#that a face and/or shoulder massage is typical

[etheries1015]

after learning Silver uses a BAR OF SOAP to wash his hair...AND wanting to wish him a happy birthday, I decided he must be pampered with a...little spa day, and something a little special near the end <3 Happy birthday, Silver!!

General warnings: gender neutral reader

Upon visiting Silver in his dorm for a small birthday celebration and finding out the unfortunate truth behind his hair-washing habits, you were quick to insist you take him out shopping or teach him the ways of proper hair care.

"I had no clue it wasn't normal to just use a bar of soap," Silver shrugged, "As long as it makes me clean, right?"

"Just hearing you say that hurts," you joked exasperatedly, "I feel it's my duty now to train you in the ways of making your hair clean and feel like you're touching a cloud."

"Well," Silver pondered, "I guess it wont hurt to learn."

"Perfect!" You jumped up from your seat, the Diasomnia lounge, "you guys are done here, right?" Lilia looked as startled as Silver at your sudden outburst, before taking a glance at the already eaten birthday cake and open presents that lay out on the table.

"I suppose it is time to retire, I have a gaming session happening soon anyways," Lilia pointed out, before a sly smile crawled upon his lips and looking at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Feel free to take him!"

"Take me?" Silver perked up, sitting up straight. Giving an...unsettling cackle and grabbing Silvers hands, you began to pull him up and urge him to follow you.

"Perfect. Yes, i'm kidnapping you. Remember, I told you that I left my present for you at Ramshackle anyways. AND this is a perfect opportunity for me to initiate my next mission..."

"Mission...?" you heard Lilia sing his goodbyes and waved a quick farewell to the other members of Diasomnia, before dragging Silver out the door and towards the direction of the hall of mirrors.

"Operation: spoil the birthday boy with a spa day!"

Wearing the world's softest robe you had let him use, Silver dosed off a few times after being completely pampered like a princess, and not as a result of his typical condition. You messaging his scalp was probably the most heavenly thing he had felt in a long time, the way your fingers worked on his head left his eyes fluttering shut. He was honestly sad when he realized he had fallen asleep and missed half of the process, but he could still feel your touch linger on his head and immensely enjoy the newfound softness of his silver locks.

You woke him up when you had placed a cool face mask on him, and fell asleep once more when you had started to massage his tense shoulders and cut his nails... He felt like floating on clouds, and those clouds also smelled like you.

"It's nice..." Silver hummed, eyes fluttering open watching you finish filing one of his nails, "You have a very nice scent. I would like to know where you get your hair products," He smiled at you.

"We can find you a scent that suites you more," you offered, "every person has their own unique scent! I'm sure with some time, we can find the perfect one for you." However, Silver shook his head in earnest. It was much more romantic than he probably intended, yet he leaned forward and took a light smell of your also freshly washed hair.

"I like your scent," he smiled, "besides, it would be nice to share something similar, right? So when we aren't together, there's always a piece of you there. You also convinced me that hair care is more important than I gave it credit for..."

Your face took a rosy hue, you groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands.

"You're so...cheesy! You don't need my shampoo and conditioner to be reminded of me, I actually...got you...something. For your birthday." Silver raised a curious eyebrow and tilted his head with widened eyes.

"I thought you spoiling me with a little 'spa' was my birthday gift? you've already spoiled me plenty, I don't need-"

"Of course that's not all I have planned!" You exasperated, pushing Silver down onto the couch in Ramshackle lounge, "Wait here." Sprinting away, you were back almost as fast as you had left, in your hands you held a small box obviously held for some type of accessory. Taking it gracefully, Silver opened the box to reveal a silver bracelet adorned with...

"Acorns?" Silver asked startled, holding up the bracelet and examining it with curious and starry eyes.

"I saw the one you made for Lilia," You pointed out shyly, "Out of real acorns. I thought of making one myself for you, too...but, I wanted something a little more durable, something you can wear more often. If...you don't mind accessories." You hid your hands behind your back fidgeting with your fingers nervously, before a smile spread ear to ear and cheeks rose with a blush from the male. He gripped the bracelet with eagerness, and you swore the bright look on his face would surely give the sun some competition.

"I love it," Silver replied with a voice dripping in enthusiasm, "I won't be able to wear it while I'm training, but I'll be sure to have it on at all times. I'll take great care of it, thank you." You were visibly relieved, chuckling and bringing your hands to your front as you revealed an exact match of the same bracelet you had just given him.

"i'm glad, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing to wear a matching bracelet with nobody actually matching with me..." Silver stared with wide auroral orbs, mouth ajar upon seeing it. "So...we have something to share! Just like you were talking about before, right?"

Engulfing you in a hug after putting on the accessory in one fell swoop, Silver couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for the prefect of ramshackle dorm. He squeezed you tightly, yet not enough to harm you. You smiled and returned the hug in full, chuckling at his sudden display of fondness.

"This has been a wonderful birthday," Silver said, "Thank you, truly. I will remember this day for a very, very long time." leaning into his touch, you pushed aside the urge to tell him he was overreacting, and took the honest boys words at face value.

"Of course...Happy birthday, Silver!"

[so-i-did-this-thing]

It was a little intimidating, but I asked my new barber to also do my beard today.

I feel like so many shaving tutorials for trans guys only cover the basics of using a razor and it's frustrating not knowing how best to shape your facial hair to suit your face.

It was nice to have someone who knows what they are doing set my beard line (hard to do when most guides assume you have a prominent adam's apple as a guiding point).

The barber also walked me through what guard settings he used on the clippers (you blend your beard instead of going all one length) and how I should continue to grow out my beard to get it more in the shape I'm looking for.

Highly recommend, worth the price. I feel better equipped now to maintain it on my own. His razor cut was also far gentler on my sensitive skin than anything I could manage on my own.

[coryosbaby]

we (8 billion people) are begging for dom fem reader and coryo dynamic. Why she always gotta be sub like my dom ass would slap the shit out of him ong

ʙᴇɢɢɪɴ’ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ !

Synopsis: Coriolanus will do anything to get to the top, right?

Content warning . power dynamics, loss of virginity, face riding, multiple orgasms, marking, sub!pussydrunk! Coryo, dom! Reader that’s a lil fucked up

notes: me when coryo has hair real . This kinda sucks I’m sorry

When you see Coriolanus Snow, you see a desperate man.

A boy, actually. You see a boy. A desperate, handsome, power hungry boy. You can see it in the way he towers over his peers in a sort of fake dominance, the fauxness behind his sugary sweet words directed to anything or anyone in a higher position— some even directed towards you, when that blush isn’t flushing his cheeks with a feral intensity.

As the daughter of Dr. Gaul, it’s quite easy for you to advance some of your friends in their studies. You are not only her daughter, but in a position of power yourself. You know people— and Coriolanus knows that. You aren’t dumb. You can tell by his eyes, the empty, icy blue orbs not quite telling the truth.

Coriolanus, in a way, is just like you.

Maybe that’s what intrigues you so much about him. Besides that pretty smile, or those golden curls or those muscles that make you drool, you admire his determination. You know about his poorness (not all know, but some do, as Dean Casca Highbottom once quoted to him), and you know one will go far to satiate their own greed.

It’s just a matter of how far.

—

Coriolanus walks into your lab crying, one day.

Not obviously. It’s subtle, as you demand he sit down and take off his shirt so you can stitch up his wounds. Your hands graze it softly, and he winces.

“Does it hurt?” You ask him, even though you already know the answer.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at the seat.

“Yes.”

An honest answer. He must trust you.

You hum, beginning to work on his wound with taught precision. Looking at him now, his jaw is clenching tightly and the boy is shaking so much you fear he might break.

“I killed someone.”

He states it in a remorseful tone, the tone of someone weak and pathetic.

“Someone in the games, if I’m correct?”

He turns to look at you in surprise, as if you didn’t have access to your mother’s decision of allowing him to walk in there and save his friend Sejanus. He says nothing, then. He sniffles, and cries silently.

“You know,” you state, beginning to stitch him. “I’ve killed someone too. Someone I needed to kill.” You smile, remembering the one time a student who was threatening to take your place mysteriously fell into the pit of snakes. “It was necessary.”

Coriolanus tries to stay nonchalant, but you can see the way his shoulders tense. He doesn’t say a word, so you continue.

“Was it necessary to kill the person you killed?”

He looks down at his hands. Caked with blood, knuckles drawn taught. You want to bite them.

“No,” Coriolanus answers slowly. “No, it wasn’t.”

Maybe there’s more darkness to the boy than you originally thought.

You speak to him in a much lower tone now.

“Maybe it was. You just don’t know it.” And then, “There are a lot of things certain people can do to get to the top, Coriolanus.”

Your insinuation doesn’t go unnoticed. He moves his head to look at you.

“And what would that be?”

Typical. Someone so power hungry that his head turns at the mere mention of an opportunity. You’ve got him right where you want him.

You finish up his stitches. You move around to his front, your short red skirt all of a sudden incredibly suffocating as he looks up at you with something utterly pathetic in his gaze.

“How far are you willing to go, Coriolanus?”

And that’s when, a few moments later, you get your wish: that skirt, oh so suffocating, is strewn on the floor, Coriolanus’ big hands massaging the skin of your thighs as you straddle him. Your lips press against his in a hot and heavy kiss, your tongue massaging his lips with fervor. He may be doing this for advancement, but the blonde wants you nonetheless. You can see in the way his hips grind up, the way he lets out desperate whines as you lick up his tears with your tongue. Pulling away from him, your cunt clenches when he tries to push your body down onto his crotch.

“No, Coryo,” you demand, though your voice is desperate. “I want you on the floor, okay? You’re going to taste me first.”

He hesitates, his eyes darting to your lacey panties and then to the colorful tiles.

“… the floor?”

He seems nervous, jittery. It’s not as if he’s afraid of getting dirty, or something.

No, this is something else. In the way he nervously twiddles his fingers, the way his bottom lip catches in between his teeth. It’s not as if he wants to stop— it’s more so that he’s inexperienced.

And then it hits you.

Coriolanus snow is a virgin. This big handsome boy, beautiful and delicious, has never done had sex before. He’s never felt the touch of a woman, never eaten pussy or got his dick sucked.

And for some reason, that makes you want him more.

“Oh,” you coo to him, soft. “Coryo, you’ve never done this before, have you?”

His face turns dusty pink, but he tries to deny, deny, deny.

“What? No! Of course I’m not. I’m just..” he looks at the floor, his lie clear on his face. “The tiles are cold. Dirty.”

“You’re caked with blood and sweat, sweet boy. I’m sure the tiles will be fine.”

He looks away from you, his lips drawn up into a pout.

“I’m not a virgin.” He states, merely to himself. You raise a brow, an amused smile playing on your lips as you move farther away from him.

“Then why don’t you come and eat my pussy, baby?”

His cock strains against his zipper, and you swear you can see it twitch from where you’re standing. He gulps, and with a submission you would’ve never expected, the boy drops to his knees on the tile and makes his way towards you. His shirt, unbuttoned, shows the pretty lines of his chest and his rippling back muscles, and when he gets to you, he stops at the front of your still standing knees. Satisfaction wades through you when his hands move up to the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with shaking hands. Your smell hits his nose, makes his head tilt back as he lets out a throaty sound in the back of his throat. His tongue laves over the skin of your inner thigh, his hands going around the back of one of your knees to pull you close. You spread your legs to allow him access, your pussy lips drenched with arousal as his breath laves over you.

“Go on, Coryo,” you urge. “You want me to put a good word to my colleagues, yeah? So you better do a good job.”

He moans, his tongue finally slipping in between your folds as he tastes you. He’s messy, sloppy, and it’s good but it’s not good enough.

“God. I thought you were experienced? Huh, Coryo? Don’t you wanna make me feel good? Are you even fucking trying?”

He pulls away from you, shame in his eyes as you scold him. He pleads, his lip wobbling, his arms holding onto your legs.

“Please, I’m sorry. ‘M so sorry. Teach me, please…”

He tries to press a kiss to your cunt, but you kick him away with your foot. He falls to the ground, helpless.

“Lay down—I don’t care if it hurts your back. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He does as he’s told, all sweet and sweaty and bloody. His back hits the tile, injured but he ignores it when he watches you tower over him. You move down, pressing your knees on either side of his head. He grabs your thighs to place his mouth back on you, but you grab his golden curls in your hands and yank him back. He groans in pain, his feet kicking in a sort of pleasured resistance.

“You use your mouth when I tell you to, coryo,” you scold, watching the way his eyes flutter and only focus on your dripping pussy. “You do what I say. If I guide your head, or press myself down at a certain spot, you go along with it. Do you understand me?”

He nods, desperate to get his mouth on you, his cock thrusting into the open air.

“Good. Now, go slower. Stick out your tongue.. wider… therrre you go, baby.” His eyes focus on that one spot, his tongue hovering right over your clit. He must have read up on this a time or two. You press him closer, shoving his face into your heat as his tongue hits the swollen bud. “You see that? That’s my clit. Yeahh, stick your tongue right there…”

He groans, the taste of your sweet slick making his eyes roll back. His palms splay across your ass, digging crescent moons into the skin. You move your hips in a circular motion, giving Coryo the impression to move his tongue that way. He’s a smart boy, so he knows exactly what you’re communicating to him. His tongue moves in slow, languid circles, your slick already dripping down his chin. You can’t help but give into the pleasure he’s giving you for a moment, riding his face like your life depends on it before slowing down and stopping.

“Good, coryo. You’re being such a good boy. But you need to move your tongue down. You don’t want to play with my clit too much, because I’ll cum quick if you do.”

He makes a noise of understanding, moving his tongue down to your hole. It’s much funner this way, he thinks. The tip of his tongue can gather up the awaiting slick that’s spilling out of you, it makes your taste all the more prominent. You give him some room to experiment now, letting him move his tongue in between your clit and your hole. He catches on, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was experienced now— he’s a natural learner. Your hips grind down into him, and when he tongues your hole you use his strong nose to grind lazily against. Coryo can only breathe in your slick, his brain becoming fuzzy from his lack of air. But it’s okay. It’s okay because he’s doing good.

You can feel yourself getting close, the languid strokes of his tongue making your legs shake. You hump against his mouth, your head thrown back.

“Gonna cum,” you say to him. “Gonna cum on this slut mouth.”

He groans, his jaw working even harder now. He focuses on your clit more, save for the few times that he slurps up the slick from your hole. Your orgasm is fast approaching, your body drawing up tight.

And finally, you’re cumming on his mouth, moans spilling from your lips and Coryo’s. He’s desperate to catch all of your cum onto his awaiting tongue, his legs still moving around as he consumes you like a man starved. Your eyes roll back and you grind your hips against him as you come down from your high. Coryo pulls away once he’s satiated, looking up at you with his chin coated in slick.

You sigh, pulling your hips back to give him some air. You move your body off of him, going to your knees to watch his pussy drunk face still follow your cunt as you move. You want to return the favor, now. It’s only fair.

But looking down, you notice a wet spot soaking through Coryo’s pants.

He lifts himself up on his elbows, looking from his crotch to you. He flushes, apologies spewing from his wet lips, shaking his head.

“I tried not to. I really, really did. ‘M so sorry.”

He tries to reach out to touch you, but you just move away and down to his crotch. You unbutton his jeans, and he lets you. You look down at his red briefs, watching the white stain peeking through.

“Oh, baby. You just couldn’t help, it could you?”

You mock him, your hand palming his shaft. He lets out a whimper, his head falling back against the tile. He knows it’s too much, but he isn’t stopping you. You pull his briefs down, and boy is he big. Thick and long, all pretty and red with cum dripping down to his balls. Your mouth waters, but you figure that can wait another day. His seed can be used for other things.

You flutter your lashes at him, your hand wrapping around his shaft, jerking him to hardness again. He’s got this look, contorted and pained and pleasured at the same time. You straddle his meaty thighs, your cunt lips brushing over his cockhead, and he gasps.

“W-Wait—“ he starts, choked. “It’s.. ‘S too much—“

“Then why are you hard again?” You tilt your head at him, your movements paused because he didnt give you full permission. “Don’t you want my warm, tight pussy? Don’t you want to make it to the top?”

And that gets him going, his arousal for you and power and riches. He nods, eyes rolling back as you sink down on him. The cum from his last orgasm coats your walls and makes it easier to fill yourself up, warm white streaks dripping down his cock again.

“Oh.. oh my god,” his mouth drops open, and you’ve never heard a boy so vocal. “Please… I want it, I want it!”

You know what he’s asking for. Your stilled hips are non moving, letting him stretch you and sit heavy inside your cunt. You smile, moving your hips just a bit, letting him feel your gummy walls sucking him in. His mouth is in the shape of an o, his hair messy and disoriented. He tries to grab your tits, your hips, and with a surprising force your palm strikes his cheek haughtily. He cries out, his thighs shaking, his hips thrusting up.

“No touching,” you demand. “You don’t get to do that. Give me your hands.”

He lets you take them, and you push them far over his head as you begin to work your hips harder, faster. His balls make plop plop plop-ing noises as they hit your ass, quivering and begging for you to let them empty inside you. You move down to his neck, leaving purpleish bruises over his skin, marking him as yours. You let go of his hands so you can rest your hands on his torso, and his hands move up. Not necessarily to touch, but to hover over your tits bouncing through your tight fitted shirt. You give him permission, just a moment, to squeeze the soft skin in his hands, give them a teasing, bold little slap. You breathe shakily, his cock filling you up in ways no other has. You watch as Coryo’s head tilts back, and you know he’s close.

“Gonna cum?” You taunt, your nails scraping against his chest. He groans, nodding. “Gonna fill up my tight little pussy? Cmon, give it to me, I know you want to.”

And when he spills into you, rope after rope of warm, hot cum filling you to the brim, you let out a cry. His fingers find your clit— he’s thought this through, hasn’t he? He rubs you until you’re seeing stars and clenching around his overstimulated cock with a loud sob. He moves up to kiss you hot on the mouth.

“Did I do good?” He asks.

You smile, your hand threading your hands through his hair as you both relax against each other.

“You did very good, Coryo. I’m so proud of you.”

He breathes out a chuckle, shoving his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he winces. His wound has been withstanding a lot of pressure.

“You probably want to put some ice on that.” You suggest to him. He shrugs.

“The tile was cold enough.”

[horrorartsworld]

the gamble

valentino/f!reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw content, clit play, fingering, thigh riding, daddy kink, degradation, a bit of agoraphilia, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness

Sitting on Valentino’s lap you watched carefully as he played an intense game of cards.

Never understanding why Val brought you to these things when he had plentiful of desperate whores waiting for him at the studio, groveling for any bit of his attention, but yet here you are for gambling night.

One of his hands sneaked down underneath the table to squeeze at your thigh as his face became super concentrated and then he started squeezing it repeatedly like a stress ball as he thought carefully of his next move, making you let out little squeaks every now and then if he squeezed too hard.

His opponent sitting across from him was a typical loan shark (a literal shark demon too) and a few of his goons he brought a long who never stopped eyeing you the whole night on.

Making you shift in Val’s lap in hopes to somehow get out of their line of sight which was damn near impossible since you were front and center.

Valentino growls softly pinching your thigh causing you to yelp unexpectedly in front of all the men making you blush sheepishly. “Stop fucking moving..” He grumbles in your ear as he finally finishes up his move.

The loan shark looks over his cards as it was his turn next.

Holding your breath as you feel Valentino’s hand that was on your thigh now moving your skirt up to feel over your panties that were starting to get soaked by the second.

“You damn filthy whore…wanting daddy to play with you under the table durning his game huh~”

Shaking your head thoughtlessly as you weren’t wanting to do this here, especially not in front of these men knowing they’d probably enjoy ever bit of it, though Val had other plans…

Moving your panties aside he let one of his digits make contact with your entrance as he gathered up some of your slick messaging it into your clit in slow tantalizing circles.

You gasp softly then quickly biting your lip in attempts to quiet yourself. Valentino smacks your pussy at this sending a loud thwack to be heard throughout the room as the other men look at the two of you suspiciously.

“Just putting a slut into her place boys…you know how it is~” Val says all too charmingly as the men snicker as if saying they knew exactly what he was going on about.

It came to be his turn once more as he leans over to whisper, “Make another sound again and daddy’s gonna punish the fuck out of you when we leave…you understand me?”.

Nodding gingerly, Val throws a card down without thinking to let his turn go by faster as his only thought was how much he was enjoying this without showing it.

“Use your words princess~” He tries to butter you up with the pet name and whisper more softer but you could still hear the danger underlining his voice. Then you feel him going back to your clit massaging it with more pressure this time.

“i-i mphm understand…d-daddy~”

Breath shaky as you tried with everything in your power not to moan or make any noise of that matter.

As if Val was fucking with you now he then glided two digits up and down your slick folds and then slowly guided them both into your tight little hole.

Eyes widening suddenly as you grab a hold of his wrist out of shock as he starts to move his fingers.

“So…Val?” The loan shark speaks up making Valentino snap out of it for a moment looking over at the blubbery bloke but never once stopping his movements.

“What’s up my friend?” Instant gratification lacing his voice once he picked up speed under the table making your back arch into him and your legs thrash.

The loan shark raises a brow but still acts oblivious to the situation, “So where do you get pretty little things like this?” his nasty yellow eyes now hungrily on you.

As you roll your head back onto Valentino’s shoulder you couldn’t help but notice his mouth twitch at this man’s question. “Oh her? She works for me~” Nonchalantly he says this and attempts at changing the subject as he goes his turn once more.

A goon then curses under his breath as Val makes a good play.

“Works huh? Well how much do I pay?” He snickers elbowing a few of his goons as he waits for Valentino’s response.

“How about we talk about this later, yeah?”

Trying to keep his composure and not loose his shit as he seemed to be more possessive over you then usual. The loan shark backs off with his hands raised in defeat though a smirk still played on his lips.

Valentino focuses his attention back on you seeing you getting close as he felt your walls clenching around his digits.

“You gonna cum baby?~” purring in your ear as your thighs were shaking.

“Y-yes yes daddy, i’m gonna cum~” You whine softly, voice all worn out along with your body with the amount of restraint that you thought you still had. (you didn’t have any lol).

As if for some ungodly reason the world was crashing down he pulled his digits out of you, sucking your juices off letting the taste linger in his mouth and then putting his full attention back on the game.

You looked up at him pitifully knowing that he just denied your release making tears prickle at your eyes. He was always so heartless like this, but before you could go into a deep turmoil about it his thigh starts bouncing with you on it.

“Get yourself off for me.” He sounded serious as he was going to do everything in his power to win this game now that dickhead had pissed him off.

Cheeks burning as you know if you didn’t do he’d take whatever anger he had of this night and take it out on you and do god knows what. So you start rolling your hips against his bouncing knee causing the right amount of friction to get you close to your much needed high once more.

At this point your dignity didn’t matter anymore as you started whimpering. Feeling that familiar knot forming in your tummy as Val started to bounce his leg a bit more profusely with your thighs squeezing his much bigger one causing you to cum all over it and he finally throws down his cards showing a winning hand making all the goons groan with disappointment.

“Not bad…” The loan shark says somewhat impressed.

“That’s my naughty girl~” Val coos as he surprisingly kisses the top of your head, probably just because he was happy he finally won the game.

Grabbing all of his winnings from the middle of the table and shoving them in a duffel bag before throwing both you and it over his shoulder.

“Alrighty boys shows over…was fun playing with you guys but i gotta take this kitten home~”

Smacking your ass that was facing the men over his shoulder causing a small squeak from you and leaving without hearing anymore of what the loan shark had to say for Val.

Taking home both his money and a gambling addiction too. Oh and you of course to clean his now soaked pant leg.

[nereidprinc3ss]

make me late

in which spencer finds a few minutes to spare with fem!reader in the morning

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering (here we go again), 'slutty' is used to describe an action but not by spencer, spencer slaps r's ass one (1) time, (hot), mild overstimulation a/n: apparently need to post at least one fingering fic per week or i'll fucking die. very short and sweet but as always let me know if you like it, i have a crush on all of you!

You’re used to Spencer’s alarm going off early in the morning—typically you tune it out or sleep right through it. Today, however, it rouses you more than usual. You roll over, blinking your eyes open. 

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters, finally turning it off and leaning over to kiss your head. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down again when he tries to get out of bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg into his shirt, slinging a leg over him. His hand slips under your (also his) shirt, rubbing the bare skin of your back.

“I have to. You know that.” 

“I just want you to stay for a little bit,” you insist. 

“No you don’t,” he drawls, voice still gravelly with sleep, “You want to make me late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, burying your face further into his shirt as if you could extinguish the heat in your cheeks. 

His hand drops from your back to reach under your thigh, pushing your underwear to the side. You gasp when his fingers make contact with your soaked core, involuntarily pressing your hips closer. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop it! That’s not fair!” You squeal, attempting to wriggle away once you regain your senses. But the bastard wraps his arm around your waist like a vice, forcing you to stay in place as he sinks a finger into you with no preamble. Instead of satisfying him with a vocal response, you keep your face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and remain obstinately silent. When he begins to slowly pump his finger, you’re forced to bite the fabric of his shirt to shut yourself up. 

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll stop,” he says plainly, but obviously he knows that’s the last thing you want. His ring finger joins the other and your mouth falls open, a tiny, choked breath against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Don’t give in, you say to yourself. Wait. What are you not giving in to? Fuck, that feels good. You hum quietly—an excellent display of self-control considering the noises you’re actively holding back. 

“Are we already getting whiny?”

“‘m not whining,” you bite. 

“You’re always whining.” There’s nothing to do but prove him right when he begins massaging that spot inside you with a practiced stroke of his fingers—the one that makes you arch your back further and spread your legs a little wider—makes you oh-so compliant and all together, a bit slutty. But Spencer has told you that by definition, you’re not a slut if it’s just him who you lose all self-respect around. “My pretty girl feels so good, huh?”

You agree with a mindless mumble, forgetting that you were ever going to try and fight the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.”

“I can tell, baby. Listen to the mess you're making.”

Soft, wet sounds emanate from where you’re probably dripping around his fingers. A moan is muffled by his shoulder as your own fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and sink into the flesh of his waist—though you doubt he minds. 

“Please don’t stop, please please please—" It’s quiet, almost demure as you plead. 

“You’re so sweet when you get like this,” Spencer coos. “I wish you were always so well-behaved.”

No, he doesn’t. Both of you know he loves fucking the attitude out of you, and at times, back into you. But you’re not in any place to correct him right now, as his fingers slip in and out of you so quickly, exactly where you want to be touched. 

“Oh, right—right there, that’s—oh, god,” you squeak. 

Your face is still nuzzled in his shirt, your voice is still so delicate and weak with sleep, rising in pitch with your pleasure until it breaks. 

“Right here? This is where you need it?”

“Yes,” you practically cry, “I’m gonna come, Spence—” your hips rock back and forth to meet each stroke of his fingers inside you, vision going white with with pleasure. 

“Yeah? My pretty girl is gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Mhm!” You speed up the motion of your hips. He chuckles, which might offend you if you were in your right mind, but it’s early, and you’re tired, and your soul is trying to untether itself from your body. 

“Let me feel it, baby. I wanna feel you coming, can you do that for me?”

A breathy keen rushes from your throat as your orgasm begins to suck you out to sea like a riptide, flooding your lungs and blood and everything with so much easy pleasure you’re barely awake and you don’t care one bit. 

“Uh-huh, good girl,” Spencer murmurs, not letting up with his fingers as you fall through your orgasm. Another choked moan takes you by surprise when his free hand falls with a heavy clap to your ass, before rubbing the stinging flesh. “Let go a little bit longer, baby, I’m right here.”

You’re barely breathing, still seeing stars as he continues to fuck you leisurely with his fingers, more out of pure affection than anything else. Eventually he slips them out, teasing gently over your clit as your stomach tenses. But you let him keep going. You’ll do anything to keep him in bed for a few minutes longer. To that end, you gather enough breath to speak. 

“Can you please fuck me?” 

He hums pityingly, moving his hand from between your legs to lovingly soothe the tender skin he’d slapped just a moment ago. 

“You know I can’t, baby. I shouldn’t have even done this. I really have to get a move on.”

“But you did do this,” you say, eager to point out the fallacies in his argument, “which means you could also have sex with me and we could be really fast and you could just take less time getting ready for work.”

Your chin is now resting on his shoulder as you look up at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he leans down to kiss your nose. 

“The answer is going to stay no, sweet thing. I don’t care how much you beg.”

He’s already gently sliding you off of him and getting out of bed as you pout. A few moments pass, and you can’t think of a good retort as he moves about the room, gathering a towel for his shower and digging through the dresser. 

“You’re mean.”

“Aw, poor baby. You only got to come once. Nobody has ever had a harder life than you.” Spencer dodges the pillow you throw and laughs, coming back to lean over the bed as you glower at him. “I’m sorry I woke you up. If you can’t fall back asleep in the time it takes me to shower, I’ll make you fancy coffee.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll be extra nice to you when I get home.” He kisses your head and then your lips, and then disappears into the bathroom. 

In a completely predictable turn of events, you’re dead to the world by the time he gets out of the shower. He makes you the fancy coffee anyway, leaving it in a thermos on your nightstand. 

He’s late to work. He can't pretend to be sorry.

[wonwayne]

enha when you pass out on their shoulder ☁️

pairing : ot7 x gn!reader genre : pure fluff warnings : none! word count : 0.75k

a/n : because you’re irresponsible like that ;) no but in all seriousness ‘passing out’ here just refers to falling asleep, not the medical condition 👍

💭 heeseung

just loves the sensations of you

your warm breath, faint on his chest; your hair spreading across his sweater; your fingers subconsciously playing and tugging at the sleeve

does it melt him? yes, it melts him

it melts him so much that he can’t sit straight anymore, he has to surrender to gravity and cuddle with you

slightly surprised when you don’t stir; he’s like “oh they’re knocked out” and decides to bridal carry you to the bed so you can stay comfy for the night

tucks you in and everything, he is father™ material methinks

💭 jay

drapes his jacket/blanket over you so fast

and so effortlessly

gentility is second nature for this man he is a GENTLEMAN

could stay perfectly still forever if that meant good sleep for you

and does exactly that the entire night, literally falls asleep in that position he loves you that much

then wakes up the next morning and nags you incessantly

“you are going to massage my shoulder for the next full hour.” “why :(“ “because i sacrificed the imminent comfort of my bed to be your pillow for 9 hours.”

maybe he’s dramatic but he’s right !!

💭 jake

mm. would rather have you sitting in his lap but this will do.

does the thing where he shifts his body towards you a bit and plants a billion kisses on the top of your head

you better be dreaming of him

eventually gives up on offering his shoulder, just hugs you

talks to you even if you’re unresponsive, partly bc he’d be lonely otherwise

but mostly bc he thinks it’s the perfect time to confess (as if he doesn’t confess to you through all of your waking hours)

“y/n you are so so beautiful” “i would give up the world for you”

is it possible to blush in your sleep?? bc jake would make it happen

💭 sunghoon

is so so smug about it

like “yes. see how their head fits perfectly into the crook of my neck. (it’s not a question.) soulmates indeed.”

HEAD PATS

just strokes your hair softly and he’s so nonchalant about it

if you weren’t already dozing his pets are so soothing they leave you in a SLUMBER

might even whisper cheesy little things knowing that you won’t remember them

“my princess 🥰” “my snuggle bear 😁”

okay i’ll shut up

💭 sunoo

it starts with a side eye (when does it not)

somewhere between concern and shock, he’s all like “this is not typical y/n behavior this is not the y/n i know this is not my y/n why are they not alive hold up—”

does the two fingers under your nose thing to check if you’re breathing

you are, of course, and then he’s just like well 😶 clingy y/n era. guess i’ll have to get used to this.

makes a point to rest his head on yours “this will be a symbiotic relationship not a parasitic one”

if you end up waking up and for witty banter’s sake the first thing you say is “your head was heavy 😒”

oh you are setting yourself UP there

“baby your existence weighs down on me /lh”

💭 jungwon

insert surprised cat face

tends to be the one snuggling into you so this throws him off a little, but in the best possible way

makes it his temporary life goal not to move

nearly an hour in, his neck is begging to be cracked

he hadn’t even noticed how stiff he’d become, he was watching you so intently

he’s thinking about holding out as long as he can but then he’s like “you are not a child you can find yourself a bed to sleep on”

still wakes you up sooo carefully, and when he realizes you’re too groggy to move, he lets you snooze on his lap instead

the way you and only you can break his resolve UGH where is my jungwon fr

💭 niki

absolutely EXHAUSTS your phone storage with 127000 photos of you

none of them are flattering, trust me

“it’s like a polaroid love” um more like polaroid done dirty

drool starting to escape your lips? 🤨📸

cheek squishing into his shoulder and you look like a fish? 📸🤭

adores you through it all of course

i do think he’s less the type to whisper sweet nothings while you’re asleep, but only bc he’d rather see your flustered reaction and make fun of it

[stylesharrys]

love me like you do

summary: harry’s never had someone take care of him the way that y/n does. 

word count: 2,361

a/n: here's another old exclusive guys. there are lots and lots of fics lined up for you for the next couple of months while I work on a 20k realtor!y/n and a 20k ex-boyfriend!harry so enjoy!

//

At first, Harry thought nothing of it.

The honeymoon phase, he told himself. It made sense, it was expected. His past lovers had all been the same during that time — always obsessed and seemingly in love. Seemingly. 

But after a few months, they always started to change. They’d distance themselves first, take a while longer to reply or to get in contact with him. Then, they’d get blunt and annoyed quickly with him. They wouldn’t want him close, wouldn’t shower him in affection. Wouldn’t let him touch them. 

And then, eventually, they’d leave. Maybe on the odd occasion, they’d butter him up and get a little splurge on his card, or go to him just for their release. A few had cheated, some just left. Nothing for Harry has ever lasted past a year and a half, and now it’s nearing the two-year mark and he’s confused. 

Y/N is a lovely woman. She’s kind, funny, smart, gorgeous. Harry thinks her kindness and wit is what attracted him to her in the first place, and in the two years he’s known her, he’s only started to love her more. 

It’s not like he thinks deep down she’s a horrible person, but Harry has grown accustomed to how things typically work in his relationships, and none of the above has yet occurred. 

Currently, he’s lying on his stomach with his face smushed into Y/N’s pillow. She’s straddling his lower back, her bum on his bum and his shirt is long gone as she massages the tender knots out of his shoulders. She’s been doing it for thirty minutes now. Harry’s been watching the clock. 

He’s been feeling a little ill the past few days. Migraine, sore muscles and the occasional fleeting moments of nausea. He lost his appetite and strength pretty quickly and Y/N has been on the ball with it — at his feet with a sick bucket, coddling his head to her chest with a cold compress against his skin. She’s done it all and Harry can’t quite understand it. 

From past experiences of being ill or caught with the flu, the only person to have ever taken proper care of him had been his mother. And now, his lover is doing what past lovers didn’t, and Harry’s confused.

It’s not that Y/N isn’t an overwhelmingly kind and compassionate person, because she is. Her caring and nurturing behaviour is nothing out of the ordinary for Y/N, but Harry has never experienced such care from a romantic partner before. 

It’s like Y/N has forgotten about the gruelling twelve-hour shift she just got home from, but Harry hasn’t ,and although he’s the one that’s sick, she’s the one that’s been on her feet all day. 

“Come on, I’ll do you.” His words come out gruffly, muffled slightly by the pillow that restricts the fluid movements of his lips. He can feel Y/N shake her head from above him. She sinks the balls of her palms into the backs of his shoulders. 

“You need to relax and rest.” She argues, thinks her reasoning will be enough for him not to ask again.

Harry shakes his head and shuffles beneath the weight of her body. Y/N lifts to her knees, allowing him to turn beneath her and onto his back. Harry’s eyes are bleary and sleepy as he blinks to gain his bearings. He stretches for her hips, hands finding them with ease. 

She’s sitting on his lower tummy, dressed in a pair of cycling shorts and one of his old Rolling Stones t-shirts that she changed into the second she got home. There’s dotting of mascara smudged below her eyes and a couple of pimples that are starting to show through the worn, minimal makeup. 

He knows she’s had a long day, could tell the second she got in and pretended that she was okay for his sake. Her hair is tied back low on her neck, stray strands wildly framing her face. She looks tired, burnt out. Harry just wants to look after her. 

“Bad day?” He finally asks. 

Y/N blinks twice and shrugs, head rolling as her shoulders raise and her cheek meets it. “Busy,” she tells him. “Nothing I’m not used to.” 

Harry squints. 

He knows she’s used to it — the long days with early starts and late finishes, the ones without a break in-between, where she doesn’t get to eat, save for a few grapes she manages to steal every now and then. He knows she’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting her.

He squeezes her hips gently. “Know you’re used to it, pet. Don’t make it any easier, though.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her hands are on his, encouraging them to sneak up her shirt to feel her skin. She’s warm, soft. Y/N pouts down at him. “Want a kiss.” She says, eyes glassy with affectionate need. 

Harry copies her expression, reaching up to caress the side of her face. “Can’t let ya get sick, babe. Why don’t you let me run you a bath and you can relax?” He offers, eyes gentle and she lets hers flitter closed for a moment, like she’s pondering over her answer. 

She shakes her head. 

“You’re the sick one. I’m going to run you a bath, and then I’m going to make you some soup for your throat. Know it’s still been hurting you.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything — knows that whatever he argues, she’ll bite back better. His body sinks into the sheets, head in the pillow as a heavy huff of annoyance and adoration slips from his mouth. 

//

When Y/N said she’d run him a bath, Harry didn’t expect it to be overflowing with bubbles or for every possible available surface to be littered in glowing candles. But the bathroom wasdecorated with such and Harry was overcome with an overwhelming amount of love for his girl. 

She let him take his time in there, relaxing and soothing his muscles while she cooked up some magic for his throat. Getting out of the bath, Harry most definitely does not expect to wander into the kitchen to see what he does. 

Y/N behind the stove, dishing up the soup with two fresh rolls from the bakery a mile from them. She’s got the lights dim for him — knows they’re hurting his head — and there are more candles around the living room. 

The coffee table is littered with them mostly, Netflix is up and ready on the TV and as he looks to the sofa, he notices she got out her favourite blanket — the soft one that Harry swears is made from angel wings. 

And he looks at her, starry-eyed and all. She’s got a gentle smile on her lips when she notices his presence and Harry is fucked. 

He can’t stop the rush of emotion that consumes him. His eyes turn glassy, nose tingling and heart aching. Harry reckons he’s easily the most loved man in the world and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

He can’t help the single tear that slips down his face but he wipes it before she notices. 

Harry approaches her, arms wrapping around the middle of his love and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you, for all of this. Love you so much.” He rasps into her skin. 

He can feel her body warm against his touch and she smiles, rashes down to hold her hand over his. “Love you loads, too. And you haven’t got to thank me, this is just what you do when you love someone.”

When you love someone. 

She shrugs her own words off like they’re the most obvious thing she’s ever said, but Harry can’t stop falling harder for her. 

He’s loved people before, he knows that. But now, looking back, he wonders if anyone has ever loved him before her. 

Harry doesn’t remember a time that a previous lover put him before themselves. Where they cared for him and put his needs first. Where they showered him with care and adoration just because. 

No ones ever loved him as she does. 

The tears start to pool again as he pulls away and helps her carry their bowls and drinks to the sofa. They sit close, dipping pieces of bread into the creamy soup Y/N prepared and keeping their eyes on the TV. 

Harry is struggling to focus though when Y/N takes a glance at the clock and carries their empty bowls to the kitchen. He cranes his neck across the back of the sofa to see what she’s doing, but her back is to him as she runs the sink tap and rummages through the cupboard. 

What he does see is her shuffling back to the living room with a small glass of water and a curled open palm carrying three little white tablets atop it. 

Y/N settles beside him, handing him the glass with a tired smile and offering him the pills. “They’ll help with your head and throat, hun.” She curls into the sofa, her knees to her chest and close to Harry’s side. Y/N props one arm against the back of the pillows and her fingers find the long hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck, gently craving through the soft locks. 

He watches her for a moment, completely dumbfounded and speechless if he’s honest. 

Something like Y/N taking care of him when he’s sick shouldn’t have him feeling so fucked and in love, but it does. He’s teary-eyed because his girl is taking care of him off her own back. Because she isn’t complaining once or making anything about herself. 

Because she’s loving him beyond the words of saying it. 

And he cries. 

Y/N’s stunned at the sight, thinks maybe he’s about to sneeze, but his body starts to tremble and she realises what’s going on. So, gently, she pries the glass and pills from his wanton hands and places them blindly on the coffee table before reaching back for him. 

“Hey,” she coos. 

Her hands caress the damp and flushed skin of his cheeks to bring Harry’s gaze to meet her reassuring one. “Why are you crying, H?” Her words are asked in a light and airy voice, one that isn’t serious as she chuckles softly, but he still knows she’s concerned for him. 

He shakes his head and pulls her into his side, laughing at himself too because, why is he crying? 

“Just never had anyone look after me apart from my mum before. Really fucking lucky to have you, love. No ones ever loved me like you do before.”

Her hand is sprawled across his gently heaving chest and she kisses his neck with a soft peck, offering a squeeze. His hand is brushing comfortingly up and down her arm but neither of them really know why he’s the one trying to comfort her.

Y/N swallows, reaching her right hand across her chest to find his hand that lingers over the front of her shoulder, and she interlaces their fingers, squeezing. “I wish I could show you how in love with you I am… no words can describe it.” She admits, bashfully. 

Harry squeezes her hand, using his other to wipe his face and he laughs again, because he’s so in love that it hurts. It hurts so fucking good because he knows this is it for him. She is it for him. Together against the world. Their future, their everything. 

“I know, baby. S’the same for me.”

His raw voice sends a shiver through her spine and her own eyes are watering with salty drops of emotion. It hurts her too. More so knowing nobody has ever treated him right, nobody has ever taken care of him and loved him like he’s always deserved. 

“I’m always gonna love you like this, H. Always gonna put you before me. Put us before anything else. You’re it for me, hope I’m it for you, too.”

He grins, cranes his neck to look down at her through hooded eyes. “‘Course you’re it for me. Been my future since I fucking laid eyes on ya, pet. It’s us forever, yeah?” 

She breathes, tears slipping but she nods her head. He doesn’t get the chance to stop her before she’s leaning up and smacking a kiss to his lips, eager and sweet. He doesn’t pull away either, as selfish as it is. 

Y/N reads his mind, knows what he’s thinking. “Don’t care if I get a bloody cold. You’re worth it.” 

“God, I fucking love you.”

[another-lost-mc]

When They Go Down on You Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 1.9k words | NSFW | afab!Reader | Smutty Content warnings: Typical demon possessiveness, mentions of teasing and overstimulation, demon forms mentioned (Lucifer, Leviathan), marking (Satan), 69 mentioned (Belphegor) A/N: Read [Part 2 - The Dateables] HERE

LUCIFER

Lucifer grins wickedly with satisfaction when he lays you on his sheets, positioning your legs over his shoulders so your soft thighs can squeeze against him while he feasts on you. His hands massage the fat of your hips, your belly, and your breasts, desperate to touch you as much as possible. He traces the shape of his name around your clit with his tongue, over and over again, until you're completely spent, throat hoarse and body trembling beneath him.

Sometimes you think he knows you better than you know yourself; he's slow and soft some days, and other times he's ravenous. You run your fingers through his hair lazily when you sigh, content with the slow, syrupy pleasure that seeps through you. Or, you arch your back and grasp his sheets, your cries pitching higher as hot, aching need builds between your legs. He thinks your pleasure is beautiful, and he swears he can come untouched from listening to the sounds he draws from you.

If you dare to look down your body where he rests between your legs, all you can see are his ruby eyes blazing into yours. Even if you close your eyes, you can't possibly forget who’s devouring you like a demon starved. You can hear the loud, wet sounds when he mouths against you. Occasionally, his black wings spread out behind him and snap with the tension of holding himself back, his own desire for you building in him like an inferno. He must be patient; he wants you to come on his tongue alone, over and over again, before he fills you with his cock. He’s going to give you everything you beg him for, because he’s the only one that can truly satisfy you.

MAMMON

Mammon doesn’t care when, or how, or who’s on top - the hunger for you burns inside him, and even the smallest, most innocent gestures you make throughout the day send his mind reeling. He has to be creative because when he craves you, he doesn’t have patience to find a bed, or even a flat surface. He’ll take you on the hood of his car, over the sofa in the living room, or against a wall. Today, his bedroom door will have to do.

As soon as his door closes he’s crowding you against it, dropping to his knees and prying open your thighs so he can bury his face against you. He groans when he traces your slit through your clothes and he can already feel how soaked you are for him. He mutters insincere apologies if he rips something, yanking your clothes down just enough to get to your bare skin. He can’t wait anymore.

He buries his face against your mound, fingers spreading your folds wide so he can swipe his tongue across your pretty hole and spread the sweet slick up around your clit. He moans greedily when your fingers tangle in his hair and you scratch your nails along his scalp. His hands hold you steady when your thighs buckle; he’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.

LEVIATHAN

When Leviathan wants to go down on you, you lay down on the soft pillows inside his tub and spread your legs to give him plenty of room. He wasn’t a virgin when you met him, but he was a little shy and awkward in the beginning of your relationship. You wanted to let him have as much control as possible, to give him the space to explore your body while giving him an easy way to pull back and stop if he got overwhelmed. You figured letting him lay - or kneel - between your legs was the best way to do that.

What you didn’t anticipate was that he would grow addicted to having this kind of power over you. He’s sloppy when he licks at your folds and sucks on your clit, and when you whimper his name, he fills your needy hole with two thick fingers. He wraps his tail around your leg to keep you from moving too much - he has you exactly where he wants you. When you come on his tongue - loudly, with your back arching against him - he leans forward crashes his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue while his tail creeps slowly up the inside of your thighs, teasing the empty space where his fingers used to be.

SATAN

Satan wants to take his time with you, but sometimes it's easier said than done. His love can burn hot and fast, like his rage often does, and it consumes you. When his mind is cloudy with the anger that churns deep within him, his ministrations are fast and sloppy and desperate, his fingers pumping in and out of you while he sucks bruises into your thighs. Once he's satisfied you're marked properly, he replaces his fingers with his tongue. When you're finally spent, you try to clench your thighs closed, weak and trembling from his attentions. His hands keep you still so he can spread your legs open even wider. He loves watching the way your folds grow slick and creamy every time he makes you come; he needs to see for himself that you're truly satisfied. 

As much as the devilish side of him enjoys the sound of your wails while he’s tongue-deep inside you, he also likes to be slow and deliberate. Sometimes he wants pleasure to wash over you gently like a wave coming onto shore. He flicks the hood of your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing you at first with pressure that's not quite enough and not quite where you want it. He wants to feel your body move with his as he slowly builds the sensations within you. When your whimpers and pleas grow too much for him to bear, then - only then - will he give you what you want. 

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus is insatiable for you. You’ll be begging him to stop long before he’s had his fill; he can't get enough of you. He doesn’t always have the luxury of time and privacy to take you apart thoroughly and properly the way he wants to, but when he does? You’re going to be a whimpering, trembling mess by the time he’s finished.

He flops back on his bed, dragging you down with him and holding your hips while you straddle his waist. He likes to start slow, kissing your mouth softly and humming against your lips. You're so sweet. It doesn't take long for his soft, tentative kisses to become messy and passionate. It’s only the promise of what’s to come next that forces him to stop chasing the taste of your mouth. He’s still hungry for more.

He pulls your hips forward, urging you up his body so you’re straddling his face. He presses a trail of open-mouthed kisses against the insides of your thighs, and you’re already shaking with anticipation and subtly trying to grind down against his face.

By the time his lips find your clit and flicks it with his tongue, one of your hands is gripping his hair while the other is holding onto the headboard of his bed. He has an arm wrapped around your thigh to steady you; the other hand trails up your belly so he can fondle your breast and tease your nipple between his fingertips. He smiles against your folds when you moan his name, and only when you’re drained of pleasure - and the lower half of his face is saturated with your slick - does he finally let you go.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub's hunger for you drives him to distraction more than any craving for food ever has. As much as he’d like to pull you down to the ground and dive between your thighs whenever the mood suits him, he wants you to be comfortable when he does it. He likes to kneel at your feet when you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, or his bed, or the sofa, or the workout bench in the gym - anywhere he can make himself cozy between your legs and worship you with his mouth the way you deserve.

He tries to savor you, teasing both of you with the last bit of self control he has. He kisses your thighs and breathes in the scent of your arousal like it's ambrosia. He loves the way you run your fingers through his hair and you hum when he touches you, gently at first, like you’re something precious to him. It’s not long before his restraint inevitably crumbles. He runs his finger along your folds, nearly drooling at the sight of creamy slick that coats his fingertip. He dips his finger into your entrance, and you can’t help but stare into his eyes when he brings it to his mouth and licks it clean.

His eyes darken at the taste of you, and the low growl in his throat is your last warning. He leans forward and pulls your body to him so he can drag his tongue along your folds and around your clit. He sucks the delicate skin between his lips and groans with his own satisfaction when you shudder. His hands on your hips encourage you to grind against his face. You’re a literal feast for his senses; all he can feel is your warm, plush thighs holding him in place while he savors the taste of you on his tongue.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor lays back on a pile of pillows on his bed in the attic so you can straddle his waist, and he crooks his finger at you to scoot a little closer. He nudges you to turn around and your mouth just so happens to hover over his hard, weeping cock. When he grabs your hips and pulls you down towards his smirk, he makes it seem like he’s doing you a favour. His bratty ruse only lasts for so long, though. He teases your clit with lazy, open-mouthed kisses and slow drags of his tongue along your folds. He moans against you when he feels the vibrations of your pleased, muffled sounds around his cock.

Even though he enjoys the silky glide of your lips around him and the way your tongue circles the tip of his cock, what he really loves is to see you lose control. It doesn't take long before you give up altogether and let him slip from your mouth so you can moan in earnest. (He knows you'll return the favour later.)

He focuses on flicking his tongue against your entrance, encouraging you to rock back against his mouth so he's even closer . He doesn't stop until you make more of those gorgeous sounds for him. He wants you to feel how greedy he is when he laps at your hole and dips his tongue inside, teasing your fluttering walls with a hint of what’s to come later. He wants you to hear the obscene, squelching sounds as he laps at your slick like he’s starving for it. He wants you to hear the wet sounds his tongue makes when he circles your clit before he sucks on it just right.

After you ride out the aftershocks and squirm out of his grip, he lays back with a sigh. He waits for you to you turn around and when you finally face him, eyes bright and glazed over, he smacks his lips so he can watch you get flustered all over again.

[bbytamaki]

BLOW OUT YOUR CANDLES — eren yeager

genre: nsfw (mdni)

content: eren yeager x fem reader, always blk coded reader but anyone is welcome to read, pet names (baby, baby doll) throat fucking, rough sex but soft eren (ofc), mentioned fingering, consensual photography, whiny eren crumbs, not proofread (lmk if i missed anything!)

note: idk if i like this one but happy birthday to my sweetheart !! 🎂

the slices of cake on your nightstand with burnt out candles had been long forgotten by the time eren had gotten ahold of you.

eren’s large palm gripped your tear stained cheek while you laid on your back with your head hanging over the edge of the bed.

you’d only tried it a few times, but this had become one of his favorite positions that you’d suggested — he loved to fuck your throat up while he watched you cum on his fingers.

you were such a sweet girl letting him have his way with you for his birthday. his heart melted watching your eyes roll back and your neck and chin shine with your own spit. he watched his fingers glisten from your last two orgasms.

your whines reverbed around his length as his tip bruised the back of your throat. his pace was brutal — he could be so mean but always made you feel so good. eren wiped the tears from your face. “shhh, you’re a big girl, y/n. you can take it.”

eren’s praise made your heart flutter. you knew he was close when he slightly slowed down his thrusts. it was so typical of him to savor every moment. you tapped his arm twice to let him know you needed to breathe and rolled onto your stomach. eren couldn’t take it. you just looked so beautiful, even coughing while catching your breath after doing your best to take all of him. you sat up and rested comfortably on your knees.

eren’s hand roughly clutched your soft curls (which he proudly helped you wrap every night) and pulled your head back to look at him while he stroked himself above you. you kissed his hipbones and smiled up at him with those pretty eyes.

“my needy baby.” eren grunted and thrusted into his fist. his girl was so perfect for him. he wanted to love and cherish you forever.

his deep groans faded into quick, sharp whimpers as he neared his orgasm. the sounds he made were your favorite. who knew such a meanie could be so whiny?

you knew that despite how harsh he acted, he was weak for you and folded just by looking at you. the thought brought a smile to your face as you prepared your final move. eren’s jaw fell slack as you slowly leaned forward to kiss his tip. that was his pretty slut.

eren grabbed your chin firmly. “such a messy girl. want me to cum all on that pretty face, baby doll? gonna let me take a picture?” you continued with sloppy kisses around his dripping tip while never breaking eye contact.

“yes, please,” you held out your tongue for him. with a muffled moan, eren spilled sticky ropes of his cum all over your face. he reached clumsily for his phone and pointed the camera toward you. the flash temporarily blinded you, making you roll your eyes playfully.

after taking his picture, eren leaned down to your level. with two fingers, her slowly dragged his seed from your cheek and pushed past your lips. you flattened your tongue and let him massage the inside of your mouth. the taste of the two of you combined was something you’d never forget. eren finished by pulling you in for a long, slow kiss that made your body melt against his.

eren pulled away from your lips and quickly began to clean you up. after, he laid back in bed with you wrapped tightly in his arms. “do you know how much i love you baby?”

“you show me everyday but i’m not sure yet .”

eren nudged your shoulder playfully. “i mean it. you really made today special for me.”

“you know i’d do anything for you, ren. you deserve this.”

eren kissed your forehead and looked down at you with a mischievous smile.

“so are we going again?”

[assriels]

take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express. 

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child. 

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him. 

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment. 

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps. 

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight. 

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.” 

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time. 

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.” 

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body. 

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully. 

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart. 

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. 

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to. 

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away. 

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by. 

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders. 

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed. 

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest. 

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours. 

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue. 

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water. 

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful. 

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.) 

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples. 

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure. 

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath. 

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers. 

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts. 

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came. 

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub. 

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form. 

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom. 

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought. 

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back. 

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit. 

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections. 

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over. 

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head. 

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted. 

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips. 

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart. 

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin. 

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice. 

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage. 

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear. 

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way. 

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment. 

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck. 

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her. 

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration. 

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed. 

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it. 

[luveline]

JADEEE I'M THE ONE WHO REQUESTED SPENCER X BADASS READER (the one where they read a book together). I LOVE IT😭😭 may I share some request again? maybe it is a day off and one of the bau member saw reader and spencer spend their day off together like a couple?? maybe they bump into them at the alley of supermarket because reader and spencer is going to cook dinner together???

thank you for requesting gorgeous!! ♡ fem!reader

Derek supposes he shouldn't be shocked. He knows you and Spencer are making a go of going steady, knows you see each other outside of work, even knows you're sleeping at one another's places between cases (Here, you forgot your badge last night, Spence). 

It's hard to align his view of you with what he's seeing, is all. You're not spiteful, only stoic. Never cruel, but stern. And there you are on your knees by the cantaloupes tying Spencer's shoelace, mumbling something too quiet to hear. 

"Do you like honeydew?" Spencer asks, thumbing along your forehead gently. 

Derek's proud of him through the boggled haze. He always knew Spencer was a kind, loving man, and seeing him display that through small gestures has a brotherly pride swelling in his chest. 

You tap Spencer's ankle and climb to your feet. You keep some of your usual attitude even with Spencer, refusing his helping hand. "I like it if you like it." 

"That's not an answer." Spencer points to the dropping shelf of watermelon, their green stripes like shining emeralds, freshly misted. "We need one of these." 

"We don't need one. You just liked when I cut them up for us." 

"Yeah, I did. In Egypt they serve sliced watermelon with feta cheese." 

"Yeah?" you ask, reaching for a melon. You turn it around to examine the bottom, looking for a yellowed spot where the watermelon would've laid in the field. "That's a choice. Doesn't sound as nice as our chocolate fondue."  

"The first ever record of watermelons were in Egypt, so they'd know best." 

You smile at him with lips pressed together, your eyes soft with fondness. All the women in Derek's life are beauties, but he thinks love has made you prettier still. He isn't surprised when Spencer reaches out and strokes the back of your hand. 

"Hey, lovebirds," Derek croons. 

Your shoulders don't stiffen, exactly, but you lose the relaxed droop you'd acquired as you and Spencer both turn to face him. 

"Hey," Spencer says, "what are you doing here? I thought this place was too 'hokey-pokey' for you?" 

"Hey, their coupons never work. What are you guys up to? Plans tonight?" 

You withhold the typical None of your business, confessing, "Spencer and I are making breakfast for dinner." 

You have your secrets, but you don't hide Reid. It's why Derek doesn't mind the occasional snap or frosty smile; your coldness is a shield rather than a weapon. 

"And you guys eat watermelon and…" He peers into your shopping cart, miscellaneous items scattered throughout. "Massage oil?" 

You glare at him. "Don't get any ideas. It's for his knee."

Derek smirks. "Breakfast of champions." 

"We only just got here," Spencer explains your empty kart. 

"Yeah, well if what I just saw is the norm, we can expect you'll both be home sometime tomorrow morning. He'll talk your ear off if you let him, you know?" Derek asks you. 

Your glare softens. Derek might even say you're smiling at him. "I'd let him," you say. 

"He's a lucky guy," Derek says. He gives Spencer a clap on the shoulder. "I'll see you kids Monday." 

"See you, Morgan," Spencer says. 

Derek walks away, basket in hand and determined to grab a carton of eggs and get out of here, but he slows when he hears Spencer talking again. 

"Why do you act like you don't like him?"

You're too quiet for the untrained ear. Thankfully, Derek's highly trained. "I don't. Derek knows I like him. I just didn't want there to be any confusion."

"Confusion about what?" 

"About who I want." You say it simply. Derek can imagine the steam funnelling out of poor Spencer's ears. "You can be easily deterred, Spence. I wanted you to know I liked you." 

"I know now. You and Morgan would get along really well if you let him talk to you, you both care about–" 

"You?" you ask. "Let's go look for that weird miniature toast you wanted, or we really will be here all night." 

"It's not miniature toast, it's melba toast, and it's actually a kind of rusk–" His babbling fades out of range. Derek snorts and grabs a small carton of eggs. He knew you liked him. 

Not as much as you like Spencer, that's for sure.

[sillysowa]

BOYFRIEND HOBIE BROWN HCS

PARTS: (1) (2)

wanted to put something out while i work on requests!

Main love language is physical touch. In cold weather he holds you under his jacket or holds your hands in between his, rubbing his thumbs over your skin.

Pulls you towards him by your waist, belt loops, jewelry (obviously super gently), and sleeves, always with a little, “C’mere.”

Sits you in his lap when you cry, holding your face in his hands and collecting your tears on his thumbs. He kisses your eyelids when you’re finished crying, massaging your scalp and letting you pour your thoughts out, “I’m here…talk t’me, gorgeous.”

Never let’s you tie your own shoes.

Sticks up for you in every social setting, especially when you’re not around to do it yourself. Everyone knows how much he admires you because he never misses an opportunity to build you up.

A huge sucker for sightseeing and owns a digital camera to capture every moment. He loves to make sure you’re in the shots, even just your bright smile, the back of your head, or your legs.

He’s a “I know a spot” kind of guy when taking you on dates instead of the typical movie or dinner date.

If the two of you are not a thing yet, he’s not subtle at all in his attraction towards you. He mirrors your body language, follows you around HQ or encourages you to follow him, tilts his head in conversation with you, and goes on all the missions that you go on (even if he wasn’t assigned to go with you!)

Likes to hold your chin or jaw when he kisses you. His eyes are often just barely open, wanting to see you.

Sees the act of sleeping with someone in a literal sense as a very intimate thing so he takes it very seriously when you’re trusting enough to do that with him. He cradles you gently, makes sure you’re comfortable, and will even sing to you when you need it. You’ve gotten so comfortable sleeping around him that you just get sleepy at the sight of him, wanting to cuddle up to him at every moment.

Nuzzles his face into your neck when he hugs you because he likes how sensitive you are to the feeling.

Despite all the loving things he does, he can be really mischievous; like definitely the type to shove a finger in your mouth when you’re yawning or tickle you when you’re stretching. He also will never miss an opportunity to throw you over his shoulder when he wants to nap with you, no matter what you were doing.

When you two fight, it’s never bad. He gets quiet when he’s upset, and doesn’t like arguing at all. He will just listen to your thoughts and talk when he’s calm, and he never ever makes you feel wrong for how you’re feeling.

Likes to go limp when he hugs you and freak you out because you’re suddenly supporting a strong 6’3 man who’s actively trying to crush you.

Never let’s you do anything that serves him by yourself—Cooking dinner? Great, what can he do to help? Cleaning? Cool, what should he start with? He never wants you to feel like you’re juggling too many responsibilities.

Begs you to cover him in kisses when you wear a bright lip color because he loves to show off, his hands on your hips the whole time you pepper him in pecks. Everyone at HQ stares and he soaks it up with a smug smirk on his face like he’s on top of the world—because that’s how you make him feel.

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @yuuotosaka3

[lendeah]

Wounded Love

Summary: Astarion and Tav are both struggling with their emotions as they journey through the Shadowlands. When Astarion gets injured, Tav takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health, in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags: Astarion gets hurt, Emotional Constipation, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Tav takes care of Astarion, sub!Atarion, Light Dom/sub, bordering minimal really, Porn With Plot, Biting, Blood.

a/n: this is an old draft, so forgive me if there are any typos! Love ya🤍

WARNING! +18 CONTENT, MINORS DNI

It had been a stray hex, a capricious twist of magic that had hurt him, as told by the doctor responsible for his care in the Last Light Inn. The tendrils of the hex had woven an intricate spell, rendering him unconscious. Right now, as his chest rises and falls rhythmically, you feel something like pain and protectiveness stir in your chest. Although you are aware that your connection is currently purely physical, you can't help but feel a flutter every time your eyes meet or a tightening in your chest whenever he faces danger.

Looking at his peaceful sleeping form, you reach out to touch his hair, keeping it out of the way of his eyes. Your fingers trace the contours of his face and down his jawline. You wonder what kind of dreams come to him in these tender moments. Dreams you would love to share. To know all the things that go through the elf's mind.

His eyes suddenly open, and you get slightly startled, your hand hanging mid-air.

"What are you doing?" He raises one judging eyebrow, and squints at you through his eyelashes, but doesn't move out of your touch. His lips are curled into a small, tight grimace, probably still in pain from his recent wound.

You reach for the mug of water near the bed. "You look so peaceful when you sleep. Maybe you should spend more time like that. I like you way more when you are quiet," you say, a teasing tone lacing your words.

Astarion rolls his eyes, but he's also smiling a little.

"Yeah? Well, if you're so keen on me sleeping why not do me a favor and knock me out? The pain is unbearable as of right now," he says, but his voice is still soft and quiet, almost as if talking is painful You know there is a bit of truth there. He takes the mug and gulps down the water, then sets the piece back down on the bedside table.

He does appear miserable, even though his beauty remains as striking as ever. His eyes, usually filled with energy and mirth, seem drained of life, carrying heavy bags underneath. Though he is already pale, right now he looks paler than ever, and even his distinctive white locks, typically immaculate, fall disheveled and unkempt over his shoulders.

Your chest tightens at the sight, a vivid flashback of watching him fall during the combat flooding your mind. One moment, he was bravely battling alongside Karlach and the next, he was sprawled on the ground, so unnaturally still that it hinted at something had gone fatally wrong. The memory of that moment lingers—the scream tearing from your throat, the frantic dash to reach him—where the world outside, the lurking shadow monsters, and your companions; all became a blur, drowned out by the overwhelming fear of losing him.

You release a shaky breath, and try to appear nonchalant "Well, I happened to leave my Warhammer outside, but if you give me a moment, we could arrange it," you say, a hint of playful sarcasm masking the genuine worry beneath.

Astarion snorts. "Please, I don't need the Warhammer. Just a firm slap should do it." He says while shifting on his bed.

The movement makes the bedsheets rustle and reveals the bandages encasing his torso. His chest had sustained the most damage, with a deep cut that refused to heal and oozed a dark, murky liquid.

"You were out for a tenday," you inform him. "A stray hex hit you during combat and left you out cold. The wound didn't close, even with your vampiric and elf powers, so it had to be taken care of manually."

"Well, that's just great." Astarion mutters. Then, he speaks up again, this time seemingly with some concern, "I'm alright, right? I'm not going to die? I mean, I know I can't die, but..."

You chuckle softly at his words, a mix of fondness and relief washing over you. "Not under my watch. I am an incredible healer, after all".

"And quite humble, at that," Astarion mutters, but there is a small smile on his face. Then, there is a beat of silence, as both of you take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Astarion's smile fades, and his eyes search yours for something, a reassurance perhaps. You can see the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual facade of confidence and charm. It's rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual bravado. Leaning closer, you reach out again to gently brush a strand of white hair behind his pointy ear.

"Hey," you say softly, placing your hand on his cheek. "You're going to be alright. We took care of your wounds, and Halsin says you just need some time to recover." You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reach out and gently grasp his hand, intertwining your fingers. "You scared me, you know," you admit softly. "Seeing you fall like that... I thought I had lost you."

Astarion seems to freeze in place at that, as if he is unsure of how to react. You chuckle nervously, realizing you may have unintentionally crossed an unspoken boundary. Emotions are not your forte, after all. For a moment he simply stares at your intertwined hands. Then, he looks up to meet your gaze, and you see a flicker of some unreadable emotion there.

"Lost me? Come now, you should know by now it takes more than a measly hex to finish me off." His tone aims for nonchalance, but there is an edge to it that gives away his vulnerability. You offer a small, sheepish smile.

"Yes, well, you didn't die. So quit that moping and drink your water, or I'll let Shadowheart take a crack at healing you."

"From my point of view, this just means you just have to keep a closer eye on me from now on,"

You let out a small sigh and give him an exasperated look "I think I have done my fair share of caring for some time."

A look of realization crosses his face as if a puzzle piece has finally fallen into place. "Wait, did you stay here for the entire tenday?" he murmurs, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity.

You clear your throat awkwardly "I mean, you were unconscious. Somebody had to keep guard, keep tabs on you, change your bandages..." you say, with a casual wave of your hand "Plus, I wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm not a complete monster."

But you are aware that it's not the whole truth. The real reason is that the thought of him lying in bed, wounded and vulnerable, causes a pain in your chest that you don't want to acknowledge.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly at your words, surprise mingling with something else. Gratitude, perhaps? It's hard to tell with him sometimes, but there's a softness in his gaze that tells you he appreciates your presence more than he lets on.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you then," he says, his voice softer than before. "I wouldn't have expected you to stick around."

You shrug nonchalantly "Had to make sure you didn't get yourself killed again," You reply teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Astarion chuckles a sound that warms your chest. "Ah, so it was purely for selfish reasons then."

"Of course, can't have our token charming vampire biting the dust just yet"

Astarion rolls his eyes, a smile on his face "Charming vampire, am I? You really know just how to flatter someone."

"You're also our only rogue," you reply.

Astarion smiles. "So not only am I charming, but I'm essential too. Guess the group just couldn't do without me. Perhaps you should write me a thank you note instead."

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be sure to draft up a heartfelt ode to your indispensability."

His smile widens, the playful back and forth easing the tension that lingered between you. It feels good to see him like this, even if he's still recovering from his injuries.

You've been through so much together, fighting against the darkness that threatens your world. And in those moments of battle and chaos, there's a strange comfort in he familiarity of this banter, with its playful jabs and sly remarks. You do this routine a hundred times, dancing around each other's feelings and skirting the edges of any true intimacy. And yet, it's still nice to pretend sometimes. Still nice to pretend there's nothing underneath all the playful words, that maybe this is all you need. But for once, when you are looking at him, you want to reach out to him. To tenderly kiss his forehead, rest your head on his strong shoulders, and be enveloped in his embrace and not just for physical pleasure. But you know better than to act on those desires. He has been so wounded in the past and it's not just the physical scars that linger. His past is a complicated web of pain, betrayal, and mistrust. You've seen the way his eyes darken when certain topics are brought up or how he flinches away from certain touches. So you will wait patiently until he opens up when he is ready, relishing in these small moments in the meantime.

"Well, charming vampire, it looks like I'll have to find some more enemies for you to sink your fangs into for breakfast," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Astarion grins, a little wolfishly with his fangs on display, "Oh, I think I know just who to take my fangs to," he says, his eyes appraising your neck.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze. You roll your eyes and smirk. "Oh please, Astarion. I'm not that easy to sink your fangs into."

He leans forward, with a wicked smile on his lips "Oh, is that so?" Astarion says smoothly. A twinkle of desire flashes in his red eyes as he speaks, which only ignites your own thirst. You feel your heartbeat quickening, breath hitching in your chest. "You want to put that to the test?" His voice is lower now, a bit of a growl starting to creep into his tone.

You can feel the bed's cool, smooth sheets against your skin as you lean forward, your chest brushing against Astarion's. The energy between your bodies feels like a tangible force, one that you can almost reach out and touch. His face is so close, his red eyes bright and mouth slightly open, showing off two sharp fangs that would terrify most people but only send shivers of anticipation down your spine. There's something primal in the way you're looking at each other, and you can't help but feel a familiar wave of excitement and fear wash over you. Astarion's eyes flicker to your lips for a moment. You are waiting, wanting him to make the first move, your breath shallow and quick.

"Well? Still think you can bite me that easily?" you quip, teasingly, although your heart is pounding so loud you are sure it's deafening for him.

A mischievous smirk plays on Astarion's lips, his red eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite his injury, he moves gracefully and with supernatural quickness, catching you off guard. In the blink of an eye, you are pinned to the bed beneath him. Your back sinks into the soft mattress as Astarion's weight presses down on your body. His left arm is pressing into the skin of your collarbones, as his other hand holds your wrists above your head. Every touch from him sends electric jolts through your body.

Astarion's breath is hot against your skin as he leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear. "Oh, I am more than capable of biting you," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "I might even leave you with a few bruises," he adds, his voice an intimate rasp that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart races at his words and the thought of what he could do to you, at the weight pressing down on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Astarion murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles on your skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms. His touch is electric and every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. Without hesitation, Astarion's fangs sink into the soft flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp as a mix of pleasure and sharp icy pain courses through you. You can feel yourself growing lightheaded as he feeds from you, his fangs sinking deeper and his grip on your wrists loosening as he savors the taste of your blood. The sensation sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in his embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. As he finally withdraws his fangs from your neck, he lingers for a moment, his lips brushing against the wounds he's left behind. You can feel the slight throbbing where his teeth had punctured skin seconds ago. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you feel him press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your skin.

You giggle a little, still coming down from the high of vampire venom.

"I will never get tired of that," The words slipped from his lips in a breathy murmur, one that was filled with awe and contentment.

"All it takes is a little blood to make our wounded vampire happy," You tease, giving him a small peck. His lips still taste a bit metallic, but you don't care in the slightest.

Astarion chuckles, "Ah, darling, we both know I am not the only one who enjoys that…"

He presses his body against your own, his lips suddenly ravishing yours with an intensity that steals your breath. The heat of his mouth sears through you, igniting every nerve and sending primal shivers down your spine. You cling to him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer until your bodies meld into one and your hands tangle in the soft curls of his hair. At this moment, nothing else exists except for the electric chemistry between you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Out of nowhere, he recoils and lets out a sharp hiss. Concerned, you examine the bandage on his chest and notice a small black spot forming. "Oh shit," you curse under your breath.

You quickly slide out from under him and stand next to the bed. "Lie down," you tell him firmly, "I'll take care of it."

"I'm okay," Astarion lies, but complies, lying down on the bed with a sense of resignation. The soft sheets crinkle beneath his weight as he settles into a comfortable position. You hurriedly gather supplies before returning to his side, adrenaline and concern fueling your actions. With skilled hands, you begin tending to his wound as Astarion watches on with curious eyes.

"If you keep ogling me like that, I may just end up with a hole in my head," you quip.

The corners of both your mouths turn up in matching grins. The intensity of your gaze locks and it feels like the air is alive with electricity. With precision and care, you unwrap the bandage and clean the wound, hands steady despite your worry. As you finish dressing the wound, you can't help letting out a sigh of relief after realizing it was just a small tear, nothing too serious.

It's then that you notice you have been straddling his body over the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed and your cheeks flush furiously.

Astarion looks at you with a cheeky smirk, "Something the matter, dear?" he asks, his voice low and sultry.

You can feel your face turning even brighter red, but you try to shrug it off. "No, nothing's wrong."

Astarion lets out a low laugh, enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, I beg to differ," he teases, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

Astarion chuckles softly, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. Why does he always make your heart flutter?

"Well, I have seen you in way more compromised positions than the one you are in right now," he says, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You're not one to be shy."

You can't help but blush even more at his words. His hand starts caressing your thigh, and your breath hitches slightly.

"I must say," Astarion continues with a sly grin, "I've never had such skilled hands tending to me before."

You roll your eyes at his flirting. "Well, I have been trained in basic care since I was young," you reply with a smile playing on your lips.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "And how else are you planning on taking care of me, exactly? Because I remain deeply wounded." he says with a mock pout.

A mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you reply, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Meeting his intense gaze, you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. A sudden spark of inspiration ignites within you and you eagerly suggest, "How about a massage? I have been told I am really good at those."

He raises an eyebrow, "A massage, huh? It doesn't sound too bad."

A chuckle bubbles up from your chest and you swat him lightly on the shoulder. "Only 'not too bad'? I'll have you know, I'm excellent."

Astarion smirks, "Prove it then," he challenges, stretching back onto the bed, arms folded behind his head in a display of pure ease.

Squaring your shoulders in determination, you stand from the bed and walk to the other side of the room. You rummage through a drawer filled with various herbs and oils until you find what you're looking for - a small vial of calming lavender oil you had seen Halsin storing a few days ago. You just hope he won't miss it too much.

"You better not fall asleep on me," you call out teasingly as you make your way back towards him, shaking the vial in your hand for emphasis.

In response, Astarion chuckles lowly and flips onto his stomach without a word, waiting for your touch. The scent of lavender fills the room as you rub your hands together, warming up the oil before applying it to his skin.

As your hands start kneading into his tight shoulder muscles, he releases a sigh that is half groan, half purr. "Your touch is simply divine," he moans, his voice low and husky. "You really do possess a gift for caressing."

With a proud smile, you continue to massage his shoulders and neck, feeling the tension ease away. His eyes are closed, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Your heart swells with happiness to see him so content and relaxed.

You lower your hands slowly, massaging along the curve of his spine and drawing another low moan from him. The rhythm of your touch, the scent of lavender, and the quiet of the room come together to create a sense of calm and tranquility. You let your fingers brush against the edges of his scars, caressing them tenderly. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch, allowing you to continue your gentle exploration.

You continue to knead his muscles, working out any remaining knots and tension. And then, you lower your head and press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder, right above the bandage. Astarion lets out a surprised gasp at the unexpected touch of your lips. He turns his head slightly, his eyes opening to meet yours.

"Can't resist taking advantage, can you?" he teases with a small grin.

"I simply relish having you at my mercy for once," you whisper against his spine, taking in the sweet scent of lavender oil on his skin.

Astarion's lips curve into a playful smirk at your words. "Oh, do you now?" he asks in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You nod confidently, trailing light kisses down his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I always enjoy being in control," you reply, your tone laced with teasing.

He lets out a low chuckle, "And I always relish when you take charge," he purrs, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

With a last kiss, you gently pat his side.

"Now you turn for me."

Astarion eagerly flips onto his back, his eyes shining with anticipation. As you straddle him, you notice he has been affected by your previous ministrations, his hardness pressing against your core. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips. Astarion merely smirks up at you, not bothering to hide his interest.

"Seems like your skills extend beyond basic care," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You choose to ignore his comment and instead focus on the task at hand. Pouring more lavender oil onto your hands, you begin to knead his pectoral muscles, applying firm and steady pressure, avoiding the bandage covering it. Your hands roam over his chest with practiced ease until they find their way to his abdomen. You glide your fingers over each taut muscle, taking delight in the way his body responds under your touch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Astarion teases with a smirk.

A warm rush of joy spreads through you as you trace your fingers along the curves of his navel, softly giggling. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, a desperate attempt to regain some control of the situation. A sly, self-satisfied smirk spreads across your lips as you slowly slip your hand lower down, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband of his trousers, towards the source of his growing excitement.

His breath hitches at your touch, his eyes now wide with surprise. "Oh, I see what's happening here," he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "You're getting into this caretaker role, aren't you?"

Your smirk deepens as you gently massage his hips, ignoring the suggestive implications of his words.

"I did say I'd take good care of you, didn't I?" you reply nonchalantly, as I continue with my performance.

Astarion lets out a soft chuckle and reaches up to cup your cheek affectionately.

"You certainly did," he murmurs, gazing up at you in admiration. "But what about you? Who takes care of you, dear?" he mumbles.

Your heart fills with sadness, at the thought of him only thinking of sex as an exchange, more than a pleasurable thing. You lean in to press a soft kiss into his neck, feeling his skin cold under your touch.

"Just trust me," you whisper, voice low and sultry, "I want to make you feel good." His breath hitches again, and you can feel him growing harder beneath your touch. "Trust me," you repeat softly.

You press your lips against his, softly at first, then deeper as he responds with equal fervor. Your hand swiftly opens his trousers, digging inside to grab his hardness, and starts a rhythmic movement, gliding up and down the full length of his member. As it reaches the tip, you twist your wrist slightly, eliciting a whine from deep within his chest. It's a sound you've never heard from him before, one that sends shivers down your and makes your core throb.

His body tenses beneath you, the feeling of your hand wrapped around him drawing a low curse from his lips. He arches into your touch, his grip on your hips tightening as he struggles to remain composed. He presses his lips against yours, the kiss becoming more fervent and demanding. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him, as if he can't get enough.

"Easy," you coo softly against his ear, an intimate tone wrapped around the single word as if it were a promise. Astarion's hands flex on your hips repeatedly, fingers digging into your flesh in a bid to ground himself. "Let me take good care of you," you assure him again, your voice low and breathy against his skin. His body tenses under your touch as he lets out a groan.

His breaths come in ragged gasps, punctuated by small moans of pleasure. "Faster," he pleads with a desperation that ignites a fire within you.

"My beautiful baby, so good for me," you murmur into his ear, your voice rough with desire and adoration. Without hesitation, you bring the pointed tip of his ear between your lips, savoring the delicate contours as you run your tongue along its edges. His body shudders in response, a high whine escaping from his throat as he gives in to your touch.

"Oh, sweet hells," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You release his ear and lay back to take a good look at him, and you smile to yourself when you see his disveleshed hair, and red eyes hooded. And then, without hesitation, you sink down between his parted legs as your lips part and encircle his throbbing member. The taste of him fills your mouth, a mixture of salt and skin and something uniquely his. You take him fully into your mouth, relishing the sounds of his moans and gasps as you move your lips up and down his length. You swirl your tongue around him, teasing and coaxing every delicious sensation from him. His hips thrust upward, and his hands grip your hair, pulling you closer, but you resist, teasing him with your tongue. Your own body is humming with need and desire, but you push it aside to focus completely on him.

You slowly remove him from your mouth, teasingly drawing out the moment. "Beg for me," you whisper seductively, reveling in the power you hold over him.

Astarion's breath hitches as you pull away, and he meets your eyes with a mix of surprise and desire. He moans a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through you, and his hips buck upward, thrusting into the air. His hardness stands tall and proud against your palm, straining for release. It’s slick with your spit, and with a reddish hue that reveals his recent feeding. So damn beautiful.

"Please," he pleads "Please, please," he tries to repeat, but his words come out in a garbled, unintelligible moan as you take him deep into your throat and swallow hard, feeling his member pulse and throb slightly in your mouth.

His entire body trembles, his breaths quickening to the point where they are almost non-existent. His hands clamp onto your hair, yanking you towards him with a savage strength as he thrusts relentlessly, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of you until it feels like he might tear you apart.

"Oh gods," he cries, arching his back and groaning in a way that makes you want to keep going. "That's so good, hells."

His words only drive you further, and you begin to pick up the pace, slobbering and sucking on him like a starving man to a feast. His body tenses as his release approaches, and you can feel him pulsing in your mouth.

"Please, please, oh my god" His words are now a jumbled mess, spewing out of his mouth in a frenzied stream. His eyes roll back into his head, a sign that he is close to releasing everything he has been holding in. "I can't... I can't take much more," he whispers hoarsely, "Please, please, let me cum. Fuck, I need to cum."

With this plea, you can feel the surge of his release, and your body responds with an exhilaration that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel your body responding to his, your own arousal growing, and you rub yourself through your clothes, imagining the feel of him inside you. But that can wait - right now he needs you to take care of him. It's clear he's getting close now - his breaths are shallow, his moans low and desperate, his hips thrusting upwards in short, sharp jerks. With a final cry, you feel him tense, his entire body convulsing under your touch. You swallow hard, feeling the hot liquid spurt into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat in his essence. You can't help but groan in pleasure as it fills you, and you continue to suck and slurp, greedily devouring every drop he has to offer. His hips thrust upwards, bucking wildly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. You continue to suck and stroke him, milking every last drop from his throbbing length.

Finally, he goes lax, his body slack and exhausted while his breath comes in ragged gasps. You gently remove his now limp member from your mouth, wiping the remnants of him from the corners with your thumb. As he comes down from his high, his body relaxes onto the pillow, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. You lay next to him, your heart filled with a sense of contentment and satisfaction. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths as he continues to recover from his release.

A spark ignites in his eyes as they lock onto yours, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of something. There is a tenderness and adoration in his gaze as if you are the most precious and captivating being in all of Faerûn. You smile and sprawl over his healthy shoulder, looking up at him.

"And here I thought I was the master at lovemaking," he teases. "Ever so surprising, my dear."

"Oh, you're easy to please, my love. But I do admit, you taste absolutely divine." You giggle and place a soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles deeply, running his fingers through your hair. A moment of silence passes between you before you find the courage to break it with a quiet question, "Did you truly enjoy it?"

Conversation after sex is rare for you, but something about today feels different, almost intimate. Like something has shifted, an unspoken understanding or connection.

There is a pause, and Astarion looks at you, seeming a bit awkward. He appears to be having some sort of internal struggle at the moment. But then, he relaxes a bit and nods his head.

"Yes, I did," he says. He smiles at you. "It was... mediocre. Which is quite good for your usual performance"

You raise an eyebrow in mock offense. "Excuse me? You were practically begging me to cum moments ago!"

"Was that begging?" he asks innocently, "I thought I was just doing a demonstration" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Well, you sure seemed to be enjoying it"

Astarion chuckled lightly, running his fingers through your hair. "I suppose I did, you know me, I can't resist a good show. And in case you're wondering, that was definitely begging. You just have a unique way of making me forget my manners."

You snuggle closer to him, basking in the softness of his skin. "I'm glad I can keep things interesting for you."

And then, to your surprise, he silently embraces you in a warm hug, pulling you close to his chest. The feeling of his strong arms encircling your frame is unfamiliar but comforting at the same time. You have never held each other in such an intimate way before, but in this moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As the two of you lay intertwined and content, you can feel a sense of peace wash over both of you. For once, no worries or fears are clouding your minds - just the simple pleasure of being together in this moment. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, wondering if this newfound closeness is a sign of things to come, and the thought brings a smile to your lips, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

[neteyamsyawntu]

Love Me Tender (Lazy sex with Neteyam)

Neteyam X Na'vi Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, SMUT, P in V , dirty talk, mentions of edging, teasing, dom!Neteyam, swearing, vulgar language, overstimulation

“Neteyam please…” you beg in efforts to convince your mate to fuck you properly, moving your hips against his nearly still ones to urge him on. Neteyam had you laying on your side, his hand caressing your hip to stimulate you further, as your body grew more and more sensitive. “No squirming yawne… stay like this for a bit longer. Ohh you’re clenching around me so tight.. you really are desperate for more aren’t you, tanhì?”, he teases giving your hip a firm squeeze as he continues to rock his own at a mind numbingly slow pace, leaning back slightly with his other hand on his hip, just watching his cock slip in and out of your soaked cunt.

Although Neteyam typically puts your pleasure before his own, the day had been long and strenuous needing nothing, but to feel your warm, gummy walls hugging his cock. After going at this teasing pace for so long, your walls start to become hypersensitive. One lazy thrust in particular brushing against your g-spot just right, caused you to let out an involuntary whimper at the fleeting sensation. It catches you off guard when in the next second Neteyam grasps firmly onto your hip, using it to pull you roughly onto his cock as he forcefully thrusts into you. Not too fast… yet hard enough to make your body jolt at the sudden impact. A yelp falling from your lips at the action.

“Mmm so pretty… you sound so vulnerable my love… are you really that sensitive?” Your mate continues to tease, lifting your leg so that your calf rests against his shoulder, his fingers massaging your thigh, groping it in slow circles. The new angle allowing new sensations to fester, however it still wasn’t enough to scratch that itch that had been building since the two of you had started, “T-Teyam please.. my yawntu I can’t take this anymore” you plead desperately, your face pressing into the cot below you. “Why do you rush, yawne? Besides…” another hard thrust, matching that of his previous one, earning the same reaction from you. Neteyam lowers your leg, only to push it up to your chest, driving himself deep inside of you, holding there while leaning down to nuzzle against your ear as he whispers hoarsely, “…We have the whole night. Let’s enjoy it, hm?”. You nod your head in response, only because you fear that whatever words that would leave your throat would not be coherent enough to understand with the way his cock was pressing against your crevix, earning a soft chuckle from your mate before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Does that feel good, yawne?” He groans breathily into your ear, grinding his cock head against your cervix tenderly, loving the way your body immediately starts to squirm and grind back on him. “M-mhm!”, “Yeah? You like to feel me filling you up like this?” He whispers back to you, his breath hot against your ear. “Y-yes!” You reply in a barely audible whimper, closing your eyes tight as you enjoy the feeling while it lasts, knowing he was doing all of this just to taunt you further.

“Haha alright, lay on your stomach for me…” he purrs, pulling out momentarily to watch as you roll from your position on your hip to lay flat on your stomach, thighs squeezing together. “Good girl… f-fuck..” He breathily whispers as he pushes himself back into you, slowly massaging and spreading your ass cheeks as he continues a steady pace of hard yet slow thrusts. Ears twitching and flicking with each small whine or whimper that leaves you. You arch your back, pressing your rear against his pelvis at another fleeting attempt to get Neteyam to speed up, only to be met with his hands gripping your ass tighter, slightly pushing you forward, “You are going to make me cum if you keep pressing on me like that…my needy little tìyawn, be patient for me… please..”. His voice was becoming more and more shaky with each stroke of his cock, unintentionally edging himself all in attempts to tease you, releasing small whimpers that he tries to muffle by biting his lower lip. This new realization gives you an idea, carefully reaching back behind you, you grasp one of his wrists at first, as if to egg him on, before drifting down between his legs and wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, causing his hips to jerk in surprise. “Haah! S-shit yawne..” Neteyam gulps, brows knitting together, mouth falling agape as he continues to rock into you, allowing your hand to stay where it is for the time being, letting you pump him as he thrusts languidly into you. His restraint wearing thin showing in the way his cock twitches within the confines of your aching pussy. 

“Yawne.. y-yawne… yaw-haahh…” you can’t help, but giggle at your mate’s resolve rapidly depleting, listening to his weak, trembling pleads. “What’s the matter Nete? Getting sensitive?” You purr with a cheeky smirk, looking back at him from over your shoulder. The minute the words leave your mouth, Neteyam has your hand removed from his cock, pinning it down behind your back, his other hand grasping the back of your neck, pushing your face further into the cot. “Don’t toy with me, muntxa.” Neteyam growls, pressing himself deep into your cunt once more, shifting his hand to cup your throat, pulling your head to face upward toward the ceiling of your marui, “You want me to fuck you that badly? Then say it.”. Shivering at his sudden change in demeanor, you muster up the courage to keep on with your game, pushing your rear back onto him just as you did before, “Mmm my Nete… I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it… ram your cock inside of me like I know you wa- ahh!” You’re suddenly cut off when your body is bucked forward as Neteyam slams his hips against your plush ass. “Such a dirty little mouth… I’m going to make it scream my name. Take it, take all of me, yawne.” 

Punched noises escape you as Neteyam begins a vigorous pace of rough and short thrusts, your body bouncing with his every buck. The angle in which your body was contorted by him made it all the easier for his cock to abuse your g-spot. Your free hand aimlessly grips the cot beneath you, body trembling as you attempt to crawl out of your mate’s overly passionate grasp, only for him to pull you right back by your hips, “Is this not what you wanted, yawne? What you were begging for? I know it feels good, you’re clenching onto me so tightly… I can hardly keep myself together.” Neteyam groans, his voice wavering as he picks up his pace, jutting his hips into you over and over again, hitting every raw and sensitive ridge of your cunt. The pressure rapidly building in your core was driving you crazy, nearly screaming as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter, “Oh Nete! Oh great mother- Don’t s-stop, don’t stop I’m so close!” You plead, body writhing as much as it can as you are forced to take thrust after thrust under Neteyam’s weight. 

A faint chuckle is heard from over your shoulder, as Neteyam bends down toward your ear once more, “Anything for my pretty girl… just keep saying my name, yawne.. cum for me.” He growls into your ear, nibbling on its tip as he rails you from behind. The way Neteyam’s cock was sliding through your velvety walls with such ease made it difficult for you to even think straight, your body trembling as your orgasm came to its peak, crashing over with an intense snap of the knot in your core, “Net-Nete! My Teyam!”. Neteyam’s heavy panting fills your ears as you steadily come down from your high, his hips sputtering as his own release closed in on him, grunting helplessly as you milked him dry, continuing to pump his seed into you even as his cock began to soften, before collapsing onto your back with an exasperated sigh, holding himself up by his forearms, as if to not completely crush you under his body weight. Gently shifting your hair from off your neck, Neteyam begins to leave a trail of gentle kisses from your shoulder to your neck and up to your jawline. “My yawne… oh my yawne..” he coos breathlessly to you, his hips softly stirring his cock inside of you, earning tired, strained whines from your weak form. “Was that hard enough for you, my love?” Neteyam whispers sweetly against your skin, his words slightly muffled as he continues to pepper kisses along your cheek, “Or do I need to give you an example of just how passionately I can fuck you?” His soft voice morphs into a deep rumble, opening his mouth to gently bite the flesh of your cheek, stirring his already hardening cock in you with more purpose. “T-Teyam… my tìyawn, I need a moment. My body is too weak” you whimper softly, eyes closed from exhaustion as you continue a steady stream of panting. “Oh? But you told me not to stop… and I would hate to disappoint my mate” Neteyam purrs, his accent heavy and emphasizing the word mate as it leaves his lips. You could already tell by the way that your mate was carefully adjusting your position, rolling you onto your back so you could meet his gaze, just how hungry he had been for you all day and that this was hardly the end of what was to be many rounds of passionate love making.

Thank you to @pandoraslxna, @jakexneytiri, and @headsincloud9 for fueling my inspiration for this smutty little drabble. As we get closer to 1k followers, I get more and more motivated to create exciting stories for you all to enjoy. Please accept this fic as a token of my appreciation while I continue to work on I Need You part 2 and my 1k special fic!

Tag-list:

@tiredmamaissy @jakexneytiri @neytris @jake-sullys-whore @live-laugh-neteyam @zynn4  @eywascall @christinechickiee @fanboyluvr  @afro-hispwriter @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @bigdikzaddy @aonungsmate @pandorxxx @arminsgfloll @netemoono  @innixyly @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @blackchim3ra  @crazy4books1 @neteyamforlife @bajadotcom @kiri-tuk @samistars @riatesullironalite @liluvtojineteyam @yevyyevs @itzgabz22 @yeosxxx @bubbletae97 @disdick6903 @avaxt22 @neteyamsluvts @simp4ff @verveta345 @pandoraslxna @teyamsbitch @neyetams @erm2020quizeanos @headsincloud9

[tteokdoroki]

hi hi !! :3 first off ur new theme is soo so cute!! n for your valentines event i wanted to send in one for satoru + an amusement park date as the gift !! you can make it sweet or spicy but i don’t have a specific kink in mind for it so that’s free range for ya ehehe

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. swipe spicy: high on you.

about. boom, it’s a match! satoru gojo has always come up with creative ways to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. this time, he decides to make things a little naughtier atop a ferris wheel ride ( 1.4K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, established relationships, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, also ik ferris wheels don’t exist at amusement parks shuddap!! fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

every valentine’s day you’ve spent with satoru has been unique. different. 

for your first, he’d filled every corner of your apartment with every type of flower he could possible find because he wasn’t sure what type was your favourite (he was too nervous to ask). for the second, he’d rented out an entire aquarium for you to walk through and dragging him through each exhibition with pure unfiltered joy. for the Valentine’s Day that he had proposed — your third or fourth, satoru had rented a plane that carried the message ‘will you marry me?’ to fly over your rooftop dinner date. you’d said yes, of course, and every day with satoru since had been a wild ride. 

even now, years into your life together, he remained just as crafty and as adventurous as satoru’s gojo had always been. 

“s-satoru!” you squeal needily, tucking your face into your lover’s shoulder in a weak attempt to muffle your weak cries and trembling voice. “‘toru please. n-not here. n-not now,” you add when his slender and inquisitive fingers dip past the waistband of your jeans and the scalloped edge of your cotton panties. he’s been like this all day, feeling you up in line for different rides, licking the sugar from your fingers outside overpriced concessions stands dotted across the amusement park he'd taken you to. and now, satoru’s ravenousness has come to a head — with him trying to finger fuck you at the top of the ferris wheel. “p-people are around!” 

while typically a romantic spot to watch the world go by, the white haired man has his heart set on making you squirm and cry at the highest peak of the ride. “that’s what makes this all the more fun, right baby?” his digits flex under the rough denim of your jeans in an attempt to get a feel for your wetness all while  gojo whispers sinful words against the shell of your ear — hot breath cascading down the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. “relax for me, we’re too high up for anyone to notice. let me make you feel good, yeah?”

your hips buck down against your lover’s hand for a taste of friction — chasing the blistering hot sensation that spreads through your lower tummy once his fingertips come into contact with your swelling, pulsating clit. the very notion of your body succumbing to a few of gojo’s simple touches has him chuckling breathily in your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. you can’t help the instinctual response of your quivering, a stream of wetness gathering in the seat of your underwear too. 

“do you think i can make you cum by the time we reach the top?” satoru mumbles huskily, lowering his head to your neck so that he can place hot, sloppy kisses to your exposed skin — contrasting with the night air. tufts of white hair tickle at your jaw, sending you into a fit of shakes and shivers that make your cart of the ferris wheel rock back and forth. “don’t answer that, i know i can.” he’s cocky when he teases you and has every right to be, your thighs twitch apart instinctively to make space for satoru’s hand between them. 

he skilfully massages your pretty little pussy even from underneath tight denim jeans, circling in your entrance as it dribbles sweet salacious nectar for him. so much so, that you might soil the fabric of your clothes. if your arousal seeps through, would you drip and gush on all those people below? the thought crosses your might and only serves to turn you on even more — evident in the way you clench around nothing as gojo plays with your empty hole. 

“m-mph, satoru,” you hiccup, only tilting your head to face his. your noses nudge slightly, lips ghosting over one another’s while your hot breath mingles. to anyone else — you appear a couple in love, innocently kissing, enjoying a date to the amusement park, and a ride to the top of the ferris wheel. but you’re far from that, and you know it, two delightfully sinful individuals who can’t keep their hands off of one another. “m-more!” 

gojo obliges, and you thank whatever diety is up above for blessing him with such magical fingers. two of them slide past your entrance without resistance, stretching your gooey and sensitive walls around their length easily. “hm? what’s the matter, baby?” comes the silver haired man’s lazy response, a sleazy smirk spreading across his plush pink lips at the sound of you squelching around him already. you shake your head at his question, eyes screwed shut since you’re too far gone with the pleasure to answer coherently.  

from your side, gojo uses his free hand to keep you nice and spread for him — sapphire eyes glowing in the dark night whilst remaining trained on the way your hips jut down to push back against his fingers inside of you. “god you’re so fuckin’ wet. you really like this, huh? all tbose unsuspecting people below…having no idea that i’m fucking your pussy open right above their heads,” he purrs hungrily and curls his fingers, instantly finding your g-spot because he’s mapped out every inch of your sopping walls and knows them off by heart. “taste yourself for me.” 

your lips part on command and tongue rolls out of your mouth to make room for the fingers that have been inside you — sucking on them diligently when satoru presses down on the palette of your tongue. he gets off to the way you taste yourself, moaning around him nastily. you should feel shame and humiliation for acting like this in public, all desperate and needy, but you’re as ravenous and as depraved as satoru is. it’s what makes you a match made in heaven. 

with his fingers now tainted with a crude mix of your saliva and arousal, satoru returns them to your temperate and sopping mound — stuffing you full of him once more. he’s knuckle deep in your cunt before you can even moan his name, stroking your insides into the shape of him while you drool syrupy evidence of your arousal into the seat of his palm. 

“we’re almost to the top, brace yourself, pretty girl. i gotta see you cum. it’ll give me the prettiest view.” satoru coos to you patronisingly, making sure to grind his wrist against your puffy clit — refusing to let it go unattended. “can you do that for me?” 

everything is so sticky and hot, especially with all of the layers of clothes in the way — shielding your dirty act from any onlookers on the ground or in the carts below you. strings of your slick tie satoru’s fingers to your honeyed sex and glue this thumb to your sensitive nub, tucked away between your puffy pussy lips. you claw at the silver haired man’s arm trapped in the middle of your quivering thighs band writhe around in the cart so much so that it creaks with the weight.

you whimper into the cool night air, but satoru lights your body on fire from the inside out — your gut lurching and twisting with an unbearable sense of yearning. “‘m close… think i’m gonna—“ you begin to stutter, bleating like a lamb being sent to the slaughter. you remain at the mercy of your boyfriend’s fast paced fingers, pumping in and out of you with no regard to the painful stack of ecstasy building up inside of you. “please, i can’t hold it, ‘toru,” 

“you don’t have to,” your lover tsks in reply, never slowing the speed of his digits stroking at your ribbed walls, slipping and sliding against pleasure spots only he knows exist. “why don’t you let go for me, yeah? there you go. that’s it… just like that and all for me,” satoru’s mouth find yours in the final stretch, sloppy praises whispered against your kiss swollen lips while he rubs over your luscious and equally swollen folds like his life depends on it. “let the people down there know how fuckin’ good i finger fuck this sweet pussy. cum for me baby, i know you can do it.” 

each syllable, each impassioned word that escapes him and that he pours into you drags you by the ankle towards your high — and you don’t even try to fight it. once you reach the very top of the ferris wheel, your peak reaches a crescendo. satoru flings himself over you, arm arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you in place in the cart as your orgasm crashes over you in drowning waves. you slip beneath the surface of pleasure, your cunt rushing like a river while you cum all over satoru’s masterful hand with a muffled cry of his name. 

“satoru!” 

“shh, quiet…that’s my girl, my sweet sweet girl.” he sighs dreamily, fucking you with your fingers throughout your high — only pulling out of your greedy cunt to slap down on it, dragging more spurts of arousal out of you. you squirt through your jeans, onto the metal seat in your ferris wheel cart and all over satoru. who happily praises you through it all. “i bet you’re just drippin’ on all those nasty strangers below. i’m sure they’d love it.” 

catching your breath, you tuck your face into satoru’s neck while you come down from your high (and literally too — your cart begins to make its descent back town from the top of the ferris wheel). “y-you’re sick.”

satoru smiles, slow and sexy. “but you love me,” 

“mhm, sure,” you quip, somehow finding the energy to pull away from your debauched lover to shift to your knees in front of him — the cool metal digging into your knees. “maybe i love you just a little.” 

“only a little? then why are you on your knees for me?” he asks, spreading his legs to make room for you between them. 

“it’s your turn, i want to see if i can make you come before we get to the bottom of the wheel.” you say breathlessly and with mirthy eyes, teeth descending on gojo’s zipper while you bat your eyelashes up at him. 

celebrating valentine’s day with satoru was always…unique. different…but you’d be lying if you said you failed to enjoy his unconventional methods of gift giving with the person you loved most. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤LOVE EYES

SUM. : you don't see it but the boys have love eyes for you

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; oblivious, innocent reader ; love eyes marauders ; sirius is a womanizer ; he doesn't care to notice though ; snack runs with sirius on his motorbike ; shoulder massages for remus ; james loves picking you up ; james is so silly ; domestic baking with james ; wolfstar moment ; lots of hugging

LENGTH : 2.7k

Sirius watches lovingly as you balance your laptop on your thighs and work through an essay you had to complete by the following week. When you had time away from final year lectures, seminars and practicals, you would usually occupy the private office and lounge room of the studio’s top floor in order to work through your uni assignments. The university libraries were quite suffocating in that they pressured you into unhealthy productivity mindsets, which often lead to unhealthy eating habits and a shortcut to burn out. However, you had found solace in the calm of the tattoo studio’s office that usually remained empty throughout the day when the boys were attending to clients. The calm silence was welcome and helped with your personal productivity and pacing of assigned workload. 

Usually, Remus would accompany you, doing mundane admin tasks that helped manage the parlour and its clients but he had to leave as he had several appointments today. You’ve made some decent headway with the essay in Remus’s absence and you were using some of the momentum to get even more ahead when you felt a familiar presence take a seat beside you before throwing their arm over your shoulders. 

“Hello, dollface,” Sirius whispers and presses a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“Hey Siri,” you acknowledge him with a sweet smile and tilt your head against him briefly before continuing with your essay. Focused with your brows furrowed and gently gnawing at your lip, Sirius silently admires your concentration; it looks good on you, a meritorious contrast to your usually soft features and expressions.

However, as much as he loves this side of you, he loves your attention more, “...are you really gonna just ignore me?” he whines in his usual playful manner, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

“Sirius, I have to finish this essay—”

“Not until the following week, so you have time right?” you don’t answer him. He was right but you still needed to work on the essay. Grumbling under his breath, Sirius leans his weight against you and sighs and huffs and whines in between minutes of silence. Even though this type of selfish distraction would typically irritate you, you know that you could afford stepping away from the essay so it was more than entertaining to hear his fussing. You also thoroughly enjoyed Sirius’s floundering and adorable attempts to guilt you into paying him some attention; it was almost adorable, like a puppy wanting attention. 

It wasn’t until Sirius gave a significantly frustrated whine that you exaggerated a sigh and saved your progress to close your laptop screen, “...I’m all yours, Sirius,” you finally conceded, reaching a hand up to lift his hair out of his face. 

With a wide grin, Sirius leans his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with content and satisfaction at having finally won you over, “Snack run?” at his suggestion, you almost jump out of your chair in excitement. 

“Yes please!” 

With perked ears, Remus and James smile to themselves at the sound of you and Sirius giggling down the hallway and outside to the leather-wearing tattoo artist’s motorbike. They knew you both made a ritual of going on snack runs for them and, although they appreciated the snacks, they adored your happy laughter echoing in the halls much more.

As Sirius helped gear the two of you up with a helmet for the ride, he whispered his usual promise of taking a longer route than needed to get to the store all while you spotted a group of girls eyeing him up from behind. They looked to be in high school and weren’t subtle about their puppy love for Sirius at all, ogling him with lovestruck doe eyes, whispering amongst themselves and playfully hitting each other’s shoulders over their musings. You couldn’t blame them for their admiration, simply because Sirius was very physically attractive, with his inked skin, sharp features, steel grey eyes, sultry hair, seductive smile, toned physique and nefarious leather fashion—the man embodied an elegant but evil beauty. And, when you got to know him, he became all the more attractive; he was just the perfect amount of chaos and sensual audacity to pair with the softest heart —a dream come true for girls, especially those in their high school years.

Nevertheless, their giggling and kittenish gossiping were like nails on a chalkboard to you, although, that may just be the excuse you came up with for what you were about to do next.

“Woah!” Sirius chuckles, his arms going up as you suddenly wrap your arms around his waist and hold him close, smiling smuggling into his white vest when the group of girls immediately silence their gossiping and giggling at the sight, “what’s wrong, dollface?” Sirius asks dotingly as he lifts your gaze up with a finger under your chin and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “feeling needy are we?” you pout at his teasing, which he laughs at and finally wraps his arms around your shoulders. One hand holds the back of your head and gently presses your face further into his chest, “anything you need, dollface… anything at all, I’ve got you,” he whispers and pulls away to stare fondly into your pretty eyes. You realise that, not once has he noticed the group of high school girls behind him, in spite of all their gossip and ogling. 

“Siri-”

“Such a pretty face,” he coos, lifting a hand to tenderly cup your jaw, “pretty eyes, pretty nose, pretty lips, pretty heart, pretty everything,” just so pretty… sirius completes in his head, resisting the urge to give into his desires and take from you something he knows isn’t meant for him but desperately wishes was his…

His stare lingers on your lips long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to verbalise as the leather-clad tattooist quickly places the spare helmet over your head. 

Remus groans gratefully as he tilts his head back with closed eyes, smiling at the giggle you emit, “That’s just what I need, dove,”

The tall brunette feels your gentle lips against his forehead for a brief moment and sighs pleasantly once more, “you need to better your posture when sitting Remmy,” you softly scold, continuing to massage his tense shoulders and the back of his neck as he slowly opens his eyes to admire you.

Ignoring your reproach, Remus loses himself in the feeling of relief easing into his tense shoulders and stiff neck through your pressing fingers and palms, “heavenly…” he utters in bliss. 

“Don’t ignore me, Remus,” your tone is a little more stern but rather than make him nervous, Remus continues to smile at you. 

“I assure you…” Remus turns his head and presses a kiss against the skin of your wrist, “that I never and will never ignore you, sweetheart,” his words and the look he gives you makes a heat crawl up your neck and spread across your cheeks. 

“Then tell me you’ll aim for better posture when sitting for too long,” at your request, Remus spins in his chain and pulls you close by the hips. His head is at level with your xiphoid process as he looks up at you with a relaxed smile. 

“You have my word,” he brings your hands from his shoulders, holds them together and kisses the knuckles that touch. Almost instinctively, you move your soft hand to hold his face and smile down at him from where you stood. 

It’s a promise he keeps as you often find him squaring his shoulders and straightening his back when sitting in the office too long. It makes your heart flutter to know that he was proactive with your advice but his shoulder massages didn’t stop, which he appreciated greatly. He never said thank you but he always kissed your hands, wrists and knuckles during or after you ease some of the tension off his shoulders and neck. 

“You truly are an angel,” Remus said one day as he buries his face into your stomach, arms wrapped around your hips as you softly squeeze at his shoulders, “James was right,” he chuckles under his breath which you join him with in a brief but twinkling giggle, “are you truly not hiding a pair of wings, dove?” 

“Nope~” you chirp with another giggle as he leisurely stands, pushing his chair away with the backs of his knees. Remus keeps you close, holds you closer even, and sighs into the crown of your head. 

“Lies…” you feel his big hands move up your back slowly, pressing his fingers into your taut muscles and arched spine as if to return the favour you’ve done for his rigid shoulders. Unable to help yourself, a soft sigh escapes you and you fall further into his embrace, “that…or you’re really good at hiding your wings —i feel nothing there,” with one final knead of his strong fingertips, he winks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, similar to the kind you often find in Sirius’s grey pools and James’s hazel jewels. Though different, they were all the same in other ways. 

“I guess you’ll never know,” was your impish reply not registering how Remus’s expression subtly softens into adoring fondness when continuing to stare down at you. 

It’s like she belongs there… Remus thinks to himself, playing with the ends of your hair while you turn your head to rest your cheek on his chest for comfort, perfectly suited to be in my arms.

“There you are!” James cheers with a laugh as you squeal in surprise. Not only did he sneak up on you but he had effortlessly lifted you into the air by your waist, a merit to his muscular physique.  

“James!” you laugh, hands on his broad shoulders as he spins you around, “Put me down!” grinning widely still, he carefully lowers you, grinning wider when your face gets closer and he can press a kiss to your cheek upon finally setting you down. 

“I have everything already, angel, ready to go?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” he links your arms together and leads the way to his and the boys' flat as you try to hold in your eagerness and nerves. 

The flat the boys share is more spacious than you expected, cleaner too, which you suspect is primarily because of Remus. You were shocked to find, however, that Sirius tended to be the clean freak out of the three. 

“I just grew up with clean habits, I guess,” Sirius quickly shrugs off your questioning eyes before ushering you into the kitchen where James was helpfully laying out all the ingredients the two of you needed in order to bake some fruit tarts together. 

“We’ll be in the living room if you need us,” Remus offers with a cordial smile. In his hand is a rather small book, though you’d guess it’s because his hands were so big that the book just looked petite. The pages appeared relatively worn, as if he had flitted through their pages multiple times already despite his pointer finger marking the page he was at being quite early on in the book. 

“With James in the kitchen you may be needing our help sooner rather than later—“ Sirius begins to chuckle but is forced out of the kitchen when James throws a rolled up kitchen towel at him. This makes you giggle as Sirius gives a shout of mock pain and makes his way into the living room with a journal full of sketches in one hand and a pen in the other.

“Right! Let’s get baking Jamie!” You chirp, missing the adoring eyes James looks onto you with, loving the nickname you call him by. Before the two of you get started, James helps tie up the back of your apron as well as your hair. Upon doing so, you do the same thing for him and he makes a show of asking you to tie up his hair for him despite its relatively short length. Even so, James got to work with a scrunchie holding up a small, short tuffet of hair —it made you giggle multiple times but James would just flutter his lashes at you comically and make you laugh even more. 

Regardless of the occasional shenanigans James pulled, the activity was very domestic and made your heart flutter in your chest, not realising that James was experiencing the same sensations ten-fold. 

Everything begins well enough with James obediently following your instructions, helpfully preparing the dough before moving onto the pastry cream. It was when you had to prepare the summer fruits while blind baking the pie crust and chilling the pastry cream that things became a little more chaotic. James had innocently offered you a slice of a strawberry and enjoyed your elated reaction so much that he started feeding you an entire array of fruits. Fearful that there won’t be anymore fruit for the tart, you begin to pull away from James’s kind offerings. 

“Come on, princess,” James pleads with you, offering up a small slice of mango, “one more, you look so cute when you chew your food,” he coos adoringly as you bring your hands up to cover your cheeks and pout at him. 

“James you better not—“ 

“You’re like a baby chipmunk!” He offers the mango once more but you quickly run away, which initiates a playful chase around the kitchen island. A mischievous look is sparked in James’s eyes as he laughs at your feeble attempt at running away from him. He plays easy with you, however; he doesn’t want the game to end too soon.

“James is at it again…” Remus chuckles and sets his book aside to sink back into the sofa, smiling at your squeals of fun from the kitchen.

“Trying to read was a lost cause, Moony,” Sirius laughs to himself, a warmth blossoming in his chest at the sound of your joyful activities. Nevertheless, he continues to sketch in his journal of potential tattoo compositions for a client, “we both knew this would happen,” 

“Which is why,” Remus stresses, “I chose a book I’ve read multiple times already,” 

Sirius looks up with a smirk, “always such a smartass,”

“You love this smartass,” Remus shoots and leans over to kiss the tattoo artist sweetly with light fingers lifting his chin up. 

“I’m not denying that…” Sirius answers with a smirk before realising that the noise had significantly died down in the kitchen. They didn’t have to wait long until it began once again, however. 

“James stop!” You squeal in delight and laugh airily. 

James swings you around and places you on the kitchen island, not too far away from where the pie crust was cooling off on a drying rack. Standing between your thighs, he holds you in an embrace and laughs into your shoulder, “I caught you, love,” 

“You have an unfair advantage,” you huff with a pout that doesn’t linger for very long when you lean back to adjust James’s glasses with a soft smile. Loving the gesture, James squeezes his arms around you and a dopey grin stretches across his face. He’s the image of bliss and summer fun. 

“Not true…deep down, it’s you who has an unfair advantage over me,” and on Sirius and Remus too James was tempted to add but neglects to when he is overcome with the urge to kiss your cheek at the sight of your loveliness, head slightly tilted, lips adorning the sweetest smile and eyes alight with boundless mirth. 

As the three admire you from their seats on the sofas, they share a similar look. All smiling with a hidden secret as their eyes twinkle with agreement. Many times they’ve discussed their relationship with you, knowing full well that they wanted the same thing and that there wasn’t a chance on earth they’d let you go without a fight. 

It’s too cruel to have met a sweetheart like you only to have you drift away so easily. You bring about a softness in them that is typically hidden away, masked by their inked skin and piercings. You are a missing piece and an essential cog in their system that they can no longer live without. 

“Tea’s ready!” you call and turn to them with a tray loaded with mugs of the steaming beverage accompanied by biscuits and cookies. Their gaze isn’t on the tea, however, it’s on you. And their eyes are flooded by a feeling that can only be love. 

A/N : i have several requests for this au but i need to do a little build up on the storyline first, hopefully my lovely requesters don't mind the wait and that this can satisfy you for now (┳Д┳)

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

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