#i can play wet hands on the piano

[ithinkimightbeagoose]

I have gay Converse, a spell jar and a complete and utter lack of a moral compass

but I have a necklace that I haven't taken off for about a month and counting, shitty piano skills, and a maybe delusional friendship with the WIND so I think that counts for something

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Uncommon kinks I think 141 would have (feat. König)

~

Gaz: Quirofilia, the love of hands. Especially manicured hands. Pretty hands getting dirtied by gardening without gloves. Playing the piano with dainty fingers. Long nails squeezing the trigger of a Glock. A light touch running up and down his body. The sting of those pretty nails digging into his back. Soft palms wrapped around his thick shaft, massaging precum over his tip.

Ghost: This one is a little out there, but nebulophilia (sexual arousal when in fog/steam). He likes it really, really thick. Like to the point you can barely see your hand if you held it out in front of you. Likes to make you look for him in the mist. He was always so quiet, always likes to make you jump when he catches you. Then the heaviness of the air in his lungs when he inhales, ugh it just does something to him. The way your skin sticks to each other from the wetness of the air.

Price: Hear me out. Vacuuming. Watching a woman vacuum. Especially in heels. Just the thought of a domestic, hyper feminine woman makes him cream his pants. Especially if it's a part of brat taming. Speaking of brat taming and hyper femininity, he's into corsetry. It doesn't have to be limited to just your waist. He likes to lace up any soft part of you. Likes to tie the laces so tight, your skin seeps out the side and back. He likes to constrict your movement and make you breathe shallow.

Soap: Wrestling, duh. He'll show you some moves to take him down, grab you from behind and make you throw him over your shoulder, kick the back of your knees and make you kneel in front of him, put you in a chokehold with his arms. Loves getting sweaty. Loves the panting. Loves the way you mess up each other's clothes and hair. And then fuck each other's brains out on the mats.

König: Interrogation play. Always one to be in charge. (Of course there's always a safe word but you like to test yourself, see how far he will go and how much you can take.) Tie you up to an uncomfortable wooden chair. Throw cold water on you. Pull your hair. Face slapping. Light choking. Make you genuinely scared. Tie you up in an incredibly uncomfortable position where your arms are tied up behind you and attached to a pipe on the ceiling so you are forced to bend over and stand on your tiptoes. Makes you cry and cry from overstimulation. Always asks you for information you don't know anything about. Then proceeds to fuck the sense out of you, still asking for Intel.

[luveline]

Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change. 

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen. 

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!” 

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what. 

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud. 

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know. 

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?” 

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself. 

“James, what’s everything?” 

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks. 

You look down at his long fingers. 

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.” 

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach. 

“James.” 

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?” 

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.” 

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his. 

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily. 

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.” 

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say. 

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek. 

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying. 

“Don’t frown,” he says softly. 

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.” 

“No, uh. No, not too long.” 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.” 

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.  

[hitomisuzuya]

electro archon scara breeds u cus I'm mentally ill!!!!!!!!! also what instruments do you see scara playinf????

- ⚡ anon if that hasn't been taken

Electro!Archon Scaramouche x fem!reader. Begging. Vision play (Electro vision Scara) Overstimulation. Degradation. Begging. Breeding kink. God complex. Ego stroking. Bondage. Fingersucking.

Don't worry, we both completely sane. Electro Archon Scaramouche breeding me...yes please. You just know that God complex is going to be off the charts. He deserves to be an Archon! And🥺 I see Scara being able to play the piano, the violin, and the guitar.

Your wrists were tied above your head, you were straddling Scaramouche, grinding needily down against his cock, his fingers pumping in and out of your mouth. His other hand was busy stimulating your clit with Electro.

You were starting to whimper and mewl, choking happily on his fingers whenever he felt like it. Scaramouche loved how desperate you were rapidly starting to look. He has something of a twisted, smug smirk on his face.

You were starting to get overstimulated. That's what he wanted. Now he could order you to start begging for him. The more overstimulated you were, the louder you begged and cried for him.

Scaramouche pinched your clit before smacking a hand across your ass. "Well, get started, slut. Tell your God how much you want to be fucked and bred. Depending on how well you beg, I may consider letting you cum with these," He pushed his fingers into your throat again before pulling them out of your mouth.

He considered being cruel and taking his hands off of you completely, but your cunt just felt too wet on his cock to keep his hands off of you. They found your hips, guiding your pace while you grinded needily on his cock.

Your walls were starting to clamp around nothing, making you whimper. He brought your chest to his mouth so he could flick Electro onto your nipple with his tongue, making your back arc in pleasure. "I can't hear you," He purred, curling his tongue around your nipples to suck on.

"My Lord Archon! My God! Please fuck me! Breed me! My only purpose to is to serve as your cock sleeve and worship you!" You pleaded, struggling against the Inazuma silk bindings tying your wrists together above your head trying to feel the head of his leaking cock against your entrance.

Scaramouche curled his fingers underneath your chin, his eyes dark with lust. "Good girl," He purred, swirling his tongue around your nipple before kissing you. His teeth bite at your lips. "Now tell me how much you want me. Sing my praises, whore."

You were more than happy to oblige him. You licked at his mouth submissively, making him groan in bliss. The more you showed submissive worship, the harder his cock throbbed for you.

"I want you, my Lord Scaramouche," Archons, he loved it when you called him Lord. "Nobody can fuck me this good. I live to worship you, you deserve it. Nobody is more powerful than you. And because I--" He held his breath, waiting for what you were going to say next.

You kissed him, open mouthed and passionate. "Because I love you," Scaramouche moaned in bliss the second the words came spilling out of your pretty mouth. Squeezing your hips possessively, he lifted you and lowered you down onto his cock all at once, making you scream with pleasure.

Scaramouche nearly cummed on the spot from how tightly your cunt clenched around his cock. "What a good girl, a pathetic whore.." He groaned, sending jolts of Electro buzzing against your clit while he rubbed it, making you bounce eagerly on his cock.

The way he pushed his cock deep into your cervix conveyed one thing, to fuck you senseless and breed you full. He wanted to see cum leaking from your cunt, a buldge poke up in your stomach from how deep was inside of you.

Scaramouche licked his lips in anticipation, pushing this thumb around the buldge when he saw it. "Cum inside of me, Scara! Please!" You cried out between loud whimpers and moans of pleasure. "Fuck me until I can't hold anymore of your cum! Fuck me dumb!"

Your whole body shook when your orgasm washed over you suddenly, the intensity making your fingernails dig into your palms.

The feeling of your release gushing out onto his cock brought Scaramouche to his own orgasm. Holding you into his lap, he slammed his cock up inside of you, feverishly fucking you down onto his cock. "What a slut, cumming without permission from your Lord," He hissed, hovering a hand over your throat.

You tilted your head, showing your throat to him in further submission. His fingers prodded at your throat, smirking when your walls clamped around his cock.

He tore the silk, freeing your wrists. Pushing you down onto the bed, he pinned them above your head, pulling out of you just to slam back inside of you. "I hope you capable of crying louder this time, kitten. I'm not finished with you yet."

[foxynez]

The Man Behind The Mask - Black Noir x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Black Noir when you perform on one of Voughts events and one thing leads to another.

Warnings: Smut, Violence.

Author's notes: This is an older fic of mine that I've posted earlier on tumblr. It's the original Black Noir.

Your heart was pounding fast against your ribcage as you stared up at the Vought building. God, you couldn't believe that you were here! That you'd been invited to perform at one of their events. You had played on stages in front of thousands of people, but you'd never been as nervous as you were now. You couldn't believe you were actually going to be in the same room as The Seven! Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down your black dress before entering the building.

The Seven didn't arrive until you were already playing the piano. You looked up as they entered the room, a spike of heat rushing through your core when Black Noir walked down the stairs. You didn't know why, but there was something about a masked man that was such a turn-on. Perhaps it was the mystery of not knowing who was hiding behind the mask, what he really looked like. Black Noir turned his head in your direction, and you quickly looked away, praying he hadn't noticed your stare.

You continued playing, getting lost in the music once more, when you felt someone sitting down next to you. You looked up and blinked in surprise when you found yourself staring at Black Noir's black mask.

"U-Umm...hi?...can-can I help you?" you stuttered, your heart pumping like crazy as he was sitting so close to you that your arms touched.

Black Noir only tilted his head as he looked at you, like he was studying your face. You felt yourself blushing, your eyes fluttering nervously. Then, he turned his head around and started playing. You stared at him, goosebumps prickling your skin as his fingers danced across the keyboards, playing Mozart's Requiem so effortlessly beautifully.

"I...I'll just go then," you mumbled and stood up, but stopped when you felt a hand around your wrist. Looking down, you gazed into the blackness of his masked eyes and at that moment, it felt like the world stood still. It felt like you could hear his every thought, telling you to sit down and play with him.

*

Biting your lip, you sat down next to him and Noir let go of your wrist. You looked at him but he only went back to playing. Taking a deep, nervous breath, you lifted your hands and joined him. As your hands danced side by side across the keyboards, playing Requiem together, you felt a connection you'd never felt with anyone.

And here you were now, on his couch, straddling his lap and riding his cock. Slowly, you were moving up and down on him, your naked body an erotic contrast to his fully suited one. Noir's gloved hands were on your hips, slowly sliding up to cup your breasts, kneading them firmly. Moaning, you tilted your head back and gripped his muscular, suited chest, digging your nails into the black fabric as you moved your hips faster. You could hear his ragged breaths and low grunts, the only thing besides his hard cock that revealed his pleasure.

You didn’t know how you ended up in Noir's suite. Somehow, without him saying a word, you had followed in his footsteps to the elevator when the party was over. There, he had pressed you against the wall, his masked eyes watching your face as his hand slid underneath your dress and his gloved fingers sneaked beneath your underwear and glided easily through your already wet folds. You moaned sweetly, a gasp fleeing your mouth as his fingers found your clit and he brought you to your first orgasm right there in the elevator.

Then, you felt one of his hands slide up along your collarbone and higher, wrapping tightly around your throat.

"Fuck...," you moaned as a surge of pleasure rushed through your core, your pussy clamping down on Noir's cock. Noir tightened the grip on your throat when he noticed your reaction, his hips bucking up to meet yours. He watched the pleasured expression on your face, your eyes closed and mouth half-open as you held still, let him take control as he slammed his cock up into your pussy.

It only took a few seconds for you to come undone, the grip of his hand around your throat and the hard pace of his thrusts bringing you over the edge. Your body stiffened as your climax rippled through your core, your pussy clenching and twitching around his cock. Noir followed promptly, a grunt escaping his lips as he pulled out and shot his cum all over your belly.

Opening your eyes, you were still catching your breath as you looked down at Noir. He was still only watching you silently with his tilted head, like he was curiously taking in your presence. You bit your lip and blushed, not knowing what to say or what to do.

"Umm...I guess I should get dressed and go," you said and Noir only turned his head away, giving you a short nod. You lifted your hand and Noir flinched back slightly as your hand cupped his face. You looked up into his masked eyes and smiled softly, feeling him relax in your touch.

"This was fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime?...," you asked, waiting hopefully for his answer. These few hours you'd spent with him made him more mysterious to you, making you want to know more about the man behind the mask. Although, you had a feeling he was the kind of man who didn't let anyone inside.

Noir looked at you for a long time and then he nodded.

Your face lit up in a smile. "I just need to borrow your bathroom, clean off the mess you left on my belly," you said teasingly and stood up, grabbing your dress and smiling at him before walking into the bathroom.

When you came back into the living room, Noir was nowhere to be found. Your belly flipped at the thought of him getting scared and didn't want to face you again. Which was silly, because you'd only known him for like three hours. Sighing, you scribbled down your number on a piece of paper and left it on the kitchen counter. Leaving his suite, you wondered if you would ever see him again.

*

Noir had been following you for days, watching every movement you made. A small part of him knew it was wrong, the other part didn’t care. Since that night, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head but been too damn chicken to send you a text. Even though it was you who suggested you’d hook up again. He didn’t even know why he was scared. It wasn’t like this thing between you and him would lead to anything.

But what if it did? What if he would come to trust you enough to remove his mask and you’d be disgusted with his appearance? That was his biggest nightmare. To be ridiculed and laughed at.

One evening, about two weeks after you met, he was following you as usual after one of your concerts, when a guy cornered you in an alleyway. Squinting his eyes, Noir breathed through his nose as rage slowly built up inside of him when the guy pushed you hard against the wall. Tensing every muscle in his body, he leaped off the rooftop and landed on the pavement behind your assaulter.

Everything happened so fast your brain didn’t have time to process it. One second, this creep had you pinned against the wall, the next, he was yanked away from you and tossed across the alley. Your eyes widened when you saw the familiar figure standing in front of you.

"Noir? What are you doing here?" you asked, then the realization suddenly washed over you. "Have you been following me?"

Noir didn’t nod, only approached you slowly. You looked down at the lifeless body on the ground, a wave of relief washing over you when he made a little grunt. The last thing you wanted was for Noir to kill a guy because of you. Although, you had a strong feeling Noir didn’t care about that. You looked back up at Noir, wetting your bottom lip.

"Uhm…thank you. You know, for saving me."

Your face got warm as you felt his eyes on you, wondering what he was thinking about. Then, he suddenly took your hand and you gasped as he pulled you with him, your feet stumbling as you tried to keep up with his pace.

*

"W-Where are we going?" you asked, but of course, you didn’t get an answer.

"Noir…," you moaned, arched your back as his fingers found that sweet spot inside you, making you plummet over the edge.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in his apartment, your dress hiked up over your hips as he was slowly fingering you while pressing you against the wall. He was silently watching you and you wished you could see his face, see his eyes dark with lust as he watched your pleasured expression.

Within the next seconds, you were on your knees, licking your lips as Noir zipped down his suit and pulled out his cock. You glanced up into his masked eyes, bit your lip as the sight of his dark, hard cock made your pussy clench and ache with need. Wrapping your hand around his length, you darted out your tongue and swirled it around the head, earning a breathy grunt from the ninja. He tangled his right hand into your hair and tilted his head back, enjoying the sensation of his dick moving in and out of your warm mouth and sucking lips. Faster and deeper, you sucked his cock, and Noir started bucking against your mouth, thrusting into your mouth at a frantic pace. You held still, gagged, and choked on his cock as you allowed him to fuck your mouth any way he desired.

Noir’s grip on your hair tightened as he bucked his hips a final time and came inside your mouth with a raspy growl rumbling in his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down into your eyes as you looked at him while swallowing every last drop he had to offer. A shiver rolled through his body as you continued to suck his dick that slowly went slack in your mouth until you let it slide out of your mouth.

"So…are we going to see each other again, or?…," you asked a few minutes later as you were smoothing your dress down.

Noir stood still for a moment before he walked over to the kitchen counter, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He turned around, showing you what he’d written.

"I’d like that very much," you read and smiled at him. "I’d like that too."

~Two months later~

Noir’s tossing back and forth beside you startled you out of your sleep, and you sat up with a jolt. Looking down at Noir, you noticed his face bathing in sweat and the sheets twisted around your legs.

"Hey, hey…shhhhh…it’s alright, Noir," you hushed and took him into your arms, softly rocking him out of his sleep.

Eye flying open, Noir stared up at you, his heart hammering hard against his ribcage. Clinging onto your arms, he pressed his head against your breasts. There…there it was. The steady sound of your heartbeat. It always soothed his soul, calmed the anxious thoughts in his head.

"Was it the usual dream?" you asked softly.

*

Noir nodded and you kissed his scarred face as you slowly rocked him in your arms. Noir let out a heavy sigh and buried his face against your breasts, letting himself be wrapped up in your warmth that slowly soothed him back to sleep.

Walking up to you, Noir wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he inhaled your scent.

Noir walked into the kitchen in the morning, met by your beautiful smile as you were making pancakes. He still had to pinch himself every morning to make sure this wasn’t a dream. How was he so lucky to find you? Someone who loved him despite his flaws and the revolting mess that was his face. He still remembered the first time he showed you his face. There was no disgust or pity in your eyes. Only love and adoration as you smiled and your lips met for the first time.

"Hungry?" you asked with a smile on your face, bit your lip when he lifted your nightgown and pressed the hard protective cup of his suit against your ass. You giggled and pressed back against him, your pussy getting aching wet at the thought of how many times you had ridden that cup to orgasm.

"Not hungry for pancakes, I presume?"

Noir only growled in return, pulled his already hard cock out, and pushed your panties aside. Bucking his hips forward, he pushed into your warm, wet cunt in one, deep thrust. Gasping as he filled you up and a jolt of pleasure rushed through your core, you arched your back and grabbed the edge of the counter. Looking over your shoulder, you lifted your arm and wrapped it around his neck, gasped when he ripped the nightgown from your body, and grabbed your breasts. Moaning, you arched against his touch and mewled when he roughly kneaded your tits.

"Fuck, Earving," you gasped. "Fuck me harder, baby. Fill me with your cum."

As on cue, Noir pushed your upper body down onto the counter. One hand around your neck and the other on your hip as he started thrusting harder and faster, pounding you forcefully against the counter.

You moaned aloud, your mouth agape as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, his growls rumbling through the air as he came, filling your cunt with his seed. You came simultaneously, your pussy clenching as Noir’s cock swelled inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

"Fuck, I love you so much, Noir," you said out of breath, giggling as you straightened up and leaned against his strong frame. Noir picked up his phone and typed something. Showing it to you, you smiled as you read it out loud.

"I love you too. Sorry about your nightgown."

"That’s alright, Noir," you said, laughing. "You can destroy as many as you like."

[astonmartingf]

YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND—

— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again

P10 ★ BEATING THE RETIREMENT ALLEGATIONS

amgf AAAAAAAAHHHH yay! congratulations to me on completing ybom, and to you for reading along with this story 😎 we have one special chapter and that's it!!!!! thank you for all your support, let's see each other on jense's story. as always, enjoy 👍

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Rushing out of the car, you grab Ales' hand with your right, pacing towards Fernando standing on the beach alone. Your mind immediately thinks back on the thought of Fernando retiring.

You've only watched him race again in the 2023 season, and the thought of him retiring never crossed your mind, it made your heart ache.

You've fully integrated his racing schedules with yours, taking breaks and watching his on-boards live and sometimes choosing certain races to go with him and Ales. It helped you bond, and make memories with Ales.

You take a glance at the surroundings, seeing as there were very few people on the beach. "Mama, you should go to papa first."

Your son's words only confirmed your thoughts, that Fernando was retiring. You walk into the gazebo, preparing yourself for the worst announcement of all. Lance said it would be good news, how is Fernando retiring good news for you?

You stand in silence, waiting for Fernando to say something while your head racks up a few words of consolation. What caught you off guard however was the soft piano playing in the background.

Turning to face you, Fernando gets down on one knee. "NO!"

Fernando stills, stopping himself from grabbing the ring box from his pocket, trying to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

"You're retiring aren't you? That's why you're proposing to me? No! You can't retire, racing is your life, I can wait a few more years to get married, is Aston Martin ditching you for the next season? You did so well scoring points, what is wrong with them letting you go. I'm going to talk to my uncle, there's no way this is happening."

You grab Fernando's hands, pulling him up from the sand, as you drag him away from the gazebo. Fat tears flowing from your eyes.

"Amor, I'm not retiring. Is that what you think is happening?"

You wipe the tears falling down your eyes, "Then why are you asking me to marry you? I don't want you to retire!"

Fernando laughs, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug. "So you don't want me to retire? Do you need more time, I can wait."

You shake your head, "I want to marry you, but I don't want you to choose between me and racing."

Fernando breaks the hug pressing a kiss on your forehead, "Can I not marry you and race?"

"I want that for us, I want to marry you, and watch you race with Ales, and spend my whole life with you."

Leaning in, you wrap your arms around Fernando— the smile on his face growing as you kiss him harder. "I want that for us too. Will you give me the honor of marrying you?"

You jump and cling to Fernando, shouting at the top of your lungs, "Yes! I do, I love you Fernando, and I won't have this any other way. I'm glad we saw each other through."

"FINALLY!" You jump watching Lance from the shore, with a wet Ales, sitting on his shoulders.

"Let's all wrap this up and go home! I'm sorry to be the one ruining your moment here, but Ales jumped into the water while you two were talking about retiring, I know we all waited for this moment— me especially but let's all wrap this up before Ales catches a cold."

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yourusername wouldn't have it any other way than with you fernandoalo_oficial

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fernandoalo_oficial te amo, mi amor

yourusername 11/09/2025

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yourusername I save lives, you saved mine. CONGRATULATIONS! CHAMPION OF THE WORLD 🍾🥂❤️

★ YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND — @namgification @nebarious @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @lxclerc @booksandflowrs @c-losur3 @lichterfee @moonyzsworld @e-nonsense @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @thearchieves @welovediaaxx @vogueprincess @mael1pastry @khaylin27 @whydowesleepeachnight @iridescent-sol @celemilii @lozzamez3 @callsignwidow @hrts4scarr

[tommydarlings]

the sound of the rain | c.l

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

warnings: nothing, just sad!charles

w/c: 0.9k

summary: while charles plays the piano and listens to the rain, he can only think of one thing… you — and how you cannot sit next to him anymore.

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As Charles sat on the small stool in front of his piano and listened to how the droplets crashed almost violently against his windows, he could only think of one thing.

Of one person.

You.

His fingers, that were still decorated with the same, familiar rings, danced along the white and black piano keys with slow and gentle movements, fingertips only grazing the keys while his eyes didn’t leave the wet windows.

His mind was blank — no, it was actually filled, filled with painful emptiness, emptiness that would have never consumed his mind if you would have been here by his side.

If you just would have been sitting on the small leather stool next to him, his mind would be filled with all kinds of things.

Love. Devotion. Passion. Peace. Adoration. And even more love.

But now he had no reason anymore to fill his chaotic mind with those things.

He sniffled, tears streaming down his cheeks, landing either on the keys of his piano or on his fingers, one even gliding down his silver ring.

“G-God, Tu me manques tellement mon amour,” I miss you so much, my love, Charles didn’t let his eyes drift off of the rain outside, his blue with tears-filled eyes matching the big blue sky which was crying as well.

Charles gulped, “you’re crying with me, ma chérie, hmm?” He cried out, slowly letting his head hang low as he let his fingers play a melody that he heard oh so many times before, and he could never get tired of it.

“You loved it when I was playing that… know you did,” he wiped his nose with the back of his hand before he went back to playing with both hands, “Et je t'aimais,” and I loved you, Charles bit his bottom lip as he felt it quivering in pure and utter grief.

His fingers danced along the keys as his eyes blinked fresh tears away to focus more on the loud rain landing on the concrete and the glass of the windows.

He cleared his throat and furrowed his brows, looking at the dark clouds now, “What nonsense am I talking, baby,” he shook his head, “I still love you of course…always did, always will,” he quietly mumbled to himself, salty tears making his top lip shine.

“I will never stop loving you, mon amour,“ he shook his head, sighing before he closed his eyes, fingers still dancing along the keys, “how could I? Any man that carries the ability to stop loving a women like you has for sure never experienced a love like yours, of course he hasn’t when you gave it all to me.”

He looked at the droplets of rain again, lightly furrowing his brows with a sniffle, “Dieu, j'ai de la chance d'être aimé par une femme comme toi,” God am I lucky to be loved by a women like you, Charles whispered into the cold air, glassy eyes staring at the sky before he whined.

The monaguesque shook his head and closed his eyes, trying his best to get lost in the melody he was currently creating with the tips of his fingers.

“This is — once again — is dedicated to you, mon amour,” he wiped his cheek on his T-Shirt and looked next to the empty space on his stool, “Comme toutes les autres mélodies, notes et paroles étaient dédiées à toi, mon amour,” Just like every other melody, note and lyrics was dedicated to you, my love.

He continued playing the familiar melody that you adored so much, each time he played it, you gasped and immediately ran towards his spit on the piano and sat down next to him, lovingly leaning your head against his shoulder.

Unintentionally, Charles tilted his head slightly to the right, almost as if his cheek was desperately craving the touch of your hair that always grazed his face when you sat next to him.

“Oh ce que je donnerais pour vous avoir assise ici à côté de moi une dernière fois, même si c'est des encres pour une seule seconde, ça ne me dérange pas, toute quantité de temps passé avec vous en est une autre,” Oh what I would give to have you sitting here next to me one last time, even if it’s only for one single second, I don’t mind, any amount of time spent with you is another moment in life I’m endlessly greatful for.

He cleared his throat, sniffling again, “I-If you want m-me to continue playing this f-for you, my love…just t-tell me-”

And before he even finished his sentence, a tiny stone hit his window.

Sane people may say that it was simply the storm that threw the stone against the thick glass next to him, but Charles was not convinced, he was sure that his lover threw the tiny stone at his window from above.

Probably with a smile on her face, her perfectly soft, lightly red-shaded lips sending him a tender smile so familiar and warm that it made Charles unintentionally smile, tears hitting his two dimples now.

“A-Alright, mon amour,” he chuckled, wiping his nose again before he started playing again,

“Your wish is my command…as always,” Charles mumbled to himself, — no, to you of course, — smile not being able to leave his tears-stained face now as he watched how his talented fingers danced along the keys in the most familiar but also in the most painful way possible.

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

omg that don fic was amazing!!!! could you write another smutty one please? 🥹🫶🏻

your wish is my command so I present to you nothing but Don and his lovely hands

Piano Man

Jack's Don Hume x reader

wc: 4,000

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: fingering, oral, riding Don, Don trying to be bossy, minors do not interact lest I have to water board you

Enjoy this garbage!

Don Hume always had gorgeous hands. They had elegant curves and dignified bones and moved so forcefully yet gracefully. And he was downright intentional in his every use of them. 

He always had immaculate technique when rowing, perfectly executing every twist and pull of the oar. He was a most excellent pianist and could play almost any piece he wanted. He had beautiful handwriting. If there was anything that had to do with hands, Don could do it. Better than most.

You know this to be true. 

Mostly because you felt them on you.

It happened the night of their first win. The boys dragged poor Don on stage and made him play. The simple then was too humble for him but he was nervous. Once it was over and he was allowed to leave the stage, he made a point of sitting on the same bench you were. By himself. Just a few feet away. 

“Congratulations on your big win, Don.” You scoot closer so he can hear you. His face drains of color. He’d always thought you pretty but that’s exactly what made him shy. Too shy to ever really make a move or even talk to you outside of your shared classes. 

“Th-thanks.” He stutters and jams two fingers between his throat and his collar, trying to swallow down the lump of nerves choking him.

“I had no idea you played the piano.” 

“Oh yeah, I uh…” 

You keep talking to him, and he keeps responding. The people on the dance floor become a blur in his peripheral and the music is a jumble of white noise. He doesn’t even notice the boys pointing and shouting excitedly at seeing Don talking. They would come looking for him eventually, thinking he was dancing with you in a secluded corner, but by that time Don would be long gone.

Walking you home had turned into a kiss on the cheek to the full enclosure of lips. He was so dizzy. So unable to comprehend the earnestness in the kiss until you grabbed the lapels of his suit coat and pressed him to the door. “Maybe you should come inside?” Your whisper against his lips makes his vision spin. He’s half worried he’ll pass out on you but that doesn’t stop his eager nod. 

Your hand closes around the brass doorknob and you twist. Don is met with the sensation of falling. But he’s weightless; he hardly feels the stumble and scuff of his shoes. The door closes and locks and it’s just you and Don away from prying eyes. Something happens that Don cannot explain. His initial shyness dissipates; and he finds himself tugging you onto his lap when you collapse onto the bed. 

Your dress skirt, soft as silk over his rough knuckles, sweeps up your thighs as he wanders. He distracts you with kisses as his fingertips brush the hem of your tights. They trail over and find the seam, tracing downwards towards the gusset. One of Don’s tentative fingers rubs over the gusset. There’s a slight dampness over the puffy labia and his fingertip lingers. Gentle swipes of the digit tease your slit; his touch is just light enough to map out the ridges and valleys of your core. He graduates to two fingers pushing through the growing wet patch. He enjoys the huffs and gasps against his lips, drinking them down to fuel his newfound confidence. 

You’re busy too. You undo his tie and fling it onto the nightstand. The buttons of his halfheartedly ironed shirt come next, exposing the scape of his alabaster skin. When your hands touch his bare chest, he flushes all the way down to his clavicles. Your touch is so cloud-light he’d miss it if he wasn’t so intensely absorbed in the moment. You break apart just so you can look down while you explore him. 

He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever been touched like this, by someone who has more care than greed. It’s not hasty or ravaging, the way some others had been before you. Where theirs was trying to get in and out of his pants, yours is trying breach something deeper than just his body. Don had never felt this before. This tingling in his muscles and nervous that resonated from the places your skin meets. How his heart hammers and blood rushes in his ears. He’s tempted to let you strip him down and take him apart like he’s done so many other nights. But he can’t. Tonight, cannot be those other nights because you are not those other women.

Don bunches up your dress in his fist and yanks it over your head. He takes note of the goosebumps rising on your skin from the kiss of the cold air and he brings you in closer. Hot breaths puff over your cheeks as he rubs over the gusset more seriously, fervently. 

“Don—”

His name passing through lips is like the call of a beloved memory, of a favorite song over the radio coming to life on a piano’s keys. He remembers hearing you say it for the first time when you met up in the library for a group project. “You’re Don, right?” That melodic “aw” was beautiful in your mouth. It became ingrained in the folds of his brain as he heard it again and again until that sound could pluck his heartstring when it rattled his ears.

And you had no fucking idea just how deep it ran. 

You’re pushing at his shirt now, wanting it off him so you could know more of him. He allows you this because it’s only fair. And also, because he’s addicted to the zap of connection. He calls your name back as he applies more pressure through his fingers. You’re dripping now and shifting uncomfortably in those tights. Time to get you out of them. 

Don slips his arms around you, bundling you up as he swaps your places and gracefully lays you down. He fixes a kiss to your lips as he works the tights down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. His kiss slides from your lips to the underside of your jaw and begins to travel down your throat. He moves to slide a finger through your folds only to find a paper-thin strip of lace keeping him from you. 

He pulls away and stares down in shock. He hadn’t even noticed them. How had he not noticed them? They’re frilly and black and coordinate with your bra; you’ve put on a matching set just for him. You’d planned on bedding him long before he’d gotten the balls to kiss you. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, hips canting upwards. 

“Yeah, yeah—” he’s just speechless.  The longer he thinks about it, he realizes he’s always been the one to initiate things. He had never considered that someone would want him back enough to actually plan ahead. He’s never actually seen lingerie before, and he feels stupid and inexperienced for it. He should say something so that the silence doesn’t stretch for too long. “You might just be too pretty for—”

“Oh, don’t even start with that.” Your legs settle around his waist, “You don’t hear half the things people say about you, women in particular.” 

“They talk about me?”

“All the time. Usually about how cute you are. Or how strong you look. And sometimes, about these beautiful hands of yours.” You lift his hand and suck two of his fingers into your mouth. 

Don gapes at you. As you suckle at his digits, he absentmindedly makes a pass over your clit with his free hand. You gasp as he slips one fingertip under the lace and drags it through the sticky slick. As your mouth opens wider, he pushes his fingers further across the velvety expanse of your tongue, pressing down on at the back of your throat.

You don’t choke.

Good hell, you don’t even gag. His fingers are sunk to the third knuckles, and you hardly react save for your fluttering eyelids and belabored breaths. He’s hypnotized by the sucking sensation and flow of saliva and the scrubbing of tastebuds. He dreams of stuffing his painfully hard cock into your mouth and prays you’d be able to deep throat him even further. 

Shit, if he keeps going on like this in his head he’s going to cum in his pants.

Don musters up enough sense of mind to tug his fingers free of your drooling mouth. He takes your jaw into his wet grip and lays a vigorous kiss on your lips. Meanwhile, his other fingers trace your clenching entrance and tease the gushing hole. In that bleak, dead quietness of night he can hear it; he can hear the faint squelch of his finger pushing in and stretching you out. You whimper against his lips. Your sweaty palms ball up along the rise of his spine. 

After he’s done bruising your lips, he strips your drenched panties off and shuffles off the foot of your bed. He drags you down until your feet hang off the edge and your cunt is set before him. 

A real delicacy you are. 

Slick strings across your folds and clinging to your most pleasurable spots. One careful stroke parts your folds so he can put it in again, carving along your walls. Each careful push and pull of his finger ricochets from nerve to nerve like wildfire and leaves your chest heaving. He begins to meticulously unravel your stroke by stroke. 

Patient, he needs to be patient. He remembers spending hours and hours practicing the piano as a child and into his teen years. How that progress took so much time and patience. Sometimes he’d felt so frustrated he’d wanted to rip the pages out of his piano books, but he knew that wouldn’t make him a better player.

Similarly, rushing this night just to get an unsatisfying but instantly gratifying high won’t make him a better lover. At least, not the kind he wants to be. He recognizes that keeping you means showing you a good enough time that you want it from him again. That you need to be just as hooked on his every breath as he is on yours. 

“Want another—” 

Your airy cry rips him from his stupor. He registers the arousal dripping down the back of his hand from your pussy. His middle finger unfolds as his index finger withdraws. Two blunt fingertips greet your hole this time, wriggling past the initial tightness of your entrance and resuming his ginger pace. This is about building up, he reminds himself, his foreplay has to fulfill you but leave you desperate at the same time. 

While his fingers find a steady rhythm and pattern of thrusts, his tongue wanders out of his mouth and the very tip curiously tastes the wetness on your swollen clit. 

You choke, “Sh—it! DON!” feet scraping over the sheets as your knees come up. He’s sure he’s not giving you enough to cum but the way you react to each circle of his tongue around your clit makes him wonder if he underestimated your sensitivity. 

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good!”

This makes him grin, tongue retracting so he can place a loving kiss to your folds, “I’m glad but try to keep it down. I’d prefer to be the only one hearing you like this.” Then his tongue is back at its nagging swipes. You’re burning to the touch, pulsing against his splayed mouth, and glistening like a crystalized renaissance painting. You talk of his hands like they’re something magical and he wonders if they might just be with what they’re doing to you. It makes him proud. 

Don slows the thrust of his fingers to a maddening caress that grazes your walls like the edge of a feather. “What do you need?” Don mutters between licks. He’d tell you to beg because that’s what he really wants but he doesn’t know how far he can push you and he’d rather play it safe than sorry. Patience, care, and tact, he tells himself. Tonight must be handled delicately.

“Wan’ you.”

In a moment of ego Don breaks away with a wet pop, “I know, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

You whine and nudge him with your ankle, but Don doesn’t budge. He simply returns to his shallow thrusts and slow, sloppy kisses. He figures you’ll give in and, “You said to be quiet.” You complain.

“Bullshi-that’s not what I meant!” In a way you’re not wrong but he did not expect attitude, “and complaining won’t get you anywhere.” He withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving his only his lips to soothe your burning skin. 

You chuff unhappily and thread your fingers through his hair, “Want you in me, Don, ‘ve been wanting it for a while.”

Finally. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” 

You’d love to get smart with him and slap the smirk off his lips but he’s undeniable cute in his smugness. It doesn’t help that you find his secretly darndest behavior very much attractive. You would have never guessed this about him; that he would be so authoritative when intimate when his mellow demeanor had blindsided you. 

Don dusts kisses up your tummy and breasts as he moves the both of you back up the bed. His knees dig into the mattress as he kneels, pulling you up to straddle him. Chest to chest, you wrap your arms around each other in a sweaty embrace. The bedframe rattles slightly and you can see the midnight sky out of your window now. You wonder when the dance ends and pray that it’s not soon so you can take your time with him. Or more likely, so he can take his sweet time with you. 

“We can stop if you want?” You must have been staring out the window for a moment too long because when you look back at Don, there’s concern filling his shadowed eyes. Nighttime is just as pretty on him as afternoon sun on his shoulders as he rows or the warm stage lights as he plays. He probably thought he overstepped. 

“You’re gorgeous, Don.” 

Even in the dim moonlight you can see his blush. The red blooms swallowing up his freckles and erasing his nervousness. “Where do you find the gall to be so blatant?” It’s a genuine question, he’s never been able to be so flatly open about what he thinks. He’s always marveled at the people who can 

 At some point he must have shed his pants because you realize that he’s bare beneath. A happy trail of dark downy hair winds down his navel. Then there’s his erection, where the rest of his body is pale as porcelain, his leaking cock is ruby red and glistening with a rivulet of precum streaming down the underside. 

He guides himself to your entrance and replaces his arm around your waist. “Tell me if you need a moment.” He his head tilts forward, forehead pressing against yours, eyes sweeping over your face.  He pushes his throbbing tip into your entrance and sucks in a huge breath. You both clutch each other tighter, fighting off moans as he works himself in. His eyes have fluttered closed and his jaw his clenched painfully. 

He bottoms out, thighs flush with yours, and sighs mightily as you relax around him. You cup his face to keep your foreheads together. He resolves that you must like this proximity then. That you like it enough kiss him hard and drain away his composure. Before he can lose too much, Don’s arms flex, his abbs tensing as he drags you up his cock and then drops you back onto it. Two strained cries echo off each other. He does it again, again, bouncing you on his lap. You grip his shoulders for better support; your nails digging into his sun-bitten skin. “Don, baby—” 

“Holy f-fuck!” His voice breaks into your mouth as he slots your lips together. Earlier he’d been drunk on the pulse of your cunt against his tongue but now that it’s surrounding him, he feels helpless. A ringing fills his ears, he squeezes his eyes shut, and his entire body clenches up as he slams you down harder. His hands splay over your waist and are probably bruising you but both of you are too absorbed. At some point you’re done kissing, but your lips stay brushing each other, open mouthed and utterly consumed in a mind-melting pleasure. 

Sweat trickles down Don’s face. His hair is a mess from your fingers raking through it and he’s flushed from the tip of his nose to his belly. While he’s on the border of knocking himself out, you find it in you to slip your hands off his shoulders, trusting his strength, and bring your uncoordinated fingers to his chest. Don practically screams when your fingertips graze his pert nipples. His back bows into you, pushing his chest into your hands. He nearly loses his balance. You pinch them, hard, and Don has no choice but to drop one hand to the mattress and lean away from you. In this position, you’ve got enough leverage to ride him yourself, bringing your hips down to meet his thrusts. And no matter how Don seems to squirm, he can’t escape your mean fingers. Then you’re bending down, and your lips wrap around the sensitive bud. 

Don is beside himself. What is he supposed to do? You drooling pussy is swallowing him every heartbeat and your tongue and lips are ravaging his chest. He feels a low pulsing deep in his stomach and knows he has to stop this now. The remaining hand on your waist travels up your spine and tangles in the roots of your hair. He pulls. Your lips pop off his chest and you peel away from him. He must not let tonight go like those other nights. He reminds himself.

“If I remember right, I’m supposed to be treating the lady.” Don sits back up which forces you to slow your pace, your balance off kilter now. 

“You were.” 

“Turn around.” There’s newfound resolve in Don’s eyes and you want to test it, but you can sense his restraint. He’s been playing nice for most of the night probably. “I’d rather not ask again.” You listen to the bite in his words and climb off him. Once you’re on your hands and knees, Don takes your hips in his hands. You feel his tip at your entrance again. He bottoms out in a single thrust this time and decides to show you a bit of the endurance he’s been able to pick up. 

You were right about him holding back earlier because now he’s truly fucking you. And he’s doing it just right, hard enough that your walls spasm and clench but not so hard that it hurts. He’s managing to tiptoe the border of pain and pleasure. His chest (still wet with your saliva) presses to your back as he adjusts himself. A hand has returned to your hair, guiding your head up and back so he has access to your throat. Briefly you wonder if all those girls who talked about his body and hands knew anything at all about his mouth. Maybe you’d keep it as a coveted secret. 

The sound of it all is absolutely ludicrous. His hips bruising your ass creating a sharp smacking sound. Occasionally the sound of his lips sucking at your neck. But worst of all are those moans he’d told you to keep to just his ears. You can’t help it. He’s efficiently fucked himself into your head well enough to keep you hooked on his every move and careless to the outside world. 

“All you wanna do is talk about how pretty I am but you forget yourself.”

Don’s voice has picked up a rasp. He may have incredible stamina, but his care is costing him. Each squeeze of your walls is bringing him closer to an edge he’s not ready for. He needs you to cum first which is why he had to abandon the softer sex because he’s too prone to the intimacy. He’d have been finished minutes ago if he hadn’t pulled you off him. 

“You’ve got no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do this. How many times Bobby’s had to curse me out for letting me mind out of that boat, or how many times I miss lecture notes because I can’t take my eyes off you, or many damn times I fall asleep to thoughts of you and wake with cum in my pants. Fuck you! Fuck you for making me like this! What the hell!”

Then comes that victorious moment when he feels your whole body tense up. 

“You gonna cum? Gonna fuckin’ cum for me? That’s right! C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

Don let’s go of your hair and cradles you to his chest as he holds his pace steady. A shudder racks your body and you let out a strangled moan as the blinding hot heat washes over you. You go silent, drool pooling on your bedsheets, cum gushing as you squeeze the life out of him. Your head spins, body becoming light, it shocks you to the core.

“Baby! Baby!” Don pleads into your ear. He’s gonna cum, he swears it’s taking his everything not to. “Sweetheart!” 

You vaguely register him begging you for something, reaching a shaky hand to clutch his forearm. 

“Where do you want me?” He sounds like he’s going to cry. 

“Please!”

“—please!”

He doesn’t know what to do. He should probably pull out but then what. He doesn’t have enough time to think too hard. He jerks away and falls back on the bed. His rough hand, much less favorable to your gummy soft walls, strokes rapidly over his cock. He wails and grips himself too tight but then he’s cumming, hot spurts of white seed splattering on his torso. 

Both of you stay frozen in place, shaking from your orgasms. Don recovers enough to reach a now clumsy hand for your waist and roll you over. Your eyes a shut tight and you’re breathing hard. Your thighs quiver and close as the cold night air chills your body. He knows it’s probably time to leave. The party should be ending soon, and your roommates will be back. 

He soothes a hand over your thigh before getting up to open the windows. He cleans his cum off his stomach the best he can and then scoops you up into his arms. “Donny.” You curl into him, and it breaks Don’s heart. He really just wants to stay right here but he can’t.

“I know,” He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. For the first time he feels truly satisfied. He feels loved and like this is how it’s meant to be. And it’s only reaffirmed when straighten up and kiss his balmy cheek.

“Promise me we’ll do this again.”

“Swear on my stroke seat.” Don murmurs, sharing a tender kiss with you.  He feels you smile and congratulates himself on the accomplishing his goal. “You need to get cleaned up. Your friends will probably be back soon.”

You sigh and slowly extract yourself from his arms. You open your wardrobe as Don redresses himself. “You really mean you’ll come back.” 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t intent on leaving at all, but these dorms—” he trails off. It’s a curse for everyone he supposes. Once he looks suitable for going out, Don hugs you one last time. His forehead rests on yours, a position he must like, and he gives you another soft kiss. “See you tomorrow in geology?” He asks, sweeping the hair out of your face. 

“Only if I can walk to class.” 

“C’mon now, you said you’d tell me if I went too hard.”

“It wasn’t too hard. It was perfect. You’re perfect. Now get out before anyone sees you.”

“By the way, I’ve got about an hour between geology and English, we should you know—”

“Out, Don.”

…

Masterlist

[chaconnewon]

could u write about jake eating the reader out?

hello anon! thanks for your request and being the first <3 i hope you like it and it fills your expectatives.

skilled ─── s.jy

pairing: friend!jake x fem!reader wc: 1.1k tags: oral(female reciving), friends to ???, slightly hair pulling, mention of reader daydreaming, insinuation of a second round, lmk if i missed something !!

There was one thing you knew for sure: Jake was pretty good at everything. Even if it was his first time trying, he would accomplish the task successfully. He seemed to have the luck by his side, always impressing those who surrounded him. 

You were sceptical at first when he invited you to his place to show how good he can play piano. You’ve never seen him play piano or any other instrument. Even though the countless times you’ve been at his house, you didn’t see any of them. Was he trying to impress you? You above all the girls that were drooling behind him? 

But he was fucking right.

He played the piano in a way your stomach could flip. It didn’t feel like he just quickly learned the basics, he sounded smooth, confident while pressing the keys. Like he has been taking lessons since always.

Of course you couldn’t keep your mind quiet, and soon found yourself wondering if Jake was skilled at bed too. You felt ashamed to think like that about your friend but you couldn’t help it, how tempting those lips looked, or how pretty his slender, veiny fingers were while doing barely anything. You thought quietly, like somehow he could read your mind, if his finger could feel good inside you. 

‘’y/n, are you listening to me?’’

‘’Uhm… yeah!’’

Not at all. You were lost at the sight of his computer screen, a video game lobby showing up. You bet he was ranting about other players but your mind replayed his finger tensing on the keyboard, smashing them slightly whenever he died or his teammates made something useless.

Jake saw you peeking his hands very often. 

When he sighed, leaning back on his chair you sat up on his bed, fingers playing with nervousness on your lap.

‘’I’ve been thinking… Are you that good at everything?’’

‘’Are we having this conversation again, y/n?’’ he chuckles, shaking his head.

‘’No, no! I mean everything.’’ you emphasise that last word, softly raising your eyebrows as if doing that could give a hint of what was crossing your mind.

And honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was being clueless or just messing with you. Jake was a keen person, and both of you knew that.

‘’I told you, I am.’’

‘’Like… at everything?’’

‘’Wanna find out?’’

You suddenly felt breathless. Sharp gaze of his locked on your eyes. Was he messing around? Didn’t look like it as he left his comfy position of his chair to get closer to you. Still in your spot at his bed, you looked up to meet his gaze once again, but something was different. Jake’s eyes darkened a bit as he knelt in front of you.

‘’Jake…?’’ you softly called him, tilting your head.

‘’You know… I’m not just good with my brain, or hands. Let me show you, and I’m sure you won't ask again.’’

Like if you were under some kind of spell you nodded, gaining a smirk from him. His hands flew quickly at your waistband, asking without a word with your permission. You gave it to him, and soon found himself unbuttoning your pants and sliding them through your legs, leaving them forgotten somewhere on the floor.

Jake took you by your thighs and pulled them closer to him, blushing your cheeks hot red. He helped you spread your legs, both of your ankles pinned down the mattress. Your hands held your weight, expectant for his next move.

Jake’s lips pressed softly on your inner thighs, leaving a trail of kisses before reaching your underwear. He repeated the same action on your left leg, his hands never leaving your things. Until now.

One of his fingers hooked the hem of your panties, slid it to the side, and took a look at your wet cunt. How embarrassing. You were wet just for a few kisses there and here. But in reality you knew that wetness came from before, while you daydream about his fingers minutes ago. Your chest felt heavy as you tried to control your breath, hands gripping slightly on his bed sheets. His free hand went directly to recollect some of your arousal and spread it on your folds, rubbing slowly your clit.

You held back a moan, biting your bottom lip. Jake led his coated fingers inside his mouth and hummed at your sweet taste.

‘’God, I bet it tastes better directly from your pussy.’’

Your legs felt like jelly at his words, and you found yourself throwing back your head as soon as his wet and warm tongue started to make wonders between your folds. He hummed, sending vibrations to your core that made you arch your back.

As you gripped tightly his bed sheets, Jake didn’t stop working on your wet core, rubbing with the tip of his tongue your clit, sending jolts through your whole body.

He was pretty good at it, switching between your swollen clit and your entrance, tempting to pull his tongue further. Your free hand grabbed his nape hair, his name leaving your lips as your eyes were shut. 

‘’Fuck, f–feels so good Jake.’’ You could almost feel his grin appearing on his lips. He knew right. ‘’Please don’t s–stop.’’

He didn’t tho.

Jake held you close, pinning one of your legs down for a better access, even if that meant your legs were wide open. But you couldn't care less. The feeling was worth it, almost intoxicating to the point you started to rub your core against his tongue. The moment Jake sucked you sensitive bundle, immediately tugged his hair, earring a groan from him.

Even if he was suffocating, both of his tongue and nose-tip rubbing your clit, he couldn’t stop. Your squirming body, broken moans falling from your lips kept him going, digging his nails into your flesh. 

‘’I’m so close, s–so close…!’’

‘’Cum in my mouth, pretty. Go on, let it go.’’

Took you a few licks to come on his mouth, tensing all your body as he kept doing his work, helping you to reach your highest point though your orgasm. Maybe you pulled his hair a bit harsh but, in fact, he liked it. 

Your tired body lies on his bed, legs still shaking and you breach unable to catch. You felt his hands caressing your thighs, his cheek leaning onto your inner thigh.

‘’Are you okay…?’’

‘’Jesus… It was amazing.’’

You heard Jake chuckled.

‘’Take a moment to rest and then I want you to open your mouth for me. ‘Gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours.’’

[starrywilliams]

thinking about abby at a bar …

a ceo!abby drabble

notes: this is not amazing (nor very long) butttt i have other stuff coming soonish and i just wanted to post something !!

tags: nothing bad rly… drinking? me being down bad for abby?

wc: 0.8k

thinking about ceo!abby deciding to spend her evening in some shitty bar, sick of all the uptight pretentious people she usually has to spend her nights with. she walked in: the music was loud, the air was thick, and it was exactly what she was looking for.

you’d spotted her immediately - an interloper. suit still on - albeit her navy jacket now folded over her arm; sparkling watch far too visible for her to be accustomed to the unspoken rules yet; and a presence that just demanded attention. who was she?

you wondered why she was here. most people came here to distract themselves, to hide, to forget. was she one of them too? as she approached the bar, you had to try and hide your stares, but you were intrigued.

“you shouldn’t wear a watch like that around here.” you told her as you poured a beer, handing it to some man before leaning over the sticky bar to take a closer look at her. blue eyes, freckled skin, blonde hair falling over her shoulders in waves. she peered back with slight shock at your candid warning - who were you?

“so, what can i get for ya?” you asked, pushing a strand of hair back behind your ear as you pushed yourself back from the wooden countertop. “anything.” she answered, eyes meeting yours with a hopeless desperation. “tequila?” you replied, grabbing a shot glass before she had the chance to disagree.

“so why are you here?” you interrogated, pouring the clear liquid into the glass without breaking the continuance of your sharp analysis of her appearance; which was now coloured shocked, hues of scarlet and rose dancing over her skin.

“do you ask everyone such personal questions or am i just tonight’s lucky victim?” she quipped, a smirk growing as her head tilted to the side. you raised your eyebrows, pushing a slice of lime and a tray of salt in front of her. “most people answer them.”

“oh do they?” she laughed, reaching to undo her cuffs; placing the links on the counter before pulling the fabric down her forearms. “i suppose at your usual bar they don’t talk to you much… bet it’s nice, someone playing the piano while you all drink scotch - neat, of course.” you jested, noticing how her tongue poked into her cheek, amused by you.

“and for your information, yeah, they d-” you barely managed, suddenly being distracted by her newly revealed skin. her arms, you’d almost gasped, they were so big and god, you could’ve drunk the blood from her veins there and then, and was that a scar? jesus christ, they were sooo-

“what was that, sorry?” she interrupted, a teasing tone rife in her words. “yeah they do actually!” you smiled coyly, leaning forward: abby’s eye contact faltering as she briefly indulged in your cleavage - just as shameless as you had been.

“give me your hand.” you ordered, taking it in your hand when she easily complied. “what are you doing?” she asked, not getting an answer before you brushed your free thumb over your tongue - proceeding to wet the back of her hand with your spit.

her jaw fell as her eyes widened, now watching you rub some salt into the area. “you ready?” you asked, passing her the shot while she simply stared starry-eyed in your direction, still taken aback by your very forward action.

“wait, you do know how to do this, right?” you quickly interjected, for all you know that girl could’ve been a complete novice! after all, who walks around this part of town dressed like that. she didn’t seem very experienced.

“i went to college, y’know.” she replied, voice low. “ah, so you don’t just drink scotch! nice to know.” you jested, biting your lip playfully. she was going to show you everything she’d learnt in college, the drinking part at least.

“what’s your name?” abby abruptly asked, smiling when you answered, “pretty.” you rolled your eyes playfully, asking for hers in return. “well,” she held the shot up, dedicating it to you, “here goes nothing.”

she dragged her tongue through the salt, before quickly downing the liquor - replacing its burn with the lime swiftly. with a relaxed grin, she met your eyes once more. but your view drifted to the liquid just slightly running over her lip: your thumb reaching to swipe it off instinctively.

before you even realised what you were doing, you felt her lips wrap around your thumb, teeth gently scraping the skin as her tongue swirled around the pad. “abby-” you gasped, putting the newly learned name to use as your pupils blew before her.

“sorry, i don’t know why i did that- fuck.” she rambled after pulling back, staring at the counter in shock. the blasting music that ricocheted off every wall doing little to help, the pair of you frozen in some haze of awe and panic.

“no- no, it’s okay. um, i don’t get off for a while but if you wanna wait, we can- we can go-” you went on, unsure what to say to salvage the situation.

“i’ll wait.”

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

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

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

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

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[anjelicawrites]

Hii! Can I request a modern aemond x fem reader with reader trying to surprise aemond after a hard week at work. Aemond comes home to find reader cooking with wearing only an apron.

Hi nonnie!!! Thank you for the ask! This was fun to write!

Warnings: fem!reader, p in v sex, two idiots in love

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Aemond loves his job. It's tiring and stressful but fills him with pride and happiness. Obviously some weeks are worse than others, some weekends the only thing he wants to do is lay in bed with his head on your tummy as you caress his hair and massage his scalp, others he's happy to be dragged around town, hopping from one exhibition to another with his hand safely in yours.

This Friday he's especially tired, having worked over time for two weeks straight, even during the weekend, now he just needs you.

"My love?" He asks from the door.

Even as tired as he is, Aemond tidily aligns his shoes next to the door and hangs the keys on the hook. If it weren't for the delicious smell coming from the general direction of the kitchen, he'd think you're still out and about.

"Are you in there?"

Any other word leaves his mouth when he sees you.

"Welcome back handsome." You purr, with your back still turned.

For precious seconds Aemond can't talk, all the blood in his veins having tumbled down to his cock: either his eye is deceiving him, or you are not wearing any clothes.

"How was your day?" You calmly ask him, as if you're not wearing a frilly, black apron on your naked body. "Where are your clothes?" He finally manages to ask. "What clothes? I'm dressed!" "That frilly thing can't be categorized as 'dress', my love." "No, not with that attitude."

Your naked feet slap on the floor as you walk towards him, your beautiful breasts, barely hidden, jiggle with every step. Aemond is surprised he hasn't fainted yet, now that all of his blood is concentrated in his raging erection.

"You didn't answer my question." You pout, going on your tiptoes to peck his lips. "How was your day?" "Better now."

His fingers stroke your supple skin, so soft and warm, the sugary smell of your body lotion invades his nostrils, helping him relax. Before he can effectively grab at your hips, you squirm away with a laugh.

"Come back here." He says, without realizing how deep his voice has become. "I don't think I will." You answer, coyly staring at him from under your lashes. "You have a ten second headstart."

An excited laughter escapes your lips the second you see how dark his eye has become; you dash towards the living room, squeaking happily as he looks at you, one hand absentmindedly loosening his tie.

The apartment is big, not enormous, it's easy for Aemond to reach you with long strides: you're not really running or hiding, busy as you are with laughing and staring at his stalking form. He's so beautiful, he reminds you of a sleek panther hunting its prey.

"Gotcha!" He cages you between the piano and the bookcase by planting both hands near your shoulders. "What are you going to do now, naughty girl?"

His eye rakes down your body, your curves barely hidden by the stupid apron.

"I'm going to go back to the kitchen and finish preparing dinner."

You make a point of ignoring the lust radiating from his body, playing dumb is so much fun!

"I'm not hungry for that."

His voice is a raspy murmur that goes to your cunt: you're already wet.

"I can cook you something else." You say, staring at him all doe eyed and innocent. "I see." His index finger taps your nose. "You're still playing dumb." "I don't..."

He stops your answer with a raised eyebrow and the humming he reserves for when you're being naughty. You squeal when he lifts you up, your legs finding home naturally around his slim hips; you know how strong Aemond is, you just forget it and the blatant display feeds the fire already burning in your belly. The time to play is finished.

"Have me." You rub your cunt against his clothed erection. "Devour me, sate yourself."

Aemond crowds you against the wall and moans when he feels your soft breasts against his chest.

"Would you let me devour you whole, my beautiful girl?"

The dangerous darkness pooling in his eye makes your cunt quiver. "Anything to quench your hunger, my love."

Aemond stares at your soft features in the dying afternoon sun, memorizes your open expression of trust and desire: he still can't believe you're his, all his to love and torment.

"I need you, now." He can't control the desire that taints his words, the hunger, the passion that burns inside his soul. You don't answer with your words, instead you lift your arms over your head, where you cross them at the wrist; if your body weren't so tight against Aemond's, your breasts would push out, instead they spill partially from the neckline of the apron, the knot on your neck having loosed considerably.

"Take this off!" You beg him, a dark laugh your only response. With fast movements Aemond opens his fly to free his aching cock and sheaths himself inside of you with one long push that has your heels push against his arse with a scream.

You're wet and ready, still you feel every inch of his cock against your walls, opening you up, until he bottoms out, filling you completely.

In his hunger he doesn't give you the chance to adjust, he starts fucking your hole with fast pushes that make you bounce in his embrace, your nails scrape the wall in the attempt to anchor yourself, your palms slide against the red bricks, Aemond's movements too fast and brutal for you to truly find purchase: you can only submit to his desires, moaning and begging over the squelching of your drenched core, his cock head brutal against your G-spot; he grunts when every push is a fight against your curling muscles.

"Naughty girl, you're already there, aren't you?" He groans against your lips. "You just need a hard cock and you're a goner, aren't you?" "Yours... only, ah!"

He doesn't care about your answer, he can see the pleasure on your features, can hear your high pitched wails as your body arches against his and you come, your muscles so tight around his cock that he follows with a shout.

He slips out of your hole and his knees wobble, his lips feverishly search yours as you two slide on the floor, desperately grabbing at one another, breathless and tired.

Aemond doesn't have the strength to carry you to the sofa, he barely manages to turn on his back and pull you on himself to shield your naked body from the cold floor. A shiver courses through his body when you hug him and start leaving small kisses on his neck.

"Are you feeling better?"

Gods be good, he can feel his cock trying to stiffen again and you're just cuddling him.

"I'm starting to." His arms tighten around your body. "Was I too forceful?" "Never." You kiss his cheek. "I like it when you just let go like this."

You can feel him hum under your chest and you'd purr, if you could, you feel so relaxed in his arms, warmed by the setting sun: you could stay like this forever.

"What's this smell?"

Both you and Aemond sniff the air, you laugh.

"That's our dinner. Burned in the oven."

Aemond facepalms, before fishing for his phone in his pocket.

"Pizza?" "Yeah."

You straddle him while he's busy ordering you usuals, only after you start moving over his still soft cock.

"What are you doing?"

His hands curl around your hips, not to stop you but to help you.

"I think you're still a bit tense." Leisurely you finish opening the knots of the apron to throw it away. "It's my duty as your girlfriend to help you, is it not?" He doesn't answer, his eye is trained on your luscious breasts: he needs to suck on your tits until you beg him to stop.

"See something you like?" You stretch, pushing your bosom out. "Come down here. The pizzeria takes a while to deliver."

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

[luveline]

I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?

thanks lovely💗

Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid. 

He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden. 

"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?" 

"I'm good." 

"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?" 

The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you. 

"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?" 

You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping." 

"They look perfect to me," Spencer says. 

You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?" 

Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it." 

"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag." 

Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch. 

He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at. 

"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?" 

"You can tell?" he asks. 

"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?" 

"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff." 

"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?" 

Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous. 

Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters. 

"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?" 

You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it." 

Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible." 

Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there. 

You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out. 

[xxsycamore]

Can you do Mozart & wet dreams?

Träumerei

╰┈➤ Mozart has never allowed himself as much as to think of her romantically. Strangely, his most recent dreams are all but lascivious, and twice as confusing. träumerei [noun, german] - dreaming

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Wet Dream; Mutual Pining; Feelings Realization; Denial of Feelings; Love Confessions; Miscommunication; Fainting; Hand & Finger Kink; Vanilla; Dream Sex; Ambiguous/Open Ending • wordcount: 1,104 • masterlist

• Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that’s right, 2022. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 3: WET DREAM

"Mozart… Mozart, touch me more with your hands, please…!"

It would be too easy, the composer muses in his thoughts, but he can't find it in himself to deny and tease her anymore. It warms him from the inside when she craves him so, his hands, his touch, so much that she's writhing underneath him. But when she lets out these beautiful moans, the spark of warmth blooms into a consuming fire.

"You love it so much when I touch you. You don't need to beg me. If you want me to touch you, then undress and show me where you need to be touched."

***

"No, that's all wrong. Did you not pay attention when I showed you? Here. Look."

Deft fingers dancing on the piano keys, Mozart repeats the chords with ease in yet another demonstration. His gaze moves on her even before the last notes can fill the air, making sure she's paying attention this time.

Even if it does things to his head, being this close to her.

Given that she was in his dreams just last night. Dreams that were not so innocent...

"I did, it's just… it seems like I was watching you play the piano, and not the notes you play. Tehee…"

His hands. He's not the type to seek eye contact, but more often than he catches her looking back, he catches her looking at his hands.

***

"I want more…I need more, please…please, Wolf!"

It catches him by surprise, how naturally it came out of her mouth. In contrast, her face is burning, gaze not as bold as her tongue, making him want to rain kisses on her hot cheeks. She needs to understand how happy she just made him.

He keeps moving inside her, gently removing the hands she tries to hide her face with. He needs to make love to her more, to give her more until she's pliant and spent and satisfied in his arms.

"You finally said my name." Betraying his own wishes, Mozart finds more appealing spots to press his lips against other than her face. Her neck, where her blood pumps in a rhythmic pulse; the metronome telling him to play her like a melody; to eat her one fang-filled bite at a time. "Keep saying it. I want to hear you say it more."

***

"Where do you want me to put those, Wolf?--Oh! I m-mean, Mozart! I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful! It just slipped out and-"

Something he didn't expect to hear outside those dreams that haunt him. Just an accident. Merely a slip of the tongue.

"That's fine, don't apologize. Are you okay? You're shaking."

She puts down the folded sheets where Mozart points her to, hurrying to find anything else to keep her hands busy with and mask some of that trembling. While nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unknowingly barrens her nape for Mozart's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…couldn't sleep well last night."

"Me too. Be careful not to overwork yourself."

***

"Wolf… I actually… have feelings for you-…No that's awful! Too straight to the point. Ugh. Wolf, I…."

Listening in disbelief, Mozart is overtaken by all sorts of emotions. Her confession came out of nowhere. But she's so finicky about getting it right, she just keeps saying it again and again.

"The truth is, ever since I came to the mansion, I found myself attracted to you and before I knew it… I was truly in love. I grew up with your music, and hearing it has always soothed me in times of- Nonono, what am I thinking? I grew up with it? I'm definitely not saying that part!"

And from finding himself embarrassed, Mozart now finds himself letting out chuckles he can't control, so much unlike him. His heart feels so light, glowing with the newly discovered reciprocation of his feelings.

"I knew that already… you were being pretty obvious, you know. To think that I doubted it still… Hurry up and settle on your confession so I could make mine, would you?"

***

Today she's nowhere to be seen, and for good. Downing another cup of coffee, Mozart hopes he could drown those pestering, illogical feelings in the bitter liquid along with what remains of his sleepiness. Concentrating on his work has never been this hard and he hates it; the sound of ruckus coming from downstairs joining in the cacophony of distractions until he gets up from his desk and goes to check it for himself.

He sees her then, unconscious in the arms of another man who luckily broke her fall. Somebody answers Mozart's horrified gaze with a brief reassurance that she'd most likely overworked herself and it's nothing any more serious than that. The residents are shocked when it's none other than the composer himself who insists he'll take care of her and carry her to her room.

It's maybe on the way there when he realizes, or maybe it's when he finds himself tucking her in under the covers.

Her room, that is adjacent to his.

Her bed, which is positioned in a way that is mirrored to his own, with only a thin wall separating the headboards.

His keen ear as a composer. One thin wall…

"M-Mozart…"

Her glossy eyes stare at him under heavy lids, gradually widening as if in disbelief.

"Idiot, you're going to work yourself to death. How long has it been since you last had an adequate amount of sleep?"

He's no good scolding for this with those most likely noticeable dark circles under his eyes, alas.

"Alright, alright, I'll rest! I'm closing my eyes the second you go through that door! Jeez…Hey Mozart?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for— Are you okay? Your face is red…"

It's funny how fast the tables turn when her hand touches his forehead in an utmost caring manner, and Mozart has to remind that she might be too warm herself to accurately check for him. And judging by the way she has the energy to frown and bark at him, it must be okay now for him to take his leave.

"I'm right nextdoor if you need anything."

"I know where your room is, Mozart…!"

"And one more thing." He keeps his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look her in the eye one more time. "Next time you have trouble sleeping because there's something on your mind, just come see me."

The only answer he gets is a shy nod that comes after a rather long pause. And it's satisfying enough of an answer.

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[malarign]

love you unconditionally

(ways to win their heart)

contains: bf!hyungline x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! crying and honking at elders in Jay’s one (sorry i had to put it here, i have a very soft spot for old people 😔), mentions of food in all of them | wc: 2,4k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: this is way longer than I intended it to be 🙈 also writing this when we’re in the same country is a new feeling for me 😬

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ Cooking for him *ೃ༄

Having such fast-paced work life as Heeseung had is not for the weak. And he certainly was not a weak person, but like everybody he had boundaries. At times when they had been crossed he needed to be taken care of with an extra dose of love and tenderness.

Hearing a loud sigh you looked at your boyfriend, who plopped on the couch next to you. His hair was still wet, body still hot from the warmth of shower water. He placed his head on your thigh and you put away your book to look at him.

“Tired?” you simply asked to which he languidly nodded with his eyes closed. Heeseung warned you that this week is going to be a nightmare and he was right. Every day he came back home sapless from hard work. This made you worry and think about what you could do to help him feel better and stay in shape.

“Hungry?” you asked once again, and he answered the same way as before, with a pout visible on his lips.

You rubbed his shoulders and patted them gently signaling him to raise his head. He reluctantly did and threw a frown at you. You smiled and made an offer that he would never say no to. “Let me make you some ramen. Just the way you like.”

Your words made his stomach grumble. He watched you go to the kitchen, and make his absolute favorite dish. After all those years of knowing him, you developed the perfect recipe made of spices combinations and ingredients proportions. Every time you made it Heeseung could swear he would marry you right away.

After all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

➶ Showing interest in his hobbies *ೃ༄

Heeseung being a man of many talents, naturally is interested in many things in various fields. Basketball, football, games, piano, dancing, and many more were one of the things he adored. And the fact that you showed such interest in those things made him feel important to you as if by knowing more about his hobbies you knew more about him. Even if his interests were completely not your cup of tea you left no stone unturned to know as much as you managed to about them. Whether it was basketball or football where you could learn rules to watch matches with him or ask him to teach you to play some piano piece or choreography

“And then at the last minute, he cheated, as always though” Heeseung spoke about his last match with Niki in their new favorite game.

“Didn’t he do that last time, too? But you still won, right?” you asked eyebrow raising in question. He didn’t even have to answer as his cockily raised eyebrow told you everything.

“Of course I did.” His smile was so big you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can we play it? I want to see why you like it so much” you asked pointing to the controllers. You observed how his eyes grew bigger, sparkles brightening his dark orbs. He knew damn well video games weren’t really your cup of tea, yet you offered to play with him. Heeseung decided to not question you and just nodded reaching to the pair of controllers and handing you one of them.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t cheat too, though.”

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ Being polite to others *ೃ༄

Good manners was something Jay’s parents tought him from his childhood days. He knew what was the responsible thing to doin relevant situations, knew how to treat other’s and how to help them when they asked for it. He never hesitated to reach out his hand to a person in need of help.

Because of that upbringing he somehow expected his partner to be as considerate and amiable as he was. That’s probably the reason why he loved you so much. Your kind actions and warm gestures made his heart beat only for you.

But just like every human being you had your bad days when you couldn’t keep it cool. By contrast to your kindness your short-tempered character made you loose control for a second.

Jay was cooking a dinner for both of you knowing you’ll be home at any minute now. he heard how you unlocked the front door but the sound of the door slamming shut took him by surprise. Sensing something was wrong he took careful steps to the hallway where he saw you sitting on the floor, your back facing him. He went around you and the sight made his expression drop. Your face was tear stained and eyes puffy, meaning you had been crying for a while now. He crouched next to you to take your form closer to his and asked softly: “Do you want to tell me what happened?”, but that only made you cry harder. Not wanting your eyes to hurt the next day he helped you calm down, waiting for some kind of response from you.

“I feel like I’m the worst person,” you whispered, another tears forming in your eyes.

“Why would you say that, sweetheart? You’re the kindest person I know.” The absurd of what you had said made him confused.

“Becaused when I honked at this car that was in front of me, that didn’t drive even though we had green light, it turned out that there was an old man behind a wheel,” you spoke syntax and sense of your statement long gone. “And when I overtook him he apologized by raising his hand. Jay that man could be like 90 years old and I treated him like that. I feel horrible,” you cried again finding comfort in his arms.

Jay couldn’t help but smile at your innocence. He held you for as much time as you needed reminding you about all the things you do and convincing you that you’re certainly not a bad person.

➶ Having heart-to-heart conversations *ೃ༄

Working in Seoul was tiring most of the times, draining from both physical and mental energy. Living fast was not for everybody, even people who do know how to cope with the hardships of this lifestyle needed to pour their hearts out once in a while, sharing their worries and nuisances to feel lighter in some way.

Both you and Jay knew about that, so every month you had a long heart-to-heart conversation that made your hearts at ease. You talked about many things, sometimes feelings and everyday matters too overwhelming to talk about them straight away. Instead you just asked each other questions you didn’t have an oppourtunity to ask.

“What do you wish you could spend more time doing?” you asked, breaking the long but comfortable silence that surrounded you. You shifted and layed on him, head now raising and falling down just as his chest did when he took a breath.

“I wish I could cook a little bit more. I mean like not cooking every day meals, but experimenting with other quisines and types of food,” he spoke after thinking for a while.

“Do you know what cuisine?” you asked quriously.

He looked at you and exclaimed with a smile: “Maybe some dish from [your country name]? That would benefit both of us. I would spend more time in the kitchen and you could eat meals from your childhood.”

“Ooh, not gonna lie, that sounds tempting!” You hugged him tighter with excitement.

“What about you, sweetheart?”

“Probably painting. I still have blank canvas but not the energy to even think about what to capture on it,” you said while an idea crept into your mind.

“You could always paint me,” Jay remarked.

“I thought about exact same thing.”

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ Cuddling with him *ೃ༄

Jake is probably the clingiest person of them, who all would love and long for any form of physical contact with you. He adored holding your hands in his, occasionally rubbing them with this thumb. He loved the scent of your shampoo and body wash so every time you finished your nighttime routine he ran to you to just smell your freshly washed hair. And on top of that, his favorite thing ever was how your body felt against his whenever you hugged or cuddled. This is probably why he enjoyed it whenever it was you who cuddled him, not him cuddling you.

Jake came back home from his stroll to the grocery store for some snacks. Both of you were supposed to watch the new episode of a show you just started when you realized you ran out of snacks, so he quickly went out to buy something to fill your stomachs up.

“Baby I’m back!” he shouted while taking off his shoes.

“Come here quickly!” He heard your response and jogged to the living room. You were laying on the couch in a reclined position. When you noticed his presence in the room, a smile rose on your lips and you opened your arms inviting the boy into your loving embrace. Jake didn’t waste any second jumping onto you making both of you giggle. He placed his head on your chest and closed his eyes when he felt your fingers tangle in his locks. And if not for your pat on his shoulder he would completely forget about the promised episode and just find solace and comfort in your affection.

➶ Spending time with him when you're busy *ೃ༄

Handling uni work with your part-time job was probably the hardest aspect of your life. Jake knew your hardships and if there was something he could help you with he did it with pleasure. Seeing your struggles truly breaks your heart so he does everything in his power to somehow let you know he’ll always be there for you. With that awareness, he cherished with his whole heart any moment you spared him.

Currently, you were laying down on your bed, bodies cuddled up together. You played with his fingers as he was telling you about your day. Listening to him attentively you started feeling your eyelids closing involuntarily. You fought the tiredness with all your will, but the exhaustion from the past week full of work and assignments drained you of any energy.

Jake noticed how you struggled to keep your eyes open so he cupped your face in his free hand and said: “Babe, you must be really tired. Let me help you get changed and make the bed for you to sleep comfortably.”

You looked up at him and your eyes softened. “But I wanna listen to your day more. I missed you so much and we barely even saw each other this week” you spoke.

“It’s okay, my love, I know you do so as soon as we wake up tomorrow I’ll finish my story. How does that sound?” he asked and left a short kiss on your forehead.

Seeing your nod Jake helped you get ready to sleep and made the bed for the two of you to hop into. He engulfed you in his arms and whispered tender “I love you”s and other sweet nothings into your ear. His touch made you melt in bliss, helping you fall asleep. Once he noticed your sleeping form he took a look at your face, treasuring the memory of time spent with you for a long time.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ Writing him notes/love letters *ೃ༄

As a silent lover, who shows his feelings rather through gestures Sunghoon appreciates when you did the same to him. Of course, he loved when you gave him hugs or peppered his face with heart-fluttering kisses, but seeing your love through kind messages on the mirror written with a bar of soap or small sticky notes attached to his lunch box made his whole day better, and nothing could make it worse.

Sunghoon finally went on his long-awaited break from work and closed all the opened programs on his office computer. He took a bag full of food you made for him for lunch and went to the kitchen to eat it comfortably. He took out a small box from the bag to heat the meal when he noticed a pink sticky note with a message written on it. “Have a great day, my love. Don’t overwork yourself and come back home safely ♡“ he read the message silently, not noticing a smile creeping on his face. He put it into his pocket and continued preparing the food.

After he finished eating he took a note into his hand and put it into a drawer of his desk where he stored every single one of them you wrote through the years of your relationship. He kept them knowing that there were days when you simply didn’t have much time to write him a note. Those days he just opened the drawer and drew one note which never failed to make his day.

And it always made him think about you. How is your day? Are you busy? What if you’re overworking yourself? Those questions pierced his mind, so instead of just worrying he texted you, hoping he wouldn’t disturb your work day. But he never did. You always responded as soon as you noticed his messages, which made you feel warm and loved.

➶ Giving him long hugs after a long day

For Sunghoon, a synonym of comfort and delight was simply being in your arms, a place where he felt the safest. He knew you’re the person with whom he can be who he truly is and didn’t need to put the brakes on himself. After stresfull days in work he dreamed of nothing else but to nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck while you brush his hair with your fingers. 

And that’s exactly what happened. As soon as he came back he searched for you to finally feel at home. You gladly welcomed him wrapping your arms around him, softly scratching his back earning full of satifaction low hums from him in return. 

“Let me massage your shoulders,” you offered suddenly when you felt how rock hard were his tensed muscles. 

“No, I want to stay here,” he said as he made himself more comfortable, making both of you lay down on your shared bed. 

You patted his head brushing his hair from off his face. “Anything for you, love.” You continued touching him gently when you heard soft snores coming from him. You shook him a bit to wake him up. You knew how he hated sleeping without showering first, in clothes he wore whole day. 

Sunghoon opened his eyes lazily and nodded before rubbing them with his hands. He lifted from you and went straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower, while you made your med ready to lay down on it. When he came back you embraced him once again. He laid his head drowsily on your shoulder and sighed. You climbed on your toes to give him short peck on his lips and led him to lay down after day full of work. 

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[fruitcoops]

15 for anyone 🤓

(15) “So, I found this waterfall…”

Combined with a request for (20) “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” Characters belong to @lumosinlove!

Sirius woke halfway through a snore--choked slightly, coughed, and rolled over onto his face with a fistful of blankets balled against his chest.

A laugh puffed across his bare shoulder. "Jeez, thanks, glad I got up early."

He didn't dignify that with a response; just kicked the middle sheet vaguely toward Remus and kept his eyes shut. The sound of a piano floated up from somewhere downstairs. Bach, he thought. It would be nice if someone played Debussy once in a while.

"Did you hear me?"

"Hmmrph," Sirius answered into the pillowcase. It was far too early for such demanding things as talking.

"I said, I brought breakfast up and a map."

That was nice of him. Sirius figured the continental breakfast's 9 a.m. closing time meant they'd be eating out in the mornings. If Remus brought some back with him, that promised at least an extra half hour of sleep to enjoy. He buried his nose deep enough in the pillow to smell mothballs and let the tension flow out of his back.

"Hey, hey, come on."

A light tug found the back of his hair. Sirius had to admit his acknowledgement was more grumpy this time.

A kiss this time, to the curve of his arm just peeking out of his cocoon. "You can't sleep vacation away."

"Mmm."

"I found a waterfall..."

Cold and wet, the sleepy creature of his brain advised. Not worth the risk. It would be a real insult to the lodge if he wasted their warm bed.

"Hey." Remus' voice was closer, now; he smiled despite himself, nudging into the downy quilt. Lips found his shoulder again, brushing back and forth in greeting before teeth gave a teasing scrape over his bicep. "Come on. You need to wake up because I can't do this without you."

Sirius could picture him: dressed to go for breakfast, but still bearing bedhead where he hadn't smoothed it down with a drowsy hand on his way out the door. He would be leaning close, arching down so that smile would rest just right against Sirius' arm. He chanced shifting his leg over and felt the bump of Remus' bent knees.

He breathed out. "Can walk. Without me."

"Nuh-uh."

"Mhm." Moths fluttered at the edge of his awareness.

"Don't want to."

"Can," he repeated. Morning was breaking over the last remnants of a dreamless sleep.

The teeth pressed in harder; he laughed, and felt Remus grin. "C'mon, or I'm eating your breakfast."

"Would not."

"Would."

"Nuh-uh."

"Mhm."