#a hand slowly reaching up to his cheek; touching his cheekbone as he looks at himself for the first time ever

[gilded-gheists]

why has nobody literally thought of using disguise self to show astarion what he looks like-

[xo-codbby]

blue-collar!141 x reader

continued

when you managed to get the number to their service from a friend, you didn't expect too much. just 4 men, an ordinary team. and you needed someone to repair the damages to your house, the entire thing needing to be constructed from the start

it's only when they arrived, your friend had failed to mention just how big and broad they were. like walking tanks, their presence demanding attention as you explained while they listened intently. catching a few of their eyes flickering to your lips and then back up as you tried to maintain your composure. they were 100% your type and you desperately wished you had met any under different circumstances but this had to be professional. any other thoughts had to be shut down immediately

soap and ghost work in sleeveless vests, price had his shirt off. you know how it gets, the england sun (no matter how rare) was too hot for him to work in and gaz with his top unbuttoned, showing off his chest. yeah it might've been a little unprofessional but the job was still getting done, did it matter so much?

a pretty thing like you didn't need to offer them anything but they were so grateful for it either way. and they were very professional at first, purely focusing on the task at hand. but slowly when you started to offer them drinks and snacks, letting them wash off the dust and grime off of their bulging muscles, the lines were a little blurred

it was taking weeks, some parts of you wondered if they were doing it purposely. needing four hands for a one man job but you grew to become fond of their company, becoming acquainted to friends.

"s'too dusty f'you to be here, hen" soap's drawl fills your ears as you hold a tray of iced drinks and some food. they were big men, they needed bigger portions of food to eat. you watched them pause on their equipment, watching as johnny leans in to give a side hug. his musk permeated the air but funnily enough you don't mind, not a bit. it makes you hang on a little closer subconsciously and a soft sound from him emanated, his hands squeezing your waist a little before he reached for a drink.

"yeah, don't want you to start sneezing here sweetheart" gaz smiles softly, the back of his finger gently smoothing your cheek for a moment before he holds the tray off from you. dirt marks stain his cheekbones, dust clinging to his skin but you don't think he could look any better, under the sun and sweating. it's hard to take your eyes off the men as you offer a soft laugh, mumbling a response as you avert your eyes. hoping they don't see how flush you look

"y'mind checking on ghost for us, pretty?" price whispers too close to your ear, his hand coming to touch your shoulder. you can feel the warmth coming from his palm, from working or the sun you're not too sure but it makes you feel weak. his lips curved into a gentle smile, looking at you with amusement flickering in his eyes. the little crinkle you've grown to admire everytime as you tried to compose yourself. maybe the sun was doing you more damage than you thought

"of course" your answer came next, blowing out a soft breath when you turned. feeling the gentle touch of his hand against the small of your back, fingers softly stroking the skin for a second but it was nothing, it had to have been nothing

you entered your home, coming up the stairs. about to knock until the bathroom door unlocks and opens. and there, ghost stood in all his glory. the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, exposing the v line you desperately wanted to touch. you can barely catch your breath, feeling overwhelmed from the sun and their presence. watching his muscles shining with water drops, the steam rising from his skin. the tattoos shining along with the scars he had littered on his skin

"y'lookin' f'me, doll?" his deep baritone voice caresses your senses and your throat dries up for a second, unable to speak. just wanting to appreciate him and his body. his hand squeezes your shoulder so softly, his body pressed against yours for a moment too long. you can feel his palm trail across your waist, his scent sparking heat straight to your core. without all the dust on his face, without the black mask he wore, you get to see all his features and it makes you shiver at how gorgeous he seemed to look. his gaze is much more intimate and he only offers you a half smile, eyes glinting before he straightened up and headed to the other room to change. not before skimming his lips across your forehead, your body tense wanting to follow him to get out of your clothes and feel what you've been aching for all this time

but it was all professional, it had to have been. right?

[eiightysixbaby]

eddie is so needy in the mornings. you’re too sleepy. 18+ pls

There’s a warm, hazy sensation enveloping you. Your eyes are closed but you can tell that sunlight is peeking in through your bedroom windows, the backs of your eyelids illuminated.

The weight of another body hovers over you, a leg slung over yours, a mouth on your temple. You stir slightly, eyes remaining shut, a soft groan escaping you.

The pair of lips is relentless, kissing their way across your cheekbone, your nose, reaching your other cheek and then moving up to your forehead. The brush of a nose featherlight across your skin, face scrunching when kisses are pressed to your closed eyes.

“Babyyyy,” you grumble quietly, though not nearly as displeased as you may sound. Your soft smile gives you away.

“Hi,” Eddie’s voice greets you, slightly gravelly still with sleep, yet comforting nonetheless.

His lips finally find your own, leaving a few quick pecks in succession until you give in and kiss back.

You open one eye, slowly testing the waters of the waking world, before allowing the other to open. A mop of dark curly hair and the prettiest brown eyes come into view, bringing a bigger smile to your face.

“G’morning,” you say, sighing and closing your eyes again.

The warmth from the morning sunlight paired with the blanket your lower half is still snug under keeps you trapped in your sleepy daze. Eddie’s mouth dipping down from your chin to your neck makes your skin vibrate, your body nearly humming in a pleased response. You feel like you’re swimming in warm honey, that golden viscous ooze folding in around you.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, stay with me,” he says softly, letting his teeth graze lightly over your pulse point. “It’s so boring being awake by myself.”

His voice keeps you tethered to reality, the soft kneading of his hands on your skin keeping your senses active.

A puff of air leaves your nose, a near-silent laugh. “Why don’t you just come back to sleep with me,” you suggest, a shiver running down your spine when you feel the backs of his knuckles grazing down your sides.

“Oh, but you don’t really want that, do you?” he asks, a teasing edge to his tone. He pulls the blanket back, nudging your legs apart to sit between them.

Your eyes crack open again, just barely, taking in the sight of him as he moves lower and lower down your body. His pretty pink lips press to your stomach, bare for him after he nosed the fabric of your thin top out of his way.

“What’re you doin’ Eds?” you answer his question with a question, nearly melting when his soft eyes look up at you.

“Wakin’ you up,” he says simply, fingers hooking gently into the waistband of your underwear.

You feel your hips raise on instinct, letting him pull the garment low enough to give him access to your center.

His touches are gentle, lacking in any urgency. His fingers softly trace over your hipbones, his body lowering itself onto the mattress between your thighs. You come alive when his hot breath fans against your core, kickstarting your brain.

He lets his tongue slip out to taste you, licking languidly up through your folds. Your fingers find the sheets, twisting them up into bunches at the first indication of pleasure.

Your eyelids close once more, pinching shut as his tongue explores you further, but this time sleep doesn’t threaten to pull you back into its clutches. You’re awake, desperate for more of his loving, dying to feel every lick and touch to the fullest degree.

A moan escapes you, drawn-out as your head tips back, pressing further into your pillow.

“Awake now, baby?” Eddie asks, lips pursing around your clit and starting to suck.

“Fuck. Yes,” you pant, back arching as he works the sensitive bud.

“Good. Cause ‘m just getting started.”

[wyvernest]

hammock by the sea

pairing - miguel o'hara x wife!f!reader

warnings - fluff, established relationship, suggestive

summary - you and miguel enjoy a sunny july afternoon on your honeymoon in a hammock

translations: lo sé - i know / así me gusta - that's how i like it

part 2! part3!

The air is hot, but fresh with a salty sea breeze. The waves roll rhythmically against the white shores, echoing through the gardens of the resort you're spending your honeymoon at.

Everything is so quiet, so serene, and incontestably intimate.

The hammock hangs low between two palms, heavy with your weight added on top of his. Miguel sits cosily in the linen cocoon, arms hanging out on each side. You're seated on his lap, straddling him. Sunlight grazes his features in interrupted stripes, filtered through the sharp palm leaves. 

His eyes are closed, eyebrows relaxed. Your gaze lingers over his sculpted face, the shape of his eyes, his cheekbones, the line of his nose and his soft lips; then up to his dark hair, sun-kissed dark silk. 

You're startled when you feel his hand take ahold of your wrist gently, pulling you with a little force into his embrace. Eyes still closed, he's silently asking you to lay back on top of him, to let him capture you back into his arms. 

You remain straight for the single purpose of looking at him for a little longer. It's not often that you see him so relaxed, so defenceless and vulnerable. Your attention follows his jaw, adorned with the remnants of what used to be a stubble; then the line of his neck, and you hold back a primal impulse to bend down and start kissing it, just to hear him giggle lowly before groaning in need.

Your hands follow your vision, flowing down his broad shoulders, and over his strong pecs, reaching the firm muscles of his torso. You feel him tense up, flexing his abdomen under your touch and puffing out a giggled breath. 

"You don't have to do that to impress me, you know." you keep your hands on his abdomen, struggling to mask the loving and lustful awe in your eyes. 

"Lo sé. I just love to see you all red in the face." He smirks at you, pearl-white fangs peeking from the smile, opening his eyes enough just to witness the sight before him. You hadn't realised you were getting so flustered. Maybe it's the heat outside.

Or maybe it's just him, looking like a greek sculpture, completely enamoured by you and at your disposal. All sleepy, messy hair and smile teasing. 

You cave in, laying yourself on top of him, head on his chest, hiding the blush in your cheeks. His arms encompass your body, holding you against him. You feel one of his legs drop out of the hammock, slowly swaying you both into a lulling cradle. 

You snuggle into him, pressing your face closer to hear his heartbeat. With a deep sigh, you melt into him. He brings a hand to your hair, laying soft caresses over the expanse of your back.

But you don't want to fall asleep just yet. There's only so many things you could do. Getting up, you come face to face with him, starting to kiss him all over his face. He smiles, eyes still closed. You kiss him on his forehead, on his temples, all over his cheeks, and when you get close enough to the corner of his mouth, he catches you and deepens the kiss. His lips are soft and tender against yours, tongues dancing in tandem as you make out under the July sun.

His hands arrive at your sides, grasping at your waist before starting to tickle violently. You break away from the kiss, erupting in uncontrolled laughter. He doesn't stop. He keeps tickling until you're backing up on the opposite end of the hammock, seeking shelter from the attack.

He takes the chance and gets up from his place, repositioning himself so that he's laying on you, face up. The hammock swings abruptly from side to side and you nearly fall out of it. You scream and laugh but he doesn't stop until he's seated comfortably, head on your chest.

"There we go." He sighs, placing a quick peck on your breast, making you even more flustered, before once again shutting his eyes.

"You could've told me you wanted to switch." 

"Wouldn't have been as fun."

You tangle your fingers in his hair, massaging lightly.

"Ah, así me gusta" he moans and relaxes further into your embrace. 

"You're so handsome." you mumble to yourself, gazing at him with all the love you could bestow upon someone.

He opens his eyes instantly, staring at you like you just told him the craziest thing he could've heard.

"Mi vida", he pauses, weighing his words for half a second, "coming from an angel like you, it means a lot."

You smile, knowing he means it. He's not the type to throw in compliments and sweet talk just for the sake of it, and you love him for that.

Your attention is suddenly intercepted by the sight of the fruit bowl you brought with you, next to the hammock. You pick it up and start with a strawberry. He looks up at you, eyes pleading silently. Raising your eyebrows smugly, you feed him a tangerine slice. 

You analyse the picture before you, wishing you could freeze it in time. Miguel, comfortably seated on top of you, head on your soft chest, looking up at you like he's nothing less than a god and you're his paradisiacal muse, feeding him fruits. 

However, the air suddenly shifts as your eyes river down his frame, and over to the hardening outline of his bulge, curved against his shorts. Your gaze returns to his, recognizing the familiar want beneath the relaxed façade.

"Let's take care of that, love", you suggest, pointing in the direction of your room with your eyes.

He doesn't waste a second before he stands up and scoops you from the hammock, hoisting you over his shoulder and giving your exposed ass a playful smack.

a/n - i'll make a part 2 if anyone is interested:)

EDIT: part 2

[sincerelyneo]

heaven | z.cl

“beyond infatuation, how i obsessively adore you”

💿now playing: heaven by niall horan

❯ summary: Chenle has never been in love—but then he meets you—and he slowly realises he’s become obsessed. He just needs to tell you…and there’s no better time to say it than when he’s fucking you senseless.

❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, tooth rottingly sweet smut, swearing, brief mention of marking, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), creampie, no plot lmao, fluffy sex, excessive use of pet names, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), chenle being obsessed with reader, love confessions, literally just chenle being a cute boyfriend because i want him, i’m so serious this is just smut lol

(chenle lovers rise, you’re just like me 🤭)

He loves you. 

Chenle’s never been in love before—didn’t really know what it felt like until you walked into his life. He’s never said it outright, hasn’t even realised how deep he’s fallen until you pull his lower lip gently between your teeth, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. The cool metal of your ring—the one he bought for you—presses against the warmth of his skin, and his heart pounds like it’s trying to break through his chest to reach you; wants to tell you he’s yours, and has been for a while. 

Chenle’s fingers dig into your sides a little harder, and you gasp softly into his mouth. And God—suddenly it feels like there’s too much fabric between you. That’s how he knows he’s in love: because he loves that dress on you, adores it actually, and still, he wants nothing more than to see it on his bedroom floor.

His hands tug at the fabric, pulling it up just enough to bunch above your hips, and you shift to free it from where it’s pinned between your thighs and his.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, jeans growing tighter as his hands slide beneath your skirt, settling on your hips and landing on your ass. 

He presses a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, then another along your cheek, trailing a line down to your jaw. His tongue and teeth make themselves known as he works his way toward your pulse point, and he has to bite back a grin when your head tips back, a soft hitch catching in your breath.

“Lele,” you mutter, fingers tugging on his shirt. “Please...too many clothes.” 

He hums, the sound of his sweet little angel begging for him, needing him, has every ounce of blood rushing to his cock. 

He wants to savour this, tease you for it, as he bites softly into the skin at your neck, leaving the faintest mark. But then you shift above him, pressing down, and any control he thought he had slips. He nips at you a little harder, breath catching, because your touch is just as intoxicating as it is maddening—truthfully, heaven couldn’t compare.

He brings one hand up to your hair, fingers exploding until he reaches the back of your head and gives it a gentle tug. Your hiss in response and a shiver runs through him. His tongue soothes over the mark he’s left on your neck before he trails up toward your ear, lips lingering there, breath warm. 

“So do something about it,” he says, and his voice deepens with want, low and gruff, and he feels the way your thighs tense at the sound.

Your palms glide along his stomach towards his chest and you hastily try to free him from his shirt. And there it is again, the cold press of metal into his feverish skin. It’s like your touch is made of something—something that pulls the air from his lungs and with it, a muttered string of moans muffled by more kisses. 

He lifts his arms, letting you remove his shirt, but wastes no time sliding one hand back under your dress, the other rising to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. With you on his lap, Chenle has to tilt his head slightly to meet your gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, and your eyes flutter closed, the soft sigh escaping your lips drives him insane. 

Fuck, he loves you so much.

You look like an angel—his angel—as the light filtering through the curtains surrounds you, casting a soft glow that makes you seem otherworldly. Chenle can’t quite believe his luck, can’t fathom how he’s managed to strike gold, to reach Heaven, and have you here with him. He gets to touch you, no one else. 

He must have been a saint in a past life. 

He can’t help himself, his body urging him to lean up and press his lips to yours again. The kiss is soft, slow, and sweet, and you melt against him, body relaxing completely in his arms. Chenle could die like this—solely in your kiss. He’d die the happiest man on record, simply because he knows what it’s like to kiss you.

You smile against his lips—his favourite thing ever—and he nearly pouts when you pull back, ending the kiss. Your eyes meet his, pupils blown wide, eyelashes casting soft shadows against your flushed cheeks. Chenle’s mind takes a photograph. 

Your palm flattens against his chest, pushing him to lie flat on the bed. His eyes fall closed as you repay his earlier touch by pressing your lips to his jaw, your hand squeezing his bicep, and your hips moving above his again. His jeans feel unbearably tight now, and he can practically hear the smirk on your lips as your nimble fingers slip down his stomach, making quick work of his buckle.

He sighs your name, hands roaming the smooth expanse of your thighs before squeezing your ass when you decide to grind down on him. Your moans are quiet, gradually syncing with his, your fingers teasing at the waistband of his boxers, making his pulse race. 

“So fucking perfect,” he mewels in between kisses.

You practically melt into him, and Chenle takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist to roll on top of you—just how he likes it. 

“Chenle.” 

You breathe heavily, hands clutching the hem of your dress, tugging at it desperately. The way you’re practically whining his name, those pretty full eyes begging him to take it off, makes him feel dizzy. He just needs you out of that dress.

So he does. When he finally pulls the dress off, he settles onto his knees between your slightly ajar legs, hands sliding up your sides, feeling every curve of your body. He leans down, pressing a deliberate kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, taking his time, savouring the way you hum beneath him.

Your hands tangle in his hair, your hips shifting as you silently beg him for more, and Chenle gets the hint—of course he does—but making you a wreck is one of his favourite hobbies. So, he only lets his breath ghost over the place you want him most, teasing you with soft kisses along the band of your underwear, knowing exactly how to torment you. 

Just because he’s realised he loves you doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be a menace. In fact, it only makes him more determined to make you feel everything—each kiss, each touch, each teasing move a reminder that he’s completely and utterly consumed by you.

“Chenle, I…” Your words trail off into a gasp as his fingers trace the curve of your breast. 

“What, angel?” he asks, voice low again. 

He places a kiss into your hip bone, sucking a mark into the skin, and your fist tightens in his hair, the sensation making you pant.

“Mmh, I just—fuck, Lele—”

He cuts you off, his mouth moving down between your legs again, his tongue moving along the soft skin of your inner thigh, nose brushing against the edge of your panties, but never quite hitting where you want—need him to be. He nips, bites, and kisses his way along your skin, drawing soft moans from you until you can’t hold back anymore. You let your legs fall further apart, and he feels the subtle, rhythmic motion of your hips seeking friction.

So fucking cute, he thinks. 

And when he hears his name fall from your lips as a wanton whine, he groans, unable to hold back. His hand slips to your chest, thumb and forefinger teasing at your nipple. 

“Shit, Chenle, please,” you plead, and the desperation in your voice sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

He loves this—loves you—needy and desperate. The sound of your voice, the way you crave him, it has him straining in his jeans, and he no longer wants to tease. Not anymore.

One of his hands trails up the inside of your leg, from knee to inner thigh, slipping beneath your waistband. He can feel the heat radiating from you, even through the lacy layer still separating you.

“I want you,” you murmur lazily, and who is he to deny you anything? He’s never been good at it anyway.

Chenle’s fingers move quickly to pull your panties to the side, and he swipes one of his fingers through your folds—so wet—relishing in the way your breath catches and your chest heats the same way as your cheeks. 

He pulls away, allowing himself a moment to really look at you. You’re looking back at him with half-lidded eyes, chest rising and falling shakily, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. He’s hit gold—fucking gold.

He brushes a finger over your clit, drawing out a sharp noise from you that makes his cock twitch in his boxers. His lips drop to your skin, his teeth grazing your peaked nipple as he sucks it into his mouth.

A soft cry escapes as you arch up, and Chenle takes the opportunity to press a finger at your entrance, barely dipping in before pulling back. The tease leaves you tense, a whine slipping out when he returns to circling just outside.

His free hand grips your other nipple, pinching, pulling, and rubbing his thumb over it until you’re grinding against him, your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him down like the bossy girl he knows—and loves.

“Chenle, I need you,” you whimper, pushing him with a little more urgency.

He slides a finger inside you, twisting and curling it until a breathy curse slips from your lips in response, and to him, it feels like a reward.

“Need me?” he teases, curling his finger again. “You already have me angel.”

“Fuck, I—oh, do that again,” you beg.

He chuckles against your stomach, but still, he gives you exactly what you want. His thumb finding your clit, making your hand shoot up to your mouth to stifle the needy sounds you're making—that won't do.

Chenle releases your nipple, using his now free hand to tug your hand away from your lips, which are swollen from his earlier kisses. He waits until he hears you moaning again for him, loving the sound, before properly removing the last bit of fabric. You whimper at the sudden loss of his touch, but you eagerly lift your hips, legs slowly falling apart as he drags your panties off, until, finally—finally—you’re laid bare before him.

The sight of you laid out like this only reminds him of how much he loves having his head between your thighs, his mouth on your cunt. It’s funny, really—Chenle’s always been a selfish lover, but when it comes to you, he can’t get enough of giving.

So he slides his ring and middle finger deep inside your pussy. Pressing up against that spot which always makes you grip his hair. And to top it all off, he wraps his lips around your clit; you scream. It's the kind of scream that Chenle loves to hear when he's worshipping you with his fingers and tongue—so he can't help but moan into you. 

You clench around his fingers from the vibration of his moan, thighs trembling as they move to close around his head. But he’s quick, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gripping your thigh firmly to keep you open for him. Your taste fills his mouth, sweet and addictive, and he thinks he’d spend every moment of every day tasting you like this if you’d let him.

Because he loves making you cum. It’s a skill he’s mastered, one he’d probably show off if he wasn’t so possessive.

He knows that if he moves his fingers just right, he’ll draw a gasp and a sharp tug on his hair; if he circles his tongue slowly over your clit, you’ll press harder into his mouth. And if he pulls your clit between his lips, sucking with just the right amount of pressure whilst his tongue moves in tight circles and his fingers work against your g-spot, you’ll fall apart beneath him in seconds.

And you don’t disappoint.

Your breath catches, your stomach tightens, and your hands scramble for anything to hold—his shoulders, the sheets, his hair. Your legs try to close, but his hand keeps one pinned down, relentless as he keeps going. A broken sound slips from your lips, your back arching, head thrown back. You tremble beneath him, and he feels the warm gush of wetness against his fingers as the hand tangled in his hair tries to push him away.

You’re panting, choking out a string of his name and curses, and it’s easily Chenle’s favourite sound.

He pulls his mouth from you with an obscene pop, but keeps his fingers still and full inside you, leaving you gasping as you prop yourself up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath. Chenle presses a kiss to your lower stomach, looking up at you. You give him that sleepy, post-orgasm smile he loves so much.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmurs, sucking another mark into your skin.

He wants to see you fall apart again, to watch you sweat and tremble, be incoherent and glowing—but his dick is throbbing against the mattress, and he thinks he might actually combust if he doesn’t feel your warmth around him in the next few seconds.

You whine when he finally pulls his fingers from you slowly, and because it’s Chenle, he makes sure to brush his thumb over your clit one last time. Then, he quickly sheds his boxers and is back on top of you, his hips pressing against yours as his mouth eagerly finds your lips.

Your hand reaches down, wrapping around his length, and soft fingers start to move up and down. Your thumb rubs over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of precum that’s gathered there, and his forehead falls against your shoulder, a low groan leaving his mouth.

You make him weak, his breath catching at the way your skin feels like fire against his, the way you fit against him like you were made for him—it’s more than just lust.

“I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said it to a girlfriend, said it to you, and it makes him drop his head, kissing your bruised neck, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. The words echo in your own  ears, and you smile—not just at how cute he’s being, but because you know he means it. Your free hand taps his chin, tipping his head up to meet your gaze.

“I love you,” you say back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, hand still working him. 

With the other, you drag a thumb against his cheek, over his lips, tugging at the bottom one down gently; he takes it in his mouth, eyes full of love as he swirls his tongue around it, and your hand tightens around him. 

Chenle grabs one of your legs, his hand gliding up the curve of your calf and thigh until he can bend it toward your chest, resting it on his shoulder. You guide him to your entrance, and without resistance, he’s sliding in—as he said—you were made for him.

He pushes until your hips are flush with his, groaning at the way you moan, pulling his chest down to yours. And when he finally decides to move, he takes his time and great pleasure in, teasing you with just his tip before pushing back in.

From there, he finds a steady rhythm—in and out, in and out. Reckless and rough. He uses the leg on his shoulder for leverage, hitting all the spots he knows make your breath hitch, eyes flutter, and name fall from your lips. Chenle’s hand drifts to your chest, his thumb brushing over one of your nipples, and you nod frantically up at him.

“Yes, please—oh fuck,” you whine as he pinches the sensitive skin, tugging gently.

He drops his head, watching himself disappear into you, and you clench around him. Your nails dig into his back as he keeps teasing your soft peaks, knowing exactly how to make you close again.

His hand moves to seek out your clit, his fingers drawing small circles across your sensitive bud. You let out a drawn-out, high-pitched cry and his thumb moves quicker, more desperate. With one more final, particularly hard, deep thrust, he feels you fluttering around him, and you’re pulling his head down to crash your lips to his. 

He works you through your orgasm, mumbling a muddled mix of your name and I love you and a string of curses into your mouth as you shudder under him. Starting from now, Chenle will pride himself on his restraint, because he has to force himself not to follow after you straight away. He wants to see you cum again—needs to hear, feel, and witness you unravel for him. He wants you like putty beneath him, several orgasms deep, blissed out and so fucking sensitive that every brush of his body against yours has you gasping out his name.

He presses his lips to yours one more time before slowly pulling out, the whimper you make beneath him making his heart race and his dick twitch. Your hands reach for him, but he grabs your hips, rolling you over, positioning you on your hands and knees. You look back at him over your shoulder—so fucking beautiful.

He really does love you.

He presses a kiss to the base of your spine, his hands gripping your hips. Inch by inch, he mouths his way up your back, squeezing your flesh with just enough pressure to leave red marks of his fingertips, but not enough to hurt.

He ruts against you, teasing your cunt as he refuses to thrust into you. You drop your head between your arms onto the pillow, mumbling something incoherent. He leans down, close enough to nip at your earlobe.

“I can’t hear you when your face is in the pillow, angel,” he coos, still only letting his hips grind.

You push back against him, needing more, and he digs his fingers into your hips a little harder. He reaches down, takes himself in his hand, and lines his cock up with your pussy, making you hum.

"I still can't hear you," he slides his tip over your clit, making your hips jerk. "Can you try repeating it for me, angel? Properly this time?"

He does it again, twice more, before you lift your head and plead with him.

"Shit, Lele, please. Oh my god, I—," Your words dissolve into a cry when he pushes into you, and you drop your head back down. "Fuck."

You move your hips back in a broken rhythm, trying to meet his thrusts. Your skin is slick with sweat, and you turn your head to look at him, breath coming out in desperate pants every time he fills you.

“Oh, oh, don’t—fuck—don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

“God, angel,” he grunts. “So fucking perfect for me.”

He gathers your hair, giving it a sharp tug that tilts your head back. Your hips move needily and quickly, and Chenle pulls you up by the waist, pressing your back flush against his chest. His fingers still hold your hair, and he tugs it, making you rest your head on his shoulder. Your lips find his, and you're babbling broken noises into his mouth.

Fuck, he’s so close, you feel so good wrapped around him. You know it too, tensing and trembling, and then collapsing against him, with your nerves on fire. Chenle holds you close and tight with him until he meets your orgasm with his own. Thrusting deep and roughly until he’s releasing spurts of cum inside you with a strangled groan of your name.

Chenle holds you intimately even after you've both come down, his hands rubbing gently up and down your sides. You’re breathing heavily, your body still quivering every so often. You struggle to keep your eyes open as he drops a small, sweet kiss to your lips. Your thumb brushes his cheek, and he kisses you again, then once more, just because he can.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers.

You smile up at him.  “I love you, Chenle.”

But he doesn’t just love you. The word doesn’t feel strong enough. He’s obsessed. Tormented by thoughts of you that go far beyond infatuation. He obsessively adores you—and you think, no, you know, you obsessively adore him too.

[laiiaaa]

Carmy with a stressed cranky gf getting her degree and he’s just so good to her ughhhhhhh (so self-indulgent)

“Carmen, could you—could you just, fuckin’—…watch where you’re going?”

He freezes where he took a misstep, leaving your laptop’s charger dangling near the floor after accidentally unplugging it. A simple little thing, a dumb mistake made while caught up in something else mentally. A matter of a charger extended beyond its comfortable reach. It’d be fixed in seconds, but you weren’t having it.

A confused look washes over him. “I-I’m sorry, baby—” He knows you’re in one of those moods—he always knows—and lowers to pick up the cord. “Lemme plug it back in for you—”

“Or you could just not walk right into it,” you snap, fingers tapping away at your keyboard, face illuminated in a blueish hue from the screen.

“Hey.” He perks right back up after fixing the charger, but you don’t look back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t start that w’me, c’mon.” He comes a little closer, perched at the end of the couch right beside you. “You’re in a mood.”

“I’m not.” You definitely are.

“Baby.” Instinctively, his hand comes to rub your shoulder, his thumb presses just a little firmer along the crook of your neck. “Take a break for the night.”

“I need to finish up with this—”

“‘M not asking.” He gives you that look, with his hands extended to silently demand you hand over your computer. “It’s a Friday night. C’mon.”

You pout, and you huff, and you give him those eyes that tell him you don’t want to, but you save your document and hand it over anyway, quickly curling into the end of the couch and not making a move when he sits next to you.

“You mad at me?” he asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, a little hurt when you don’t melt into his touch like you usually do.

You keep your eyes glued to the wall, not paying him any mind. “No.”

“Then why’re you always workin’, huh?” He squeezes you a little tighter, bringing you deeper into his embrace as he cups your jaw—with those firm, strong hands of his that somehow always have you pliant—and turns you to look up at him. “Every time I come home you’re on the computer with that look on your face.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Smiling, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah you do.” Then to the furrow in your brow. “But it’s cute.”

He scatters slow, gentle kisses across your face, from your temples, to your cheeks, to your jaw, until he finds your lips and takes them carefully, relishing in your act of apology when your hands circle around his forearms and kiss him a little deeper. And slowly, he feels the tenseness in your body begin to dissipate, feels you turn into him more.

Pulling away, still intent on figuring out your rut, he rests his forehead to yours. “Talk to me, baby. What’s got you actin’ all mean, hm?” His hands hold you close, and his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “Somethin’ I do you wanna talk about?”

“No—”

“No?” He’d be lying if he said a wave of relief washed over him. “What’s goin’ on then?”

“I’m—it’s just that—…” You sigh.

He waits patiently, knowing that by now he’s cracking open that shell. “‘S alright, hon, we can work it out.”

“Carmen, I just—” And your lip quivers, and your throat gets sore, and your vision gets bleary from tears emerging. “I have so much to do, and—…”

“For school?”

You nod against him. “It’s just—I get behind on one thing, and then there’s five other things I need to do, and I try to get ahead but then I don’t sleep, and—I-I’m just stressed, is all.”

“I know.” He coos gently at you and thumbs away your tears. “I know, ‘n you’ve been workin’ so hard, baby.”

“Well I’m still not getting anywhere.” Your throat tightens, and tears keep falling, and you feel your resolve crumbling, the last of your strength dissolving now that Carmen’s handling you so gently. “And I just feel so stupid all the time—”

“Uh-uh,” he nudges his nose against yours, “You don’t get to say that, you’re the smartest person I know.”

He pulls you away carefully, just to look you in the eye—and his gut wrenches, seeing you like this, all pouty and wet with tears, your lips salty when he kisses them slowly to mellow the racing of your heart.

With a calm hand he urges your head to rest against his chest, his lips lending a kiss to your temple. “So fuckin’ smart ‘n you don’t even know it.” Naturally, the rest of you follows, with his arms keeping you close, one wrapped around your waist to hold you tight as the other hand rests with on the back of your neck to soothe you, scratching gently at the nape of it. “Always blowin’ me away, baby, you’re so smart. So hardworkin’, too—”

“But Carm—” Your sobs choke you up then, and there’s a throb in your forehead that has you almost begging for sleep.

“Shhh, what is it?” His hand smooths up and down your back, his voice becomes gentler than ever. “Take a breath, c’mon, take a deep breath.”

You push yourself away from his chest, seeing the tears staining his white tee before you look up at him. “I’m sorry, Bear. All the stress, it’s—I’ve been so mean to you lately—” you don’t even process the vigorous shake of his head— “I’m sorry, Bear—”

“Hey, hey, baby, stop��” He wipes tears from your eyes before they get the chance to spill onto your cheeks. “Stop with that, would ya?” Another kiss to your forehead has you melting. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, slower, to your sob-bitten lips, like he wants you to taste his forgiveness.

“But I was mean to you, and I’m sorry—”

His chest physically aches because he knows there’s only so much he can do for you. “I know,” he tells you, “I know, baby, I got you. It’s okay.”

“I promise don’t mean it, Carmen—”

“Yeah, I know that, hon.” Pulling you tight to his chest again, his strong arms wrap around you fully, and he presses kisses to the skin where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “You’re workin’ yourself to the bone, y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, just happy to be held, to be swallowed whole by his warmth.

“You promise to rest up from now on?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah? Not even listenin’, huh?”

“Mhm.” You burrow into him just a little deeper, eyes slipping shut.

He scoffs, but it’s full of love. “It’s gettin’ late now.” He shuffles you closer to him with little effort, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to encourage them around his hips. “Let’s get you t’bed, hm? C’mon—” he hoists you to his hip with a subtle grunt— “Up you go, baby, that’s it—”

And in the brief minute or two it takes for him to turn out the lights in your shared apartment, and the twenty-some paces to the bedroom, you’re lulled off to sleep in his embrace, stoking that fire in his chest that keeps him going—because knowing you feel safe with him, secure with him, is all he really needs.

[metalmiez]

It was a beautiful day

The sun had been shining all day and warmed the air to a cozy temperature.

„More wine, my dear?“ Aziraphale asked lazily and turned his head to the slender figure next to him. Crowley had been basking in the sun for the past thirty-ish minutes - keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the warm light, leaned back on his elbows. Aziraphale had been reading meanwhile, laying on the blanket they had spread out on the grass.

It was calmingly silent on top of the hill, the breeze soft and the ocean in eyesight. Not a single soul out here but an angel and a demon, who had been enjoying a rather lovely picnic earlier that afternoon.

Crowley slowly opened his eyes and peeked through half-closed lids to the angel next to him. Aziraphale had put his book aside and held out the bottle of red wine they had brought with them.

“Nah.“ He declined and gazed at his angel instead. He couldn’t fight a fond smile creeping up his demonic lips as he watched Aziraphale put the bottle back into the basket. It was such a rare sight, seeing him without his bow tie, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows and his collar unbuttoned. Almost scandalous, for Aziraphale‘s standards.

“You look gorgeous today, angel,” Crowley smiled and watched Aziraphale blush.

“Oh, you old charmer!” he replied with pink cheeks, avoiding Crowley’s gaze. He fiddled with his ring, peeking at the demon every few seconds.

“And you, my sweethaert, look stunning - as always.”

Now it was Crowley who blushed and frowned by the pet name Aziraphale had started to use lately. He shouldn’t feel so flustered by that, he was a evil demon after all! But pride was a sin, so he let it slip. A little ‘Mrm’ sound left his throat.

Aziraphale laughed and leaned over to him, pressing a tiny kiss on the demon’s cheekbone. Crowley grumbled quietly, but still leaned into the soft touch. He was growing rather soft to the angel’s affections lately, and it got harder and harder to keep up the cool masquerade of mystery. When Aziraphale retreated, the demon huffed oh so little and reached out, trapping the angel’s chin between the fingers of his right hand. A little gasp fled Aziraphale’s throat as the demon pulled him back. Golden eyes met grey-blue ones, and the angel blushed again like anything. But he smiled as endearing as only Aziraphale could. A little mischief twinkled in his clear eyes before he closed them and leaned forwards the last bit, tenderly pressing his lips on Crowley’s.

The demon couldn’t resist the little smile as he watched his angel’s face closely, savouring his tender expression. His fingers stroked Aziraphale’s soft jawline, before cupping his face with his palm and closing his eyes, letting himself fall into a soft kiss.

This was the life he never dared to dream about. And still, here they were.

And that was everything he ever wished for.

[oceaneyesinla]

You and Shoto have been dancing around each other for a while. Cautious, lovesick glances when you think the other isn't looking, hiding blushes when your eyes meet. Finding excuses to sit side by side, shoulders and knees brushing as you both pray for the moment to end but at the same time, for it to last forever. You're both scared - scared of what could happen. You both rely on each other so heavily; what happens if you can't make it work?

One of you has to make a move eventually, though. Its inevitable - something just draws the two of you together, orbiting each other like Pluto and Charon, bound to each other by forces beyond your control. In the end, it's you. You're sitting in a hospital bed, nursing injuries from a scuffle with a villain. When you woke up, Shoto was by your side, head resting on the bed as he dozed with his hand wrapped around yours.

You meet Fuyumi's knowing gaze, and you feel your cheeks heat up as she smiles softly at the two of you, "He's been worried sick, you know? I only convinced him to come home for a while because Midoriya-kun agreed to sit with you."

His sisters' voice, though faint, is still enough to rouse him. Lifting his head, you watch as he blinks slowly, seemingly unaware that you're awake. A smile tugs at your lips as you squeeze his hand, and you can't stop the little giggle that escapes you when his head whips towards you, eyes wide and face open. You see shock, then happiness as a smile splits his face, and you hope the hearts in your eyes aren't too obvious - his smile really is beautiful.

They stay a little longer, before Fuyumi reminds Shoto that they have dinner plans with their mother. Shoto is almost pouting as they say their goodbyes, and he promises you that he'll come back soon.

He turns to walk away, and a rush of irrational panic shoots through you. You so nearly missed your chance to tell him how you feel - to tell him that there's nothing more precious to you than his presence, and that his laughter is a melody you'll never get tired of hearing.

You make a split second decision - the only one you could make, really, "Shoto."

He turns back to you, head slightly cocked and question in his eyes. You lift a hand to beckon him closer and he moves without hesitation, stepping into the space by your bed and leaning in when you wave him down.

You push yourself away from the bed, just enough to reach up and cup one cheek while your lips brush against the soft skin of the other. He freezes under your touch and you pull away to assess his reaction. Anxiety is pooling in your gut, but you still appreciate the pretty red blush spreading across his cheekbones.

He stares at you for just long enough that you start to worry you read everything wrong. You're already planning an apology in your head when he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, cradling your head in one big hand for a moment before pulling away to meet your eyes, adoring smile lifting his lips.

"I'll come back after dinner, okay?"

"Okay." As you watch him walk out the door, you're sure that okay has never sounded quite so much like 'I love you' before.

@pixelcafe-network

[koqabear]

congratulations on 2k!! im so proud of you so heres a song equation that i think is so genius

the weeknd, one of your girls + beomgyu + smut and fluff = popular fuckboy!beomgyu x popular sweet!mc

this song is so beomgyu to me😵‍💫😵‍💫

♫: One of the Girls, The Weeknd // [2K Masterlist]

"Beomgyu’s a lot more obsessed with you than he’d like to admit."

beomgyu x fem!reader // wc: 2.1K // genre: smut, pwp, only a bit of fluff sorry <3 MDNI.

warnings: dom!beomgyu, sub!mc, oral (m & f rec), name calling (slut), finger sucking(?), spitting, praise, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, etc.), deep throating, dacryphilia maybe, possessiveness, overstimulation, cumming untouched ig. unprotected sex.. lmk if i should add anything

Notes: 2k followers ended months ago and this bitch is still here

Beomgyu never intended to keep you around this long.

Pretty girls like you were never his type. Saccharine sweet, innocent smiles, bright eyes and an energetic attitude that brought people to you like flies to honey. You had the world in the palm of your hand, opportunities at your feet and friends that were loyal like dogs— you were perfect, untouchable, untainted. 

Everything he was not. 

Maybe that’s how he got where he is now, low lidded eyes observing you carefully, watching as your shining doe eyes plead up at him, careful hands smoothing up and down the rough material of his jeans; you’re so pretty like this, he finds himself thinking, all pliant and weak to him, waiting for his command like a mindless puppy— your throat bobs and your tongue darts across your lips, dainty fingers playing with the loops of his belt as you silently plead for permission to let him feel good.

“My friends were talking about you today,” Beomgyu murmurs, tilting his head and reaching down to caress your face gently; warm hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone, smiling at your head that immediately goes to lean into his touch, “said they couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout the way you looked in the dress you wore to last weeks party.”

Memories flash in your mind; the party your friends dragged you to, only complying because you were aware of who was taking part in hosting it— the pure, innocent image that hung over your head causing heads to turn the whole night— you could hear it, practically, the whispers and comments wondering what you were doing in such a place, all having speculated you the type to hate loud, rowdy environments like these.

They weren’t wrong; you barely lasted an hour in that dark, crowded place, finding yourself having a much better time in the back of Beomgyu’s car, pretty dress bunched at your hips and your makeup smudged by the time he dropped you off at your place, greedy hands refusing to let you go so easily, not one to put up much of a fight yourself; you’ve always been fond of waking up to the sight of Beomgyu first thing in the morning, anyway. 

Beomgyu’s eyes darken; you’re snapped out of your reverie by the feeling of blunt nails digging into your skin, your head tilted back as you’re forced to stare back at Beomgyu’s dangerous gaze.

“They also couldn’t stop talking ‘bout how bad they wanna fuck you,” he seethes, nails digging in deeper at the very thought; your eyes glisten and you shift restlessly on your knees, a shaky sigh escaping your lips at his tone— his thumb quickly reaches over to weigh down at your bottom lip, parting your lips slowly. 

“Would give anything to feel your mouth,” he recounts, thumb pushing into your mouth, a gentle pressure against your tongue as he surveys how easily you obey him; his brows knit together and his thumb hooks down against your tongue, opening your mouth roughly as he hovers over you; his face is inches away from yours as he speaks, his voice barely audible. “Said it’s such a shame they didn’t get their hands on you that night.”

Beomgyu could only sit back in his seat and listen; a spectator to it all, jaw clenched and arms crossed as he took in the way they spoke about you, salivating over you— the very reminder is enough to have his blood boiling. But, who was he to lash out at them? As far as the world was concerned, you were a pure, pretty girl that was expected to marry the son of an influential family friend. Beomgyu was never supposed to be in the picture.

“Wonder what everyone would think if they saw you now,” he mutters, voice patronizing and eyes filled with a sick arrogance as he stares down at you, “a good little slut on her knees for me.”

Without further warning, he spits; you flinch slightly at the action, a whine ripping through you as he straightens back up. Deft fingers smooth down your head, digging into your scalp and forcing your head forward— your hands are quick to undo his jeans, not needing another word from him for you to know what he wants. 

“Fuck,” Beomgyu breathes out, dazed at the sight of your eager actions, quickly undoing his jeans and getting to his leaking cock; your hand is warm and soft against him, and he feels himself twitching pathetically the moment you finally pull him free from his underwear; your pace is familiar and your lips are plush as they kiss at the tip of his cock, doe eyes glancing back up at him for approval.

“So perfect for me,” Beomgyu coos, caressing your cheeks and watching as you take him in your mouth slowly, lidded gaze glued onto the lewd scene like he’s determined to ingrain everything about this moment into his mind, “Know just what I like, such a good girl.”

His voice is soft and deep as he purrs out praise to you, hand wandering down until it’s placed at your throat curiously— you relax instinctively, jaw falling slack as he begins to thrust shallowly, whispered curses and rumbled groans making your thighs clench pitifully— but your hands simply fall down on your thighs, knowing that Beomgyu never likes it when you touch yourself like this. 

Your tearful yet determined gaze has Beomgyu’s pace stuttering— you just look so damn pretty under the dull lights of his room, the feminine and cute outfit you’ve put on today not helping at all; your makeup is already getting smudged from the tears that cling to your lashes and the drool that builds up at the corners of your mouth, taking everything Beomgyu gives you with nothing but a wide doe-eyed look. 

“Shit…” Beomgyu groans, his thrusts a lot rougher than they were moments ago; he’s getting closer, you can tell, your hands balling into fists on your thighs as you continue to let him fuck your mouth just how he likes— his hand is frantic to grab at the back of your head, fingers stinging at your scalp as he pulls you flush against his pelvis; he’s still, and you can feel him throbbing in your mouth— your throat stings and your eyes squeeze shut, hot tears running down your cheeks as you swallow instinctively; Beomgyu lets out a sharp moan at the feeling.

“D–Don’t— don’t… do that,” Beomgyu huffs out, hips grinding subconsciously against you, your lungs starting to burn as you place a frantic hand on his thigh— but Beomgyu pays no mind to you, clearly lost in his head as he lets out a shaky sigh; at the sudden feeling of you placing a slight pressure on him, he looks down at you curiously. 

“Hold it,” he tells you, lips twitching darkly as he feels you swallow again, body tensing as he simply ruts into your throat gently, “just a bit longer… you can take it baby.”

Your throat constricts around him, your eyes sting and you whine on his cock that continues to stuff your mouth— Beomgyu only pulls out once he feels you tapping weakly at his thigh, watching with low lidded eyes as you immediately begin to sputter and cough, a string of spit connected from his tip to your lips; he leans down to get a good look at you, watching you with a deceivingly soft smile as you try to regain your breath— his hand smoothes down your hair fondly, head cocking to the side as he prompts you to look at him. 

“Good?” he asks gently, watching you nod without hesitation; he chuckles, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before he takes your hands in his, pulling you up and beginning to walk you backwards toward his bed, “Good.”

As Beomgyu hovers over you, your he can’t help but find himself thinking about how fond he’s grown of this sight; of you, your breathless figures and your shiny eyes that catch his every movement, from his gaze that takes you in hungrily to his hands that slowly push the skirt of your dress up. 

“Such a pretty girl,” Beomgyu breathes out, your wide eyes watching as he shifts down to lay on his stomach, slow, warm hands running up and down your thighs— you squirm impatiently at the feeling, hips bucking and lips parting in a gasp as he places a slow kiss onto your clothed cunt; mouth lingering for a moment, smiling coyly at the wet patch that already seems to have formed— and he looks back up at you, fingers hooking under your panties to pull them down as he speaks. “All mine too, right?”

Without thinking, you nod.

“Wouldn’t let anyone else see this perfect body,” he murmurs, fingers beginning to wander up and down your slit, toying with your clit and watching the arousal leak out of you desperately, “It’s all for me.”

Beomgyu always seems to get like this, you think to yourself— his touches are teasing, needy, and his tongue is warm as he licks at your clit, fingers picking up where he left off so he can talk— he’s insatiable, possessive, and his words always make you clench a little tighter against him; you think he must feel the way you react to him, and that’s why he’s taken a liking to running his mouth so much. 

You couldn’t be any more incorrect, though— because as Beomgyu finally begins to use his mouth on you, tongue fucking your hole and nose pressing insatiably against your clit, he can only find himself thinking about how he’d like to spend the rest of his life like this— here, with you, listening to the way you keen and cry and bury your fingers in his hair, whining incoherently into the air. 

“I’m— I’m close,” you stutter, your hips bucking and chasing after Beomgyu’s mouth; he simply hums in response, eyes closed with bliss as he feels your thighs shake and close around his head— your voice is pretty and airy as you stutter out mindless praise, every moan of his name causing his cock to twitch and leak against your mattress, unable to stop the way he grinds against it stupidly. 

“R-right— Right there, oh my god, please don’t stop, please— coming, I’m coming, Beomgyu—!”

Your hips buck up and your back arches— your nails dig into his scalp and pull at his hair, shaky moans falling from your lips as your body tenses up and your orgasm washes over you. Beomgyu remains keen to it all— every sound you make, the way your body shakes and falls limp, he takes it all in, tongue still lapping hungrily at your arousal and hips still grinding into your mattress. 

He helps you ride it all out— your eyes prick with tears all the while, sensitivity sending shocks throughout your body as you feel him groan against your cunt, burying his head further in even after you’ve begun to whine that it’s too much; when his head emerges from between your legs, he looks just as dazed and out of breath as you— if not more so. 

“Gyu…” you mumble out, eyes drifting down to his chest that heaves, down to his stomach and noticing something that makes your eyes widen; Beomgyu follows your gaze, glancing down and looking away with red tinted ears.

“Can’t help it,” he huffs, not ashamed in the slightest as he hovers over you, cupping your face and leaning down to capture your lips, barely parting so he can speak, “you’re so hot when you cum.”

“Am I?” you ask softly, laughing at the immediate nod you get; your hand wanders down between your bodies, fingertips brushing over his cum-stained stomach and on his already hardening cock— your brows jump, and you smile. “Need me to clean you up?”

Beomgyu’s fervent shake of his head catches you by surprise; he’s never been one to deny the feeling of your mouth on him, so to say that this unexpected was an understatement.

“Just wanna be inside you,” he mumbles against your lips, the feeling of his cockhead grinding against your clit bringing about a sigh from both of you, “wanna see you cum again.”

The whine you let out at his words is enough to have him entering you slowly; dark eyes taking in every change of your expression, watching as your brows furrow at the stretch— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of the sight. 

No other girl has ever managed to do what you have; the man above you feels entirely enamored as he watches the way you cry and clench around his cock, gasping his name and clinging onto him desperately— you drive him crazy, and this only serves to prove it further. 

You were never supposed to leave such an impact on him. But now that you have, Beomgyu will do anything to make sure that you don’t escape his clutches.

[spnrs]

come to me

you and spencer have plans on going out to dinner but when you insist on coming to him first while he's wrapping up at work things don't go as planned

smut tffff warnings/tags: spencer reid x fem!reader, fluff, fingering, munch!spencer, softdom!spencer, semi public sex, praise, a bit of overstimulation, this is my first fic dont make fun of me.. dk how to end fics

spencer is still in the bullpen, carefully gathering the last of his things while everyone else is slowly filing out of the room. derek is the last to leave, hanging around spencers desk frowning down at his phone after everyone else is gone.

he finally looks up at him. "coffee?" spencer turns to face him, drawing his lips into a line and looking up like he's thinking extra hard. "rain check?" derek raises a knowing eyebrow at his grin, smiling back and wiggling his fingers goodbye. "have fun pretty boy."

it doesn't take him long to finish cleaning his desk, and when he's done he gets out of his chair to stand and lean on the table instead, waiting for you. spencer wanted to be the one to pick you up and take you to the restaurant you had picked out beforehand, but you insisted on coming to him.

he doesn't have to wait long though. a minute or two later, your face appears through the glass doors and you hurry inside, for a second, you just watch each other from across the room. spencers eyes light up immediately upon seeing you. it was the way your doll like lashes accentuated your eyes with the peachy pink blush softly blended up your cheekbone, or maybe it was the color on your lips and the way it made them look edible, whichever it was it set something off in spencers brain like a light switch. then you smile, your cheeks starting to flush a little more pink, and spencer moves. it only takes a couple of steps for spencer to be in front of you, but he takes them slowly.

he lets his eyes wonder down, you play with the pendant on your necklace and spencer raises his eyebrows faintly as if the innocent gesture is something intriguing. your chest is slightly angled towards him making how tight the top of your dress is impossible to ignore, he can't help but picture the way you'd look arching your back into him as he teases you from beneath him. barely being able to take in the sight of you, his shirt starts to feel a little tighter and the temperature seems to have risen. when spencer gets to you he stops just shy of contact, and you straighten up a little, drop the necklace and move your hands to his shoulders.

at the same time, spencer looks at you and reaches out with one hand, trailing down your back and stopping right at the indent of your waist. the touch is so light you can barely feel it, but you shiver anyway. spencer smiles his tiny smile, a wry twist of lips that would be easy to miss if you weren't watching for it. spencer lifts his eyes from where they're stuck on your lips and this time smiles at you, wide and soft. "hi angel" he gushes, and before you can respond he steps closer, close enough now that you would topple over without his hands on your waist to keep you stable. spencer tilts his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before kissing you full on the lips. it's gentle, almost chaste.

you take a miniature step back to giggle but spencer only brings you closer, peppering your face with kisses. "hi baby" he keeps his arms around you, his grip pulling you in for a hug now. it had only been three days since you'd seen him last but it could've been three hours and spencer would always greet you the same. your arms wrap around his neck to deepen the hug, "did you miss me?" a rhetorical question. he doesn't say anything but hum and push his head into the crook of your neck. causing you to lift your shoulder up and twist your head into his like a reflex, the neck being your soft spot, spencer leaves a kiss before lifting his head back up. now it's his turn to take a step back and move his hands to rest on your hips, "is that even a question?" he carefully spins the both of you around.

"well did you? i need to be sure, cause i know i missed you." he stops there, "of course i did, my answer will never change." his hands squeezing lightly where they sat on your hips, and he smiles again, a little wider this time. you grab the end of his tie, and slowly, inch by inch, you begin to walk backwards reeling him in until the two of you reach his desk with barely room for air between your lips. you stop pulling, loosening your grip on the tie without letting it go, and wait for spencer to close the distance. he just studies your face, focusing on falling in love with your features for the fifteen-hundredth time. he tries to open his mouth to speak but it only takes a second. spencer, too slow to react, let's you take the initiative. you replace the words about to leave his mouth with a kiss. you lift yourself up onto his desk and spencer steps closer, close enough now that you have to spread your legs so he can fit between them. he stops there, his now hands resting lightly where they're cupped around your legs just above your knees, "you're so pretty" he kisses you again, "you look beautiful" another kiss, "i missed you so much" and he looks down. your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, purple panties just barely showing, legs spread open for him on his desk, and his eyes widen. it's like the sound of him clearing his own throat brings him back to reality. he looks up at your face, back down to your thighs and your face again. you make an attempt to kiss him, "not here" he manages to say before looking down at your thighs once more, and he pulls the dress down to cover you up decently enough before beginning to back up.

the absence of his body heat between your legs makes you frown. looking down and shifting on the desk to fix your posture and dress, you look up at spencer and his tight slacks accompanied by a growing buldge gains your attention. you reach out to touch him and he catches your hand, "not here" he repeats. "spencer" you whine, "do you see where we are" he says at a whisper leaning into your ear. when he takes a look at the pout forming on your face he realizes he won't be able to turn you down. "come here" he helps you off the desk and takes your hand, leading you out of the bullpen.

"where are we going?" you yelp as he walks at a pace too fast for you to keep up with. almost stumbling on your heels, trying to pay attention to where he's leading you, you suddenly stop and look up confused. spencer looks around before slowly opening a door to a dark office. "here's okay, is here okay?" the rapidity of the situation making you laugh, "it's a bit dark" you can barely make out the features of spencers face. "is this okay?" he has no trouble finding your hips once more, "yes, come here" before you know it you're picking up where you left off as if there was a pause and play button. he lifts you onto the desk and fits himself between your legs like a puzzle, more eager this time. his large hands grip at your thighs and messily push your dress up.

you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss, he deepens the kiss. you roll his lip between your teeth until spencer hitches your legs tighter around his waist, pressing the two of you together. your whole body feels flushed when spencer finally pulls away, laying his hand against your sternum to stop you from leaning in for another kiss. you whimper a little as the gentle stroke of spencers thumb raises goosebumps across your skin. slowly, spencer drops to his knees. he leans in so he can press a kiss to the inside of your knee, you clutch the hem of your dress in your hands, bunching it up so the skirt doesn't cover spencers face. you want to watch the flush spread across his face as he slowly kisses his way up from your knee, soft whispers of contact trailing up your thigh.

spencer stops at the crease of your thigh, pressing tiny kisses to the hot skin there. you whine a little, trying to tilt your hips to get his mouth where you want it, "spencer" but you can't get him to move. you let go of your dress and slip one hand between your legs. you can feel spencers breath on your fingers when he breaks away from your thighs to press a kiss against your knuckles. you press the tips of your fingers against spencers lips for a second before hooking two of them into the side of your underwear and pulling it aside, laying yourself bare. spencer tilts his head back for a second to look at you, slowly dragging his teeth over his lower lip. you should probably feel a little embarrassed, sitting there in his workplace with your cunt out, but instead you feel almost feverish with anticipation.

spencer drops his gaze and presses forward, shouldering your thighs further apart, just wide enough for you to feel the stretch. he's not coy this time, barely skimming your thighs before pressing the flat of his tongue directly against your clit, you moan softly at the contact. spencer barely wastes any time exploring. it seems like after only a few short, hard licks he knows as much as he needs to. his shoulders wiggle just a little when he moves them under your legs, wrapping his hands back around to dig his fingers into your thighs. you wonder if you'll have bruises there tomorrow.

you let go of the rest of your dress, letting it pool around your waist, and slip your hand under your knee, pulling your leg up and open further. the stretch in your thighs is almost too much now, but your entire body feels like a guitar string, taut and pluckable. between your legs, spencer wraps his lips around your clit, long firm sucks paired with gentler strokes of his tongue, until you're panting. suddenly, nothing. spencer pulls away and looks up at you, a little smile on his lips despite the bright red flush across his cheeks. his mouth is a little swollen and slick, "i love you" you want to pull him to his feet so you can taste yourself on his lips, but you don't think you can move your arms and don't want spencers mouth to get too far away from your cunt. "i love y-"

spencer tilts his head to press a kiss high on the inside of your thigh, all you can do is moan in response, following it with a short, sharp, bite. that one will definitely bruise. you gasp a little, your eyes fluttering closed, and trying to shift your hips enough to get spencers mouth back on you, but you can't. spencer holds you tightly and looks up at you, dragging his tongue across his lower lip and stretching his thumb out to rub circles around your clit. you whimper, arching your back into the sensation just like spencer pictured. you can feel a puff of warm air against your thigh when spencer laughs, before he finally leans back in and runs the tip of his tongue around your entrance, pressing just barely inside.

you gasp, barely managing not to kick spencer in the back. you think you can feel yourself getting wetter, trying to clench down hard around spencers tongue. there's a brief moment of disconnect as spencers shoulders shift under your legs and then he's back, two fingers pressing hard against your clit before slipping inside you and twisting. you wail, dropping your hold on your leg to clutch at the edge of the table. spencer only pauses to grin again, before diving back in with his tongue. this time, he's relentless. the fast, solid pressure of his tongue and the slow flex of his fingers have you gasping and begging so desperately your words start to run together. the soft whine of you saying "spencer", the only thing he can make out in your incoherent pleas, was music to his ears. he twists his fingers, rubbing slow circles in just the right spot inside you, and you come hard, pressing your face into your own shoulder to muffle the sound.

spencer keeps his mouth on you as you shake through it, clenching around his fingers and shivering as spencer coaxes even more aftershocks out of you. when it finally becomes too much you whimper, trying to twist your hips away and spencer pulls back, fingers and tongue gone in an instant. you feel empty, and have to resist the urge to press your thighs together.

you stare at each other for a moment with only the the faint lights from outside shining inside, breath slowing down in sync. you finally let go of your underwear, flexing your fingers to get the feeling back in them. "it's nerves getting squished," spencer begins, "which confuses the message to the brain. that's why we get the pins and needles; that’s your brain being confused and sending the wrong signals to your nerves." you stare at him. "shut up" you grab spencers tie and pull him up for another kiss, "once the pressure on the nerve is released it goes back to normal. if you think about it, it’s pretty clever. if we had no way of knowing when we’re doing damage to our nerves and no motivation to rectify the issue, we’d be pretty screwed." he smiles stupidly and you pull him back in, hungrier this time. spencer kisses back just as hard, his clean hand wound into your hair. after a minute or two, the kiss slows down, softening until it ends and spencer leans his head back a little to look at you. you can't help but laugh at the way spencer is carefully keeping his right hand away from you. you look around then reach behind yourself for a tissue and take spencers hand in yours, "here" carefully cleaning off his wet fingers. spencer smiles at you.

"thank you" you blush but dont look away, the tips of your fingers still linked with his. "oh my god!" you exclaim, smile dropping. spencer dramatically mimics your facial expression oblivious as to what's going on. "our date!"

[dark-and-kawaii]

‎‧₊˚✧ [ Sweet As Honey ] ✧˚₊‧

Summary: You were too gone, too fucked stupid to realize what was happening. You were still riding the high of your orgasm, still drooling and twitching. Your eyes were rolling around and the only thing that could leave your lips were soft moans and whimpers… Then, you felt it. A slight burn- a slight stretch, a pressure that made your eyes open wide and a gasp escape you… His knot filling you, forcing your body to mold around it to accommodate the sheer size~ ♡ ♡ ♡

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Pairing: ‎Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Content: ‎NSFW - Knotting - Fat Creampie - Stuffed To The Brim With Cum - He Wants To Breed You Over And Over - Stuffed Deeply - He Uses His Tail To Bind Your Hands - Lactation - Milky Mess - Calling Him Commander - Nipple Sucking - Titty Groping - Stretched So Good - Cervix Pounding - Your Body Gets Bullied So Lovingly - Pregnancy - Comfort - Age Gap

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Notes: I just needed to get this off my chest…♡

Zevlor’s hands traveled over your belly. You had grown so big the past few months, but not enough to where you couldn’t straddle him like you were now.

“I cherish this aspect of you, the one that nurtures our child. It fills my heart with a warmth that words can scarcely capture. You really are beautiful, my everlasting light.”

Zevlor looked up at you with a smile, his hands still massaging the sides of your stomach. He was so proud to be a father. And even more so to be a father with you, “Thank you, for giving me this chance.” He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it, “For allowing such a washed up rag to love you.” He let out a playful huff remembering that’s what Astarion has called him.

You smiled, cupping his cheek and rubbing the rough ridges on his cheekbone, his smile was so warm and gentle, even with his sharp teeth, “It was fated, my love. It almost feels as though the gods crafted us for each other. I couldn't imagine a world where we weren't together, even when I didn't know you… i still felt a longing and now, here we are. You have filled me with so much love. More than I thought was possible."

His lips curled as his hand moved from your baby bump up to your very engorged breasts, “How fortunate I am to witness a young woman like you flourish with the life I’ve planted within you. I vow to honor every inch of your being, cherishing you until the sands of time run their course.”

Just the feeling of his large, warm hand delicately handling your breasts was enough to cause you to throw your head back in a sigh. They were so tender and sensitive that he didn't need to do anything else to make you moan, “Z-Zevlor~”

He grinned at the way your hips squirmed against his lap, grinding on his cock which was already half hard and begging for attention.

“You’re leaking,” He purred, gently thumbing the soft skin of one of your nipples, watching as small beads of milk began to drip down from your hard bud.

Zevlor leaned forward to place a kiss on your nipple before looking up at you, his tongue slowly rolling out and lapping at the drooling bud, collecting the small drops of milk and suckling gently. He could smell it, sweet like honey and warm, it was delicious and Zevlor found himself groaning softly as he was rewarded with sweet liquid on his tongue.

Biting your lip, you watched as he hungrily drink from your tit, his eyes never leaving yours as his tongue teased you, his warm mouth surrounding your nipple as his fangs barely grazed the soft skin…

You could feel how your belly tightened with his touch, your clit throbbing as you desperately bump and grind against his cock, desperate for any kind of friction.

Zevlor was slow, careful. He always treated you like a precious jewel, a delicate flower. He was so gentle, so tender and loving.

“Zev-hahhh~ m-more please. I need mn’more~ please, I-I can't- ngh~ i can't wait anymore~”

His other hand left yours and reached up to your neglected nipple, his fingers pinching the bud until a small stream of milk ran down his fingers… 

“Ah~” you gasped, your eyes closing as you continued to rock yourself against him, wanting him inside of you, needing him to fill you and quench the burning fire that was in the pit of your stomach.

With a quiet pop, Zevlor pulled off your breast, a string of his spit and your motherly milk connecting his lips to your swollen nipple… You were panting, sweating, and looking down at him with hooded eyes. Gods, you were lovely… so heavenly looking.

Zevlor smiled, his tongue snaking out to lick the string of milk and spit, breaking the connection, humming in approval before reaching down. The hand he squeezed your breast with, slick with your milk, wrapped around his throbbing member, spreading the creamy liquid along his length. A low, guttural moan escaped the commander as he palmed himself, the mixture of your milk and his pre cum creating such a wondrous lubricant.

“Patience, my dear- ngh- a-all in good time-“ 

Small little infernal curses slipped past his lips Just as his cock twitched in his hand, already oozing with anticipation. The tip was a dark shade compared to the rest of it, and the thick veins that lined his beautiful meat pulsed with every pump.

You stared down at his cock, salivating at the sight of him as your core clenched, your cunt aching, “m’zev… it’s glistening~ looks so pretty~” your eyes practically had hearts in them as your eyes followed the bead of pre cum that seeped out of him and rolled down his length.

Your hand reached down, your finger brushing the tip of his cock to collect the pretty droplet and a bit of your smeared milk on the pad of your finger. Bringing it up to your mouth, you placed the digit between your lips, licking the drop off your finger with a satisfied moan. You didn't think you could taste something so delicious, the combination of your milk and his precum had you wanting even more.

This pregnancy had you acting so lewd, the sight of you lapping at your fingers, making such a show of it had him blushing, his cock twitching and his balls tightening... 

“I-I can’t wait Zev~ I-I can't, mn- i need it- need y-you! Please, please put it in!!”

He was taken aback by your sudden desperation. But he knew better than to deny you. His sweet, loving, needy, desperate girl.

Zevlor grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down, his lips meeting yours as he held you in place, getting you in perfect position so that he could guide his cock into your waiting depths, that wet sloppy hole of yours…

Slowly he pushed himself inside, inch by agonizing inch.

That bulbous tip of his was thick and girthy, and every time he entered you, it took some getting used to. It didn’t matter how many times you both fucked- how many times you made love, your pussy was so tight around him, making him fit so snuggly. The stretch burned, but the pain was always a delicious one.

And the moment his cock stretched you fully, your breast couldn’t help but respond. A slow stream of milk trickled from your chest, coating yourself in a dairy delight.

You moaned, breaking the kiss to catch your breath, throwing your head back as he pushed deeper into you, “w-Wwwhaaa~~ pushing- pushing so deep inside ~!!!” his tip prodding that spongy spot deep inside you. Your eyes fluttered, and your body jerked violently when as he kept teasing your sweet spot.

His other hand rested on your belly, rubbing the taut skin in a circular motion, his voice breathless as he whispered in your ear, “pu-put your arms behind your- hah- y-your back-“ 

“C-commander~” you whimpered, doing as he said. The stretch in your arms caused your tits to jiggle, another spurt of milk spurting out of your nipples- your hands on the opposite arm, your elbows were locked and holding yourself up.

“Th-that’s my good girl,” his tail maneuvered to where it brought your hands together, coiling around your wrists behind your back to bind them together as his hands found purchase on your ass. lifting you up, and then dropping you down, Zevlor filled you with his thick, hot, pulsing tiefling cock.

Your tits bounced, splattering droplets of milk everywhere, leaking all the way down your front- over your swollen belly. It took him a moment, but he eventually realizes that you were making a mess- coating his chest as well…

This, all of this made him emotional… The fact that he had a child with you, this young thing that came out of nowhere months ago... Stumbling into the grove, a little light, just as the day seemed darkest…

A tear pricked the corner of his eye, and a small chuckle rumbled from his chest, his cock twitching inside of you, “I- I love you.”

He lifted his hips, thrusting himself up and into you, watching as you fall apart.

“Ah~ i- Zevlor~ I- I- I love YOOOOOOU~♡♡”

You were screaming, you were loud, and your nails dug into the skin of your palms as they were kept bound, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed this. You needed this.

Fuck, he honestly wishes he could keep you like this forever, knocked up and leaking, always wanting him and needing him like some kind of desperate whore, always craving his touch, his voice, his love and affection.

He thrusted, hard, the tip of him begging for entrance to the deepest parts of you, the tip hitting the entrance of your womb…. Repeatedly knocking against your cervix- kissing it and asking for permission to enter.

You were crying-, “ZE- COM-COMMANDER~ PLE-PLEASE- HAHH- Z-ZEVLOR~♡~~~~~ PLEASE DON-DON'T ST-STOP, KNOCK-KNOCKING SO DEEP INSIDE- IT- IT FEEEEEELS TOO GOOD- YOU FE-FILL ME UP SOO-SO WELL- MHMNNN~♡♡~~~” begging, pleading, until your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you came… Gushing all over his cock- soaking his lap, his balls, his thighs, and the sofa beneath you both...

Zevlor groaned, the wet sounds of your sloppy, squelching pussy echoing in the room as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His toned arms wrapped around you, pinning you against his chest- his tail coiling tighter around your wrists surely enough to leave a tail shaped bruise. 

He could feel the wetness of your milk as you laid on him, the liquid dribbling down the sides of his torso, catching on every ridge and mark that adorned his well aged body.

You were drooling, your body twitching, convulsing, trembling as he continued to plow into you. He was so close. And the way your insides were squeezing him had him teetering on the edge. But he couldn’t give in yet. He was a soldier- he was a commander… or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. But with you he was just a man- a weak, old, pathetic, love sick man.

He grunted, his balls tightening- ready to spill his load deep within you… Zevlor knew what time of the year it was…How as soon as he would let himself spill, his knot would lock you both together… “For-Forgive me dear- ah- f’for any discomfort I may cau-cause.” His eyes fluttered shut as his head tilted back, groans and moans falling from his lips like a prayer, his hips picking up the pace.

You were too gone, too fucked stupid to realize what was happening. You were still riding the high of your orgasm, still drooling and twitching. Your eyes were rolling around and the only thing that could leave your lips were soft moans and whimpers.

Then, you felt it- a slight burn- a slight stretch, a pressure that made your eyes open wide, a gasp escaping you…

The wonderful feeling of his cum pooling into you with a baby already inside you made his balls tighten, his muscles to flex, and his jaw clench. His knot was stretching you wider and wider- the bulge in your lower abdomen growing and growing with every spurt of his thick, hot load- painting your insides a beautiful, creamy white, “H-HAH-AHHH- OH GODS, IT-IT'S T-TOO MUCH-NGH- TOO MUCH-Z-ZEVLOR-HNNGH- I CAN-I CAN FEEL IT- I CAN F-FE~”

Zevlor growled, his hands holding you tight, his sharp nails digging into the soft skin of your ass. You were too tight. Too wet. Too warm. Too perfect. His mind was reeling, his heart racing.

The knot in you grew, forcing his fiendish cock against your cervix- cramming it in further… keeping the precious load of cum he just painted your insides with from spilling out…

He couldn't think- not like this. Your warmth was making him melt- and the sound of your cries were driving him insane…

It grew easily to the size of his fist, maybe even a little more, forcing your body to mold around it- keeping you nice and plugged. 

You felt so damn bloated and cramped as you gasped, struggling to pull in breaths as he filled you so much, “hah- Z-evvvv~ ah hah huff~ I- I forgot- forgot how f-fat you got~♡~ ♡~ oh gods- oh gods- oh gods- I- I can’t g-get enough~ l- love you s’much~”

The commander was a panting mess, his eyes closed tight as his entire body was stiff, his toes curled and his fists clenched. His knot was throbbing and pulsing, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

He loved you too. Gods- he loved you more than life itself… he owed you everything, yet you were the one who would beg him for a kiss or a touch- for his praise and approval. He didn't deserve you. Not at all.

But here you were, a pregnant goddess, tied to him and full of his seed, covered in your own milk- his sweet, wonderful, Tav~

[niki-phoria]

gn!reader with megumi, choso and yuuji where they fall asleep on the reader?? <33

⋆｡°✩ WHEREVER YOU'RE GOIN', I'M GOIN' THE SAME

fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji, and kamo choso falling asleep on you

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), thank you so much for requesting !! i hope you like it :)), header from pinterest, title from frank ocean - moon river

the train is quiet, the silence only broken by the slow hum of the motor running. FUSHIGRUO MEGUMI sighs as he leans back against the seat cushions. exhaustion settles deep into his bones. his head aches as he closes his eyes, letting himself relax a little in the safety of the bullet train’s cabin.

you startle when you feel a weight leaning against your body. megumi flinches when his head lolls onto your shoulder. he flinches, jumping awake with a sharp gasp and wide eyes. “i’m sorry,” he mumbles, glancing at the ground. he slinks a little into his seat in a poor attempt to hide his flushed cheeks behind the edge of his jacket.

“it’s okay,” you chuckle, brushing your bloody knuckles against his bruised cheek. “sleep. i’ll wake you up when we get back.”

pursing his lips, megumi glances out of the window. amongst the slow-moving landscape outside, he catches a small glimpse of a nearby sign. saitama - at least another forty minutes away. when he glances at you once again, you’re softly smiling. the sunlight illuminates your features beautifully. golden rays highlight the rise of your cheekbones and the way your hair frames your face. when you look at him like that, how could he ever say no?

“okay,” megumi relents with a soft nod, hesitantly leaning his head against your body once again. “thank you.”

ITADORI YUUJI is less than quiet as he clumsily stumbles into your dorm room. he’s welcomed with the soft glow from the sunset and the quiet echo of megumi’s door closing from across the hall. “yuuji,” you smile. he simply hums in return, settling himself into your lap so his head rests against your thighs. “long day?”

“the longest,” he sighs. “i thought it was never gonna end.”

yuuji’s tired gaze meets your own as you reach down, gently beginning to card your fingers through his hair. your hands carefully untangle any stray knots as you brush the strands away from his face. “wanna watch human earthworm four?”

he smiles brightly. “i’d like that.” yuuji sighs as you continue to twist short strands of pink locks between your fingers; his body relaxes at the feeling of your nails gently scratching against his scalp. 

the movie’s action is forgotten in favour of studying yuuji’s features - the small scars beneath his eyes; the downward slope of his nose; the steady rise and fall of his chest every time he breathes. “love you,” he whispers, though the words slur together as they leave his lips. “love you so much.”

you smile. your ministrations don’t cease, even when you lean down to press a soft kiss against his temple. his eyes flutter shut as his breathing evens out, signaling the beginning of a nap. “i love you too, yuuji.”

it wasn’t often that KAMO CHOSO felt like this - loved; respected; safe. your shared bedroom is illuminated only by moonlight shining through your window, painting the world silver. in the quiet of the night, he can hear the rhythmic noise of crickets chirping and the occasional wind blowing through the empty city streets. 

“choso,” you whisper. your voice is quiet in the night; it nearly startles him to hear you whisper after such a long period of silence. furrowing your eyebrows, you shuffle a little closer to his body. the blankets rustle as you reach up, carefully resting your hand against his chest, just over where his heart should be. he can feel the tension in his body slowly disappearing against your touch, making a soft sigh escape his lips. “why are you still up?”

“i can’t sleep,” he mumbles. and it’s true. curses don’t need sleep the way humans do, but the routine makes some part of him feel more normal. 

choso can almost visualize the way your lips quirk into a soft frown. your movements cease for a moment before you’re tugging him closer until his head rests against your chest. he can hear your heart beating steadily against your ribcage, soothing the worst of his anxieties. 

“i love you, choso,” you whisper. 

he closes his eyes, finally finding solace in the safety of your arms. “i love you too, y/n.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[mismatched-sockss]

Getting lost in your touch

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!Reader » Word count: 4,7k » Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, minimal amount of plot with a dash of fluff, established relationship (married), sub!Spencer and softdom!reader in the beginning, switch Spencer and reader, reader is a little bratty at one point ig, both a little mean for a short moment, dry humping, begging, riding / cockwarming, teasing, handjob, nipple play, hand on throat but no choking, biting, unprotected p in v, creampie, pet names (my love, baby); bad writing? not sure how i feel about parts of this; » A/N: finally done! took me long enough lol; written with postprison!Spencer in mind, but feel free to imagine what ever season / era you prefer, there is no timeline stuff or anything mentioned (only being in a relationship for six years); at first i didn't want to do more than two bingo fields per fic, but i'm afraid i won't get far if i stick to that :D, didn't think i would be this slow when i started, but sometimes my brain hates me; please let me know if i forgot any warnings; enjoy!

⚶ bingo masterlist | masterlist ⚶

The sound of the door falling shut made you jump out of your skin and you spilled some of the iced tea you were pouring yourself. “Shit”, you cursed in a whisper. You put the container down and grabbed a kitchen towel to clean up the mess so the counter wouldn't get sticky.

Except for the muffled thud of a bag falling to the floor and shoes getting kicked off, the apartment stayed silent. This, paired with the force the door had been closed, you already knew what you would find when you'll walk into the living room and your heart sank at the thought.

You quickly drank the small bit that had actually found its way into the glass and hurried out of the kitchen. The sight you were met with, was exactly what you had imagined. Your husband sat on the couch, leaning over with his face buried in his hands, his shoulders hanging low. Your heart hurt for him, seeing him like this. It wasn't a sight you were met with every time he came home, but it happened often enough as it was.

You slowly walked over and when you were close enough you reached out, brushing your fingertips through Spencer's hair. “Hey”, you breathed out, moving your hand over the back of his neck and to his shoulder where you let it rest.

He slowly lifted his head, a tired smile on his lips that didn't nearly reach his eyes. “Hey....” His hand reached for yours on his shoulder and he held on to your wrist, drawing soft circles over your pulse with his thumb. For a minute neither of you said a word and you just looked into each others eyes.

You lifted your other hand to cup his cheek and gently brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch and with a shaky breath Spencer laid his hands on your hips, pulling you between his legs so he could bury his head in you chest, hiding away from all the cruelty of this world he had to face every day. You hugged him close, one hand tangled in the curls on the back of his head and you softly scratched over his scalp with your nails.

“That bad?”, you asked softly. He silently nuzzled his head deeper into you, his arms tightening around your waist with his hands bunching up the back of your tank top in his fists. This was answer enough; you wouldn't pry any further if he didn't want to talk about it right now. You leaned your head down, pressing your lips to the crown of his head and kept them there.

For a moment the both of you just stayed like this, silent and in each others embrace, as you tried to hold him together, tried to shield him from harm – even if only from his own mind and the painful memories – as best as you could. After a while the tension in his shoulders started to leave under your touch, his muscles slowly relaxing as you softly rubbed your hand over his back and a deeps sigh left his lips.

Spencer's hold on you loosened and he moved his hands up and back down over your sides, gently squeezing your waist then. He turned his head and started to plant kiss after kiss on your chest. His nose was pressed flat against your skin as he slowly worked his way over the hem of your top and your décolleté, up to your collarbones.

Your breath hitched and your heart began to beat faster, your skin getting warmer with every kiss.

He leaned back and pulled you with him onto the couch by your waist, keeping his lips on your skin and as he moved, he continued leaving open mouthed kisses higher and higher over the side of your neck until he reached your jaw.

As soon as you lowered yourself on his thighs, straddling his hips, you turned your head to capture his lips in a passionate yet gentle kiss. You moved your hands to the back of his head and tangled your fingers in his hair, slightly tugging on the strands which made him groan in return.

With a deep inhale you pulled back just enough that your noses were almost touching, your hands on the sides of his neck right under his ears and you could feel his steady heart beat. Your fingers were buried in his hair and you played with the strands at the base of his head.

“What do you need, baby?”, you asked him, keeping your voice low; soft and sweet. When he answered you, he did so immediately and before you even had said the final word. He matched your volume, and only said one single word:

“You.”

With a small smile on your lips you brushed the tip of your nose against his, gently nudging it. “I know, my love”, you cooed and kissed his lips. “How do you need me?” You slightly leaned back so you could see his whole face. Spencer just looked at you, not saying a word, only darting his gaze between your eyes.

The look in his eyes almost brought you to tears. Vacant of the usual light shimmering in his big brown eyes, they almost seemed dull and empty. Instead helplessness had taken its place. So lost, heartbroken and full of sorrow.

Tears started to well up in Spencer's eyes, gathering on his lower lashes until a single tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek. You gently took his face in your hands and stroked your thumbs over his skin, brushing the tear away.

It broke your heart to see your husband like this. His job was more than hard, so incredibly challenging and demanding on both his body and mind. He didn't tell you much about what he had to deal with, only occasionally opening up more when he needed to get it off his chest, when it got too much. Even then he didn't get in to it too deeply, wanting to spare you the gruesome details. You already knew enough as it was; fiction – all those crime and cop shows or movies – didn't paint the best picture compared to reality, but you had consumed your fair share of true crime in your lifetime. So even if you couldn't imagine how he was feeling exactly and what kind of toll it really took out on him, you could imagine what he was seeing.

Trying to keep your own tears at bay as you were hurting for and with him, you closed your eyes and kissed his forehead. You let your lips linger before you pulled back again.

“Want me to take care of you?” You slightly tilted Spencer's head back and planted a small kiss on his lips, then a second one. “Nice and slow? That what you want?”

“Please...” His voice broke and there were so many emotions behind this one word, so much hurt and want and need and desperation. So much love for you and trust in you.

You kissed him again, firmer this time and breathed out an okay against his lips as you looked deep in his eyes. “I've got you, baby.”

With a relieved sigh that sounded a lot like thank you he relaxed more into your touch and sank deeper into the back of the couch. Your lips immediately attached to his again and his hands moved over your back to pull you even closer until your chest was pressed flush against his.

While deepening the kiss, you moved your hands down his neck and to his chest, then up to his shoulders and under his suit jacket. You pushed it over his shoulders and helped him to take it off, more or less carelessly throwing it to the other side of the couch. Before you went on to loosen his tie, you pressed your fingertips into the muscles of the crook of his neck and shoulders, kneading the tense tissue for a short moment and took a mental note when he hummed in content to give him a proper massage later.

The knot of his tie opened up with one tug, but you didn't care to fully remove it and started to undo the small buttons of his dress shirt. As soon as you had worked your way down a few you broke the kiss, leaving you both panting and gasping for air, and planted soft kisses along his jaw.

Spencer let his head fall back, giving you more space to make your way down his neck. He took in a sharp breath when he felt your teeth grazing over is collarbone. You gently nibbled on his skin, flattening your tongue over it to soothe the spot. When you opened the last button you let your hands glide over his stomach up to his chest, pushing his shirt to the sides.

You caught his lips again and you felt him getting hard under you; after slightly adjusting your position, you started grinding against him in a slow and steady rhythm. Both of you moaned into each other's mouths at the contact and he slid his hands down your back until they lay on your ass; he gently squeezed the soft flesh and pulled your hips closer. You could feel how wet you were as your clit effortlessly slid over the fabric, your panties already soaked and you had barely started.

For a while you just moved with and against each other – grinding, touching, kissing – before you let your hands wander down with a purpose. The rattling of his belt buckle as you opened it didn’t even reach your ears, drowned out by the soft whimpering moans that left Spencer’s throat.

With his help you managed to pull his pants down enough so you could wrap your hand around his erection, eliciting a groan from him. “Oh, fuck.”

You began to stroke his cock with slow movements, taking your time with every pump of your fist. Every whimper, every small whine, shot waves of heat through your body and right to your core. You desperately wanted to finally feel him in you, but you held back. Your plan was to take it slow; you promised him slow.

And if he had taught you one thing, it was to hold back. You could hear his voice in the back of your head, purring in the sweetest tone every time he drove you crazy with endless teasing: “Patience is a virtue, my love.” You wondered if Spencer would regret it – even just a tiny bit – by the time you were done with him tonight.

It didn't take long before he buried his face in your shoulder, panting and moaning against you neck as he held on to your hips with a tight grip. "Need to be inside you", he sighed, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

You hummed with a smile on your lips. “Let's get you more comfortable first, hm?”

Before you got up from his lap, you gave his cock a few more pumps and swiped the pad of your thumb over his head; his hips jolted up and he groaned.

A small laugh in adoration left your lips and you pressed your lips against his jaw for a quick peck. You shuffled back and got up, bringing him with you by his hands and after he shrug off his shirt you took his hand again and led him to the bedroom.

Spencer got on the bed and sat against the headboard after a tilt of your head, taking off his pants before he settled down. You took off your own, your top already discarded somewhere on the floor in the living room, leaving you in only your bra now.

You crawled over the bed to take your spot in his lap again, only this time you weren't separated by too many layers of fabric when your pussy met his cock; your lips parting over his shaft as if to invite him in.

“Fuck- you're so wet."

"All for you, baby. Always."

His hands found their way to your hips; you lifted them and reached down to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Painfully slow you sank back down again, trying to prolong him filling you up for as long as possible. Breathy moans leaving both your throats, the sensation almost overwhelming.

Spencer tried to guide you down faster with his hold on your hips, but you stopped instead and shook your head in disapproval – yet still with a smile on your lips – as you pulled his hands from your body. A soft whimper left his lips, but when he nodded you let go of his hands and sank down further until he was buried in your core to the hilt.

You parted your legs further, taking his cock even deeper; a short breathy moan left your lips when his full length was buried in your walls, your clit brushing deliciously against his pelvis.

Instead of starting to lift your hips, you stayed just as you were, only moving your hips in a slow grind a couple of times – barely noticeable. You leaned in to press your chest against his and captured his lips in a heated kiss.

His hands roamed over your body, not leaving a single inch of your skin untouched. Only when he cupped your breasts over the fabric and gently squeezed them did you break the kiss. He pulled the cup of your bra down, latching his lips immediately around your exposed nipple.

With a soft moan you watched him and reached behind you to unclasp your bra; it landed by the rest of your discarded clothes. You tangled your fingers in Spencer's hair and slightly tugged on the strands to pull him back and face you again.

For a moment you just let your gaze wander over his face until you stopped at his mouth. This time when you leaned in to kiss him, it wasn't as desperate as the last one; but slow and almost gentle, pouring all your love into it.

And after what felt like an eternity to him, he couldn't take it anymore and he pulled back. "Please, baby, I- Ah, fuck, I need you to move."

"But I am moving", you trailed off, voice as sweet as sugar, and barely holding back a smirk. You ground against him, in just the slightest movement and to underline your claims more, you let your hands wander over his chest and stomach; fingertips sliding became nails softly scratching over the skin the deeper you went. Spencer arched his back into you, goosebumps rising on his skin.

"Ah- you know what I mean", he said breathless, his eyelids fluttering as he held your gaze.

Feigning to think about it you hummed, moving your hands from where your bodies met to his sides, careful not to tickle him. “Do you mean... like this then?” You smiled innocently, stayed seated and intentionally clenched around him once.

He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned loudly, his hips jolting up so hard and sudden, you had to hold on to his sides to not lose your balance.

"I swear to god, if you don't start moving soon, I-", he hissed before he stopped to swallow hard, but he didn't finish vocalizing his threat; the pleading tone in his voice had changed, turning deep and hoarse – assertive –, adding to the fire that was burning brighter and brighter in his eyes. The promise of an inevitable payback for your bitter-sweet torment still on his tongue, but he didn't need to say it out loud for you to know and understand.

You bit on the tip of your tongue, again smiling innocently at him but barely concealing your amusement. "What happens then?”, you inquired, knowing, it would rile him up even more. “Now you've made me curious."

"Come on, please. Want to feel you." There it was again, the whiny, pleading and breathless tone you couldn't get enough of.

To be honest, you had to hold back quite a bit by now, wanted nothing more than to satisfy his wish and ride him until the both of you were falling apart, but teasing him was just too much fun, too tempting; and you also knew, all of this would help to take his mind off of everything a bit longer, which was still your main goal.

You leaned in to kiss him. When he raised his chin and tried meeting you half way, you slightly pulled back again, just out of reach. The prettiest sound fell from his lips, a whimper all needy and desperate and whiny; his grip on your hips became firmer and his nails were digging into your skin as he tried pulling you impossibly closer, trying to bury himself deeper into your warmth. At this rate, there would be some pretty bruises on your hips by tomorrow morning.

When you leaned back in, your lips were barely touching the corner of his mouth. You left a feathery kiss after the other along his jaw and moved your hands over his chest to hold on to his shoulders, indicating you would give him what he wanted from you, what he was begging for.

The grin that stretched your lips was a little taunting, a little mean, when he let his head fall back with a whimper on his lips and his hands dug even deeper into your flesh. Oh, Spencer will hate you for what you were about to do...

You gently grazed your teeth on his jaw, softly nibbling on the skin and slowly raised your hips all the way, then slid down his length just as slow. His breath hitched, shaking. His jaw went slack and you watched as Spencer's eyes rolled back, a deep and long moan leaving his lips. When you repeated the motion for a second time, he relaxed more against the headboard and closed his eyes.

You did it a third time.

And then you stopped.

Spencer's head snapped back up as soon as he realised you wouldn't keep going. The look in his eyes made a shiver run down your spine and when your walls clenched this time, you didn't do it on purpose. The tight grip on his cock and the fact that you were biting down on your lip to keep from smirking at him, failing to contain the giggle bubbling up in your throat at the same time, made him sit back up straight and wrap his arms around your; his hands spreading over your shoulder blades and lower back. You saw a glint flash in his eyes, saw the moment a switch flipped in him and you felt giddy with excitement.

You squealed when he flipped you over without a warning and you giggled harder, which quickly turned to a moan when he buried his face in the crook of your neck and bit into the flesh. Another moan right after, high-pitched, when he snapped his hips hard against yours in just one quick hard thrust. You wrapped your arms around is torso, clinging onto his shoulders.

“So you think that's funny, huh?”

“Uh-hu”, you sighed out near his ear with a smile on your lips, panting.

He lifted himself up, supporting his weight by leaning on his arm next to your head, and slid his right hand up your body; from the spot he had gripped into your hips just moments before, over your side and stomach, your sternum and higher until his palm was on your throat. You tilted your head back, making more room for his hand and you swallowed hard, waiting for his next move; heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting and hoping for the familiar gentle squeeze on the sides of your neck and his fingers pressing into the delicate skin.

With a tight grip on your jaw Spencer pulled your head back to face him. He cocked his eyebrow when he saw you pout, a taunting smirk starting to form on his lips. He nodded his head and pursed his lips, before the smirk came back. “I'll show you funny.”

Your stomach flipped and your heart started pounding in your chest, threatening to crack out of your ribcage. Fuck. You should have known he would turn it around and play it like that. You had it coming, really.

He leaned back and sat up, perching on his heels as he wrapped your legs around him and kept a firm hold on the insides of your thighs; angling his hips just right, he stared to lazily roll his hips, hitting right at the first thrust that spot deep in you that made you see stars.

Both of you moaned in unison and you watched him close his eyes, his head fell back; relishing the sensations of finally being able to thrust into you. That blissed out look on his face was almost enough to send you over the edge right this moment.

He kept the slow pace for a while, but you needed more, growing more impatient with every drag of his cock against your walls. “Faster... please”, you whined.

Spencer chuckled and looked down at you. “Aw, can't handle what you are dishing out, baby?”, he mocked with a playful tone in his voice. You simply shook your head, pouting and soft whimpers leaving your lips. Despite the allusion that he wouldn't do it, he picked up the pace, snapping his hips harder and faster against yours.

As he bend down to lean over you he let go of your thighs; his right hand stayed on you and slid higher over your skin until he cupped your breast – gently massaging and playing with your nipple – and his left landed next to you, so he could hold himself up. His lips latched on to your other breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it.

The added stimulation set your body even more on fire and your walls clenched around his cock; that familiar knot in your stomach began to build and tighten rapidly, making you feel a little dizzy already. “'mso close...”, you moaned breathless.

With a last lick over the hardened peak, he lifted his head and caught your eyes. “Yeah? You wanna cum?” You nodded eagerly, holding his gaze. “What if I don't let you?”, he mused with a one sided smirk.

“No. No, please- I- ah fuck”, you started to babble, slightly panicked, “I-I- need to cum so bad, please, please let me cum! Wanna cum for you, Spencer.”

He caught your lips in a kiss and slid his tongue between them when you gasped, too distracted to notice his hand letting go of your breast and moving between your bodies, his fingers quickly finding your clit.

It didn't take long before you weren't able to kiss him back, moaning against his mouth instead as your jaw went slack. “Oh fuck, yes, like that. Like that, don't stop. Ah, shit!”

Your back arched into him and you threw your head back, deeper into the pillows, as your vision got white and your orgasm hit you, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Spencer didn't give you much time to come down from your high. He buried his face in your neck and slid his arms under your back, holding you in a tight grip to him.

Your eyes rolled back, nothing but strangled noises leaving you and you held on to him as if your life depended on it as he pounded into you at a brutal pace now, chasing his own release. The bed-frame was creaking from the force and if you would care, you might be worried that it would break.

Right before it got too much for you, your body slowly protesting against the continued stimulations and was screaming for a break, his rhythm faltered and with a couple of last hard thrusts he held onto you even tighter.

“F-fuck!” A long and deep groan left his lips, muffled by your neck, as his hips stilled and he kept himself buried as deep as he could in your core as he came, his cock twitching with every wave of cum, his body shuddering as he collapsed above you.

After a minute or two for you to catch your breaths, Spencer turned his head to plant a lingering kiss below your ear and lifted himself up just enough to slide down your body – pulling out in the process and you gasped at the sudden emptiness; with an exhausted sigh he settled down, his head comfortably resting on your chest and his arms pressed to your sides, softly stroking his thumbs over the sensitive skin above your waist.

You hummed in content and tangled the fingers of your right hand in his hair, slightly dampened now, and placed your left hand on his arm, drawing circles with your thumb on his skin of your own. He hummed, relaxing even more against you as you played with his hair.

He moved his arm to take your left hand, holding it in his, resting both your hands on your stomach. Lost in his thoughts he let his thumb glide over your ring finger, moving the filigree silver ring around.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked in a soft voice.

For a moment he kept silently playing with the ring on your finger, then he pulled your hand closer to him, pressing a kiss over your wedding band. Your heart skipped a beat at the sweet gesture, a small smile stretching on your lips. His lips lingered for a few seconds before he laid your intertwined hands back on your stomach. Spencer turned his head to look at you and lifted himself up to lean on his forearm. You moved your hand out of his hair, to the back of his neck instead, when he came closer.

His eyes darted back and forth between yours and you let out an almost inaudible sigh, relieved when you met his gaze and saw the look in his eyes was a lot softer than when he had come home, the light was back in them, and his features were more relaxed. “Better.”

He shifted his weight and moved up to close the distance. A small smile stretched on his lips as he hovered over you. He let go of your left hand and cupped your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair and he stroked his thumb over your cheek.

“I love you”, he breathed out before he captured your lips in a slow and deep kiss that made your heart flutter and sent a wave of butterflies through your whole body.

Six years with this man and he still made you feel like this; all giddy and blushing, kicking your feet and twirling your hair around your finger, toes curling with even the smallest kiss and brush of his lips against yours, heart skipping a beat every time you saw him and endless butterflies fluttering in your stomach that never calmed down and would never die.

You sighed into the kiss and pulled him closer, melting into him as much as he melted into you. When the kiss broke, Spencer didn't move too far away. He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, pressed his lips to yours again for a quick kiss and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

“I love you too”, you whispered and tilted your head slightly to plant another kiss on his lips. With a smile he lifted his head and for a moment you just looked at each other, drowning in the others eyes.

You lifted your hand and brushed a strand of his curls behind his ear, the tips of your fingers moving over his temple in a feathery light touch. “Why don't we order some food, get cleaned up in the meantime and then just stay on the couch, cuddle and watch a movie or something. Your pick.”

“Food or TV?”

“Both. What ever you want, love.”

» A/N 2: we're getting closer but my bingo card is kind of all over the place, will we ever see a filled line before the deadline? :'D

[angel5ofp0rn]

Young!Price x Younger!Reader

Where Exhusband!Price first tells you he loves you 🙂‍↕️

When John wakes up in your bed, he looks over to where you’re still sleeping next to him.

Your body looks so peaceful and comfortable as it rests against his. He can't help but just lay there and stare at you for a few moments.

You snuggle closer to him, taking in all the body heat you can to warm your naked body.

John smiles. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in even tighter, as if that were even possible.

"Johnathan..." You murmur sleepily, your lips pressed against his neck.

John smiles and runs his fingers through your hair, stroking it gently. He has no plans right now other than to just cuddle with you and forget about his impending trip back home to London.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Lemme take care of you..." John speaks softly, your hair falling through his fingers.

You stretch a bit, eyes closed, your naked body becoming more exposed to the man next to you.

"Can you un-enlist?" You mumble sleepily, draping your smooth leg over his hairy thighs. “Jus’ stay here with me… no strings attached… just hold me an’ pet me…”

John snorts.

He pulls you in a little bit closer and kisses your head, pressing you against his chest.

“Wish it were so simple,” John murmurs, “I’d love to… I love you.”

You open your eyes suddenly, waking up a bit more "Wait... What?"

John continues to stroke your hair gently. He didn't mean to say it outloud, because he wasn't sure how you would react.

"You love me?" You sit up now, not caring that your upper body is fully exposed as the covers pool around your waist.

John chuckles, his eyes crinkling a bit in the corners, and he reaches out a hand to gently pull you closer to him again.

"You said you love me.” You repeat when John pulls you to his chest again. Your chin rested on his chest so you could look up at his face.

He nods to confirm that he did. There is no denying it at this point.

"I do love you."

You scan his eyes, as if waiting for a sign that he was joking… or talking in his sleep.

He meets your eyes and he holds your gaze. He’s being earnest.

"We've only known each other for, like, a few months. Is this crazy?"

''Course it's fuckin' crazy," John murmurs, pulling you in for a kiss.

You kiss him back softly, caressing his face with your hand.

"There's something goin’ on between the two of us,” John speaks in his gruff, sleepy voice when your lips separate from his. “I dunno if I’ve ever felt love like this…”

"You are such a softie,” You grin widely.

John chuckles at your response as he pulls back slightly to look at you better.

He can't get enough of your smile.

"I meant what I said,” John speaks carefully, a thumb gently tracing your cheekbone.

You sigh softly. "It's kind of scary, right?"

"It is, but it also feels so good. Feels right."

"Let's get married." You tease with a cheeky grin, leaning into his touch.

"Why not?" He smirks a bit. “I’ve got your ring picked out.”

Your grin falters. “ You have my ring picked out?”

John nods again, his cheeks slightly pinker than before.

You blink, considering pinching yourself to see if you’re still asleep.

“Picked it out after our first date,” He explains through a blush. “Said you wan’ed that second date proposal, after all.”

You shake your head slowly, realizing that you’ve truly met someone as crazy as you.

Your person.

Your soulmate.

You get out of bed and head towards your bathroom, leaving John behind.

“Gonna shower before our second date, then?” John calls after you with a smirk, arms folded behind his head.

He always knows he has you. Fuck, does he have you.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

The Face I Cherish

erik destler x reader

i lost the request by my own stupidity but the basic plot was that one part in the phantom of the opera books, where erik reveals his face to Christine (in this fic, reader) he says something along the lines of 'im a handsome man, arent i", in this version, reader shows him love instead of hatred

tags/warnings- slowish burn, tender angsty fluff

word count- 672 words divider by- floriseu

Erik stood before me, the darkness of the candlelit room casting long, jagged shadows on the stone walls. His breath was ragged, as if he had fought to reveal his face, a battle within himself against a lifetime of torment and disgust. Slowly, with shaking hands, he reached up and tore the mask from his face.

His disfigurement was exposed—half of his face twisted and scarred, the flesh marred by a cruel fate. The other half, though, was breathtakingly beautiful: sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and piercing eyes that flickered with an intensity I had never seen before. He glared at me, challenging me, waiting for my inevitable recoil.

“You see?” His voice wavered, a mixture of bitterness and vulnerability. “Look upon me and behold the monster I truly am.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My heart ached for him, for the man who had spent his life hiding behind shadows and masks. His expression darkened as he mistook my silence for disgust.

“I’m a handsome man, aren’t I?” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, mocking his own reflection. He was daring me to lie, to pretend, to do anything but look at him for who he was.

But I didn’t see the hideousness he expected me to recoil from. Instead, I saw the years of loneliness, the pain etched into every scar, and the desperation for love in his eyes. Without thinking, I took a step forward, my hands trembling but not from fear. His sharp inhale was audible, but I ignored it. I reached out, my fingers gently cupping his face—both the unmarred side and the scarred side, treating them both with the same tenderness.

“Yes, you are,” I whispered softly, my thumbs brushing over the rough patches of skin, feeling the warmth beneath them.

Erik froze. His whole body went rigid, as if my touch was something foreign, something he didn’t know how to comprehend. His wide eyes met mine, searching for some hint of cruelty or pity, but there was none.

“You are beautiful, Erik,” I continued, leaning closer. “Not because of this—” I gently touched the scarred side of his face, “—or this—” I moved to trace the smooth lines of the other side. “But because of who you are.”

His lips parted, a sharp intake of breath that he seemed to choke on. His hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to push me away or pull me closer.

Before he could decide, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his forehead, just between the ridges of his scar. His skin was warm under my lips, and I could feel him trembling beneath my touch.

I moved to kiss the side of his face, planting soft, lingering kisses along the jagged lines of his scars, treating them with the same reverence I gave to the unmarred parts of him. “You are beautiful, Erik,” I repeated, the words punctuated with each gentle kiss.

Erik’s breath hitched. He stood still, as if he didn’t know how to react, as if my affection was something he had never imagined could be real. Slowly, tentatively, his hands found my wrists, holding me as though I might vanish if he let go.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” I murmured, my lips moving to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “You never had to.”

His grip on my wrists tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might pull away, retreat back into the shadows of his mind. But instead, he leaned into my touch, a soft, broken sound escaping him—a sound that was almost like a sob.

“You don’t understand…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. “I am a monster.”

“No,” I said firmly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You are a man, Erik. A man who deserves to be loved.”

For a moment, his eyes searched mine, filled with disbelief, vulnerability, and something that looked like hope—a hope he had long buried. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. His hands slid down to my waist, holding me as though I were his lifeline.

“I don’t know how…” he whispered, his voice trembling, “to accept that.”

“You don’t have to know right now,” I replied softly, brushing my lips over his in the lightest of kisses. “Just know that it’s true.”

For the first time since he revealed his face to me, Erik didn’t try to hide. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he held me tighter, his scarred face pressed against mine, as if in that moment, he finally believed that he was worthy of love.

[reidmotif]

Safe and Sound

Summary: Reader comforts Spencer after she unknowingly does something to trigger some unhappy memories of his.

Prompt: Spencer Reid going through a panic attack because of Cat Adams. He asks Reader to stop calling him "Spencie".

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst (Happy Ending)/Smut/Fluff

Content Warning: descriptions of a mild panic attack, light allusions to Cat Adams/Prison, pre-established relationship, fluffy, loving smut, he's just super passionate and loves Reader, hickies, slight nipple play, female masturbation, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.5k

Spencer Reid felt like a cliche in all the best ways possible. From the way he took you on candlelit dinners on your birthday, to how he always found a way to wrestle a bouquet into your apartment right as the last one he’d given you before began to wither, you’d grown entirely fond of the man you’d met 6 months ago. A man you met possibly in the most horrifically cliche fashion.

You’d ordered a drink at a local coffee house, standing in front of the counter patiently, rocking on the backs of your heels as you waited for your drink to be called out so you could head onto work. Then came him. 

He was impossible to not notice. He was out of breath, and his leather satchel moved with him as he made a beeline to the counter you were standing at, long legs carrying him across the room swiftly as he grabbed a drink right as the barista put it down. Your eyes widened as you realized the drink he’d grabbed was actually your own, and you quickly put up your hands to warn the man before- 

His face scrunched up adorably as he swallowed the drink, and he looked physically pained, and upon looking at your bewildered expression, he grew sheepish. 

“That.. wasn’t my drink was it?” He said, slowly, putting the cup down. 

You try to play it off, taking the drink back and biting your lip a little at the antics of the man. “Unless you like straight black coffee, then no. Not your drink.” You say, letting a small laugh escape your lips. 

It was only then you got a good look at the man, and it wasn’t hard to not like what was in front of you. He had sweet doe eyes, and a mess of brown curls atop his head. His cheekbones were sharp, and yet there was a quality of softness to him, one that made your chest bloom with attraction and want. 

“I can pay for your replacement.” He offered, but you shook your head, offering a sincere smile. 

“Don’t even worry about it.” You take a sip from the drink where his lips had already touched and watch a rosy tint encapsulate his cheeks, and you internally smile at the thought that he too, could be attracted to you. 

“I actually really have to get going to work, but um-” You thought about how you could prolong your conversation with the man, find a way to look into those gorgeous eyes of his, to feel those plump pink lips against yours, until a name was called out by the barista beside you. 

“Spencer Reid?” And the sound of a coffee cup being placed on the counter could be heard. 

He grabbed the drink, and you took a second to notice his long, slender fingers grabbing the sleeve of the drink. You felt a blush rise to your face as you realized there was a way you could play the situation. 

“Hand me your cup.” You say, grinning a bit and reaching your hand out.

 Maybe it was corny. Maybe it was totally childish, but considering how goddamn cute the guy was, you weren’t about to let him go. 

He furrowed his brows a bit. “Are you going to drink from it to get me back or something?” He said, tilting his head as he subconsciously moved the drink out of your reach. 

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, silly. Just trust me.” You say, and the words seem to have a spell on him as he slowly hands you the coffee cup. 

You quickly take out a pen you’d been carrying on you and scribble the ten digits of your phone number, signing off with your name and a small heart next to it. You bite your lip as you hand the disposable cup back to him, watching as his confused expression turned to one of curiosity as he read what you’d written. 

“I’d love to take you up on that coffee some other time, if that’s alright?" You say, a bit bolder than you normally would have been, but for him? You were willing to embarrass yourself even the slightest bit at the off chance to spend more time with him. 

A flush of red spread across his face as he smiled at the cup, then you. 

“I’ll call you?” Spencer says, a small grin on his face. 

“It’s a date.” You say, mirroring his expression. You check your watch and realize you are beyond late for work at this point. “I really have to go but- I’ll see you around, Spencer!” You say, remembering the name from his coffee cup. 

“You too.” He says, and you leave the coffee shop, heart pounding with excitement and the butterflies that came with an act like that. 

He wasted no time calling you, actually dialing your number that same day and setting up a place and time for the two of you to meet. First dates were always such a hassle, but Spencer made them so easy. Talking to the man had been the most uncomplicated thing you’d ever done in your life.

 You found yourself willingly divulging details of your life as he gave you his. He was an FBI agent. His mother, Diana, was currently at a treatment facility in DC. He says she would like you, and you find yourself falling helplessly for him. He’s earnest and kind. And when he asks you if you’d like to be a more permanent item, you don’t hesitate whatsoever in agreeing. 

If dating Spencer Reid was nice, being his girlfriend was even nicer. Moving in with him was possibly the nicest, and in a short amount of time you’d grown used to the domestic bliss and routine living with him provided. 

He’d already told you the schedule he was on, in which he’d work a hundred days in the field and then be back in DC to teach a seminary class for thirty days, and you had no problem with it. You were also working full-time, albeit not the insane hours the FBI put him to- but still. You had no trouble coming home to an empty apartment, knowing that soon enough, your boyfriend would be back in your arms. 

When he was at home, it was perfect. He’d grade papers on the couch, some documentary droning on in the background. You’d read or use your phone on the opposite side of the couch, occasionally letting your eyes drift to his focused figure. He’d roll his pen between his fingers, sometimes placing it in between his lips as he thought about the next comment to jot down on the paper, or tapping the writing utensil against the side of his cheek with a distant look on his face. 

You’d smile to yourself before crawling over, slowly removing the papers from his lap and settling yourself in their place instead. He'd greet you with his hands on your hips, and soon enough, his lips would begin trailing soft kisses along the column of your neck before eventually fucking you right into the couch, having you moan out his name as his perfect cock drove you to your climax. 

Needless to say, it was absolutely divine dating Spencer. 

Which is why today, things seemed off. He was distant, retreating into himself all day. He shied away from your touch, when normally he’d lean into it. You would generally share some banter in the kitchen, Spencer oftentimes stealing languid kisses from you as you both made dinner, but this time around he seemed sullen, keeping his head down and eyes away from yours as he cooked with you.

You had no idea what had happened. 

Things had been normal just a day prior. 

You decided to take a little initiative, biting your lips a bit nervously as you came up behind him, wrapping your arms tentatively around his waist, which he responded to by lifting up his arms so you could lean against his back. 

“Mm. Something wrong?” You murmur, taking in the scent of his cologne and the feel of his cardigan that he’d occasionally sport around your shared apartment. It was soft, and provided the perfect padding for you to rest your head against as you hugged him from behind. 

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He replied, almost curtly. His voice was steady, but the tensing of his shoulders revealed that a lie had been uttered through his lips, and you instantly caught onto it. You may have not been a profiler like he was, but your shared time together had allowed you to find ways to read him, ways that revealed something was truly bothering him in that moment.

“Spence.” You say, hugging him a little tighter. “Come on.” You slowly turn him around, as to get a better look at his face, watching him carefully. 

“Did something happen- are.. are you mad at me?” You find yourself asking. It was almost like whiplash, watching your normally sweet and loving boyfriend withdraw like this, and you couldn’t help but worry some part of it was your fault. 

He immediately sensed your insecurity and brought his hands to your shoulders rubbing them soothingly. 

“Oh, baby.” He said, in a low tone. “Please don’t worry about it like that. It’s just.. work okay?” He says, hesitation in his lips as he said “work”. You narrow your eyes a little and continue to look into his eyes, trying to sense any deceivement on his part. 

“Just work? You promise?” You ask, looking up at him. You offered a gentle expression, one that conveyed the enormity of trust and love you’d placed in the man, and hoped the expression was mirrored in him as well. 

He nodded and moved to plant a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips. “I promise.” 

You return the kiss, smiling softly as you place your forehead against his, looking into his hazel eyes. You felt so safe with him, so comforted, and you genuinely loved him so much for that. 

“I love you, Spencie.” You murmur, moving in for another kiss but before your lips can meet his again, he instantly moves you away from him, nearly jumping back and moving himself towards the bedroom, effectively halting the intimate moment you’d been having. 

You watched as he went to your shared bedroom, closing the door behind him. Your eyes were wide, unsure what had even just happened. One moment you’d been kissing, and the next he was running away like he was revolted by just the thought of being near you? 

You tried to replay the action. You’d said “I love you” before, so that wasn’t it. Spencer wasn’t scared of physical intimacy. He’d shown that as much from how much he enjoyed touching you, having a need to have you close to him in public, always holding onto your hand or waist in enclosed spaces. You bit your lip, trying to regain your thoughts as you realize the only way you’d know what exactly had gone wrong would be to ask Spencer himself. You give yourself a few minutes to pace, before walking slowly to where he’d boarded himself up. 

You knock on the door once, your hand already on the knob. “Spencer, I’m coming in.” You don’t hear an answer, and start to feel your pulse speed up. “Spencer? Please? Answer me?” 

Still nothing. 

In the end, you twist the doorknob, finding your boyfriend curled up on your bed, breathing a little heavier than normal as tear stains streaked his cheeks, and you find yourself instantly heartbroken by the sight. 

It no longer matters what was wrong- you just desperately didn’t want him to feel this way. You join him on the bed promptly, your hands going to his hair, trying to soothe him the way he usually liked. 

“Spence? Spencer, baby.” You say, softly. 

Despite how he’d usually tower over you, right now he looked impossibly small and vulnerable, a look of absolute fear and panic plastered over his face. “Shh. I’m right here, alright?” 

He clung onto you, hands abruptly wrapping around your waist as he buried himself into your chest. “I’m sorry.” He said, his voice quiet and small. “I just.” He took a deep breath, and the grip around the fabric of your shirt didn’t let up in the slightest. 

You didn’t say anything, only stroking his hair and placing soft kisses on the top of his head. You had no idea what had happened. He had nightmares, yes, but this was different from those. You weren’t sure why this had happened in the first place. 

His soft voice broke your thoughts. “Please.. please don’t call me ‘Spencie’ again.” He murmurs, a small sniffle being heard from where he was against you. 

You complied straight away, nodding. Things started to click for you when you realized you’d let the nickname slip from your mouth the previous day as a sign of affection. You were quickly realizing the action had the opposite effect.  “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” You say, looking down at him with concern, even if he wasn’t looking at you. “I won’t, I promise.” 

He takes a breath and adjusts himself, wiping his eyes and looking at you now. “I don’t really- talk about these past few years with you.” He says, softly. “And honestly? I still don’t want to.” He admits, his eyes looking downward with shame. 

You shook your head as soon as the words were uttered from his mouth. “Spence- you don’t have to. I.. I like you even if you don’t talk about things. I just want to be here for you, yeah?” You say, trying to convey just how much you loved and cared for him. How badly you wanted to make sure he felt just as secure as he made you feel. 

He pauses and nods, but sighs. “I don’t want to get into the whole of it- but a few years ago there was this .. woman.” Spencer says, still looking away. “She really, really got into my head and managed to hurt me in more ways than one.” He looks down and tears start to fill his eyes again. “I don’t really know if I’ll ever be the same again. If I’ll ever be good again.” He murmurs. 

Your heart instantaneously shatters with his words as you try to pull him close again. “Hey, hey.” You say, cupping his face. “Don’t say that, love.” Your eyes dart, trying to find the words. “You are- one of, if not the bravest, kindest, loveliest men I’ve ever met.” 

He smiles weakly at the words but they don’t seem to take root in his heart. “You don’t know half of the things I’ve done.” He says, his eyes filled with sorrow and you shake your head. 

“I don’t need to, and I never will.” You say, softly. “I know you, alright? In all the ways that matter.” You pause, not wanting to say the wrong thing but still wanting to convey just how much he meant to you. “If- if this is you after, after every single bad and terrible thing that’s happened to you- God, Spencer.” You smile softly at him, tracing the nape of his neck gently. “You’re so good, okay?” You whisper. “The best.” 

He tears up at that, moving to bury himself in your neck this time and you can feel him inhaling your scent, melting into your touch. You hear him whisper again. “The woman.” He mutters. “She used to call me ‘Spencie' to mess with me. That’s why I freaked out. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” You say, rubbing soft, soothing circles into his back. “She sounds awful, from what you’ve said. I’m sorry I did something that reminded you of her, even if it wasn’t intentional.” You say, kissing the top of his head once more, trying to offer reassurances and love in any small way you could. Anything to make him feel safe. 

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, and he moves to kiss your lips, softly. “I love you.” He says, his lips brushing against yours. 

You kiss him back, finding your hand going to his cheek now, nodding. “I love you too.”

He starts to kiss you a bit more vigorously and you sense his need for intimacy, for something to remind him of how close the two of you are and you respond readily, moving your lips over his as he positions himself in a way that straddles your hips, your body under his now. You want him to feel protected. To feel known, even if he couldn't talk about his past. To tell him that regardless of what he said or didn't- you'd love him. That he was your home and you were his.

He pulls back and attaches to your neck, leaving wet and hot kisses in his wake. 

“I love you.” He murmurs against your skin, lips brushing against the sensitive surface of your throat. 

“I love you.” He starts to suck softly along your jugular, making you shudder with pleasure. 

“I love you.” His tongue traces the outline of the mark he’d made, sure to bruise by tomorrow. 

“I love you too.” You breathlessly whimper, as his lips start to trail down lower and lower. He begins to undo your shirt, as to gain more access to your skin and you allow him, shrugging off the fabric as fast as you can. Your hands move to remove your bra and he's on you swiftly, tongue swirling around your nipple in a way that causes your back to arch into him. 

You can feel the way he grins when he feels it, and he continues, before moving onto your neglected breast. Your eyes have fluttered shut from the immense pleasure you’re feeling right now, and you relax into how good he makes you feel. How right this is. How safe you both are with each other. 

He moves down further, quickly undoing your pants and underwear in a clean swoop, and with little warning he dives into your wet folds, lapping up an embarrassing amount of wetness that had accumulated with so little of his touch.  

His tongue eventually begins to flick against your clit, darting to drive you to the precipice of pleasure you’d been feeling throughout this entire tryst. His fingers plunge into you as well, delivering a satisfying stretch that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The combination of his long, slender digits buried inside your heat and the constant prodding of his tongue has you quickly unraveling, your toes curling as you release right on his tongue, which he eagerly drinks in. 

When you recover from your orgasm, you watch him, his chin glistening in your arousal, and it is just so fucking hot. You move to return the favor, but he shakes his head. 

“I want- I want to feel close to you.” He breathlessly explains. “Can I?” 

You understand, quickly lying back so he can reposition himself above you. You watch him undo his belt slowly, pulling his cock out from the confines of his briefs before passing the tip through your wet folds. 

“God, you’re so good.” He whispers, and you feel a soft smile grace your face before he pushes into you, slowly filling you, inch by inch. 

He moves with purpose, driving into a spot that has you clutching the bedsheets and moaning his name. He whispers sweet nothings as he pounds into you. He treats you like you’re made of glass, like he never wants to lose you, like his life depends on making this as good as possible for you. 

You want to do the same for him. You arch your back to take more of him, and he moans at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him. 

“Fuck- I’m not gonna last.” He pants into the crook of your neck. You can feel his thrusts getting less rhythmic and you knot your hands in his hair, nodding. 

“Me neither.” You moan, feeling your second orgasm rapidly approaching, your eyes screwing shut once more. 

He removes himself from your neck and uses his fingers to rub tight, slow circles around your clit and it’s enough to make you tip your head back and climax, the spasms of your cunt being enough to elicit the same reaction from him, his warmth spilling into your deepest point. 

He pulls out and kisses you all over. Your face, your neck, your cheek, your lips. It’s as if the sex wasn’t enough, that no action could convey the enormity of his desire and trust when it came to you. 

You grab his face as he moves to kiss you one more time, and he looks confused as to why you stopped him, tilting his head. 

“I love you, okay?” You whisper, before he can say anything, looking up at him with a loving gaze, losing yourself in his own eyes that shined with the same affection you felt for him. 

“I love you too.” He whispers. “I don’t deserve you.” He says, softly. “You make me feel so safe- and wanted and. I don’t know how I can thank you for that.” 

“You wanna know a secret?” You murmur, softly. 

He nods, and you lean up to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. “You make me feel the exact same way.”

hello!! tried my hand at writing something just a tad more angsty and sad for @tobias-hankel 's whump challenge! hope you guys liked it. thank you so much for all your support whether its likes or reblogs or comments, i'm grateful for all of it!! ty ty ty