving him to just his boxers that cling onto him in an ungodly way.

“Are you done?” you ask, eyes covered tightly by your hand.

“Yeah.”

Sirius is dressed in a suit, the tenth one tonight, “Do we like this one, or the grey one?”

“I like the way this one fits, but I like the grey colour more. But I think the dull dove blue one was the best because it brings out your eyes.”

Sirius makes a mental note to get the grey one altered. He chucks away some old sleeping tees, and a bunch of band hoodies he doesn’t wear anymore. He also gets rid of one of his expensive sweaters with a cable knit and a button up shirt, a bunch of sweatpants and this hideous sweater vest that his Aunt Thelma gifted him for his 17th birthday.

He thinks maybe you might like to wear some of the things he has in his wardrobe–Euphemia picks them out with him and she represents a small portion of women. He lugs the bag of clothes to his car, and when he’s back, he sees you cross-legged on an armchair, typing on your phone.

“Sweetheart, what do I owe you?” he asks.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, “For what?”

You put your phone down on the side table.

“For helping me?”

“Nothing, Sirius, nothing at all. It’s my pleasure, really.”

“Do you want to take some of my clothes? I have more than enough.”

You look inquisitively at him, “You don’t mind?”

“‘Course not.”

You go home that night with two of his fancy jumpers, he insists, and one big button up shirt, and a bunch of other stuff he is adamant you should take too. You call Lily. Her voice comes out muffled on the other end.

“Hey Lily!

“Mhm, I’m well, how are you?

“He��s not that bad, I’m sure. You do know he took your Women’s Weekly–

“I’ve already done that quiz.

“Right, well, I don’t think Sirius is fine, in his own right.

“No! As in the sad happy fine, not the cute handsome fine.

“Well- no- I- I don’t think he’s not fine- I mean - Okay whatever. Is he alright? He keeps on acting weird.

A long pause.

“You know something, don’t you, Red?

“It’s kind of strange. I mean, he offered for me to take one of his- I don’t know, the Ermenegildo Ze-

“Yes, that! One of those jumpers.

“Are you sure? That’s what he is normally? Isn’t he usually bad-boy cool guy? Not dorky weird compliment giver?

“Alright, fine.

“Bye, love you!”

You survey the pile of clothes for any trace of a prank. Nothing. You take out one and inspect it suspiciously. Then, your intrusive thoughts get the better of you and you sniff the material carefully. It smells really nice. You chuck them in the wash just in case Sirius has popped one of his silly prank gadgets into the pockets or beneath the collar.

The next time you see him, Lily has called you to tell you she and James are going to Vegas to join Marlene and Dorcas. They’re celebrating a championship. She invites you, but you decline, not liking the idea of tailing behind the two couples and intruding on the romantic atmosphere. Sirius is all alone, and Lily tells you to ‘please go and check up on him’.

The apartment seems okay. It’s spotless like it always is, smelling of air freshener and Sirius’ cologne. It doesn’t look like Sirius is going through something rough at all. Sirius might not even be home, so you’re about to leave when you hear music coming from a secluded area of the apartment. You sneak into the corridor and the door is ajar. A beautiful black grand piano stands, Sirius sitting at it, playing the finest tune you’ve ever heard. The sounds reverberate gently through the room, and it’s divine. It’s joyful and skips on merrily. His eyes are closed and his lips are turned up. It makes you think that maybe he’s thinking of someone.

He stirs a little at the noise and you pull back. He gets up from his chair and peeks his head around the door. You’re wearing his jumper over some sweatpants. It’s so pretty on you, falling oversized.

He laughs, which brings heat to your cheeks, “Do you want to come in?”

“You’ll let me?” you gasp, “But you don’t even let Dorcas come in, and she’s a cello-ist.”

“You’re special,” he winks and you blush. You must look like a motley of colours- florid and pink. But you don’t mind, he makes everyone nervous and you’re not special, which puts you at ease.

You perch on the cushy chair as he plays a lilting song. You hum, approving, “What’s the song called?”

“Love,” he says and you agree. The song plays like what love feels like.

It’s so soft, and warm. Combined with Sirius’ lavender and honey cologne, it makes you drowsy. He notices your eyes are barely open, and instead of ending the song, continues to play the same melody over a lighter bass. When your breathing becomes steady, he quietly rises from the piano and scoops you up, knowing it can’t be comfortable to sleep in a chair. He carries you to his own room, where he tucks you into his bed. You’re murmuring unintelligible things. He leaves and continues playing, before Lily calls and he knows he should be in bed, because it’s morning in Las Vegas. Thus, he shuts his piano and drapes a soft velvet across it. He falls onto the couch and listening to Lily’s calming method to waking up, he falls asleep.

In the morning, you’re in a vaguely familiar room. The sheets are silk and the ceiling is fancier than an art gallery’s. You yawn, stretching. The clock next to you detects the motion and flashes a dim white. Of course it’s an analogue clock, reading 5:00 am. You remember shutting your eyes slowly in the piano room, the news had been playing on the TV earlier. So you had fallen asleep at seven. 10 hours, more than enough. You quickly get up and make the bed. After using his fancy skincare products and brushing your teeth with a spare toothbrush you find packaged up, you hear soft snores coming from the living room. Sirius is there, phone by his side.

You pout at how much of a gentleman he is, retrieving a blanket and carefully placing it on him. Then you prepare a smoothie, with the fourteen-million ingredients he has in his giant fridge, and leave it in there with a note. But Sirius wakes. He’s always been a light sleeper.

He leans blearily over the couch, “Sweetheart?”

“Good morning!” you chirp.

“Why do you have to be so gorgeous at five in the morning?” he slurs. You raise your eyebrows. He’s really always very flirty, and you’re used to it not being genuine by now. He sways out of bed and into the bathroom. You hear the running of a faucet, and sit down on a kitchen chair, checking your phone. Lily has blown it up.

TO: REDHEAD

REDHEAD 7:31 p.m. sooo, how is he??

REDHEAD 7:43 p.m. hellooooo babes????

REDHEAD 8:00 p.m. are u ok ??

REDHEAD 8:05 p.m. ANSWER ANSWER ANSWER

REDHEAD 9:47 p.m. I’m calling sirius

REDHEAD 10:00 p.m. omg YES GO YOU OMG

5:30 a.m. what

5:30 a.m. he was playing the piano lils and i fell asleep

REDHEAD 5:31 a.m. ok keep telling urself that <3 i mean has he ever let us sit in when we asked???

5:32 a.m. i told u he was acting strange

You grin as you see some of the videos she has sent you. One is where James and her and celebrating, him beaming like he always does. She looks madly in love with him. You screenshot and send it to your email so you can print it out later. There’s another of Marlene and Dorcas doing the spaghetti thing at a Michelin star restaurant. They look as if they’re having a wonderful time. It makes you realise that you’re craving something like that too, only not in the wild world of Vegas. You already have something like it, but it’s so one-sided and your heart can’t stand it. You wish someone would just, dote on you. And genuinely, because there’s no way Sirius Black means it.

You express these feelings to Marlene when she’s back, moving boxes and taping things up.

“I want to love someone, Marls. Who loves me back, so don’t even say Sirius.”

“He doesn’t act like that around everyone else, you know.”

“He does! Besides, what makes me so special, Marlene? He could have anyone.”

She laughs, “Oh goodness have you got a lot to learn.”

–

Marlene and Dorcas invite you to their housewarming party in their house. They say it’s perfect for a family and they want to start one whilst they’re young. It’s quite a large gathering for a housewarming party, and the inside is buzzing with excitement. You’re talking to some of their colleagues- Alice and her boyfriend Frank on the couch.

“And we’re planning a trip to Ibiza for next month,” she blinks up at him lovingly and he does the same. It makes you subtly raise your phone as if you’re getting a message and type, before quickly flashing a photo of them whilst they’re gazing into each other’s eyes.

Sirius spots you grinning away, like you want what Alice and Frank have. He sidles in next to you.

“Hey darling,” he smiles and you smile back, “Hi.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Alice asks.

“Oh of course! I thought you would already know him,” you put down your drink, “Alice, this is Sirius. Sirius, Alice. Frank, Sirius. Sirius, Frank. They’re planning a trip to Ibiza and were voted Best Couple in high school.”

They’re both intimidated by Sirius, you can tell, but Sirius smiles, “Nice to meet you Alice and Frank. How long have you been together?”

They cheesily smile at each other, “Seven years and going strong,” Alice flashes her wedding ring.

Marlene calls you over to the kitchen island, where she is mixing drinks up, “Hey darl!”

“Sup, Marls.”

“Need a drink?”

“Just pink lemonade,” you hold out your cup. A boy comes around the table, smiling at you. Marlene smirks a little.

“Y/n, this is CJ. He’s a footballer, and a damn good one.”

You grin, outstretching your hand, “Hi CJ, nice to meet you.”

He shakes it heartily, “Likewise.”

“What team do you play for?”

“Oh, just a local one,” he rubs his neck bashfully, “I’m not that good.”

CJ, whatever it stands for, is handsome, with bright green eyes and curly brown hair. He’s sweet too and has this shy air around him that’s impossibly good natured. He’s Emmeline’s to-be lover.

“Try me.”

“Liverpool,” he says meekly.

“Oh, you’re the Cruz Johnson! How’s football for a living?”

“It’s great, actually,” he chuckles, dipping his head to whisper secretly into your ear, “Though this beer is actually some recovery drink, so could be better.”

You laugh.

He grins as he takes a sip and makes a funny face, “So what do you do?”

You tell him and he nods, “Impressive indeed. How’d you meet Marls here?”

“She and I were classmates! I wore her down eventually, she used to hate friendship.”

“Oh tell me about it. I met her at the football club, where she was playing for the ladies’ team. And the first time the coach tried to congratulate her she just rolled her eyes. He was filthy.”

“Oh?” your eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“When he dislocated his cheekbone a few weeks later, she told him she could ski on them if she tried. Anyway.”

You purse your lips in amusement, “Am I allowed to laugh at that?”

“He looked like this,” Cruz makes a face and you giggle.

Sirius is watching this all with a very sour look on his face, feeling very jealous.

Cruz takes another sip of his drink, “So, who are you here with?”

You’re confused, “No one? I mean, unless you count Marlene, but she’s with Dorcas. And my friend Emmeline too.”

At the mention of Emmeline’s name, his eyes light up, “About her…”

“She’s single and she does like green eyes,” you pull him near the wily, tall Emmeline, who blushes shyly as she sees Cruz, “Besides, I think she has a thing for you. Ever since, you know, you crashed into her and spilled your coffee on her favourite shirt,” you joke.

He blushes, “Gosh, you still remember that? Will you send me the name of the shirt so I can buy her five more? I know I already replaced hers but I still feel so bad.”

“Awh. That’s very nice of you, Cruz. Here,” you hand him your phone, “What’s your number?”

Sirius is watching you, hands tense around his cup. He decides to go up to you.

“Hey darling,” he says lowly into your ear, making you jump and your cheeks heat up.

“Sirius!” you berate. Cruz is watching with a knowing smile as he hands your phone back. You quickly text him, “Okay, sent it.”

The two guys are sizing each other up. You can sense their hostility.

“Now, boys, be friendly. Cruz, do not worry, Sirius is only friends with Emmeline, and Sirius, don’t worry, Cruz won’t try to pick up Regulus.”

You feel both of them relax. Cruz grins at Sirius, “Nice to finally meet you, man.”

“You too!”

“And don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for her either.”

You’re silently eavesdropping on the conversation whilst texting Emmeline. You sneak a look at Sirius, who has an unnatural pink on his porcelain skin.

“C’mon green-eyes, aren’t I obvious about it?”

Cruz agrees, “Too much so.”

“Anyway, I’ll let you get to Emmeline, Cruz.”

He stumbles, grins at you and waves at the same time, “Thanks, mate.”

“No problems.”

You watch as he goes and makes a fool of himself in front of Emmeline, who likes it. You turn to Sirius, eyes still watching them. You’re still painstakingly lonely. Tonight you think you’ve third-wheeled at least three couples, and set up two. Even though Sirius is there, he’s just a constant reminder of what you can’t have.

Sirius can see it in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much more he needs to do. Lily wants to know though.

“Soooo, lovely,” she begins and you narrow your eyes at her.

“I swear I didn’t take your cookie cutters and destroy them whilst trying to make clay sculptures with Emmeline and Cruz,” you put your hands up. Lily raises her brows and you murmur a quiet, “Oh no.”

“My cookie cutters that you gave me?!” she yells.

“It’s fine, I’ll get you new ones.”

She sighs, “Right. Anyway, Sirius Black.”

“Sirius Black,” you say slowly.

“Mhm. Are you ever going to tell him you like him?”

“No, I don’t even like him.”

“You don’t?” Lily feigns surprise.

“Nope.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“He doesn’t like me like that, Lils,” you scold.

“Why does he call you ‘darling’ then? He has to.”

“If he did, that would be embarrassing for him. Gosh knows he’s too good for me. If he likes me, I would question why because he could probably do better,” you shrug, “I’m confident, but not completely blind.”

“Okay. So if he liked you, you would want to date him?”

You reply meekly, “Yeah.”

“I think you should tell him, though,” Lily sighs, “Better you than anyone else doing it.”

You ponder for a moment, “True,” you sigh, “He’ll be nice about it.”

Lily squeals, “I’m planning your wedding!!!”

You knock on his apartment door, reconsidering for the last time whether you want to do it or not.

Sirius opens the door, looking confused and handsome, eyes bluer than usual.

“Hi,” you breathe.

“Gorgeous, to what do I owe this sudden visit?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” his eyes are glistening.

“Yeah.”

“Come in then. Mind the mess, taxes.”

You hum, “Need help?”

“Actually, yeah. Should I write off…”

You sit down, distracted by the papers flying everywhere, taking a pen and starting to write. Your mission is almost forgotten after you finish helping him with his taxes, smiling satisfiedly at the hefty return he receives.

“Good,” you grin, admiring your work, “I’d say this is a successful tax file.” He swipes his tongue over his teeth, so attractively and seals the envelope, setting it down on his stack of things he needs to post.

“Package to Marlene and Dorcas, papers to…” he rambles, pacing out his thoughts, “Oh, and my portfolio. Can you check if they’re alright to send in?”

“Portfolio?”

“Oh,” he turns red, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “Someone asked me to model for them?”

“When?” you gasp. He hands you the envelope, and you carefully pry out some photos.

“A week ago,” he murmurs, “Can you check these aren’t too…much?”

They’re glossy between your fingers and smooth, candid shots, some staged and every single one of them belongs on the cover of Vogue. It’s strange, the pictures of Sirius should be in a magazine, famed and lovely, but he’s right here. Nervously fidgeting around. He’s so tangible right now. You reach out to skim your fingers over the photos, then stretch them out to touch the skin near his lips. He’s taken aback but leans into your touch.

“I think they’re perfect,” you fold the envelope over, handing it back to him.

He’s still looking incredibly ashamed of himself.

“Why do you look so sheepish?” you laugh, “Stop that! It’s alright.” You surge to hug him, “It’s amazing, Sirius.”

Sirius hides his face in your neck, “I feel like a show-off,” he mumbles and you laugh.

“Sirius, it’s honestly alright. You’re not, far from it actually. It’s okay to have nice things.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being a wimp.”

“It’s fine, I understand. These feelings are completely normal, but that doesn’t mean they’re true. If I had a staggering net worth of a few hundred million and never told you, would you think I’m a show-off?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly,” you smile at him, “Now do you want to go to the post office? It closes in half an hour.”

He nods, “‘Kay.”

The post office man greets him with some flirting, and he sets down his stack of parcels, ignoring him to go sign some of them.

He looks over to you, “You’re his…” he studies your face, “friend?”

It makes you feel small and judged. You chew nervously on your lip, unconsciously stepping towards Sirius. You know you couldn’t possibly pass off as his girlfriend, but it’s an ugly reminder you don’t need. Sirius smiles politely, “These three are in a letter card, but can we get them to be delivered…”

After he pays, you try not to make it seem like you’re in a rush to get out. He notices, of course he does. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say to you?”

You stay quiet and Sirius does too. He drives to his apartment and sits down on his couch. You follow. He’s silent.

“He said something about us,” you break the fragile silence, “About me.”

“What?”

“Well he looked at me and then asked if I was your friend after giving me a once-over.”

Sirius shrugs, “Aren’t you?”

Your heart falls, “Well–. The thing is–, look, I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I kind of– scratch that, I have this massive crush on you and probably more,” you wince, “Please be nice about this.”

He looks positively shocked. You can’t tell if it’s good shock or bad shock.

You grimace, “And please can we stay friends?”

“You think I’m rejecting you?” he almost scoffs, lifting you easily into his lap. He’s so close you could count the colours in his eyes. A charcoal, a light cerulean, a tinge of yellow ochre, “After all my countless advances, the gifts, even inviting you into my piano room whilst I played, I couldn’t, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“Haven’t you noticed I haven’t ever dated anyone since two years back? That I pretty much have been begging to be noticed by you these past years,” he continues, “All because I want to be yours. Because I couldn’t even think of wanting anyone else. I like you so much.”

“Hey Sirius?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

You huff, “Can I kiss you?”

Before you can do anything, he’s grinning as he presses his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. When you break apart, he's still grinning. He thinks he will be for the rest of his life.

“Whoa,” you say as you grin at him.

He hugs you tightly, “Please never say we should be friends again.”

You nod, “Never.”

2K notes · View notes

solarisfortuneia · 10 months

Text

his fingers have always been nimble. gentle. graceful, even. it is precisely this trait that assists him in his mastery of multiple instruments.

and his hands have always been steady, never twitching nor wavering. this aids every stroke of his pen, every swing of his sword and every tune he plays.

he’s perfectly aware of this, too. he is no stranger to intricate work; delicate actions come naturally to him.

so why on earth is something like applying your makeup so difficult? perhaps it’s the pressure of putting things on someone else’s face, or perhaps it’s the fact that it’s your face he’s working on? either way, he’s hoping with all his heart he doesn’t mess up.

kazuha’s always grateful for his blessings, but at this particular moment in time, he thanks every force of nature for granting him his stable hands, for he couldn’t possibly imagine taking up this task without it.

he picks up a brush and swirls it in a pot of pressed pigment, then delicately taps the apples of your cheeks. light floods into the room, birds chirp somewhere beyond, but he pays them no mind, the entirety of his focus occupied by the tint of rouge on your face. it makes your skin glow beautifully, reminiscent of a bright, cheerful blossom in summer, and for a moment, he’s so in awe that he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing.

“kazuha?” you call out to him, shaking him out of his captivated trance. “are you alright?”

he hums, acknowledging you. “just admiring.” he sets down the brush in his hands on the dark surface of the table and picks up another, a much smaller one with a sharper tip. he dips it into dark, inky liquid and brings it up to your eyes, the side of his palm resting on your cheekbones.

“stop blinking so much, dearest,” he taps your cheek softly with his other hand. “i’ll mess up the eyeliner otherwise.”

“i’m trying, i promise.” you say, attempting to keep your eyes still.

he grips your jaw firmly, tilting it upward for a better angle. his face scrunches in concentration as he carefully glides the brush on your eyelids, taking great care to not poke your eye out in the process. he steps back every so often, checking to see if the lines are even.

he sets the brush down, breathing a sigh of relief. “i think we’re done.” he holds up a mirror. “what do you think? have i done a decent job?”

you look at yourself for a few beats, examining every plane, every bloom of color, every painstakingly drawn line. “this is perfect,” you take the mirror from his hands and turn your face from side to side. “you’re really good at this. thanks, love.” you give him a bright grin.

“it’s nothing, really.” he smiles back at you, in his usual, serene way. “you look divine,” he means it.

“oh?” you bat your eyelashes at him playfully. “so you think i’m pretty?”

“i do,” he leans in, tenderly bringing your wrist up to his lips for a fleeting kiss. “i think you’re absolutely stunning, my dear.”

he falls silent, attentive crimson roaming your face. he takes his time and looks over each and every feature with pure adoration in his gaze. one can see it in his expression alone; it clearly betrays how much he wants to trail the tips of his fingers across the bridge of your nose, under your eyes, over the expanse of your cheek, and how badly they itch to bury themselves in your neatly done hair. though, he knows he shouldn’t— lest he ruin his hard work— and his hands anchor themselves on your shoulders.

looking through pale strands, he notices a shift in your demeanor, as soon as he does, he knows you’re aware of how deep his desire to touch you extends.

“y’know,” you take his face into your hands, gazing back with the same intensity. “i’d say you’re pretty too, but i can’t see a damn thing with all this hair over your face.”

“my…hair?” your statement comes as a surprise. he sees you take full advantage of his momentary confusion, gently batting away his hand from pushing back his hair.

“yes, your hair.” you make a show of twirling the hair, then slip it quickly behind his ear, never breaking eye contact. “there, much better.”

his eyes widen fractionally, as if in a daze, and his train of thought grinds to nearly a halt. then, he blinks. once, twice, thrice. “thank you, dear.” he recovers soon enough though, eyes closing to give you a bashful smile. “i wasn’t aware that my hair was obstructing your view,”

you smile back at him. “now that that’s out of the way,” you trace your thumbs over the tip of his nose, “goodness me, kazuha, you are gorgeous,” you murmur, moving your fingers to his lips. they part involuntarily, and he looks away, unable to meet your amused eyes. “someone’s flustered, cat got your tongue?” the teasing lilt in your voice is hard to miss. you hold his face in your hands and scarlet begins to dust his cheeks.

he clears his throat, composing himself. “thank you for the compliment, starlight.” his voice is affectionate when he finally speaks, and a fond smile returns to his face.

“you’re very welcome, love.”

kazuha’s always grateful for his blessings. and right now, when he looks at the adoration in your gaze, he thanks every force of nature for giving him the best one of all.

#—🖋#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #kazuha fluff #mika's reposting her old works again wheeeee #i realize i've been pretty absent from writing but hopefully i should be posting things again #aaaa gotta update my masterlist too

411 notes · View notes

havensins · 1 year

Note

oh wow ur on a roll w these asks 🫣 can i req bucky w blowjob and dacryphilia

bucky barnes x dom!m!reader

cw . sub!bucky, dacryphilia, oral (reader receiving), praise kink, etc.

note . thank you nonnie 🤭. it’s been a while since i’ve pushed out this many requests/asks at one time! also, this was awfully short so i apologize! (not proofread as usual)

having a man like bucky on his knees and between your thighs was something you’d have to get use to. his long hair is pulled back into a small bun and he’s leaning his head along your thigh.

“wanna be good,” he murmurs, “w’nna suck you off,” he whines softly, words slurring together as his brain gets foggy. “then be good for me, sweetheart. go ahead, ‘s all yours,” you allow, and eagerly, he leans up to take your cock into his mouth.

he’s always so messy when he blows you and it’s one aspect you absolutely adore. his saliva drops down your shaft and he licks after it. his tongue does wonders on teasing your head of your cock and the way he uses his hand to fondle your balls has you reeling.

he pushes himself down so that his nose is touching your pelvis, the tightness of his throat leaving you moaning out. he pulls off of you once he begins to gag, having his hand come up to wrap around you as he catches his breath.

“am.. am i doing good?” he asks, voice cracking. you smile, “you’re doing perfect, love. if you manage to make me cum, i may reward you..” you murmur, and he smiles, the expression innocent in comparison to how he latches onto your cock as if it killed him for his mouth not to be filled full.

bucky looked so pretty with his mouth full and big wide eyes looking back at you. tears well up in his eyes as he holds himself down on your cock again. as he pulls off, the tears all and he sniffles. he repeats his routine, this time paying special attention to your tip.

“you look so pretty while you’re crying, love.” you’d murmur, wiping his tears off his cheekbones with the pads of your thumb. he whines while his mouth his filled, speeding up his movements and bobbing his head. you’re moaning out at the feeling, and your cock throbs in his throat. “g’nna take it all, bucky? gonna let me cum down your throat?” you ask rhetorically, knowing he had no problem with letting you coat his throat white.

you grunt, fucking up into his mouth. more tears began to fall down his cheeks, and as he blinked up towards you, the boiling arousal in the out of your tummy boiled over. you game with a groan that melted into a whine, pushing into his mouth to the hilt and emptying your load down his throat.

#answered #dom male reader #dom!reader #top male reader #avengers x male reader #marvel x male reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #sub!bucky #sub!bucky barnes

539 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

baby blurb of steve buying the reader flowers b she just gets a little teary bc no boy has ever bought her flowers before <3333

this turned into a whole thing, idiots in love, soft steve etc <3 fem!reader | 1.1k words

Steve is kicking his shoes against the door. You can hear it, the thud of rubber against wood. He’s in the habit of knocking with his foot rather than his hand because his hands are always full. Usually of snacks, sometimes with takeout, occasionally slurpees. Treats.

You’re surprised your mouth doesn’t water with the sound. You spring up off the couch where you’d been waiting for him and race to the front door, pausing for a second to feign that you’re entirely unbothered by his arrival before pulling it open.

Steve’s hands are full. One hand holds a takeout bag from your favourite place, the brown paper already translucent with grease, and the other…

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, grinning.

Your eyes flit from his face — beautiful as ever, his deep set eyes dark and lifted by his charming smile, his perfect hair kissing the skin of his jaw where it’s come untucked — to the bouquet in his hand.

You’re honestly lost for words.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

You duck back silently and let him. Your house is silent in wait for his arrival and he fills it up, a riot of small sounds: the crinkle of cellophane and paper, his jacket, his shoes, his socked footsteps into your kitchen. He puts the flowers down with about as much care as he does the takeout, which horrifies you. You don’t have time to fret as he turns on his heel, little urgency in his actions as he extends his arms hopefully.

You’re still shell-shocked at the flowers. He hasn’t said they’re for you — but they’re for you. Right? They’re not for the mailman.

“What, guy can’t get a kiss? Jeez,” Steve mutters, mostly joking.

There’s a hint of self-consciousness that you despise and set about stamping out, stepping into the reach of his arms. Before he can move down you raise your hand to the curve of his cheek, his face shape so pretty it aches to look at, the hill under his eye a must to touch. You stroke the back of your pinky and marriage finger over his cheekbone and tuck that stray lock of hair behind his ear, a terrible well of emotion building in you at his adoring expression.

You imagine you look the same as you tilt your chin up for a kiss. Your eyes stay open as he closes his to watch his lashes pinch together, his lips pressing to yours. It’s an intimate softness, a warmth you always miss even if the time between kisses is small. Minutes can feel like years when you want him, and you always do.

He tucks his chin back and frowns at you mildly. “What?”

You don’t answer.

“Do you still have a back ache?” he asks knowingly, hands running carefully up the length of your spine, pulling you ever closer. His eyes lift from concerned to smug. “You’re hungry.”

The loss of his arms is abrupt and unfair. You’re one step behind him as he picks up the flowers again and offers them to you, almost forcing them into your hands.

“Those are for you, beautiful. Put ‘em in some water while I get the plates, okay?”

He moves through your kitchen like he knows it well, and he does, retrieving dishware and cutlery with practiced movements, huffing to himself about something or other as he goes.

All you can do is stare. You peer down at the flowers in your hands. The bouquet is made up primarily of pinks. Pink and red roses, cerise carnations, pale baby chrysanthemums and germini’s made up of tens of shades. The roses overpower every other scent, musky, a hidden sweetness.

They’re from Bradley’s Big Buy, the tiny section by the newspapers and magazines. There’s a simple tag wrapped around the stems that reads, ‘Young Love (Pink)’.

You feel your lip tremble and bite down hard. A vast array of emotions surface and all of them burn as you bring the flowers to your nose and sniff. Your sniff turns to a sniffle, and your eyes grow heavy with sudden tears.

A plate falls to the table. “What’s the matter?”

You look up and find Steve slack-jawed with a spoon in his grip. He drops it in favour of striding towards you and taking your face into his hand, his palm flat to your cheek. “Is it your back?”

“No,” you murmur pathetically.

Steve rubs away a rogue tear before it can traverse the bump of your cheek. “Let’s sit down. You should’ve said. I can go over to Bradley’s again and get you some more Tylenol.”

“It’s not- Steve. Thank you for the flowers,” you say. Your ‘thank you’ sounds stretched, tenuous. You smile and your cheeks apple, prompting another fat tear to tip.

Steve looks horrified. “Sure, babe. Of course. You like them, huh?”

You wrap one of your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, needing to be closer than close.

“You’re crying about the flowers?” he asks, voice a murmur.

You nod, feeling his hand cup the back of your neck.

“This reaction makes me think I need to get you them more often.”

“Nobody’s ever got me flowers before.”

“No?” He pushes his chin over the crown of your head. “Lucky me, to be the first.”

You start laughing. “My first,” you repeat.

His arms tighten. Cellophane crinkles between you. “Oh,” he says, voice warm with fondness. “You perv. Here, give ‘em back. I don’t get flowers for sickos.”

You hold them as far away from him as possible. He chuckles and hugs you and eventually you pull away from him to stare some more at the assortment of blossoms, enamoured.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve is looking at you the same way — entirely besotted. Sick with it. He shakes his head and returns to your quickly cooling food, though he can’t help glancing at you from time to time as you trim the stems and set them in a vase.

You rub a delicate petal between your fingers distractedly.

“Come eat something,” he says.

You nod and drift to his side, looking over your shoulder as if checking they're still there. He promises to himself to get you another bunch, and another, as many as it takes for the novelty to wear off.

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things

4K notes · View notes

burrow-ix · 11 months

Text

Sun-Kissed • Part Two

Part Two to “Sun-Kissed,” requested by the lovely @balanceingrace. This honestly isn’t that great so I apologize😅😂

Summary: you and Joe are on your way home from Ted’s pool party. And let’s just say that Joe wasn’t done with you yet ;)

Part One

You and Joe walk out to the car after saying your goodbyes to Joe’s teammates and your friends. He opens the door for you and you dip down into the passenger seat, him shutting the door before making his long strides to the other side.

Once he gets out onto the highway, he places his strong and vein infested hand on your thigh, giving it a healthy squeeze. You hold onto his hand as you watch out the window, feeling sleepy from today’s “excursions.”

Joe pulled up to a stop light and looked over at you. He started at your face. The way your eyes were soft, your long eye lashes fluttering, hitting your cheekbones every time you closed them. Your perfect nose, always loved to press his lips to it. Another thing he loved to press his lips to; your own. They were always perfectly pink, and plump, he was obsessed with the way your lips felt against his. They always fit his perfectly.

He moves his gaze down to your chest. He could feel his mouth water. The way your breasts sat perfectly, rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. They were perfect. He continues to ogle your body, moving to your tummy. Your tummy wasn’t toned, it had a couple rolls but god, did he love your tummy. Loved to kiss it, lay on it, run his calloused fingers across it. Your tummy was sexy. You are sexy.

He is so in love with you and so turned on by you, all of the time.

You finally look over at him, feeling his eyes on you. His blue eyes finally meet yours, the look on his face making your breathing ramp up. His look was intense, dark, hot; you couldn’t help but pull your bottom lip inbetween your teeth.

“This is the longest red light ever” you murmur, keeping your eyes fixed on his. His eyes mesmerizing and hypnotizing as always.

“I want you so bad right now” Joe whispers, his hand squeezing your thigh a little harder than before. You feel yourself instantly get wet, and you wanted to punch yourself for always letting him get to you so easily.

“The light’s green” you whisper back with a teasing look. He sighs and presses his foot on the gas as he fixes his eyes back on the road.

You watch him as he speeds slightly, his hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. Your eyes run down his body and down to his lap where you notice the tent in his shorts. You smirk and lean over the console and place your lips to his ear.

“Let me help you with this” you murmur, nipping at his earlobe as you bring your hand to his lap to palm him through his shorts.

His breath hitches in his throat. He licks his lips and bites his bottom lip, trying to keep his cool. Joe was normally cool, calm, and collected; the three C’s, but when it came to you, you made his heart rate sky rocket, his blood pressure rise, all in a good way. You had such an affect on him and he doesn’t think you realize just how much.

You reach your hand down into his shorts and take him into your hand, stroking him painfully slow.

“Shit” he gasps, trying to focus on driving but you are making it painfully hard to do so.

“How do I make you feel, Joey, hm? Me touching you like this?” You ask, licking under his ear before closing your lips around the spot, giving his neck a little nip. You pick up the pace a bit, feeling his precum dripping onto your hand.

“God, I don’t know if I can do this. I’m going to wreck if you don’t stop, baby” he groans, his breathing becoming shallow.

“Well then I suggest you pull over” you smirk as you kiss down his neck and down to his exposed collarbone from that damn unbuttoned shirt.

He immediately got off the next exit and pulls into a mostly empty parking lot. He puts the car in park and immediately smashes his pretty lips to yours, tongues clashing like you two were competing to win.

You stroke him faster and he turns into a moaning mess. That’s one thing you were obsessed with about Joe. He wasn’t afraid to be vocal, he always let you know how you were making him feel whether he wanted to or not. His moans, groans, curses under his breath, they were always music to your ears.

You pull away from him and readjust yourself in the seat, getting onto your knees and leaning over the console. You pull his shorts down more and lick the underside of his shaft.

“Oh fuck” he moans, his left hand going into your hair and the other grabbing onto your ass.

You take him into your mouth, your tongue feeling every vein on his cock. Delicious. His moans make you take him most of the way, your hand pumping what couldn’t fit, and your eyes starting to water.

You bob up and down on his dick, his moans and whimpered curses making you wetter by the second. You reach down to your bottoms with your free hand and slip it into your bikini bottoms, circling your clit with your fingers.

“Babe, I’m gonna- oh FUCK” his hips bucking up multiple times, causing you to gag but you powered through, wanting him to let go because of you. You moaned around him from you playing with yourself and just Joe alone and the noises you were causing him to make, also just to add more sensation for him.

With one last thrust of his hips, he shoots his load down your throat with a loud grunt. You work him through his orgasm before pulling off with a “pop,” proceeding to lick him clean.

You sit up and pull your fingers out of your own bottoms and lift your fingers up to his mouth, where he gladly takes them and sucks them clean. He lays his head against the head rest and closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

“You alright?” You giggle, wiping the back of your mouth with one hand and rubbing his bare chest with the other.

“Fan-fucking-tastic” he sighs and you smile.

“Now,” he lets his head fall towards your direction, his hand coming up to wrap gently around the front of your neck and pulling your face closely to his. Oh shit.

“You better get your sexy ass in that back seat before I put you there myself” his says against your lips. You smile and kiss him slowly before climbing over the console and into the back seat. Not without a healthy smack to the ass from Joe which makes you squeal. You crack up laughing as he barrels into the back seat and falling onto you, to which he laughs and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Damn, that wasn’t sexy at all” he chuckles. You cup his cheeks and lift his head up to look you in the eyes.

“Serious Joe, serious” you laugh. He smiles and takes a deep breath before smashing his lips to yours, his tongue immediately invading your mouth. You pull off your bottoms as he sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap, your thighs on either side of his hips.

You grind down onto his crotch as the two of you make out which makes him groan against your lips. He brings his hand down onto your ass cheek, hard causing you to gasp into his mouth. You run your hands down the front of him and on the sides of him under that damn unbuttoned shirt feeling his hot skin against your finger tips and palms.

Joe loved when you would do that shit; slipping your hands under his shirt, hoodie, etc. It was one of his biggest weaknesses when it came to you. You were his biggest weakness but in only all of the best ways possible.

He reached up and untied the strings to your bikini top and let it fall. He pulled away from your lips, looking into your eyes with his normally pink lips now borderline red and swollen before latching onto one of your nipples.

“Mmm” you sigh, your hands going to the back of his head and into his dirty blonde hair. He sucks and swirls his tongue around the bud, turning you on even more than you already were, and you didn’t think that was possible.

He moved on to the other one, giving it just as much attention, keeping you gripping onto his hair and a moaning mess.

“Pull your damn shorts down, JB” you huff, slipping your fingers into the band of his shorts and underwear.

He picks up his hips with you still on top of him and pulls everything down, his dick slapping up against his lower abdomen. Didn’t take him long to get worked up again. You take him into your hand and pump him a few times before lining him up with your entrance.

You place your lips back on his as you slide down onto him, both of you moaning pornographically into each other’s mouths. You lift yourself up for a split second before lowering yourself onto him again, the feeling of him deliciously stretching you out was intense.

“You feel so good, Joey” you whimper.

“So do you, baby, fuck” he breathes out. He places his hands on your hips and helps you start to bounce up and down on him.

You continuously bounce yourself on his dick, making Joe’s head fall back, the sounds of y’all’s skin slapping making the experience even more enticing.

“That’s my girl. That’s my fucking girl” he growls, his eyes lowering to where the two of met, him entering you repeatedly. He reaches down to your clit and circles his thumb over it. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you throw your head back.

“Yeah, you like that, baby? Yeah, you do” he grits through his teeth. You look back down at him, your mouth open, heavily breathing.

You change the angle and the pace by rocking your hips back and forth against him. You watch him because a mess under you, his eyebrows furrowed, showing those lines inbetween his eyebrows like they always do. He’s so hot.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N)” he moans.

“I’m gonna cum, Joe” you whine, biting your lip as you clinch around him. His eyes screw shut, the feeling of you becoming too much.

“Me too” he says just above a whisper, his voice giving out on him. He pinches your clit and that sends you over the edge, hard, fast, and screaming. Your body becomes weak, so Joe grabs your hips, lifting you up and repeatedly slamming into you.

You were taken off guard, grabbing onto his shoulders tightly for support, just as you come back to earth from that mindblowing orgasm, he was quickly working you back up for another one.

“Look at me when I make you cum” you tell him, grabbing the back of his neck, forcing him to look at you. His blue eyes bore into yours and he comes just as hard as you did, his hips still moving, sensing you were close to another one too.

Another 10 seconds later, you came around him once again, now seeing nothing but stars as you fell against him; your body had officially given out. You two lay there in each other’s arms, both of you trying to catch your breath. You were trying to even find your thoughts, he literally fucked you stupid.

“That was fucking amazing” he breathes out, one of his hands running from your hip up to your back, rubbing circles to help you relax.

“Mhm” you hum.

“You alright?” He chuckles, moving your hair out of the way so he could try to look at you.

“Mhm” you respond again, letting your arms slide down to wrap around his waist. He kisses your temple and gives you a gentle squeeze before lifting you up to slide out of you, making you both hiss, and setting you down next to him. He reaches up between the driver seat and passenger seat and into the console to grab some napkins. He gently cleans you up and kisses a kiss to your cheek once he was done.

You grab your shorts and bikini bottoms, sliding those on before Joe climbs out of the car and helps you out. Your knees buckle and he catches you instantly. He snorts, and you smack his chest.

“Joseph, I can’t freaking walk” you snarl and he laughs.

“Sorry, babe”

You rolls your eyes as he helps you to your side and helps you sit in the front. He leans over you and gives you a sweet smile before pressing his lips to yours lovingly.

“I love you” he tells you. He never fails to make your heart swell, even after he just railed you.

“I love you more” you wink and he shakes his head.

“Nope!

And before you get to respond, he shuts your door.

Joe always keeps you on your toes, but life would suck if he didn’t.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #long hair joe #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader

467 notes · View notes

mochiwrites · 1 month

Note

Ohohooo a request? For writing? Heheheheheee have some tooth-rotting fluff

Scar tucked a lock of hair behind Grian’s ear as they spoke, his gaze wandering lazily over his freckles to land on his dark, dark eyes. The sunlight looked so nice when it was dappled across Grian’s face like this, catching in his hair like honey, illuminating his eyes like faceted onyx.

“I’ll just need fifteen stacks of concrete and— Scar? Scar, are you listening to me?”

Scar let his hand drift from Grian’s hair to his cheek, tilting their heads to make eye contact. “No.”

“Scar,” Grian complained, although a light smile played on his lips, “You can’t keep getting away with that just because you’re pretty.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Scar cooed, shifting closer across the spruce needles strewn across the ground.

“Of course, that’s the bit you actually listen to” Grian said, rolling his eyes and moving to place his hand touching Scar’s. Scar was quick to lace their fingers together, giving a gentle squeeze.

“I think you’re pretty, too, if that helps,” he admitted, gently pressing a kiss to the tip of Grian’s freckled nose. Grian pulled back, moving his free hand to the back of Scar’s neck to keep his face close as he peppered little kisses across Scar’s cheekbones.

The two settled into a comfortable silence, hands still entwined, both giggling lightly. Scar bumped their noses together, eliciting a little squeak of laughter from Grian. He sighed, happily, but his smile drooped.

“Scar, I really do need to get that concrete…”

Scar brushed his hand through Grian’s hair, relishing in the way Grian leaned into the touch. “Do you really?”

Grian hummed in consideration, turning his head to kiss Scar’s palm. “Maybe not riiight now.”

-🦕

UWAHHHHH YOU STRIKE AGAIN 🥹🥹🥹

your timing is literally perfect because I just finished one of my essays and was taking a small break before going into my next one. I am MELTING they're so soft ;w; I love them so much, I am cradling them in my HAAAAANDS

this is so cute and soft ueueueueue THEY

#mochi speaks #🦕 anon #scarian #hermitshipping #THE BUNNY KISS REVOLUTION BEGIIIIIINS #>:3c

77 notes · View notes

errythinisblue · 1 year

Text

Rainy Manchester mornings.

Rúben Dias x Y/N

Summary: You’re not used to wake up with your boyfriend by your side, and he’s not used to either, because of his busy schedule. But you both might get used to it very easily…

Warnings: SMUT (almost without a plot, but at least it’s kinda sweet)

gif credits to @gyu-17

Rain tapped against the windows of your bedroom, and you slowly stirred awake; you opened your eyes in the greyish light, and your heart immediately skipped a beat at the sight you were presented with: Rúben’s face was so close to yours that your noses could touch with just a slight movement of your own. He was sleeping on his back, his chest deeply raising and falling with each breath he took; his left arm was by his side, hand resting just above his left hip, while his right arm was under your head; it was probably numb by now, seen as you woke up pretty much in the exact, same position you fell asleep the night before.

You slowly moved your body towards him, resting your weight on your elbows and finally setting his arm free, careful not to wake him up. He had a big game tonight and you knew he needed the rest.

He sighed in his sleep, as he perceived that he could move his arm again, and he moved it immediately to circle your waist under the covers, losing no time and no chance to keep you as close as he could. His face scrunched up in concentration as he did so, and you couldn’t help but find his expression adorable.

Smiling, you slowly raised your right hand to smooth the creases that formed on his forehead, and when you saw his face relax, you lowered your body on the bed once again, resting your cheek on his shoulder this time.

Your fingers gently caressed the smooth skin of his chest, dancing along his left collarbone, then in the middle of his neck, and then along his right collarbone; your eyes were fixed on his beautiful facial features: his now relaxed forehead and the disheveled hair, his closed eyes with those long lashes you envied so much, his nose and his defined cheekbones, his full lips, and that beard of his… he was perfection.

As you absentmindedly admired him, Rúben turned to his side; he was still asleep, but he was fully facing you now. The arm that circled your body tightened its hold on you, while his left hand moved from his hip to yours. You could tell it wouldn’t be long before he was fully awake, as his left hand travelled down your thigh and moved it over his hip, letting you feel every single inch of him.

His breathing hitched as his hard on pressed against your core, and you too sighed at the contact, even if there were still two layers of fabric separating the two of you.

“Hmm…” he groaned as he opened his deep brown eyes, “Well, good morning…”

“Morning baby…” you smiled, bumping your nose against his, and softly scratching his beard.

He bumped your nose back with his, before he pecked your lips, once, twice, grinning before he pressed his lips to yours once again, kissing you deeply, sighing into the kiss and breathing you in as if he missed you during his sleep. With your lips still attached to his, he didn’t wait anymore to roll your bodies over, and you ended up straddling him.

“God,” he smirked up at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, “I love waking up like this, with you…”

“You do hm?” you asked him, as you lowered your face to kiss him.

“I do,” he breathed as soon as your mouth moved to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, “I hate when I have to leave early in the morning to go training, I hate leaving you all alone in our big bed…” a low growl erupted from the back of his throat, “…I hate that I’m not here to give you a proper good morning kiss, or something better…”

“But you’re here now,” you smiled before you pressed an open mouthed kiss to his lips, “aren’t you?”

“I am…” he rasped, before he sat up to kiss you.

He was there with you indeed, and you could feel him everywhere around you: his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips ghosting your pulse, his hands slowly travelling down your back, starting from between your shoulder blades and ending on your hips as he guided your grinding movements.

“You know we shouldn’t,” you whispered, already hooked on the feeling of him, “not before tonight’s game…” you murmured against his lips, those same lips that travelled up from your neck to kiss you again, and again.

“It’s still early in the morning, and the game is tonight…” he tried to convince you, moving his right hand to the front of your panties and placing his thumb directly over your clit, “I’ll have plenty of time to recover…”

“This is not fair…” you half whined as you moved your hips in sync with his thumb.

“What?” Rúben smirked, gazing at your facial expression through half hooded eyes.

“You trying to persuade me like this…” you gulped as he applied a more intense pressure.

“Okay, you’re right.” he cleared his throat, before he raised his hands in surrender, letting you long for his touch on you once again, “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

“It might be too late for that…” you leaned your face closer to his, watching as he gulped while you felt him twitch under you.

“Where are you going?” he rasped as he watched you get out of bed.

“Just lay down…” you told him as you gently pushed on his chest, feeling his heart hammer under your touch; you smirked as you heard him swearing while he looked at you getting undressed for him.

You couldn’t wait to feel his skin against yours, already missing the close contact between your bodies and already longing for an even closer one, so you kneeled between his parted thighs before you straddled his hips once again.

“You’re so beautiful bebê…” he groaned as he touched your naked breasts, toying with your hardened nipples as you rolled your head back because of his blazing touch, “So beautiful and all mine.”

“I want you Rúben,” you whimpered, wanting to feel his hands all over you once again, “please…” you pleaded while you freed his dick from his tight boxers, taking him by surprise as you wrapped your small hand around him.

“Fuck bebê,” he moaned, closing his eyes shut at the feeling of your hand gently stroking his cock, “don’t stop…” he was the one pleading this time, but he didn’t waste any time before his fingers were making sure you were wet enough for him, and he let out a low moan as he felt that you were more than ready for him to fuck you.

Rúben kissed you hungrily, panting and moaning softly in your mouth as you were still stroking him; then he gently removed your hand from him, lowering his boxers enough to be comfortable, before he wrapped his hand around his dick and slowly lowered you down on it.

“Oh Rúbenn…” you softly moaned as he stretched you out, filling you perfectly as he always did.

“You feel amazing baby, fuck,” he sighed, feeling lightheaded from the way your walls wrapped around him, “so wet for me, so perfect.”

“You are,” you panted, starting to move above him, riding him slowly, teasingly, “you are perfect Rúben, fuck!”

His hands were all over you once again, just like his lips, that were attached to your breasts, to your neck, and to your face; your senses were in overdrive as you could feel his touch everywhere, and the slow rhythm of your movements did nothing to help your case, if anything it pushed you closer and closer to your high.

Rúben wasn’t doing better, if it can be said. Your soft skin and your scent were intoxicating him; the sight of you riding him and chasing both of your highs didn’t help him at all, not to mention the feeling of your walls that started to contract around him, as if they were calling him in, inviting him to just let go.

“Are you close baby?” Rúben asked you, his hoarse voice alone making you moan out loud, “I can feel how close you are…”

“Please baby, please Rúben I need you…” you breathed, pleasure already fogging your brain, “I need you…” you repeated as you took his hand and placed it between your bodies, letting him know what you wanted from him.

As soon as Rúben’s fingers started to circle your clit, you threw your head back breathing a desperate “fuck” to let him know this what what you needed. And Rúben would have cum right there and then at the mere sight of you: seeing you like this, all his and lost in the pleasure he was giving you was definitely making him lose it.

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to hold back and to wait for you to cum before letting go. But he wasn’t ready to meet your burning gaze once he opened his eyes once again, and you weren’t going to look away. You stared into his eyes, into his soul, as you took his face in your hands as you started to ride him faster and harder.

“Bebê I’m not gonna last long if you keep this up,” Rúben whined, the strain in his voice telling you he was clearly holding back, “fuck, slow down, I want you to cum first-”

“I want you to cum with me,” you breathed, “cum with me Rúbenn…”

“Fuck you’re so gorgeous, fuck!” he growled as he helped you ride out your orgasm, and finishing inside you as he did so, “Fuck baby…” he sighed as he tried to gain control over his breathing once again.

He gently laid you down on the bed, before he got up to grab a washcloth to clean you both up. He was always so caring and always paying attention to you, and this morning it was no different.

“We should do this more often…” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, once he laid down next to you.

“You’re right indeed,” he chuckled as he kissed your cheek, “but what am I gonna tell to your beloved Pep?”

“Tell him to just postpone your morning sessions,” you shrugged as you heard him laughing, “by an hour or maybe two…” you wiggled your eyebrows as you tangled your fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Two hours hm?” Rúben breathed, his mouth dangerously close to yours, “We still have time then!” he laughed as he rolled your bodies over, laying on top of you, between your parted thighs.

“Time for what??” you smiled up at him, caressing his irresistible bearded cheeks.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but I’m sure we’ll find something to keep us entertained!” he chuckled before he grabbed the duvet and brought it up to your heads, hiding your bodies and your giggling noises underneath it.

740 notes · View notes

samuel-de-champagne-problems · 1 year

Text

The Final Draft - Spencer Reid +18

Summary: Spencer and Reader have a perfect day together and cling to each other under their sweet nothings

Word Count: 4K

Content Warnings: incredibly cheesy and borderline saccharine, smut (oral sex- female receiving, sexual intercourse, dirty talk but very sweet and romantic, breeding kink but it’s like sweet and cute) basically this is entirely self fulfilling and indulgent

The Final Draft

My hair stuck to the soft cotton pillow case as I rolled over to my side. I landed into Spencer’s warm, welcoming yet sleeping figure. He hummed in his sleep, unconsciously enveloping me into his strong frame. With my chest flush to his, I gently wrapped your arm around his upper torso and casually draped my leg over his much longer ones.

He was always warm, nearly burning, when he slept. Long ago Spencer hand abandoned sleeping in a shirt, opting for either simply boxers or old, worn plaid pajama pants. His chest was smooth and strong, and each wrinkle, scar, stretch mark reminded me of all my years spent loving him. Sometimes, when I looked at him, it just reminded me that I was simply too soft for all of it. And Spencer Reid, just might be the softest and most gentle of them all.

“G’ morning,” Spencer mumbled, sleep was still evident in his voice, “how long did you stare at me for?” He asked.

“Not long enough to admire how pretty you are, fiancé” I quipped, reaching over to the night stand to put the shimmering ring on my finger.

“Let me,” Spencer interrupted, grabbing the ring and placing it on my ring finger himself. He smiled to himself and it seemed like it was one of those smiles that was intended to be private. I watched the way his lipped curved upward as he held my hand in his palm. He has always touched me with the most love and adoration, but there was something different about the way he touched my hand when he slipped my engagement ring onto my finger.

“There,” Spencer said, “It’s back where it’s supposed to be.” He kissed my hand, the sweetness of the gesture making an embarrassed heat crawl up my face and into my ears.

“You know you don’t have to do that every time,” you muttered, covering my face as if it could possibly shield me from Spencer’s unabashed affections.

Spencer swung his legs over my frame so his body caged mine. He kissed my hairline and then down to the bridge of my nose. I brought my hand to his cheek, brushing my thumb against his cheekbone. He closed his eyes at the gesture, basking in my gentle touch as if he could commit it to memory. And if there was a person who could, it would most certainly be Spencer.

“I do.” Spencer said, the irony of his words not lost on either of me. He smirked, peppering kisses down my throat. “You’re going to be my wife. And I want to spoil you completely rotten with fancy jewelry and all the iced lattes and books you could ever want.”

“Hmm,” I said, brushing my hands through the mess of brown curls on Spencer’s head, “you sound like a man you want a handjob with the hand with the huge rock you bought me.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” Spencer started, he lifted up my sleep shirt to stick his head underneath the soft, cotton fabric and place wet kisses against my belly, “all I can think about would be the staggering amount of germs collecting on your ring. And I don’t think either of us want me focusing on the amount of bacteria per square nanometer on your ring while you're stroking my dick.”

“God, I love you and your weird, wonderful mind,” I laughed, hauling Spencer up by his face to finally kiss him. I felt teeth and his soft lips in the kiss. It was a mix of sweet and something less sweet, as it usually was when I kissed Spencer.

“Ha, thank you very much,” Spencer quipped back, quickly kissing your cheek as a chaste thank you, “but I’d much rather go down on you anyway.” He grinned in a smile that spread throughout his entire face and, of course, leaked to mine.

“And what about the germs from that, Spence,” you teased, knowing that even Spencer Reid could make a couple excuses for germs when it came to me.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Spencer said, brushing you off as his hands traveled down to my pajama pants, “How fond are you of these pajamas. Because I want you so bad, I’m ready to rip them to shreds to get your pussy.” He lamented.

His eyes bore fire into my belly as he stared at me down, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Quite fond, honey. But there’s other things I’m more fond of, if we’re being honest here.” I confessed, dragging my fingertips up and down Spencer’s smooth chest. He had a dusting of hair that led down to where his pants hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Hmm, well you’re lucky because you're too cute for your own good in those little shorts, I’ll make sure to not rip them. This time that is,” Spencer promised with a dark tone clouding his voice.

He shed me of my shorts, lightly tapping my thigh to lift my hips to help him. Spencer sighed contently as he got himself eye level with my legs. He peppered kisses against my inner thighs, nipping and sucking in perfect tempo with my whimpers of pleasure.

“Spence, please you’re killing me.” I groaned, gripping his hair with my hands.

“Already?” Spencer tsked, his condescending tone sent waves of pleasurable humiliation up my spine. “I hardly even touched you yet. My girl is getting so spoiled. It’s a good thing I’m making you my wife. You’ll never have to worry about not getting your way, honey. I’ll always give it to you, you know that, right?”

I attempted to catch my breath as I scratched Spencer’s scalp. He groaned, the anticipation of what was to come, clearly got to him as well. You could feel his erection pressed up against your leg. And the thought of still having that kind of effect on him made me smile with pride.

“I need it, Spence.” I chanted his name, desperation clouded my mind. “I need your mouth on me, please.”

“Just because I love you so much I’ll give it to you, darling.” Spencer cooed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin as he spoke.

Spencer, with relative ease and muscle memory, lapped at my center with his tongue. He groaned as he tasted me, the sound simultaneously passionate and romantic. All I could do, as his mouth attached to my clit, was sit and let him have his way with me, not like there was anything either of us would have rather been doing.

His fingers dug into my fleshy hips so deep that they left colorful bruises in the shape of his hands. Spencer kissed my thighs, moaning as my pleasure-filled mewls filled our shared bedroom. He rocked his hips against the mattress, his erection hitting against my leg as he writhed in between my legs.

“Fuck,” Spencer cursed, his mouth massaging my clit as his right hand snuck closer and closer towards my soaked center, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

As much as I craved the familiar fire that Spencer set to my entire being, I found myself needing the quiet peace he provided as well. Even as his tongue danced against my sensitive folds, I still found myself noticing the faint wrinkles in Spencer’s forehead and the slightest sliver of silver in his scalp. And it wasn’t sexual desire that fueled the fire in my veins, it was yearning for the life we've yet to create.

With every kiss, every nip and bite of my skin, every rut of his hips against our perpetually squeaky mattress, I found myself closer and closer to the edge of climax.

Spencer’s finger breached me as his tongue continued to pry against my throbbing pussy. I knotted my hands into his hair, tugging with force just as I knew he loved. He groaned in response and it was frankly scientific. When I tugged his hair, it earned me a wanton moan from the man that found himself in between my legs wreaking havoc against my heart and nervous system.

“Spence…it’s…it’s too much for me,” I whined, yet I wrapped my legs around his torso, forcing his entire face flush against my skin, “Oh fuck, I love you.” I whispered, as I saw my glittering ring shimmer against Spencer’s mousy brown curls.

“I’m going to bury my face into your pussy until you’re begging to come against my face.” Spencer heeded, his patronizing tone casting a different light on the man I loved. Despite my distraction, I made a mental note to have Spencer explore that commanding side of him another day.

Because we had just that. The thought made me smile.

And then, along with Spencer’s eager tongue and continued moans of pleasure, I came undone.

Ever eager to please and see things through, Spencer kissed my inner thighs with persistence. A stray finger pumped in and out at a fervent pace as he milked the reminder of my climax.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” Spencer murmured, the vibrations from his throat tickled my skin. A sappy smile slipped onto my face as Spencer’s eyes finally landed on mine. “You coming on my face is something that I’ll never get tired of.”

“You certainly know the exact way to charm a girl, Spence.” I teased, stroking back strands of hair that fell against his forehead. His brown hair, dusted with golden, copper highlights complimented his eyes so perfectly that my heart twinged when I looked at him. “Besides being perfect in like every way possible.”

Spencer blushed and buried his face against my leg. He dragged his fingertips along my calf and up to my knee. “You’re the perfect one,” Spencer said, kissing my knee. The sweet gesture signaled that it was my turn to flush.

“That’s debatable,” I countered, locking my fingers into Spencer’s long, yet slender hands, “So you’re up at bat, buddy.” I teased, leaning over to playfully slap Spencer’s butt.

He smirked, his eyes ranking over my sleep shirt that was hastily unbuttoned in Spencer’s earnest frenzy to undress me. Though my eyes were caked with sleep and my hair had seen much better days, I had never felt more beautiful than I did under Spencer’s fiery, yet loving gaze.

“You know that doing that is more enjoyable for me than it is for you. And that’s saying something by the look on your face.” Spencer asserted, earning a playful eye roll. “And, don’t get me wrong, I love you more than life itself, but I really need to shower this off.”

“Such a dork.” I tsked, threading my fingers through Spencer’s hair. He leaned in at the touch. “How ‘bout I wash your hair as a thank you, baby.” I offered, sliding up to get off the bed.

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, closing his eyes, “That sounds excellent.”

After a nearly 45-minute shower intermission, Spencer and I found ourselves standing at the kitchen counter debating over breakfast. Spencer, like usual, insisted on something sweet, covered in syrup and butter, with an unhealthy amount of coffee on the side.

“I vote for bagels and lox.” I countered, placing my hands on the counter for emphasis. Spencer cocked his head to the left as he reached into the refrigerator for my non-dairy milk of choice.

“I don’t know about that,” Spencer said, “I was kind of in the mood for something sweet. Like chocolate chip pancakes. Or waffles with mixed berries.”

I sighed and snuck to behind Spencer’s tall frame. I could feel his muscles tense at my touch; it was something that made my heart swell with pride. I was intensely proud of the fact that I could still make this man squirm at the gentlest, lightest, sweetest of touches.

“You’re not being fair, Y/N.” Spencer whispered, his voice caught in between a whine and an argument. “But maybe we could make a bargain.”

“What do you want to offer?” I asked, slipping my hands under Spencer’s shirt. My fingers skirted around his smooth torso, loving the feel of his soft body underneath my touch. When he spoke, his voice was shaky, confirming to me the power I held over him.

“I want cookies. Those peanut butter and marshmallow fluff ones. With chocolate chips, of course,” Spencer said, “And blueberry-lemon pound cake with icing.”

Spencer spun around so he faced me. He licked his lips, perhaps thinking of all the sweet desserts he’ll get out of me. Or, rather, maybe he was thinking of taking our bedroom-turned-shower tryst into the kitchen. Whatever it was, I loved the way he looked at me like I was sweeter than my blueberry-lemon pound cake that he begged me to make at least three times a month.

“You have quite the sweet tooth,” I stated, hooking my arms behind Spencer’s neck, “and you drive an easy bargain. I was already itching to bake today. I love it when our place smells like cookies and all that sweet stuff.” I confessed.

“Our place,” Spencer repeated, “I can’t tell you how much I love the sound of that.” He smiled. Spencer brushed a piece of my hair that fell across my eyes. His stare bore into my soul and it wasn’t fire or desire or anything like that filled me, it was that familiar, the comfortable, that sweet nothing.

“You know what I can’t wait for,” I whispered, burying my face into Spencer’s chest, “when our place is filled with our kids.”

“I hope that they look like you.” Spencer wished. “And I hope they’re just like you. Your smile. Your eyes. Your heart.” His hand rubbed my back in small circles. It felt steady and strong against my back. It was like his hand was meant to be there– like Spencer was always meant to be touching me, holding me, loving me.

“I hope they have your sweet tooth,” I smiled, “Think about all the cookies and brownies you’ll get if there’s mini-yous running around begging me to bake.”

“I don’t think I want cookies anymore.” Spencer gasped, his hands finding their place at my waist. He kissed my jawline, smiling through the affection. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as my nails scratched up and down the expanse of Spencer’s back.

“What’s got you so insatiable this morning,” I questioned, my attention span dwindling as Spencer’s careful mouth skated across my jaw and down to my neck.

“You.” Spencer said definitively. I could feel his toothy grin as he kissed me. It was like he was unable to contain himself from smiling against my skin. I felt a warmth spread from my

skin and find its way to my heart. It was quickened by Spencer’s persistent kisses, something that I decided a long time ago I’d never want to live without.

“Your choice.” I breathed. “Couch or counter.”

I broke from Spencer, eager to watch the wheels of his mind churn as he made a decision. In an attempt to both distract and excite him, I grabbed his arm that lay lazily over my shoulder. I placed his hand against my cheek and Spencer subconsciously stroked my face with his thumb. I twisted my mouth to place a kiss against his cupped palm.

“Couch.” Spencer said with certainty. “But your shirt comes off this time so I can watch your boobs as you ride me.”

Spencer giggled with glee as he led me to the couch. He sat, patting the spot on his lap for me to sit. I obliged.

He kissed my hairline, smiling into my forehead. Spencer’s hands flitted down my arms and grazed across my waist. He was the one that made me love the softness of my figure. I never felt like I had to hide the way my body naturally folded and creased. Spencer made me feel beautiful in my most raw and natural sense.

“Your skin is so soft,” Spencer said, “if there’s something I could spend the rest of my life doing it would be touching you. Your waist. Your chest. Your legs. Everything about you. It’s soft and supple and smooth. I adore you. The way you feel.”

“Spence,” I croaked, overwhelmed by the way his words stained my cheeks with flush, “God, you make me fall for you over and over.”

“The plan’s to keep you forever.” Spencer mumbled, his teeth grazed my ear as he whispered in my ear. “Is it working?”

Spencer’s fingers found their way to my waistband. He looked at me for either praise or permission, I wasn’t sure. But my hands cradling his head and my lips crashing to his was consent enough.

He was quick, slipping his fingers into my shorts elicited a complimentary proud grin from the pair of us. I twisted his hair into my hands, tilting his head up

to expose his neck. He moaned shamelessly, his thighs shaking underneath me.

“I think I’m the one making you fall to be honest, Spence.” I cooed, my fingernail tracing down Spencer’s scalp as he puffed out a shaky breath.

I lifted my hips and Spencer slipped off my shorts, leaving me completely bare. I swore I felt Spencer’s heart skip a beat as I pressed my chest against his chest, our bodies and hearts flush against each other.

I rolled my hips against Spencer’s erection, starting to laugh mercilessly as Spencer moaned wantonly. Pleasure looked good on him. And it looked even better when it was me who brought him to the brink.

“I need to be inside you.” Spencer panted in my ear. “I need you all the time, baby. I crave it. Take my cock inside of you.. Feel how hard it is. Feel each rib against your walls. That’s it. Moan for me, just like that, baby.”

I couldn’t do anything, but moan as Spencer slipped himself inside of me. He was painfully still as he allowed me to get adjusted to erection. I kissed his cheeks, a saccharine action that contrasted the filthy way he fucked me.

“Spence,” I cried out, only able to whimper his name at that point, “please move. I need it, baby.”

“I know, I know, darling,” Spencer said, kissing my face, “you take my cock so well. Now let me watch you bounce on my cock.”

Spencer’s quick movements hastened my climax. I clenched down on him, proud of myself as his face twisted in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck.” I cried out, watching as Spencer’s erection disappeared and reappeared from inside me. Our moans filled the silence of the apartment. I felt his soft belly tighten, his tired muscles working overtime as he held me up. “Please, Spence. Please,”

“Let you come? Hmm,” Spencer hummed, his voice losing the power and control it so carefully held as he neared his own climax, “already, my love? I’ll let you come, my sweet girl. Don’t you dare look away from me. I want to see you explode as you cum on my cock.”

“No, no. Not that, Spencer,” I corrected, shaking my head to alter my previous correction, “Well, yes you are right. Fuck, it’s hard to concentrate. But no, I need you to come inside me. Please, I need you to fill me up. To give me a baby. Your babies.”

He was buried so deep inside of me, hitting all the right places as I continued to thrust my hips. Spencer attempted to keep a pace, but grew sloppier and more uncoordinated as I felt his sex twitch inside of me. He huffed in pleasure, his hot breath stinging my skin as he kissed me. The kiss was wet and needy, a testament to the tiniest thread that held our climaxes together.

“Oh God, I love feeling you like this.”

“I’m yours, love. I’m yours,” Spencer chanted as he kissed my throat. His groan spilled over my skin as he dripped from me where our two bodies met. He continued to thrust up into me, gently guiding me to come undone.

I collapsed in a heap on his sweat covered chest and felt our two hearts beat in tandem.

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, his hand spread against my back, “I can’t wait till the day that that works for real.”

“Me too.” I confirmed. “Who knows maybe it did this time?”

I felt Spencer’s head raise up and down in agreement. He shifted underneath me, hissing with sensitivity as he slipped out from inside me. I plopped down on the couch next to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. And so sore. So you owe me another hot shower, a massage, and at least three overpriced lattes. And a bagel.”

“Deal.” Spencer said. “Anything you want.”

Spencer held my hand as we made our way down the street. We hadn’t walked downtown like this in awhile, but I loved the way it looked in the beginning of spring. It was like life itself was pumped back into the world and we were lucky enough to be there to witness it.

My iced latte, though slightly burnt, revitalized me from the morning’s extracurricular activities. The other hand held Spencer’s hand. It was warm against my palm. I hadn’t had the opportunity to hold many hands in my life, but I realized soon after meeting Spencer that I didn’t care much about all the hands that I didn’t get to hold.

“Your perfect day getting more perfect?” Spencer asked. He had a canvas bag filled with wildflowers, carnations, and asters that he insisted on buying me. “How about we venture into

that used bookstore. I’ve been searching for a first edition of Camus’s The Stranger. It’s quite rare, but considering the morning we’ve had I think I’m getting lucky today.” Spencer winked.

“Ha! You mean how to practically jumped me both times. First time you didn’t care about my morning breath and messy hair in the bed and you certainly didn’t care about being so insatiable when you begged me in the kitchen.” I teased, turning around to whisper with emphasis. Spencer smiled, still holding on to my hand.

“And I won't care about your disgusting coffee breath in the car when we find somewhere to park later.”

“Park?” I said, pretending to be aghast at his insinuation, “If I didn’t know you better, Spencer Reid, I’d say you’re propositioning me. Yet again, I might add.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t get enough of you. That blame falls squarely on your shoulders, darling.”

I stopped at the bookstore front door. Though it was our next stop, Spencer’s words also threatened to stop me in my tracks. He had this uncanny ability to completely sweep me off my feet with just a few simple words.

“Insatiable.”

***

“I wrote a poem.” I said, looking over at Spencer’s reaction. I could see where his lips folded upwards into a smile.

“What a mind.” Spencer said, moving his hand to my thigh. He squeezed. “I know you’re shy about sharing them, but can I at least ask what it’s about?”

“You.” I confessed, my face flushing at the thought. It was silly, given all the things I’ve thought about Spencer, that a poem about living to love him would bring me to the brink of embarrassment.

“As I expected.” Spencer teased. He sounded a little shy himself, like was proud of inspiring all the scrawled away lines in my poetry book. Nearly half of them would never see the world beyond my two eyes.

“Well, it’s really about the sun. And how it dances on your eyelashes when you sleep in the hammock at the cabin. And your bitter coffee, sweetened by your smile. It’s not very good, incredibly cheesy and saccharine, I’ll admit.” I glanced over at Spencer, again testing his reaction, “But if I’m being honest, it might make better wedding vows than poetry anyway.”

“You wrote your vows for me?” Spencer asked. We had stopped at a red light and he took advantage of the opportunity to lean over across the console. His right thumb rubbed the back of my hand over and over.

“And you haven’t?” I mused, welcoming Spencer’s gentle affections.

“No, well,” Spencer sputtered, shifting gears as the light turned green, “I wrote them already. Well, the first draft, at least. That was done around November 15th, 2016.”

“The night of our first kiss?” I practically squealed, squeezing Spencer’s hand this time. He blushed at my excitement at my realization. “Ha! You really are being honest when you tell me you’ve loved me since the beginning.” Spencer pulled into our apartment’s parking lot, driving down the winding side roads.

“Of course I did, I do,” Spencer said earnestly. He pulled into the spot. I looked up at our second floor apartment. We had several plants sitting in pots, hanging over the ledge and lined up against the wall on the little balcony. I loved our flowers.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, holding my hands in his. The ring sparkled in the afternoon light, “when you met me, my job nearly took everything from me. Everyone expected me to bounce back just like that. But I couldn’t bear it, not anymore. I didn’t think there was much light anymore. Much of anything good, if I'm being honest. And then I met you. To you I can admit, I’m too soft for all of it.”

“Spence,” I said, my voice breaking as I spoke, “you’re the light. You’re the sun, Spencer. You’re the one I want. The one I need, you know that, right?”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, kissing my hands as he held them to his lips, “Can you promise me something, though.” He asked.

“Anything.”

“That we’ll have days like this forever. Loving each other, even when things might be hard. Even when love may not seem to be enough. We’ll make it enough. Because we have to have each other in a world like the one we got. Because otherwise it’s pointless. That’s life– my life without you, Y/N. Completely and entirely and entirely pointless.”

“Spence.” I whispered, bringing my hand to his cheek. “I really hope that was the final draft.”

Taglist: I'm not sure who's still active, but here's the people I don't feel bad bothering

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @ofwilliamandwalter @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @radiant-reid

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #my writing #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff

759 notes · View notes

sorbeau · 2 months

Note

what are your like essentials/you have to put in accessories or traits for drawing the bad kids?

BOY OH BOY DO I HAVE A LIST FOR YOU PAL

i have so many designs for these guys but there are certain cornerstones that MUST be upheld.

for Adaine, i love giving her huge round glasses, more often than not with some cute glasses chains or dangly accessories with them. im my heart she's also very tall and lanky, perfect awkward teen girl build. i like to keep her facian features very oval shaped, a sharp chin with a rounded jawline and a straight and thin nose.

for Kristen, I like to make her hair curly and cover her in freckles. she was the chosen of helio!!! she's kissed by the sun!!!! she's always looking sunburnt and tan in my heart. I also love making her rather stocky, just a stout girl with a big smile. i like to give her very rounded and robust facial features, chubby cheeks, a big button nose, and very expressive eyes.

for Fabian, his design is the one that changes the most imo. i could put him in one million different hairstyles and one million different outfits. i think his cornerstone design aspect that cements him as Fabian is his eternal smirk and general prettyboy aura. also the eyepatch is a pretty big tell. i like to give him sharp rectangular features, a strong jawline, defined cheekbones, and a straight nose, occasionally dropping in some cheeky dimples.

for Gorgug, i really like to give him a longer haircut, as well as part his bangs to sort of cover one eye. he's very rectangular to me and has a very long but toned build. i like to keep his face very rectanguler but rounded and soft, a square jaw and defined cheekbones, but soft brows and eyes with a large downturned nose.

for Fig, her design is also one that changes a lot, but that in and of itself is a huge part of her character!!! she's spontaneous and rebellious, and I always make sure her design reflects that. her hairstyle hats lots of subtle changes, but i like to stick to alternative microbangs a lot and making her horns curve inwards slightly. a little demon tail is optional for her, but always fun. i like to give her very heart shaped features, with a pointed chin and round defines cheeks, as well as a pointed button nose and expressive but sharp eyes.

for Riz, i really like to lean into the feral/animalistic side of goblins that we see in fh. sharp teeth, big sharp catlike eyes, and large expressive ears. im also a huge fab of giving him digitigrade legs and paws and a fuzzy tail. in my heart he's sharp and scratchy and covered in fuzz. i like to keep his face sharp but round and cute, he's got round cheeks but a sharp jawline, a small downturned nose, and wild expressive eyebrows.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #d20 #riz gukgak #fabian aramais seacaster #fig faeth #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees

98 notes · View notes

sintiva · 1 year

Text

LOVE BETWEEN, e. jaeger ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❁ summary: the two newlyweds, mr. and mrs. jaeger, emulate the special meaning of love between two human beings

❁ content: blackfem!reader, just light touching and kissing, alcohol is consumed, but nonetheless, this is straight sappy content...my first sfw piece...🚶🏽‍♀️

❁ notes: kali's album is so so so good, and love between is currently my favorite, so what did I do? thought up a scenario on the bus. i hope you guys enjoy it! feedback appreciated😊 — playlist

love between two human beings can be so wonderful… it was true, right now in this very moment. in this life, as eren’s hand settled in the dip in your back; smoothing over the warm and sticky skin. you had worked up quite a sweat, but he continued to guide your feet with his. he was holding your hand up and leading you in a careful, slow, and simple waltz. the warm, yellow lights of the botanical garden lit the perfect path, so neither of you would lose balance or topple over into a bush.

“jus’… follow my steps, promi-” blegh… he burps. you both freeze and stare in disgust! eren had the audacity to look appalled, himself.

“‘rennn, tha'snasty! say 'scuse me.” you giggle, hitting your fist against his chest, and then follow with a soft barrage of multiple petty hits. he conceded, playing into your scene of punishing the silly boy for burping so unexpectedly.

the slur and fumbling of words only reaffirm that you two are meant to be. you're both calculated, intricate, and suitable human beings made perfectly for the other. extra time was devoted in the creation of you both.

you were both young, drunk, newlyweds. slow sippin’ on wine until mr. jaeger offered shots. “well,” you suck your teeth and tilt your glass of wine to your mouth downing the rest of the rich, red liquid, “i wouldn’t be able to call myself mrs. jaeger if i refused. now would i?” you scoot your face closer to his and he adores how the tip of your nose and the apex of your cheekbone glisten from the faint golden shimmer highlight you brushed on them earlier.

“exactly! as a jaeger, you must be able to hold your liquor. can you do that my sweet wife?” with an outstretched hand he takes his index finger and tilts your chin up, careful not to ruin the makeup you worked so hard on.

pshh, you let the air wisp out the corner of your lips in disbelief. “can you even do that, husband?” you bat your eyes and wrap your hand around his wrist in wait for his answer. he smirks and chuckles in disbelief. his head hangs in embarrassment and he lifts his free hand to his forehead to shield the red that creeps it’s way up to his neck, and further spreads to his face.

you giggle; releasing his wrist and mocking him for his quick flustering. he pouts at you and calls you an evil, little thing, "but you love me though.”

“like no one else in the world, baby.”

his lifts his but off the seat, and leans forward to peck your lips — always careful not to mess up your pretty lip look. you suck in your cheeks, trying not to be like that newly wed couple, but you just couldn’t help it. you didn't want to be that overly giddy partner, but there was no need to restrict your affection. you wanted to be all over each other, shower the other in kisses and feed each other as you wined and dined. it was sweet, magical; everything you could’ve only dreamed, intangible — until eren somehow made it a dreamy reality.

eren beckoned the server over, and you grasped onto every word and brand he asked for. patron, tequila, old fashion, on the rocks, no sour mixes, any and everything — even rum and more wines. an entire language that you didn’t understand, but you’d drink it. one thing you knew for sure was that you only wanted a small amount of salt on the rim. but eren had the poor server bring over all those drinks and extras just for him to get "tipsy" on his third shot of patron.

which leads to the current predicament. a slow, sweet, and passionate waltz. his emerald eys sparkle in the way that yours shine. his lips curl up into an innocent but cheeky smile when you accidentally slip, or your heel awkwardly grates along the concrete; he'll catch you with an "I've got you, baby."

"i know you do, 'ren. you always have, even...even before all this."

he's got you. in sickness, in health, in any predicament that may make you question the capability of your love. even in the solitude and inescapable signs of death.

he'll hold you and cherish you in his arms. specifically, in this moment as you both hold the other. as you portray a disgusting amount of public affection that makes the wondering eye gag and repulse at the sight of you two — content, and carefree.

"our love is wonderful you know,"

"you think so?" you lift your forehead off his chest and wait for his answer.

"because i've dreamed of this moment since that day I met you, yn, since the day I've laid my eyes on you-". i forgot to mention he rambles when he gets a little tipsy.

"-from the day you picked on me for tripping over my shoelace in the work cafeteria. yeah, it was a stupid mistake, but the way you approached me. I'll never forget it," one smooch, as his hands drop to your waist. his fingers knead the warm, supple flesh. he's scooping you up in a way that only you're familiar with.

the music in the back now seemed like a figment of your imagination. a minor fracture in your perfect reality. a memory only feasible if eren was out of your sight. your vision blurs as he opens his mouth again.

"it was how you spoke to me, and how you looked,"

he's trying his hardest to focus on his words, but his hands have a mind of their own. his own feelings of sentiment make him woozy, and enamored — with you, and just you. this space between you two he needs to consume it.

i even remember how you smelled that day, baby. can you believe that?

"ohhh, e-eren," you've been struck by the wave of emotions you've been jumping with the entire night. you promised yourself that you wouldn't cry, not like this. not in the beautifully lit, and well-maintained green scenery of the botanical garden. the only time he succeeded in making you this vulnerable to your emotions was when he proposed.

one year ago, on a trip to turks and caicos. alone on an island sipping on margaritas until you were being more susceptible to your sexual fantasies that involved the nature of being overseas.

"this isn't what i expected, i never do things that make me happy, but this — being with you, experiencing life alongside you has made me the happiest. i can't imagine a life, my life without you, yn"

and then there's another smooch on your lips, and a warm thumb gliding across your cheek to wipe the slew of tears that slip out of your beautiful eyes. the slow dancing stopped, leaving the two of you to sway along to an ambiguous tune. the ending of the song — a true fantasy. but the birth and unification of life with the other, a world where claiming the other as "mine" has become so sweet and dulcet.

"honey, you said you weren't gonna cry."

"i know, but — just..." and you break down. digging your fingers into his arms, scared to let go. scared of the future, the end of this moment. the end of a man truly loving and worshipping you the way eren has. a prior life that he's made you forget.

"i've never, ever had this in my life, eren. you know this, and i want us — this," you sobs get louder, but eren understands, he knows you and every single part of you. your body, brain and those thoughts that make you question every little thing.

"i'm yours for forever, angel. till the end of us, till the end of me. i am forever devoted to you."

"you're stealing all the good lines from my head, eren, stop it." you whine and place your fist on his chest. he always had a way with words, that you just could never articulate. a soul like eren's was rare, it was a beauty, a true beauty. the soul of a man that you truly deserved.

"one of us has to say them, and it's helping me distract my tears." he sniffles, unexpectedly. his brunette strands tilt forward as he drops his head and succumbs to his tears. he's been holding them in, working through a hammering heart as his wife cried before him. he was a sensitive guy too you know, but he made sure that you heard his words first.

eren was entirely aware that you needed this moment, maybe he needed it more, but it was a solidifying factor. crying together, loving together, hardships together, and the inevitable. together.

"promise me," he holds your face, for an intimate kiss this time — a pause from the tears, "that our souls have been intertwined for an eternity. you're mine, I'm yours?" that emerald shimmer of his teary eyes makes your knees feel weak. but that promise was a given.

"I promise you, mr. jaeger, m-my life, my love, and my... my devotion. my soul has bonded in a forever tie with yours." you barely manage, but you got it out. that's all that matters.

"you promise?" he knocks his forehead against yours and gently soothes your body with his hands; holding you like the most fragile thing on the planet.

"i swear, promise — everything." you sweetly reply, and dry those tears. you peer up at him. eyes swollen and red, but you wait for the final factor. the fourth kiss that seals the deal. the fourth slotting of his lips against yours when he murmurs a sweet, "c'mere, baby, i love you."

the sweet feeling of his tongue agasint yours. the taste of alcohol distilled by pressure and passion — and a bit of tears.

the fourth kiss of infinite companionship, a partner, and a lover. two conflating souls, bound by the spell of love.

you and i, till the end of time.

#eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger fluff #aot x reader #eren jaeger aot

541 notes · View notes