#and you can only experience it through touch

[valyvinny]

╰┈➤ ❝ Love and deepspace boys *:･ﾟ✧*: Losing control ❞

PAIRING : Caleb x reader, Sylus x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader and Xavier x reader GENRE : Soft smut WORD COUNT : 2.6k TAGS : MDNI 18+ NSFW, kissing, making out, grinding, dry humping, allusions to sex, rafayel is implied to be in heat, back scratching (only is sylus') A/N : PHEWW, I know I said that the next piece of writing may take a while but I also have no self control lol. Though this time I promise its gonna take a hot minute cause final year med school exams are kicking my asssss. Also, I didn't expect my previous piece to do as well as it did. Thank you all so so much for reading it and I hope you enjoy this one :)

The lads boys can't help but lose control around you

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Caleb

Caleb is addicted to your lips. It’s almost like he’s making up for the years he’s spent abstaining from you, littering fleeting pecks throughout the day. 

Caleb just can’t seem to help himself. He’d always kiss you hello and goodbye. He’d kiss you good morning and good night. 

He was always so gentle with it, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears before cupping your face in his palms, holding you like you’re made of glass. Afraid that with one wrong move, you’d break. 

He’d take his time to admire your features. Features that he’s cherished and adored his whole life, that he can probably draw out from memory. Your expressive eyes gazing at him in anticipation, the plush of your inviting lips, the dusty pink hue that’s settled on your cheeks.  

You were his entire world and he could only hope you’d be able to feel at least a fraction of what he felt for you and how much he treasured you in the way he kissed you. Soft and tender. Pouring all the passion he could as he moved his lips against yours. 

But perhaps most infuriatingly (not really, you secretly loved it), he’d often kiss you mid conversation. A light peck to stop you in your tracks. It was his trump card, especially when you were scolding him for something. And it worked every time, it always seemed to melt you into a puddle 

“You just look so adorable when you’re talking to me pip-squeak” he’d say, laughing at your display of annoyance. But the fact that you we’re fighting off a smile said you felt otherwise. 

But when he had the time to indulge himself in you, it was an entirely different experience. An entirely different Caleb. The duality of your childhood friend always gave you a whiplash. 

He’s pulling you close to him, savoring the feeling of your body against his. You’re caged against his imposing form and whatever surface he’s crowding you against this time. You’re pinned, completely at the mercy of the man that’s yearning for your touch. 

Caleb kisses you with the hunger of a thousand men. His kisses are feverish, demanding, ravishing every corner of your mouth like it’s the first time. He bites down on the plush of your bottom lip, taking you by surprise. 

“Sorry”, he breathes. But he isn’t really. Not when the sound of your wanton moans sends tingles down his spine. God, how did he get so fucking lucky. Having you here like this, so pliant and needy in his arms is his version of heaven. 

The feeling of you carding your fingers through the strands of his hair, tugging at the roots makes a filthy groan escape from his lips. You’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re impatiently pulling his lips towards you again, and it only spurs him on further, pressing one bruising kiss after another, leaving your lips swollen. All the while his hand is sneaking up your shirt to feel the intoxicating warmth of your body. 

You rarely ever stop him when he gets like this. You know he needs it, needs you. And you want him too. Desperately. So you take a hold of his hand and guide it lower, Caleb’s eyes darkening in response. It’s safe to say that neither of you are going anywhere anytime soon. 

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Sylus

Sylus is subtle with his affections, it reflects in his gentle and otherwise discrete mannerisms. 

The silver haired man has made a habit of kissing your hand in greeting.

“My lady”, he’s tease, smirking at the your cheeks tinged pink and your defiant pout. 

Occasionally, he’d press a kiss on the top of your head and interlace his fingers with yours. Other times, he’d wrap your hands around your waist, guiding you through noisy crowds. 

However, behind closed doors, your proximity was a drug to him. 

He’d rarely, if ever, be apart from you and your lips. Once he had you against him on his bed, perched on his lap, you’d be better off clearing your schedule. 

Sylus could spend hours savoring the touch of your lips against his. He’s a sensual kisser. Taking his time to draw out every moan, every whimper he can draw from you. 

He’s slow, concentrating first on your upper, then your lower lip, your mouth moving against his in tandem with a rhythm that comes with practiced ease. He’s thoroughly infatuated with the way you move against him, seeking more of his touch. 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, before entangling his fingers in your hair, angling your face just right for him to kiss you deeper, while his other hand is wrapped against your waist leaning you against the headboard. 

It’s intoxicating. You’re drowning in the presence of this man, and with each kiss, you only want to sink deeper and deeper. 

His kisses are numbing. Your lips tingling with how much they’re being ravaged by his, but you don’t want it to stop. In fact, you want to break his resolve further. 

So you pull out his shirt that’s tucked neatly in his pants, your hand snaking up his back, feeling the muscles flex underneath your fingertips. 

You rake your nails across his back, the sting making the silver haired male shudder in response, satisfied at his break in composure. 

“You sly minx” he chides, black tendrils of his Evol emerging to bind your wrists over your head, freeing him to continue his offense. 

Each press of his lips steals your breath away, leaving you completely drunk with need, until the only thought consuming you was the man in front of you. 

As the minutes tick by, Sylus is emboldened with a new sense of ferocity and intensity as you find yourself grinding against his thigh, desperate to ease the growing warmth in between your thighs. 

And if you were willing to, he’d be very happy to indulge you, give you everything you want and more. 

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Zayne

Zayne is a sensible man. His logical reasoning and quick thinking, even in the most critical situations, is what makes him the most sought after Cardiothoracic Surgeon in Linkon. 

He’s very rarely swayed by his emotions. But that also means he comes off as cold and unfeeling to the people around him. 

Not to you though. Never to you. Zayne is the warmest presence in your life.

In the midst of all his responsibilities, you are his reprieve, a breath of fresh air. When he has you to himself, the doctor throws all sense and reason out the window. You are his ultimate weakness. 

You are his to worship. The need he feels for you is indescribable. It consumes him, swallows him whole, until he starts to let lose any remaining restraint that holds him back from you. 

The way Zayne kisses you can only be described as reverent. He takes his time with you. Worshipping you. 

Kissing featherlight kisses up your jaw, his lips just barely brushing your skin, trailing them to just beneath your ear, before tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. 

You shiver in response, angling yourself towards him, trying to press more of yourself to him in hopes that he will relent. 

But Zayne is in no hurry. Not at all. He wants to watch you unravel under him. Bit my bit until you’re completely pliant. 

He wants to be selfish with you. So he continues his ministrations, peppering kisses down your throat, feeling the vibrations of your hums and huffs with his lips. 

You’re struggling to keep your eyes open now, Zayne’s gentle but lethal movements sending a flush of warmth down your body. You need his lips on yours, you need it like you need air. 

“Please Zayne…kiss me” 

How could he deny you when you begged him so sweetly? 

The sight of you so debauched with just a few simple touches sends Zayne into a frenzy. It pleases him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you. 

So he relents, giving you what you want and kissing your lips, while you sigh in relief. Finally. 

Zayne kisses you with intent. His hands are at your hips, squeezing slightly as he devours the moans that leave your lips.

He moves his hand to touch your face, earning a surprised gasp from you, your eyes shooting open. His fingertips are icy cold. Only then do you notice, there’s frost creeping up his neck and hands. His Evol is responding to you. 

But Zayne pays it no mind, he’d die before ever causing you harm. So he grazes your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb, gazing into your eyes while nodding reassuringly. 

“I’m okay” he’d confirm before he captures your lips again, this time with renewed vigor, determined to finish what he started. 

He’s everywhere all at once, and you find comfort in each other’s kisses, touches and presence. Allowing yourselves to get lost in each other further into the night. 

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Xavier

Xavier is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. His unsuspecting and otherwise modest appearance only serves as a facade, concealing his genuine desires. 

While he comes off as quiet and unassuming, the truth is far from it. 

He can’t help himself. You’re his. The hunter wants you next to him at all times, kissing him, touching him, loving him. He wants your undivided attention on him, selfishly so. 

It always starts out so innocent. He’s pulling you into his embrace, kissing the tip of your nose in greeting. 

“Hello my star” he says, as you giggle under his affection. And God his heart clenches at the sound. It’s music to his ears. 

He repeats the action, then tenderly peppering kisses all over your face. Your forehead, the apple of your cheeks, the dip of your chin and the corner of your lips. Over and over again until you’re reduced into a fit of laughter. 

“Xavier, it tickles” you whine, with no real complaint in your tone. 

He ceases his playful gesture, only to wrap his hands around your waist, picking you up and placing you on the dining table with practiced ease. 

You often find yourself in this position. Perched on a surface with Xavier spreading your thighs, finding his rightful place between them. 

He’s burying his face in your neck, brushing his lips against your thrumming pulse. The sound of your breath hitching in response makes Xavier smile against your skin. He’s got you exactly where he wants you. 

“My light, can I please?” He asks, pleading for your permission to spoil you.  

You find it very hard to deny the hunter, especially when you know what usually comes next. And you want it so bad. Want him to come undone and take you for himself. You’ve never stopped him before and you’re most definitely not going to stop him now. 

The breathy ‘please’ that leaves your lips is all the confirmation he needs as he dives to nip at the nape of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm as he swipes his tongue along the line of your pulse. You throw your head back in response, inviting him to take more of you. 

Xavier worries the skin in between his teeth, sucking and tonguing at the spot until he’s satisfied with the dark splotch that blooms in its place. 

He continues a similar onslaught across your collarbone and throat, leaving you hissing at the delicious sting. 

The hunter trails his lips up your throat, finally connecting his lips with yours. He kisses you like a man starved, encouraged by the sight of the dark purple marks he’s left decorating your skin. 

It satisfies a primal part of him, knowing in a way, he’s claimed you for himself. 

He’s greedy for you, and isn’t ashamed to show it. Pressing chaste kisses one after the other, barely giving you a second to catch your breath, swallowing the lustful moans that threaten that leave your lips. 

And as his hand squeezes the fat of your thighs, edging his fingertips higher to the warmth that sits between your legs, you know that you’re not leaving his apartment until you’re absolutely ruined. 

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Rafayel

There’s only two things that Rafayel needs to survive in this world. One is his art, the second is you. The merman is needy and he isn’t ashamed to show it. 

Sometimes, it’s difficult to get anything done when the Lemurian is around. He’s practically glued to your side, sneaking kisses to your cheek, wrapping his hand around your waist and nuzzling into the nape of your neck.  

You aren’t complaining though, you find it endearing when he’s all pouty and clingy.

And then there’s Rafayel when there’s an insatiable need growing under his skin that he just can’t seem to itch.   

When he gets like this, you’ve learned to surrender to his mercy. That’s how you find yourself currently perched on his lap. 

His gaze is intense, half lidded eyes staring you down like you’re his prey. He’s breathing heavier than usual, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. 

“Raf, are you okay?” You question worryingly. He’s burning up, you can practically feel the heat emanating from his skin. 

Wordlessly, Rafayel takes a hold of your hand, placing it on his cheek, nuzzling into your palm. It’s not enough though, he’s growing more restless. He needs more of you touching him. 

On instinct, the merman turn his face to bite at the fat of your palm, laving his tongue over the skin. When he hears your breath hitch, he breaks. 

With all semblance of reason now completely disregarded, Rafayel grasps at your neck, pressing your body into his eliminating any space between the two of you. 

His lips are on yours in an instant, and your hands are in his hair, tugging at his waves as he nips and sucks at your lips, bruising them. 

“Y/n…” he groans. His voice dripping with lust, brows knitted as he struggles to catch his breath. 

You look up at the merman. He looks positively ruined. His shirt is in disarray, hair standing up in a hundred different directions, lips swollen. And his eyes, there’s a storm brewing behind them, having darkened considerably. 

You’ve never seen him like this. Rafayel’s always been playful, using his humor as a front to his true feelings, always keeping you at arms length. 

But right now, he feels so raw. Trusting you with his deepest desires as they erupt to the surface. 

Seeing him like this, so open, so vulnerable makes heat pool between your legs. You want him, God no you need him. So you crash your lips onto his with fervor, matching his frenzy with new determination. 

Rafayel is loud. He doesn’t hold back, reacting to every press of lips, every pull of hair, grinding himself against you to relieve at least some of the tension built up in his pants. 

His tongue is swiping at your bottom lip, begging for permission which you grant without hesitation. It’s wet and messy, one hand kneading your thigh, the other playing with the button of your jeans. 

It’s all a well choreographed dance then, motions you’ve been through many times. But somehow this moment feels different, a tangible electricity in the air. You have a feeling the Lemurian isn’t going to let you go until he’s had his fill of you. 

© valyvinny. All right reserved. Do not steal, copy, translate, repost or reupload any of my works. Do not use my work for AI

[minswriting]

UNKNOWN TERRITORY - A.H x Reader x S.R

About: Spencer walks in on Aaron going down on you. So he watches the two of you have sex.

A/N: this didn’t come out exactly how i wanted it to but i have so many ideas on this dynamic lol. so feel free to send aaron x reader x spencer requests!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, office sex, unprotected sex, oral (f), getting caught, voyeurism, masturbation (m), whiny Spencer, whiny reader, making out, Spencer’s a virgin and receives a handjob

Word Count: 1.5k

Working late at the Bureau wasn’t one of your favorite things to do, especially after working a really long case. No one else was at the Bureau except you and Aaron, everyone had already gone home. You were exhausted and just wanted to go home as well. But you also didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to be between Aaron’s sheets as he fucked you into a blissful state. Instead, you were sitting on Aaron’s desk, thoroughly distracting him from the work he claimed he absolutely had to do, as he was on his knees with his face buried between your legs.

Your legs rested on Aaron’s shoulders as his tongue lapped around your cunt, coating his tongue with your juices. Your hands gripped the desk as you let out the most beautiful noises, soft moans with quiet whimpers. Aaron’s tongue dipped to your hole, causing his nose to grind against your clit. You gasped, moving a hand to Aaron’s head as your eyes fluttered shut. You gently tugged at his hair, causing Aaron to groan against your pussy. The sound sent vibrations through you, making you buck your hips in response.

You knew exactly when this sexual relationship began with Aaron. About four months ago, the two of you were forced to share a room in the rural countryside in Vermont for a case with only one bed. So naturally, you ended up with your face buried in the pillow as Aaron fucked you into oblivion. And you had absolutely no regrets.

Aaron worked meticulously at eating you out. He loved when he could just bury his face between your thighs. The amount of times you’ve woken up with his tongue inside of you was more than often whenever he slept at your place. Your pussy was like his happy place and he never failed to show you that. He moved his lips against your cunt, slurping as he sucked on your clit.

You whined, still gripping Aaron’s hair. You opened your eyes to look down at him, only to see someone standing at the door. You gasped. “S-Spencer,” You said, eyes widening.

Aaron stopped his movements, looking up at you with confusion. “What?” He deadpanned.

You pointed a shaky finger at the doorway. “Spencer,” You said again. Aaron turned his head, seeing Spencer standing in the doorway with a file in hand. Spencer was frozen, shocked at the scene in front of him. His lips were parted, his eyes wide like a deer, his cheeks were pinkened, and he was sporting a very obvious hard-on.

Nothing was spoken between the three of you for a good few seconds. You were still exposed, your pants sitting comfortably on Aaron’s couch in his office. Your legs were still on Aaron’s shoulders. You thought Aaron would stop the whole ordeal, being the most logical person in the room because he was your and Spencer’s boss. However, instead, he looks at Spencer and then at you and says “Reid, if you’re going to stand there and watch, you can at least come in and close the door,” before diving back into eating you out.

The action caused you to gasp and moan, your hand going back to Aaron’s hair. Spencer quickly walked into the office, closing the door behind him. He stood awkwardly in the room, watching the scene before him. He bit his lip, watching as Aaron ate you out. The way your body reacted to Aaron’s touch, the way your lips parted in an “o”. You looked as though you were in Heaven, basking in the pleasures that Aaron bestowed on you. And Spencer couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Spencer’s never done anything remotely sexual so his experience is very much nonexistent. What better way to learn to pleasure someone than to watch it happen right in front of you?

The look you were giving Spencer as Aaron ate you out was one that Spencer would likely jerk off to frequently. He had expected that you would look at Aaron as if he was the one pleasuring you but instead, your lustful gaze met Spencer’s doe eyes, as though you wanted him to join. And as you let out a loud moan, biting your lip when Aaron sucked on your clit, you made a come here motion to Spencer. Spencer was quick to walk over to you, placing the file that was in his hands on Aaron’s desk before taking a seat next to you on the desk. He looked at you, waiting for you to say or do anything.

You tilted your head towards Spencer, looking at him. “Kiss me,” you breathed out.

And Spencer didn’t need to be told twice as he put his lips onto yours.

Aaron glanced up as he continued eating you out, his hands on your thighs. He saw you and Spencer kissing, unable to help the small chuckle that escaped his lips against your cunt. The action of itself caused you to moan against Spencer’s mouth, allowing his tongue to explore you. Your kisses with Spencer were slow but hungry. Both of your hands were tugging at Aaron’s hair.

You could feel yourself getting closer. With the way Aaron’s tongue kept moving around on your pussy and how his nose would brush against your clit. The way Spencer’s tongue moved inside your mouth as he kissed you. The little cherry on top that sent you over the edge was the way Spencer had tentatively put a hand on your left boob, massaging the flesh through your shirt. You came with a loud moan that was muffled by Spencer’s mouth. Your thighs clenched around Aaron’s face, shaking as your orgasm overcame you.

When you finished, you pulled away from the kiss to look down at Aaron, breathing heavily. He pulled away from your cunt, taking your legs off of his shoulder as he stood up. His face was glistening from your juices. He took the back of his hand, wiping his chin before licking his lips. It wasn’t long until the three of you were undressed and moved to Aaron’s couch.

Spencer was sitting on the left side of the couch while Aaron had you bent over on the rest of it, his cock thrusting into you hard. Your eyes were rolled back as Spencer watched you. He had his cock in his hand, stroking himself with his fist. He thumbed the tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that had accumulated, causing him to let out a whine.

That noise sent a shiver down your spine, causing your pussy to flutter around Aaron’s cock. “Oh you liked that didn’t you, baby?” Aaron groaned, giving you a particularly harsh thrust, eliciting a sharp moan from you.

“Yes,” you whined, looking at Spencer.

Spencer really couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He knew it should’ve been wrong. The fact that you were his coworker and Hotch was his boss. And yet, he could hardly find himself caring when you looked so pretty getting railed by your boss. Spencer began stroking himself a bit faster, pumping his cock in rhythm of Aaron’s thrusts. But when your hand moved to wrap around Spencer’s, helping him jerk himself off? Spencer almost came right then and there. “O-oh fuck,” Spencer whimpered out, throwing his head back. His eyes met with Aaron’s as he turned his head to the side as Aaron gave him a smirk.

Aaron’s thrusts became more frenzied, chasing the pleasure that you both craved. The office was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, moans and whines from both you and Spencer, and the low groans that Aaron was letting out.

It didn’t take long for Spencer to cum. His hips began meeting your fist and he was done for. His cum landed on his chest and stomach as Spencer let out the most beautiful noises you had ever heard.

The heat was building in your abdomen from Aaron’s thrusts. You were close and Aaron could tell. “Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” Aaron said, grabbing your ass and massaging it. His breathing was harsh just like his thrusts.

You came with a high pitched noise that was surely pornographic, a noise that will live in Spencer’s dreams frequently. You buried your head into the leather cushion, cumming from Aaron’s cock. Aaron continued his pace before letting out a loud groan, burying himself deep inside of you as he came.

Harsh breathing filled the air as the three of you came down from your highs. You looked at Spencer who was moving his gaze between you and Aaron. None of you spoke. But there was change in the way the three of you interacted from now on. This fateful night marked the night when Spencer became part of your dynamic with Aaron. It was uncertain as to where it would go or what would come of it. But all that mattered was teaching one another and exploring each other’s bodies.

[aeraminth]

nsfw - 1.1k dry humping as his arm gets repaired // the first time you saw caleb’s robotic arm, you couldn’t help but feel anger towards the people who forced him through such a horrible and traumatic experience. it took weeks, if not months, of caleb’s reassurance and tending to your concerns to finally soften your anger towards it. to you, it’s a reminder of what changed him—a reminder to you of the person he is now.

but, you can’t lie and say his repairs don’t leave a trail of curiosity in their wake whenever you watch.

now, instead of pushing you away like he did initially, caleb lets you stay around, seeing him with his guard down and with all the vulnerabilities of the world plastered on his disposition. you hurt just as bad when he does, wincing alongside him when he lets out another pained sound slip during a repair.

“caleb,” you cough from behind him. he bites his tongue, having resigned himself to accepting your advances, when time and time again he knows he can’t refuse you.

“not so bad the more you see it, right?” he tries, but the muscles on his back are taut and a light layer of sheen covers his exposed upper half. despite the wave of pain that courses through his body, caleb still stays playful, trying to show you the best version of himself at all times.

is it so wrong to say he leaves your core pulsing with need? his bionic arm continues to fizzle, and the screen reads that he has another five minutes of scanning before he can finally feel better.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you,” you console, sliding right by his side and wrapping his left arm around your shoulder. “just a bit longer.”

“thanks, pip-squeak. but really—i promise—“ a long, drawn out groan betrays him as he turns away, the crackle of electricity to your left a clear sign that his repairs have hit a weak spot. “i promise—“ he breathes out, “i’ll be okay. this won’t happen again.”

staring at caleb, a sudden prickle of anger slowly rises within you, and you reach for his chin to make eye contact. you need to be as close to him as possible, and with a swift movement, you’re on caleb’s lap, forcing him to slightly look up at you with a hand cradling his jaw. his left hand reaches for your thigh, helping you adjust your position as his touch lingers on your exposed skin.

the material of his pants and his belt against your bare legs are rough, and only wearing the t-shirt you’ve taken from caleb’s closet doesn’t stop the thin material of your panties from rubbing against him. his breath hitches, and he takes a long sigh, his eyes never leaving yours as you force him to continue holding eye contact. his focus us completely torn away from the screen that quietly beeps and flickers; all he’s thinking about is how’d you react if the hand on your thigh trailed up to the cotton waistband of your panties instead—how, there are much better things to do in this position than simply talk.

your gaze is filled with hurt, fixed on his mechanical arm. “you’ve never broken a promise to me—i don’t need you to tell me you’ll be okay when everything else right now obviously isn’t,” you murmur.

subconsciously, the trailing touch of your fingertips up and down his left bicep leave him straining against your heat and gritting his teeth for different reasons. rarely do you succeed in telling him off, but you know how to hit him when he’s weak, with your exposed collarbone adorned with a hickey his gazed has zeroed in on, and the feeling of your warm heat snug against his dick, no matter how many layers in between. “don’t lie to me, caleb—not about this. you don’t need to.” you stare at the screen before a subtle movement breaks your gaze.

caleb only slightly rolls his hips against yours, suddenly searching for relief in a silent apology; he hears you completely, but the back of his mind has just been filled with the carnal need to feel more of you. he ruts against your clothed cunt once more, his eyes begging for forgiveness as his left hand reaches for the small of your back.

“please, princess. i’m sorry,” caleb’s eyes shine with sincerity and lust all in one go, your concern for him lighting a fire that only you can put out. you don’t even remember what you were scolding him for—all rational slipping away.

you’re basically soaked through your panties as your anger dissolves, meeting his desperate attempts for pleasure as his repair fades into the background. he shifts his hips once more, and satiates the desire you’ve been wanting to explore for so long.

“fuck,” he whispers, his voice gravelly, and you can’t tell if it’s from the wires that his arm is attached to, or if he can feel your heat through your garments. he lets out a low moan when your clit bumps into his cock again, losing all restraint before muttering, “want you.”

you can’t resist him, grinding against his dick harder abd whimpering right in his ear. it’s like you’re possessed, or caleb’s hand keeps you going, because you can’t find it in you to stop keeping him as close to your skin as possible. but in your chase for pleasure, neither of you bother to forego your clothes, and the you continue like a madman, rubbing on his bulge as the pain in his right arm barely matters to him anymore.

caleb doesn’t bother to be subtle about it either, bucking his hips while trying to keep his right arm on the bed, chasing his high while obscenities tumble from his lips.

“shouldn’t have lied to you—fuck—i need you so bad, baby,” his hand travels up your back, silently begging for a kiss. your core burns with both a delicious friction and so much desperation that you reach for his hair, pulling slightly at caleb’s roots as you whimper in his ear how badly you need to come. it only spurs him on to be even dirtier, pushing you down onto him impossibly closer, as if he was fucking up into you.

“come all over my fucking pants like a dirty slut, hm? you want it, you want me to come in my pants for you?” you whine at his degradation, your hips stilling as you clench around nothing and leave such a wet mess on his pants.

repair completed.

but when he tells you to take off his pants—part of his uniform—who are you to disobey your colonel’s orders?

i feel insane he's like so fine i'm going to retreat and write sylus and caleb fluff now

[targtowerxstark]

A woman’s touch- Cregan Stark X Wife Reader.

(Fluff Drabble)

Summary: Cregan is helping train the young lads of Winterfell. While doing so he gets a cut on his arm from fighting. He returns to his shared chambers and his wife takes care of him. Which leads them to have an intimate conversation about his other scars.

———————-————————————-———-———Cregan Stark stood in the training yard, surrounded by the eager young lads of Winterfell. The air was crisp, with the scent of pine and snow lingering in the atmosphere. He exchanged a glance with his guard, Ser Jory, a loyal man with a quick wit.

"Shall we show them how it's done, Ser Jory?" Cregan challenged, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Only if you can keep up, my lord," Ser Jory replied, drawing his sword with a flourish.

The boys gathered around, eyes wide with anticipation. Cregan and Ser Jory circled each other, swords clashing in a dance of skill and experience. Cregan feinted to the left, then swiftly struck to the right, catching Ser Jory off guard. As Cregan looked at the young boys as he lowered his guard, Ser Jory took advantage, landing a quick strike that left a thin cut along Cregan's forearm. With a swift movement, he disarmed his guard, sending Ser Jory’s sword clattering to the ground.

"Impressive, my lord!" one of the lads exclaimed.

Cregan chuckled, but Wincing slightly, he shook his head, "A fine lesson for the boys, but I believe I shall need a moment to tend to my wounds."

With a nod to the lads, Cregan made his way to the shared chambers he had with his wife. He opened the door to find her nestled in bed, a raven from her brother resting beside her.

"Y/n," he called softly, a smile breaking through his fatigue.

She looked up, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Cregan, my love. How was the training? Did the boys impress you?"

"They showed promise," he replied, moving closer.” But winter is coming they must train harder, Though I fear I may have overestimated my own abilities today." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the cut on his forearm.

Her expression shifted from curiosity to concern. "Oh, my love," she said, sitting up and reaching out to inspect the wound. "You must be more careful."

"It is but a scratch," he reassured her, though the warmth of her touch sent a shiver through him. "The lads needed to see that even seasoned men can falter. Winter is coming, and they must be prepared." He spoke as she climbed out of the bed to get a water basin and fabric from a nearby table.

As she cleaned the cut with gentle hands, he continued, "You should have seen the way they rallied. They are eager to learn."

"And you, my lord, are eager to teach," she teased lightly, her fingers brushing against his skin.

Cregan chuckled, “Aye, but I have my scars to show for it.” He gestured to the one on his jaw. “This one? A wilding thought he could challenge me.”

"And the one on your stomach?" she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Ah, that was a deserter from the wall," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "He thought he could escape the North's justice."

"And the one on your hand?" she pressed, her gaze unwavering.

"That one," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips, "was from my uncle. It reminds me of my triumph against him”.

Y/n shook her head, a mixture of awe and concern in her eyes. "You have faced much, Cregan. But you are here now, and that is what matters."

He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "And I shall always return to you, my love."

As the evening drew near, they settled into bed, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow around the room. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the history of their house, and the scent of burning wood filled the air.

Y/n cuddled into his side, her head resting against his shoulder as they gazed out the window. Snowflakes began to fall gently, blanketing the world in white.

"Look at the snow," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the falling flakes. "It is beautiful."

"Much like you," he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Together, they watched the winter wonderland unfold outside, wrapped in each other's warmth, knowing that whatever the future held, they would face it together.

[scales-n-art]

Quick PSA, because there seems to be some severe lack of education regarding Asexuality among a certain bunch of opinionated people, who frankly have no place having such strong opinions about something they've demonstrated to be so ignorant about:

Asexuality =/= a lack of libido, sexual appetite, sexual drive, or sexual activity.

Asexuality does = no experience of sexual attraction.

There are many forms of attraction. For example, some of them may be: romantic attraction that you'd experience towards a romantic partner. Aesthetic attraction that you may experience when you see someone's fashion style or overall appearance. Platonic attraction that you may experience towards a close friend. Etc.

Asexuality IS a spectrum, we call it the Asexuality Umbrella; SOME people under the ace umbrella may experience no interest towards sex/intimacy whatsoever, some may experience disgust re anything sex/intimacy related, some may be indifferent or neutral about it, and some are positive or even enthusiastic about it. These things may include acts such as kissing and physical touch of the non sexual kind. ALL of these people are still asexual, and their sexual activity or lack thereof has nothing to do with it.

Asexual people may choose to engage or not in sexual activity, and the circumstances under which they choose to do so, and the reasons why, are very varied: physical pleasure, closeness to a partner, emotional connection, finding pleasure in pleasing a partner, etc, etc.

The ways in which an asexual person may choose to find their pleasure is also very varied. And yes, it may be through fiction, because it can be a safe way to do so without being expected to behave or perform in a certain way that may be uncomfortable for the individual. Nothing wrong with enjoying a good smutty book or fanfic, or comic. Harms no one involved. Enjoying this doesn't mean you're not asexual.

Asexuality does exist, and it's way more nuanced and varied than just equalling it to "not getting any."

Now read all that again, but switch Asexuality for Aromanticism. Also a spectrum, also varied, also incredibly nuanced.

So, yes. A fictional character CAN be asexual, AND also engage in sexy times with the chosen ship partner. A Queer Platonic Relationship is also a very valid option, because NEWSFLASH, sex is not the only valid bonding point of a relationship. It can be a strong, important one depending on each individual, but it's not the only way to connect with a partner.

And, NO. Asexual people are NOT "repressed." Asexual people do NOT need anyone to "change their minds". Asexuality is NOT a problem, a symptom, or a sign of trauma.

Some sources to know more about the topic:

AVEN - Asexuality Visibility and Education Network

The Invisible Orientation - by Julie Sondra Decker

The ABCs of LGBT - by Ash Hardell

ACE: What Asexuality reveals about Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex - by Angela Chen

There are many more sources out there, support groups and communities on social media that you can find mainly through AVEN, or with just a simple search about Asexuality on any search bar nowadays.

There's too much info about it now compared to some years ago to remain so ignorant about it.

Do. Better.

[peepawispunk]

Pedro Character sex headcanons - Part 1

You can barely get in the door of Tim Rockford's apartment before he's all over you.  Pressing you against the door as he bolts it shut, then he's kissing down your neck, sliding his hand up your skirt and taking you apart with his thick fingers before he fucks you on the hall table. 

Tim is a busy man and when he finally gets a chance to spend an evening with you he's not wasting one fucking second.

Javi Gutierrez wants to wine and dine you first. You get to his place in Hollywood Hills and he's had his chef cook you a nice meal, and chosen the perfect bottle of wine to go with it. After, you move to his balcony with a new bottle of wine, share a joint and when you finally get too strung out from the flirting touches you climb on him and he makes the prettiest noises as you grind on him, but he's not fucking you out there where anybody could see. He's taking you to bed so he can take his time.

Din had only ever had rushed, transactional sexual experiences. Sex with feelings is totally new to him. He's so overwhelmed and overstimulated, so used to being in his armor and helmet all the time, that just the barest brush of skin to skin contact has him moaning and tensing, biting his lip until it's all swollen and red. He spends so much time attending to your needs and making you feel good, learning how to get you to make the prettiest noises. He doesn't want to be the only one dripping with arousal

Joel is a natural caretaker and service dom. He gets his pleasure from making you feel good. He makes you dinner (he has about five recipes he's really nailed and is confident with), then he rubs the knots in your back until you're loose and pliant and soft under his hands. Then he flips you over and plays with your tits til you're begging for it, before slipping two thick fingers inside you, thumbing at your clit until you squirt all over his wrist. Then he fucks you stupid, til you can't even think anymore. Then he's tucking you into bed, his arm wrapped around your middle with a palm full of titty, kissing your temple and telling you "shh, such a good girl for me. Sleep now and I'll take real good care o' ya in the morning baby."

Javier Peña has an air of dom about him,  but what he really wants is to be taken care of for once. You get to his place and he's all cocky and confident as he brings you off on the couch. But then you climb onto his lap and you're kissing his face, running your hands through his hair and whispering words of praise in his ear as you wrap your hand around him, stroking him before you slip him inside you. He moans so prettily as you circle your hips, pressing kisses to his face, his hair, his hands as his fingers lace with yours. His skin pricks with goosebumps as he finally comes inside you with a choked cry, his arms wrapping around and his face burying into your neck as he's dripping out of you,  down your thighs and onto his lap.

Dave York is a dom in all meanings of the word. But he's a proper dom, a real one. He knows that consent and trust is important,  and that the sub holds all the real power, because they're allowing the play in the first place and setting the limits. 

Dave greets you at the door, makes you drink a glass of water, and is practically fucking you with his eyes while you go over the rules and the limits for today's scene. He's full of praise when you communicate your understanding, when you repeat your safeword, and he's really full of praise when he enters the bedroom five minutes later and you're kneeling on the floor, hands ready and waiting to be tied behind your back before he fucks your throat, before edging you to the most powerful orgasm you've ever had with just his fingers and his voice. Then he tells you how fucking good you are, "you're such a good fucking girl, honey. Look at you,  taking this big cock like a champ. Pussy's so fucking hungry, huh? Don't worry. I'll feed her real good. Make her swallow it up."

Frankie is the pussy eating king,  yes. But it's more than skill. It's his fucking *passion*. He loves everything about it. The taste, the smell. The feel underneath his tongue. The noises you make. Frankie takes his time. He's all slow licks and sucks, soft, whiskery kisses up your thighs until your legs are shaking with want. He toys with you until you can't take it anymore, bringing you slowly to the brink and then backing off, planting kisses on your thighs and knees and tummy until your breathing evens out. When you can't take it anymore, he stops teasing. He dives nose first into that pussy, the intensity of it making your swear and shake as he shows you just how quickly he can get you there, and just how much he was toying with you by making you wait so long. Yeah, Francisco Morales plays with his food.

Marcus Acacius likes to fuck you in the sunlight. He's had a lifetime of dimly lit tents and rented rooms, and he wants none of those reminders when he's with you.  Your union is everything good and powerful and pure. It belongs in the light, in the warmth of day. He loves to take you apart underneath him, his broad shoulders and big, calloused hands making you feel smaller and even more precious, the stark contrast of your soft skin underneath his hands that have known a lifetime of work and battle. 

He kisses you so sweetly, fucks you face to face so he can see the look on your face, the light in your eyes as he worships you, thumbing your clit with his free hand as he braces himself above you with one strong forearm. He's hoping this is the time it takes. He can't wait to see you round and glowing, bountiful as the fall harvest.

[monster-effer]

Hello if when you are able to I have a request about problems with touching certain textures (for me that styrofoam that comes in packages 😖) how would the LaDs boys help us with textures we can’t stand to touch? ( Hello fellow autistic bbs 💖💖)

Here’s my take on how the LaDS men would try to help an autistic!reader who has issues touching styrofoam. In this headcannon it is assumed that all LIs are aware that the reader has autism and experiences sensory issues. But, this is the first time they witness it with styrofoam specifically.

I hope you like this 💗💗💗

Sylus

While you hang out at Sylus’ home base Mephisto along with Luke and Kieran (from the shadows) witness you unknowingly opening a package that has styrofoam inside. They can clearly see your face contort into disgust and pain. You abruptly drop the package on the floor and have to physically shake off the sensation of touching that cursed material.

You feel dysregulated after that, so you retreat to Sylus’ bedroom for the rest of the day.

When Sylus comes home, he can tell you are sulking, but when he questions you about it you don’t give him a straight answer. So he goes to his reliable sources, Mephisto and his henchmen.

Luke and Kieran provide an over-exaggerated retelling of what went on that day. When Sylus raises his eyebrow in disbelief, Mephisto squawks at him and describes what actually happened.

You were still sulking in Sylus’ room, none the wiser about their secret meeting.

Since that day whenever you order something in the mail, it is mysteriously removed from the box and placed on your bed by the time you come home. When you ask Sylus about this phenomenon, he feins ignorance.

Luke and Kieran won’t fess up either.

But one day, you catch Mephisto coughing up bits of styrofoam before flying out of the room.

Rafayel

Rafayel is aware that certain textures feel wrong to you. But he didn’t think anything of it when he asked you to open the package of new paint brushes that just arrived at his home.

He decides to keep painting while you go open the package. The next time he looks away from his easel he sees that you haven’t returned.

Curious now, he leaves his studio to find you ransacking his kitchen in search of something.

“Hey cutie, what treasure are you hunting for in my kitchen?”

“Rafayel…that package had styrofoam in it and I hate the texture of it. Especially when I pick it up or when it drags against my fingernails.”

Not needing to hear another word, he picks up the package from the table you placed it on and grabs out the paint brushes himself.

“Instead of making a mess in my kitchen, I have a request to make.”

“From now on, let’s shop for my painting materials in person. I think the unique shade of paint I need next is only available in Madrid, Italy.”

You stand there stunned that he didn’t make a big deal over your styrofoam frenzy.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Pack your bags cutie, we have a trip to take.”

Caleb

Caleb first noticed your aversion to the sound styrofoam makes when you were teens.

On that day, he was surprising you with celebration dinner after you both passed a tough exam with flying colors.

He came over with food from a new restaurant in the neighborhood to surprise you.

Both of you settle down to eat in the dining room. When he begins to pull out the styrofoam takeout containers from his to go bag he notices that you freeze at the sound it makes, then rush to cover your ears.

Caleb silently observes you, because this reaction is new for you.

“What’s the matter pipsqueak?” he asks you, trying to decrease the tension in the room.

You begrudgingly confide in him that the sound that styrofoam makes is very unpleasant for you to the point of being painful. While you explain, you desperately hope that he doesn’t tease you over this because you may just cry.

Instead of replying Caleb stands up immediately and heads into the kitchen. You hear him rifling through the cabinets before he comes back with some plates and cutlery.

When he returns, he says “Why don’t you leave the room for a bit? I’ll dish out the food and shout when everything is out of these dastardly containers.”

You are so grateful for his thoughtfulness as you huff in faked annoyance and scurry out of the dining room.

When he shouts for you to return, the styrofoam containers are nowhere in sight.

After you sat down, Caleb joked around and talked with you like nothing ever happened.

Since that day you have not encountered anymore styrofoam when you’re around him. He makes sure to plate your takeout meals before serving you. Your comfort and happiness are of the utmost importance to him, because you are his pipsqueak.

Zayne

You and Zayne decide to bake cupcakes together one weekend. It was a pleasant day, breezy with the sun shining brightly outside.

Zayne asks you to grab the carton of eggs from the fridge, so you go do that. When you open the fridge, you notice that the eggs are in one of those styrofoam egg cartons.

You steel yourself for the inevitable yucky feeling and quickly grab the carton from the fridge. You have a very expressive face. And the disgust you feel when your hands make contact with the carton is clear as you rush to place it down onto the kitchen counter.

Working with pediatric patients has enabled Zayne to have a sixth sense for knowing when someone is in pain/uncomfortable. He watches you from his peripheral vision and sees you rushing to put down the styrofoam package. He also takes note of the full body shiver that takes over your body right after.

Without turning away from his task, he questions you. “You seemed to have trouble handling that carton of eggs. Are you in pain?”

Feeling a little flustered at your failed attempt to “act normal” you explain to him that touching styrofoam causes a physical reaction in your body. It is a very unpleasant sensory sensation for you.

Zayne listens silently and makes it a habit to only get eggs in the cardboard containers from then on.

He also consciously avoids getting items that include styrofoam because he cares about you and your sensory needs.

Xavier

You are away on a long mission, so you ask Xavier if he can stop by your apartment and water the herbs and plants sitting on the windowsill. Xavier happily agrees because why would he refuse you anything?

As he opens your door with his personal key and walks in, he notices a pile of opened packages in the corner of your living room. He walks closer to get a better look and he sees that each package has some form of styrofoam in them.

He is curious about why you are holding all these opened packages. Maybe it was for recycling day or a craft? Ultimately, he decides to ask you about it when you return from your mission.

When asked, you have a conversation with him and explain that styrofoam is a sensory nightmare for you. And handling it is overstimulating. You have had the worst luck, because most of the packages you’ve received lately have been filled to the brim with it.

You told him that you’ve been thinking of paying one of your neighbors to throw them away for you.

Xavier volunteers to handle your packages that contain styrofoam from now on because he doesn’t want you to have to rely on others for help. He wants you to rely on him.

[milessunflowers]

Hi! I really love your work a lot! I wanted to request lestappen x autistic male reader who is a race engineer. But used to drive carts and a team is short a test driver so y/n is forced to test the car and crashes and gets a sensory overload and Lestappen is right there to comfort him?

yes! i can absolutely do this!

max verstappen x autistic!male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: you only drove an f1 car a handful times, and even then it was too much for you. crashing is ten times worse

author's note: this is basically based on how i am when i get a sensory overload so i apologize if it isn't how you pictured it or how any of you handle it. this is just based off my experience. as always, feel free to keep requesting!

you usually only worked as an aston martin race engineer for fernando

sometimes you would be a test/reserve driver but that was really rare

in reality, it was way too much for you to drive the car without panicking

luckily for you, you didn't have to swap places with one of the drivers all that often

plus you had amazing boyfriends that supported you and knew exactly how to help you when it came to overstimulation or overwhelming situations

which also included the high intensity that came with testing out an f1 car

so, when aston martin was short one test driver, they looked to you

you don't even know how you ended up in the car

but you did

you were used to being outside, helping to lead fernando and keeping him updated

now there was someone talking in your ear on top of the very overwhelming sound of the engine and the fast speeds

it was a lot for you

you could feel it happening before you even spun out

you were starting to panic which never eneded up good

you tried to think back to what your therapist had helped you learn and how charles and max help you but nothing was coming

it was all getting to the point where you jerked the wheel and hit a wall

you came out fine, just with some minor bruises

but you were so overwhelmed that you had to immediately find your boyfriends

even that proved to be difficult

so you sat in your garage, trying hard not to breakdown

no one could come near you without scaring you or making it worse

not until someone found max, who then brought charles

once they were in to come calm you down, you basically jumped onto them

they had brought your comfort item (toy, stuffed animal, etc.)

which you immediately grabbed to help calm yourself down

they were saying sweet little comments that help to calm you down always

it took a while to soothe you but they were there for you through it all

they hugged you when it was okay to touch you again

they rubbed your back in case you didn't want to be hugged

they made sure you weren't in a load or busy environment

and they let you take you time when you wanted to or could talk again

they just wanted to make sure you were okay

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile

[onepiecereactions]

A little guide for Trafalgar Law, to learn how to live with Monkey D Luffy. Written by Nico Robin.

A little guide for Trafalgar Law, to learn how to live with Monkey D Luffy. Written by Nico Robin.

OS, around 1k words.

A little guide for Trafalgar Law, to learn how to live with Monkey D Luffy. Written by Nico Robin.

- Introduction

Congratulations Trafalgar Law! You have just created a symbolic alliance with my captain, Monkey D Luffy.

I therefore allow myself to transmit this little guide to you in order to help you for this new life in community that awaits you.

Living with my dear captain can be a troubling experience, I admit it. But you will come out of this experience stronger! If Luffy does not kill us all first because of his stupidity, of course.

I wrote this document with great pleasure. It will be divided into several parts to facilitate your learning. Do not be surprised by all this work, you will thank me soon enough, I am sure!

If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact me, I would be happy to help you. (Do not go to Roronoa Zoro or Usopp, they will mislead you without realizing it. If I am not available, refer to Doctor Chopper.)

- Respect

Respect is an extremely important concept for our captain. Luffy will grant you his respect easily, if you meet the following conditions: respect your crew, respect our crew, and respect civilians who do not harm you.

The crew's philosophy is rather peaceful. We only attack a man or a woman if we are in danger, or if the said person represents a danger to others.

We make a special exception for the high-ranking officers of the navy. In particular Luffy, Zoro and Sanji who take a malicious pleasure in attacking them. Do not hesitate to join them if you wish.

Our captain however has a particular vision of respect concerning material goods. Know, and do not forget, that Luffy does not respect any object. If you have to rush into a building instead of going through the door to go faster, the building will be smashed. If you have to fight in a bar, beer mugs will be the first weapons!

Note however an exception to this rule: Luffy respects our ship to the highest degree. The slightest broken wooden board or the smallest holed sail will be experienced very difficultly by our captain.

However, our dear carpenter Franky, is always glad to take care of our ship.

Another important aspect to consider: morals.

Luffy does not respect moral rules. Do not be surprised to see a Monkey D Luffy walking around naked in the ship because he smelled the appetizing meals of our dear cook Sanji.

Do not be stunned either to see him picking his nose while he talks to you. It is even possible that a booger falls on your coat inadvertently. In this case, I advise you to apply hot water quickly.

- Community life

Community life, and more particularly with Luffy, can be disconcerting at first.

I could give you many recommendations, but I will limit myself to the two most important in my eyes: the bathroom and the culinary protections.

Bathroom: Be aware that Luffy gets up very late and therefore goes to bed late. Our captain enjoys taking a hot bath every evening, which allows him to relax after a day of fighting or napping. However, he sometimes spends a long time splashing around. It is therefore possible that when you wake up, there will be no more hot water available. We are currently in discussions with the rest of the crew to resolve this problem. In the meantime, I can only advise you to take your bath in the evening, before Luffy. Also, be careful not to touch the plastic ducks that are wandering around the bathroom. They are annoying, I know, but our dear captain loves above all to play with his ducks during his bath. Do not be surprised if, some days, you see the ducks stacked in pyramids. Our captain has them take part in a synchronized swimming competition that he was able to admire on the island of the fish-men.

Also, but this concerns our dear navigator, I strongly advise you not to touch any of her beauty products! You would end up with a debt bigger than your bounty on your head! If necessary, do not hesitate to dip into my products.

Culinary protections: Meals are sacred moments in the day of our dear captain. With a few variations of the things you consider sacred in your life. We are extremely lucky to live alongside an outstanding cook. Dishes in sauce are his specialty. However, you will rarely eat them. But when you do, you will receive a small personal note from the chef himself warning you, so that you can equip yourself with a protective overcoat. Our captain eats a lot and very quickly. Dishes in sauce are therefore carnage when you eat in the same room as him. Believe me, if you value your clothes, take an overcoat. You can find some in the bathroom in the second closet.

- Hobbies

Our captain's hobbies are certainly quite different from yours in my humble opinion. You will rarely see our captain immersed in one of my archeology books or any other encyclopedia. Indeed, Luffy's hobbies are more "childish" I would say. That is why it is imperative that you have small balls of wax for your ears. Right now, Chopper, Luffy and Usopp are starting a choir. A few wrong notes may get lost. Don't worry, we are not torturing anyone, it's just Luffy singing. If you want, you can of course join the choir. They perform every Thursday night.

- Air transport

Last crucial point in my opinion: air transport. Maybe you have never had the opportunity to fly, especially you who live in a submarine. But living with Luffy involves unexpected flights.

Our dear captain's devil fruit is very useful, even more so when he does not feel like walking and prefers to swing us all in the air. I can only recommend that you take anti-nausea medication every morning.

Unfortunately we are not able to predict our captain's mood swings. We also recommend that you always carry a life jacket, instantly inflatable, in your pocket. It could save your life, especially since you are a devil fruit user. You can get this life jacket instantly inflatable in the various shops of the Sabaody amusement park. In the meantime, you can always borrow some from our personal reserve. In these moments, make sure you are near someone who can swim.

-Conclusion

I conclude this first little guide which is intended to be reassuring. If you would like more information on various subjects, do not hesitate to contact me, I would be delighted to write you a second guide.

Nota Bene: The Straw Hat Crew represents a united and loving family. We will never judge you. By making this alliance, you enter our family. I sincerely hope that it can bring you all the love, comfort and happiness that it has given me since the beginning of my adventure.

Sincerely,

Nico Robin.

[too-antigonish]

Something the darkness couldn't take from you...

I ran across this article while browsing my usual morning news outlets and it just gutted me. Today marks 80 years since the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, but this account of Anita Lasker's experiences—including her time playing in the Women's Orchestra at Auschwitz—makes it feel very immediate.

She was only nineteen at the end of the war. As someone who has also played cello from a young age, I couldn't help but try to picture myself at that same age and in her place—wondering what I would have done. When I try to consider it coldly, practically, I honestly can't imagine myself surviving.

But I'm not sure she expected to survive. Like so many, she endured because of immense strength. But if strength was all it took, so many others would have made it through. What made the difference for her was luck and being on the receiving end of so many kindnesses, both big and small.

Still, I think the thing that amazes me most is that from what I can tell, she didn't let any of this touch her love for her instrument or music. She didn't let them take that from her.

She went on to become a founding member of the English Chamber Orchestra. Her son is a well-known cellist in his own right. She is now ninety-nine and by all accounts thriving.

And as silly as it might be to bring up in this context, it brought me right back to my favorite piece of dialogue from Endeavour:

MORSE: How do you do it? Leave it at the front door? THURSDAY: Because I have to. Case like this'll tear the heart right out of a man. Find something worth defending. MORSE: I thought I had... found something. THURSDAY: Music? I suppose music is as good as anything. Go home, put your best record on, loud as it'll play, and with every note, you remember... that's something that the darkness couldn't take from you.

-S1E2: Fugue

[sourvers]

I believe the real power or poignancy of Arcane that makes it so intrinsically difficult to analysis/discuss especially on moral/ethics/relationship/values and much, much more is how nuanced every character is- how nuanced the world truly is. Each character is by no means “completely innocent” yet, we as viewers experience their pains and their joy; ultimately forming interpretations & ideas based on not only the show itself but the thoughts of others and the values of our own. Arcane is a show that makes you think, and think hard.

Personally, I’ve been seeing so many interesting interpretations, opinion and analysis that sometimes I just get so lost. However, here are my thoughts on Arcane specifically on the premise of human nature.

Arcane extends beyond the concept of “twin cities”, “doomed sister”, “prejudice & political corruption,” “the cost of ambition” and so on. Arcane is this strange, twisted, gut wrenching cacophony of the human need to be seen and more importantly, felt. It is the way in which nations, societies, and individuals seek understanding. It is this gritty fight, cry, and perhaps dream that attempts others to catch a momentary glimpse of the whole picture: to be heard, to be tender, to run the course of life wild and free, to experience profound regret, to be confused, to bring about havoc, to long for rest, to let go. All these collective experiences- at the same time or not- come together with the initiative or wish to be felt by individuals or even groups with various motives. Some as personal as to not walk through life alone and others with aims at serving justice. However, to be felt utterly and wholly is impossible. It requires living that individuals life start to finish. Which is why societies and individuals strive for the closest act: empathy. This need to be both felt and seen is littered across Arcane: we have Victor and Jayce with their intertwined characters arcs, the brutality between Zaun and Piltover, along with Vi and Jinx with sisterhood, defining what sisterhood means to them, and the blunt reality of their actions and circumstances.

Through tragedies such as (but not limited to) the death of Caitlyn’s mother, enforcer brutality, discord within and between the cities, or simply the utter haunting of the past, Arcane creates a portal of seemingly endless interpretation and debate because human nature is at it’s core- debatable, obscure, and in some ways, undefinable. What defines actions as justifiable? What is justice? What defines actions as selfish or blatantly wrong when faced with the entire story? If, as Caitlyn said, “No amount of good can undo our crimes,” then what’s next? What’s next for those who carry the burden of regret? Shame? Of crimes that simply can’t be taken back? What is the fate, the outcome, judgement or verdict of these individuals, or in this case, characters? In some cases, it is evident based on morals or certain values. In others, there are spaces of grey. Then there is the next question, “When is it right, acceptable, or even necessary, to move on? Either from loss, pain, injustice, or hurt? Or is ‘moving on’ even the correct phrase to encompass the myriad emotions, experiences, and influences that lead individuals to take the steps into the possibilities of now without abandoning the people, lessons, or memories of the past?”

(There are more questions in the show that truly intrigue me and hurt my brain a touch because I personally can’t answer it. Such as “What is a necessary evil?” “Does maintaining the status quo lead to a false sense of security?” “Is violence the necessary means for change?” “What defines forgiveness and what defines naiveness?” “What justifies creation/ambition?”)

Perhaps, Arcane is just as its title suggests. Maybe I’m wrong. Ultimately, human nature is a concept not new to Arcane or any media for that matter. We have it in books, poetry, art, and music as a means to express the frustrations or pleasures of human life. We have it in math and science as a means of understanding the fundamentals of our world in attempts to rid ourselves of our fear of the unknown or perhaps to satisfy human curiosity. Maybe it’s a mix of both. Regardless, Arcane is a show that brought me to some difficult yet eye opening conversations that has reflected out into how I comprehend and approach other media. That at the end of the day is my true takeaway despite my own mixed feelings about the show— Arcane is that nuance: the nuance of life.

Feel free to drop your thoughts! (respectfully please) I’d love to read them regardless of where you stand.

[sharklovingaquarist]

I think one of the biggest infringements on a humans non-physical rights is the desecration of identity. Therefore, women are suffering tremendously. But you never hear about that. Even statistics will be skewed in order to prioritize males because God forbid one of those matted, stinking animals experiences anything negative. Of course, our job as women is to make sure NOTHING touches them. Wahhhhhhh, male suicide.... women attempt more. Men love stats until stats prove them wrong. One statistic says males commit more and it needs no further inspection, but stats show males commit more than half of violent crime, and it's not plausible. It's not my fault males own more firearms. Im tired of the male victim mindset.

Im tired of males taking feminist rhetoric and, in such male fashion, spinning our work to say its really MALES who are hurting. Im tired of walking on eggshells in front of males and their liberal feminist dick riders when it comes to this. People act like I'm Satan for not loving the same people who are taking our right to health, even my mental health, through refusal of medication. But no one cares to ask how this is impacting women's mental health.

It has always been a fact that in a heterosexual relationship, the dynamic has the woman serving the males' needs. Be it excusing a man lashing out at his wife who is battling cancer or a man telling his wife, of whom he is expecting a child with, that he won't "look down there" while shes in excruciating pain. A man who then refuses to touch his wife after their child is born. "He's probably stressed." "Men dont handle that stuff well." It has to have them at the center for it to be considered true emotion, and that is the irony.

I experience this with my father. He can't remember the simplest things about me, but he's "just not doing well mentally... Okay??? Me neither? That's why all of these studies surround shit like their inability to communicate and being lonely.

Their emotional well-being is not womens issue. They'll do studies on how men lose their emotional support... but what about women. How many women felt supported emotionally by husbands? Because last time I checked, men were asking wives for sex a day after enduring childbirth. Men were leaving wives bleeding after their fetus naturally aborted because they "were afraid of the blood." Men were still sitting watching football while their wife, who was 8 months pregnant, was cooking and cleaning dishes. Men have always made their happiness about their personal well-being. Women derived happiness from the people around them thriving

Men can't cry? Oh, poor babies. They can't cry or their manhood, their most precious manhood, will be threatened. Unfortunately, I can not cry either, or else I'm hysterical, but I understand how that's not as pressing as your ego. A mans pride is threatened by vulnerability in some rare cases, compared to a woman's sanity.

When a male cries in grief he is confronted with belief. Its made human and genuine. When a woman cries in grief, it's her animal maternal instincts pushing through, and people rush to infantilize her for 3 seconds before forgetting what she was even sad over. Losing my Peryite recently has made me really recognize this pattern

If you're a man and get offended over this, stop and think for one second. Did I invalidate your emotions, or did I call out the fact that you attach every sentient thought you have to being a male? Men can have issues, but not because they're males. I hope yall soon learn that something doesn't have to be designated "boys only" in order for it to be genuine, I know that's what you've been taught.

I know I said I'd do a deep dive into emotions, and I kinda did now. I was going to combine how media proves the male emotion craze bullshit wrong, but I kind of separated them into two posts.

[velvet-n-lace]

NSFW Alphabet (Asmodeus Edition)

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 2k words

Pairing(s): Asmodeus x Female MC

Original Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Asmo is an absolute sweetie. He will make sure you are comfortable and cleaned up with a warm bath in his candle-lit bathroom. His soft kisses on your rose-scented body and sweet pillow talk will make you melt until you fall asleep in his arms.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He loves every part of himself, so there is no part he dislikes or hates. Asmo just knows that every part of him is worth drooling over, so he loves every part of you, too. Canonically, he is an ass man and often fixates on yours. While he can love the parts of you that turn him on, Asmo is especially fixated on your eyes. It’s most likely because he can see his reflection in them, and to him, that’s a sign you were meant to be his~

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

By far the sweetest cum in the Devildom, it’s an aphrodisiac that will leave your senses heightened and your body in heat. Asmo especially loves watching it leak out your pussy after he creampies you. Sometimes, he fingers it back inside you; other times, he lets it stain his sheets. He loves it so much he can't help but also have a taste of himself when it gets all over his fingers.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Asmodeus is the motherfucking Avatar of Lust; hardly anything is a secret anymore unless you count this one time when he almost fed you aphrodisiacs back when his charm didn’t work on you. He had to stop himself before going through with it, but eventually, once the two of you were finally fucking each other, those aphrodisiacs were put to good use~ Also, maybe he keeps other wild kinks a secret just for your sake ;)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, he’s had experiences: he’s fucked a bunch of demons before meeting you. Asmodeus claims that he has tried everything, maybe even things you’ve never thought of in your life. He would be happy to share them with you if you like~

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Whether you want to top him or not, Asmodeus is fine with any position that makes you feel comfortable. His preference, though, is when he fucks you from behind with your ass in the air or having you straddle him. Doggystyle, prone bone, or fucking you cowgirl style are just a few positions where he can whisper dirty things in your ear while he spanks your ass.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He’s sweet and sensual in the moment. Depending on the mood, it can be humorous if it's just sweet love-making, but he can also be serious when the fucking gets brutal. Asmo can adapt to any situation, and all you gotta do is look pretty for him (in other words, just exist).

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is very well-groomed; it’s pretty obvious. He’s probably the most groomed out of all his brothers. He’s got make-up on, his nails are done, his perfume and lotion smell divine, and he has a rather time-consuming self-care routine. The perfume he wears is your favorite fragrance, and he is always searching for a compliment from you. His drapes match his carpet: peach-colored, trimmed constantly, and smooth like his skin.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Very intimate. His smooth hands constantly graze your skin and make it more sensitive. His heavenly, seductive voice adds to his alluring presence, making you almost worship him. With his lips and tongue on your most sensitive spots, he would whisper all the things he would do to you. Asmo knows damn well what he’s doing, and seeing you melt in his touch gets him so hard.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Asmo can do wonders with his body; not only does he have many sex toys to play with, but he often bends himself over to suck his own cock. Usually, he loves to stare at himself in the mirror when he masturbates; either that or he films himself so he can post it online later. Sometimes he fucks a fleshlight while he’s fucking himself with a dildo. As his soft silicone toys milk his cock and prostate, his sheets will be stained with cum.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Asmodeus has so many kinks (some would say all of them): Asmodeus loves being worshipped and praised for his body and abilities. Body worship, especially in front of his mirror, is on a whole other level; the many positions he can put you in can surprise you, especially when you’re watching yourself get fucked by the lustful demon himself. Sometimes there is porn playing in the background while you make love to him, and if you’re feeling freaky, he can take you to a sex club (he could even invite Solomon over). Asmo especially loves ass-play and wouldn’t mind fucking your backdoor or giving it a sloppy rim job (and he can receive it with ease. It’s obvious he’s into getting pegged too). Asmo isn’t afraid to switch positions or try something new for you, and all of this just scratches the surface. (AN: i could go on and on, anyway)

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Definitely, his room, where he can use all his toys on you. He can bring some over to your room too, and if you are feeling freaky, both of you can go to a club and bring in some horny demons to play with (kof kof… Solomon can come too). If both of you can find an empty classroom to make out in, that’d be exciting.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Pretty much everything you do instantly motivates Asmo, especially if you are teasing and flirting back at him. Seeing you dressed up all cute and sexy, wearing matching accessories with him, or wearing some lingerie underneath your school uniform makes his heartbeat go fast. Any form of affection you give could lead to even more arousal by the end of the day.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There are very few no-nos, but he’s fine with you setting boundaries. He would respect your turn-offs and not even question them for a second. Asmo also prefers his praise kink, so degradation towards him is off the table.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Asmo loves giving and receiving; he’s practically a god at them. His tongue is skilled and will leave you begging for more. He often suckles on your clit and fingers your pussy, or he eats you out in rhythmic patterns while he jacks himself off. His moans are heavenly when he feels your tongue around his dick. He’s always so surprised when you worship his needy cock by shoving it down your throat or jacking it off while you plant kisses down his shaft. Massaging his balls while you suck him off or giving them a soft suckle drives him wild.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood and how horny both of you are. No matter what, you will always be pleased in some way. He grips you tightly and often teases you with his pace so he can hear you moan the words “faster~” or “harder~.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are definitely a must for Asmo; he often has to take some during classes, especially if he’s distracted by something arousing you wore that day. All he needs is an empty classroom or a clean bathroom stall to do it in.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Of course, he’s down to get risky. If he can handle quickies, he will for sure get away with the craziest things. The wildest kinks don't scare him, and he will make out with you in random places or touch you during class. He may even show you how hard his dick is when he hugs you from behind.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Oh baby, he can go for many. He’s got the stamina of a bunny in heat, and he will show it with each round. Of course, he will stop when you’ve had enough; he doesn’t want to push you too hard, but when he embraces his sin, it’ll be difficult for him to slow down.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Asmo has all of them… in fact, there may be too many to count. He keeps them underneath his bed and neatly aligned at his disposal. His favorites would probably be some dildos made of smooth glass or fleshlights with very lifelike material. He always used them on himself, but he lets you choose one that intrigues you the most. Handcuffs, blindfolds, vibrators, gags, buttplugs, just so many are on display, but he also owns toys that you’ve never seen before in the human world. You often have to wonder if what you’re seeing is a demonic sex toy or just some cursed object Asmo accidentally fucked or shoved up his ass one day.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s a big tease; if you think the flirting is enough, he will edge you so hard you will be begging him to fuck you then and there. It’s playful teasing though; he’s not that heartless. You can always tease him as payback, but Asmo is always the best at it in bed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

All kinds of moans and groans come out of his mouth, and they will be loud; there is no questioning about it (unless you make him wear a gag or something). He moans like a pornstar, and he will make a melodic sound each time you toy with his body. He loves it when you let out all your moans with no remorse, and he always thought they sounded beautiful alongside his~

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Like Mammon, Asmo also has a Devildom version of OnlyFans, except it’s not really a secret. Everyone knows he has one since he unapologetically flaunts it in his social circle. He always finds ways to make his content entertaining and worth replaying, plus his subscriptions skyrocketed once you entered the picture. Filming porn with him brings out a more performative side to his fucking, but it’s still filled with that same passion and love when the cameras are off.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Perfectly soft pink like his skin, and yet it’s textured and veiny like a brand-new dildo. His cock is sort of smaller than his other brothers, but size doesn’t matter, so he doesn’t care cuz he knows exactly how to use it. The shaft is slender and curves upward, while its head is smooth like it’s begging to be put inside you; it may even have a piercing~

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Super hiiiiigh~ The highest among his brothers. It’s not only difficult to control when you are around, but it’s also the source of his pleasure and the reason he constantly imagines you and him naked in bed. It distracts him greatly, so he always lets you know when he’s about to burst~

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

When the aftercare is done, he will cuddle up and fall asleep with you. The warmth of his body pressed against yours is comforting the more you drift off to sleep. Knowing that he’s sleeping with his love at the end of a thrilling night is something Asmo takes to heart, especially when you feel the same.

[venomwrites]

So, I felt conflicted about everything in the last chapter. Which I think is a good thing. I get Cait should have talked with Vi about her decision. But I also understand her need to do something for herself. And I've loved that Cait went and did it regardless but also in the end gave Vi a choice to be a part of it. Plus the reconnect of intimacy with the dropped badge was a nice touch because Cait actually recognized Vis trauma.

And I feel for Vi. I do. That is some fucked up shit that happened on that bridge. And not her fault. And Cait should have been more mindful of that. And I need that to be recognized. But here is the kicker: I understand Vis conflicted emotions but I also understand Vander's anger.

Because: Vi is not responsible for her trauma. But as you said: She is responsible for working through it. And what she went out of her way to do is hurt Cait. It's a trauma response. And it makes sense to lash out. But it's no excuse to do it. It's no excuse to go out and hurt ppl. And she did so deliberately. And it's conflicting in the best way. Because on the one hand, the person Vi cares about so so much, who kept her alive, goes off to join the force who hurt her deeply. But on the other hand Vi goes out of her way and maybe only temporarily to hurt Caitlyn who fought hard to keep them alive in a way traumatizing her in return.

It's a great thing! I was conflicted writing it!

I really love what you said at the end because one of the things that really drew me to exploring this AU was how Vi and Caitlyn would experience the Bridge. And we know Vi's trauma, but imagine being Caitlyn who gets tear gassed in her living room. And we see that trauma affecting them as they grow up. Caitlyn has now experienced a taste of the brutality but for all her resources she can do nothing except try to make this one Zaunite a bit less miserable. And Vi grows up filled with anger towards Piltover but also aware that there is at least one Piltover person keeping her alive.

I tried to plant this seed that Felicia, Vander and everyone else thought Vi's soulmate was someone in Piltover with resources, but no-one considered it was the Kiramman's. Vander even says to Cassandra that he wondered why she called off the Enforcers on the Bridge. So Vi's Soulmate is both directly responsible for her survival and very connected to her parents death. I think it leads to a lot of complicated feelings for Vi regarding her Soulmate even though Caitlyn did not do any of those things directly.

Vander doesn't want Vi to make his mistakes. He doesn't want he poisoned by the anger that poisoned him. That's why when he sees her being deliberately cruel to Caitlyn with the face tattoo, he calls Silco. It's almost past the point of whose right or wrong, it's kind of forcing Vi to see that she can have the anger but it's going to cost her a lot. It's almost an echo of the 'who are you willing to lose' scene in the show.

That's why I loved that scene where she finally says to Caitlyn you really hurt me instead of lashing out. And I think that's what lets Caitlyn say Vi hurt her too. The violence turns from physical lashing out to words. They grow past their predecessors because they don't descend into the same violence. Even though it would be justified. When I was a kid learning to cross the street, my mother used to tell me you can have the right of way and still be killed by a car.

Now for the acknowledgement of the trauma, this came up in my other fic but Caitlyn actually takes off the bandage. She has the VI tattoo in her official Enforcer's license. She does it so every time she takes it out she remembers what Enforcers did to Vi and her family. It's a reminder to consider her actions in the line of duty.

And then when Vi becomes an Enforcer, their licenses match.

Also. yes I loved the dropped badge. Especially in the wake of Vi deciding to go with the other Soulmates (which Cait didn't even tell her about to spare her from it). I love that when Vi decides something is more important than her anger, Caitlyn shows her she's always been more important than the badge.

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - R

Happy Lunar New Year! I've been struggling with my life, which has kept me busy since the end of last year. One of my favourite movies is Howl's Moving Castle.

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part N | Part O&P | Part Q | Part R | Epilogue

Warning: Imply of miscarriage may be disturbing to some readers

The days after your awakening passed in a blur of quiet moments, whispered reassurances, and an undercurrent of unspoken tension. Though your body was still sore, Rio and Agatha’s unwavering care surrounded you like a protective shield. Each of them had their own way of comforting you—Agatha with her sharp, focused attention and Rio with her softer, playful banter. The two were always by your side, except for brief moments when one would leave to attend to something urgent, though you suspected they never went far.

It was during one of these quiet evenings, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, that the conversation shifted to the future.

“We’ve closed all the gates,” Agatha said, her voice calm but resolute as she stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the star-filled expanse of their realm. “All except one.”

You sat curled up in a plush chair near the fire, Rio’s hand resting lightly on your knee. “The one to my city?” you asked, your voice still hoarse but gaining strength.

Agatha turned to face you, her sharp blue eyes meeting yours. “Yes. It’s heavily warded—no one can pass through it uninvited.” Her lips tightened before she added, “I left it for you. If you ever decide to see your sister…or your brother again.”

The mention of your siblings brought a pang of emotion, both longing and apprehension. You hadn’t seen them since that fateful night, and while part of you yearned to reconnect, another part feared what lay beyond the safety of this world.

Rio’s grip on your knee tightened ever so slightly. “It’ll be there when you’re ready, love,” she said, her voice warm and steady.

For a moment, silence settled over the room, broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire. You glanced between the two women who had become your everything, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you,” you murmured. “For everything.”

Agatha crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling beside your chair. Her hand brushed against your cheek, her touch warm and grounding. “You don’t need to thank us,” she said softly, her sharp features gentled by the vulnerability she rarely showed. “This is your home now, just as much as it’s ours.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. “It means more than you know.”

-------

The decision to move wasn’t born out of dissatisfaction; it was born out of love. Agatha and Rio wanted to show you the world, to remind you that life existed beyond the safety of their sanctuary. That quiet realm would always be there, a constant in your lives, but they both knew it wasn’t enough. You deserved to see and experience more, to step beyond the comfortable boundaries you’d built around yourself since your awakening.

It was Agatha who brought it up one evening, her sharp eyes softened by the flickering firelight. “You’ve spent enough time hiding away from who you are,” she said, her voice steady but tender. “We want to show you the world, on your terms, of course. Somewhere you can come and go as you please.”

Rio, lounging beside you as usual, added with a grin, “And what better way than with a house infused with our magic? One that can take us wherever we need to be. A little taste of adventure, with none of the hassle.”

You glanced between them, your heart swelling with gratitude. They had already given you so much, and now they were offering this—a home that could be a gateway to the world. “I’d like that,” you said softly, your voice laced with quiet excitement. “I’d like to see what’s out there.”

The house came to life with their combined magic, every inch of it woven with care and intention. It was cosy, with dark wood beams and stone walls, the kind of place that immediately felt lived in. A fire always burned warmly in the hearth, and the scent of fresh bread and herbs lingered in the air. It was a sanctuary in its own right—but its true wonder lay in the door.

Crafted from enchanted wood, the door stood at the centre of the house, marked with four distinct sigils. Each sigil represented a different place, and with a simple turn of the handle, the door would shift to reveal a new world beyond its frame.

-------

The first sigil led to a seaside town, its air thick with the scent of salt and brine. The fish market buzzed with life, vendors calling out their wares as boats bobbed in the harbour. The waves crashed rhythmically against the docks, a soothing melody that followed you wherever you went.

The first time you stepped through the door, the scent of salt and brine filled your lungs, crisp and bracing. A gust of wind carried the calls of seagulls overhead, their cries mingling with the distant chatter of merchants. The cobbled streets beneath your feet were damp from the ocean spray, and before you even took another step, Rio stretched her arms over her head and grinned.

"Now this is more like it," she sighed, closing her eyes as if soaking in the very essence of the town.

Agatha, standing at your side, remained composed as always, but there was an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in her sharp blue eyes. "It’s a working town," she noted, scanning the busy port ahead. "You’ll like it here."

And she was right.

The town was alive with movement—fishermen unloading crates of fresh seafood from their boats, shopkeepers arranging their displays, children running barefoot along the docks with wind-tangled hair and sunburnt cheeks. The market was the heart of it all, bursting with energy as people haggled, laughed, and shared stories over counters stacked high with glistening fish, fragrant spices, and woven baskets filled with dried seaweed.

Rio, always drawn to the livelier parts of a place, immediately made herself at home. You watched as she leaned over a stall, chatting with an old woman selling skewered seafood grilled over hot coals. Moments later, she returned, passing you one without hesitation.

"Eat," she said simply, grinning as she took a bite of her own.

The taste was smoky and rich, laced with a hint of salt from the sea air. Warmth settled in your chest as you chewed, watching Rio’s excitement as she scanned the stalls for the next thing to try. Agatha, ever the observer, simply took it all in, her gaze lingering on you every so often, as if assessing how you were adjusting.

That evening, you stood by the docks, watching the waves crash gently against the wooden posts. The lanterns swayed in the breeze, their golden light reflected in the dark water below. The town was nothing like the realm you had come from, but it was beautiful in its own way—alive, untamed, full of stories waiting to be told.

"You don’t have to love it right away," Agatha murmured beside you, her voice low and steady. "But you should at least give it a chance."

You exhaled, the weight in your chest loosening just a little.

"I think I already do."

-------

The second sigil opened to a meadow of wildflowers, vibrant and unending. The breeze carried the sweet aroma of blossoms, and the grass seemed to shimmer under the golden sunlight. In the evenings, fireflies lit up the horizon, painting the scene in soft, glowing hues. It was a place of serenity, where time seemed to stretch and still.

The transition from the bustling seaside to the meadow was almost jarring. One moment, you were surrounded by the salty tang of the ocean; the next, you were enveloped in the scent of sun-warmed grass and wildflowers.

The world stretched out before you in endless shades of green and gold, rolling hills blanketed in vibrant blossoms. The sky overhead was impossibly blue, the clouds drifting lazily as if they, too, had nowhere to be.

Rio spun in a slow circle, arms wide, breathing in deeply. "This," she declared, "is paradise."

And it was.

The meadow was quiet, but not silent—birds chirped from the nearby trees, the wind whispered through the tall grass, and somewhere in the distance, a small brook babbled over smooth stones. The ground was soft beneath your feet, and the sheer openness of the space made it feel like you had stepped into a dream.

Agatha led the way to a lone tree near the crest of a hill, its thick branches offering shade from the warm sunlight. It became your spot almost instantly, a place to lay back and watch the clouds shift, to listen to the rustling leaves and let your mind wander.

Days here passed slowly, unhurried and peaceful. Rio would chase after butterflies with mock seriousness, her laughter echoing through the open fields. Agatha would find a quiet spot to clean her dusty tomes or read, though she was always aware of everything happening around her. And you… you simply existed in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

At night, the meadow transformed. The fireflies came first, glowing softly as they flitted through the grass, like tiny stars that had fallen from the sky. The air cooled, carrying the distant hoot of an owl, and the world became something utterly magical.

One evening, as you lay beneath the tree with Rio’s head resting in your lap, Agatha sat beside you, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt.

"You like it here," she observed.

You smiled, watching as Rio dozed peacefully, the fireflies reflecting in her dark hair. "Yeah," you admitted. "I really do."

And just like that, the meadow became another home.

-------

The third sigil brought you to the bustling heart of a foreign capital city. Streets teemed with life, the hum of countless conversations blending with the music of street performers. Market stalls overflowed with treasures from around the world, and towering buildings framed the sky, glowing with lanterns and lights as night fell. It was a place of discovery and excitement, where new adventures awaited at every turn.

If the seaside was full of life and the meadow was a place of peace, then the capital city was pure energy.

The door opened to a narrow alleyway, its walls adorned with vibrant posters in a language you couldn’t read. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling street food, smoke curling into the fire-lit sky. Beyond the alley, the streets pulsed with life—vendors shouting their wares, musicians strumming their instruments, carriages and horses weaving through the crowded roads.

Rio practically vibrated with excitement. "Now this is my kind of place."

Agatha, on the other hand, immediately fell into observation mode, her gaze sweeping the streets, calculating every possible escape route, every place someone could hide a weapon.

You simply took it all in.

There was something intoxicating about the city—the way the streets pulsed like veins, the way the people moved like they were part of something bigger than themselves. Every corner held something new—smoky teahouses hidden behind plain wooden doors, underground bookshops where rare tomes were traded like secrets, towering palaces that stood in stark contrast to the chaos below.

You spent your days exploring, tasting foods you couldn’t name, losing yourselves in the twisting streets. Rio thrived in the chaos, always darting ahead to see what was around the next corner. Agatha remained at your side, her steady presence keeping you grounded in the overwhelming tide of sound and colour.

One night, as you stood on a high balcony overlooking the glowing sprawl of the city, you found yourself smiling.

"You don’t seem overwhelmed," Agatha remarked, studying you with quiet curiosity.

You turned to her, feeling the hum of the city beneath your feet. "I think… I like it here," you admitted. "It’s alive."

And for the first time in a long while, so were you.

And the fourth sigil—the one that meant the most—always brought you home. Back to their realm, their sanctuary. No matter how far you travelled, how much you explored, there was always a door waiting to take you back  to the place where you were safe, where you were loved.

The sanctuary was unchanged, its quiet presence as steady as ever. The familiar trees, the ever-burning hearth, the way the realm hummed with power—it was your anchor, your foundation.

But as you stood before the door, ready to choose your next destination, you realised something: you weren’t the same person who had stepped through it the first time.

Agatha had been right. You had spent too long hiding away. But now, you had seen the world, breathed in its air, tasted its stories. And you weren’t done yet.

With a glance at Rio and Agatha, you reached for the door.

"Where to next?"

-------

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as the three of you sat together, the warmth of the flames casting long shadows across the room. You rested between Agatha and Rio, your head on Rio’s shoulder while Agatha’s fingers played absently with yours. The comfort of their presence was as familiar as the rhythm of your own heartbeat, yet tonight, something unspoken lingered in the air.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began softly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavered slightly, and you took a steadying breath. “About…about the baby.”

The room seemed to still, even the flames quieting their dance. Rio’s hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, and Agatha’s fingers stilled against yours.

“I didn’t even know,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And because I didn’t know…I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t protect what was ours.”

Rio leaned down, her lips brushing against the top of your head. “You didn’t fail them,” she said quietly, her voice filled with conviction. “What happened wasn’t your fault, love.”

Agatha’s grip on your hand tightened. “You didn’t even have the chance to know,” she murmured, her voice unusually soft. “And it was stolen from all of us.”

Your chest tightened at her words, and you turned to look at her, meeting her sharp blue eyes. “I can’t help but feel like I failed,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “Like I failed you both.”

Agatha reached out, her other hand brushing against your cheek. “You didn’t fail us,” she said firmly. “And you didn’t fail them. What happened was because of him, not you.”

Rio’s voice, low and soothing, joined in. “We can’t change what happened. But what we can do is honour them by building the future they couldn’t have.”

You blinked back tears, your gaze shifting between the two women who had become your world. “Do you really think…we could have children? Even after everything?”

A soft smile curved Agatha’s lips, her usual sharpness tempered by something tender. “Of course, we can,” she said. “And this time, we’ll protect them. Together.”

Rio chuckled lightly, her dark eyes twinkling with affection. “We’ve already shown we’re excellent at protecting what’s ours,” she teased, her tone playful. “Why not add a few more to the mix?”

A small laugh escaped you despite the heaviness in your heart. “You make it sound so easy,” you said, shaking your head.

“It won’t be easy,” Agatha admitted, her fingers brushing against yours again. “But nothing worth having ever is.”

Rio shifted slightly, turning so she could meet your gaze fully. “Do you want this, love?” she asked, her tone serious now. “Do you want to try for children? Because if you do, we’ll make it happen.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want it, but because the weight of the decision felt so immense. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do. I want that. I want to build something with you both. A family.”

Agatha leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Then it’s settled,” she said, her voice steady and certain. “We’ll try.”

Rio’s grin returned wide and mischievous. “And you know,” she said, her tone turning playful, “with Agatha’s particular talents and my…creative enthusiasm, we’re bound to succeed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and free despite the lingering ache in your chest. “I’m going to regret agreeing to this, aren’t I?” you teased, your eyes shining affectionately.

Agatha smirked, her fingers trailing along your hand. “Only a little,” she said. “But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Rio pulled you closer, her lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll make sure of that,” she promised softly.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the ache in your heart began to ease, replaced by a fragile but growing hope. As the three of you sat together, the firelight illuminating the room, you allowed yourself to dream of what could be—a future filled with love, laughter, and the family you’d create together.

Agatha, her expression soft but with a mischievous glint in her eye, broke the silence with a playful suggestion. “Why wait? We could start now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could reply, Rio stood with you in her arms in one smooth motion, lifting you effortlessly. Her grin was devilish, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I like the way you think,” she said, her tone playful yet warm.

“Rio!” you shrieked, laughter bubbling up as you tried to push her away, though your protests were half-hearted. “Not now!”

Agatha chuckled, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “You’re lucky we adore you,” she teased, her tone light but filled with affection.

Rio’s laugh was rich and infectious as she gently set you back on your feet, her hands lingering on your waist. “Fine, fine,” she relented, though the mischievous glint in her eye remained. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily.”

Still laughing, you shook your head, warmth blooming in your chest as you looked between them. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but in that moment, surrounded by their love and laughter, you felt ready to face it.

Agatha and Rio’s magic had created something extraordinary—a home that moved with you, a gateway to endless possibilities. And as you stood in the cosy living room, surrounded by the warmth of the hearth and the steady presence of the two women who had become your everything, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

This wasn’t just a house. It was freedom. It was love. It was the start of something new.

[toomanytookas]

Kate, what a treat this is. It is always such a joy to see how you craft scenes with a D/s dynamic and this one in particular is so loving and devotional, it really gave me the warm fuzzies.

The way that the reader shoulders the responsibility of being his dom and actively finds joy in it is so wonderful, and I adored all of the thoughts and dialogue that we get to see that show that. Some of my faves:

✨“Hey. Baby, no. You’re mine to worry about. Right?” ✨All you want is to get this man home where you can take care of him. You know just what he needs, and just what you need, and the knowledge settles in your chest, warming you. You cup his face in your hand and the way he leans into it tells you just how right you are. ✨ He’s just yours, now, and you’ll take care of him.

With that idea of responsibility in mind, I was so interested to see how they both handled her discovery of Marcus's state when he picks her up. You explain and explore the reactions to that almost sub-drop-like experience so, so well and I think it really demonstrates how suppressing discomfort can have deep impact on both dom and sub because neither ends up feeling like they have fulfilled or been fulfilled in their care and devotion to the other. It showcases how there are responsibilities on both sides of the equation to not only give but to take, and that collaboration and shared effort to engage in their dynamic is a large part of what is so satisfying and beautiful.

With that theme in mind, I particularly loved these two lines:

✨ We’ll do better, prepare better, if it happens again. Together. Ok? ✨ Every gentle pass of the cloth relaxes you, lets you sink deeper into the moment you’re building together.

That togetherness mindset is so specific and intentional and I love it very much.

I also just really loved getting to peek into what their love looks like in a more small-details way, what it is that Marcus felt adrift without because it is so bright and warm and beautiful. The way she praises him and encourages him, how she touches him and guides him, those moments of specifically taking control of his body and pleasure (and not just through instruction—the move of restraining him with her own body was SO HOT omg). How sweetly and gently he serves her, too (I'd like a bath like that, please.)...

Anyway, I've rambled enough... who knows if I've even fully made sense, I hope I have. 😂 Thank you for sharing this with us, it really is such a delight.

hold me like water

Marcus Moreno x f!reader | 2.9k | 18+ | ao3

summary: Marcus is a ball of nerves, just waiting for you to come home.

a/n: this is my late submission to @wannab-urs' Dom that Middle Aged Man Campaign! Sorry again for being late. I had something different planned originally but this week it turned out what I needed was something a bit softer. Maybe you could use something a bit softer, too? Thank you to @katareyoudrilling for beta-ing and Gin for taking a look. 🧡 (also yes, I'm still behind on replies, but I will catch up. love y'all)

tags/warnings: dom!reader, sub!Marcus, established relationship, established dom/sub dynamics, bathing together, acts of service?, subspace, a very intense handjob, restraining (with your body), (1) bite, referenced orgasm control, pet/dynamic names (from reader: baby, baby, my man; from Marcus: love), I named Miracle Guy Rob just for fun

...

Marcus is fidgeting again. He can’t seem to make himself stop. There’s a buzzing under his skin, a tension he can’t seem to shake.

She’s been away for 10 days, and he’s not sure how he’s going to make it to 12.

Two more days, he tells himself as he wakes up his computer and finds too many emails – and decisions – waiting for him. Barely 60 hours, he bargains as he doesn’t let himself pour a third cup of coffee, knowing it’ll just keep him awake. Only two more nights alone, he promises himself as he takes off his shoes in his empty house, too quiet with her out of town and Missy at school. 

“Less than 48 hours,” he answers when his phone rings.

“Hello to you, too, babe,” she laughs, and Marcus feels something inside of him settle at the sound of her voice. The buzzing under his skin quiets to a low hum. 

Soon.

…

You want to groan aloud as you step off the third – and final – plane, ready to be done with travel for a long while. You’re tired and all you’ve thought about since you stepped foot into the first airport this morning, hours ago, was getting home. To him.

Two weeks is far too long to go without the man you love.

You make your way to baggage claim and let your mind wander to the anticipation of being home. You picture it – walking in the front door to find Marcus waiting for you, arms open, expression soft. You smile to yourself as you step off the escalator.

When you turn, you almost freeze at the unexpected sight that greets you. A smile grows across your face as you rush forward.

Marcus is standing by the baggage claim area, grinning. He looks as handsome as ever and like home and you’ve never been so happy to see anyone in your life.

You drop your carry-on next to his feet just before you throw your arms around his shoulders. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as you fall into each other.

“Babe,” you say, smiling. “I thought you couldn’t pick me up.”

Marcus’ face is buried in your shoulder and you feel him nuzzle into your neck. He sighs. “I canceled my meetings. Couldn’t wait another minute.” He squeezes you tighter and you press a soothing kiss into his hair.

“Missed you too, babe.” You let yourself sink into his arms until you hear the announcement that the bags from your flight are arriving on the belt. You pull back slowly. “Come on – all I’ve been thinking about today is being home with you.”

When you finally meet his eyes and really look at him, though, your breath catches. That’s your Marcus, you know him better than you’ve ever known anyone. You can read him like a book. And right now he looks like he hasn’t rested or slept at all in two weeks. You haven’t seen dark circles like these since the time Missy got the flu and scared everyone, a couple of years before she went to college. Before you lived together. You think back to what he said – he couldn’t wait another minute – and you feel your heart start to beat a little faster.

“Marcus? You didn’t tell me–”

He smiles, rueful. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

You step closer, mindful of the crowd moving around you. “Hey. Baby, no. You’re mine to worry about. Right?” Your voice dips a bit lower, and you see him shiver in response. 

“Right,” he agrees, and when you meet his eyes again the emotions in them tug at your chest. He sighs. “I haven’t been sleeping well. And work…” he trails off and shrugs. “Rob was out because the baby was sick, and it was a lot. And fuck, I just missed you so much.” He smiles but it looks more sad than anything and it hurts to look at. You need to get him home. All you want is to get this man home where you can take care of him. You know just what he needs, and just what you need, and the knowledge settles in your chest, warming you. You cup his face in your hand and the way he leans into it tells you just how right you are. 

When you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips you hear the low noise he makes in the back of his throat and you know. We need to hurry. 

“Come on,” you say, reaching down and lacing your fingers together as you step away. He grabs your bag and starts to walk with you. “We need to get you home, baby.”

He nods, already looking more at ease as he lets you lead him forward. “Yes, love.”

…

You keep a firm grip on Marcus’ thigh the entire drive home. He tells you more about what really happened at work while you were gone, and you can feel him opening up to you like a flower in the sun as he lets you start to take care of him. By the time you pull up at the house, the tension in his spine has started to disappear.

After you turn off the car you scan him with a careful eye. His shoulders are looser, his expression more open. Good.

“Marcus. My handsome, wonderful man. I’m going to take care of you. Alright, baby?” He nods, and you smile as you run your fingers through his hair gently. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. But you can’t hide things from me, not like this.”

He nods again, and you can see the regret in the lines of his face. “I won’t. I’m sorry, love.”

You hum, thoughtful. “This was my first long trip in a while. We’ll do better, prepare better, if it happens again. Together. Ok?”

Marcus smiles softly. “Ok.”

“Alright.” You can hear the change in your voice, and you know Marcus hears it, too, when he straightens slightly in his seat. “Now, I want you to take my bags inside and then head up to our closet. Go inside and take off those clothes and find something more comfortable. Don’t put them on yet – take your time, and meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes.”

Marcus lets out a deep breath that seems to lift the weight of the time you’ve been away off his shoulders. “Yes, love,” he breathes, and you smile as he immediately starts to do as you said.

You step out of the car and hurry to the door – you only have ten minutes.

By the time Marcus steps inside the bathroom holding his softest clothes and wearing nothing but his underwear, you’re ready for him. You’ve filled the large bath with hot water and oils in the scents you know he likes best. The lights are low, the towels are ready, and you stopped by the kitchen for water and snacks. You’re sitting on the edge of the tub, still dressed, waiting.

“Put those down, baby, and come here.”

He does, and then moves to stand in front of you. You let your eyes trail over his bare chest and legs, appreciative as always. You know he can see it in your expression when you meet his eyes again. He’s flushed, looking pleased.

You stand, slowly, and gesture him closer. “Help me undress,” you say, voice low. “I need to wash off all that travel.”

He quirks a small smile at your words, and you know he’s remembering all the times you’ve said that before, here in this room with him.

“Of course, love,” he murmurs, already moving to do as you asked. He doesn’t rush. He lets his fingertips brush against you as he slowly undresses you, and you sink into the sensation of being there with him.

Soon enough you’re standing bare before him, and his appreciation is obvious. It makes you smile, and he blushes. 

You step into the bath, Marcus’ hand immediately coming up to steady you. As soon as you’re situated against the wall, you gesture him forward. He kneels next to the tub, so quickly you feel warmth growing in your chest. You reach out to brush your fingers across his cheek and he turns into the gesture, making you smile again.

“Help me wash.”

He nods, and you can see him sinking into the familiar motions. He reaches for the soap and a cloth and begins eagerly. You have done this together so many times, you move together easily. He lifts your arm and you turn towards him, watching as he carefully and attentively washes every bit of you that he can reach. He’s so focused on his task that it becomes almost meditative, and you can see him starting to slip into that space you know he needs, held completely within your control. His body begins to forget his stress – his shoulders relax more with every movement. Every gentle pass of the cloth relaxes you, lets you sink deeper into the moment you’re building together. 

Eventually Marcus guides you to stand and, after paying the same attentiveness to your legs that he did to the rest of you, moves to drain the tub. It refills quickly, and as it does you hold out your hand to him.

“Join me,” you say, and he does. You sink into the fresh hot water again and lean against the wall of the tub. You guide him to lean back against you, between your legs. The warmth of him is so familiar, and so missed, you can’t help but wrap yourself around him. His head comes to rest on your shoulder and you feel the remaining tension start to leach out of him into the hot water that surrounds you. You nuzzle behind his ear and smile when you feel him shiver in response. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss behind his ear. “You’re so good at that.”

He stretches a bit, pleased, but you can tell he’s amused. “At bathing?”

“Yes,” you agree, sincerely, “but particularly at doing as I ask. My wonderful man.” Marcus relaxes further into you at that, and you smile again. “Now, hands on the side of the tub, please,” you say, and he immediately complies. “Rest your hands comfortably, no need to stretch. Good?” He nods and you notice his eyes have fallen closed. Good. “Keep them there, baby. Until I say.” 

“Yes, love,” he murmurs, and you hear in his voice that he has let go of everything outside of this room. He’s just yours, now, and you’ll take care of him.

You run your hands lightly down his sides and watch his sharp intake of breath. You hum as you trail your fingertips up his chest, tracing swirling designs across his skin under the hot water. “I missed you,” you say, lips brushing against his ear. His grip tightens around the edge of the tub. “I missed talking with you, and waking up next to you, and sleeping by you at night,” you continue as your hands press more firmly against his chest and arms. You can see his interest, which had flagged a bit as he washed you so attentively, start to grow again under the water. “I missed taking care of you,” you whisper, wrapping your left arm around his upper chest firmly and squeezing. “And I missed how perfectly you fall apart under my hands... My handsome man.” He moans, softly, and you slide your right hand down, smoothly, right to where you both want it. 

You wrap your hand around his cock, gently, and begin to tease at his length. He’s already hard, and you feel his breath catch at your touch.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” You pump his cock slowly as you ask.

He shakes his head before burying his face in your neck.

“No? I told you you could.” You’d known, though, that he wouldn’t.

“No,” he says, and his voice is low and soft. “I didn’t want… not without you.”

You smile and press a kiss into his hair. “My sweet man. I don’t want you to neglect yourself.”

His hips twitch forward as you move your hand smoothly down and back up, teasing around the head. Your pace is so slow it’s barely a pace at all, and you know the anticipation will send him falling steadily downwards and inwards until he’s limp in your arms.

“I wanted you,” he gasps, and you wrap your arm tighter around his chest. “It’s always better with you.” You admire the strength in his arms and his back as he wrestles against himself, keeping his hands firmly in place on the sides of the bath. It’s beautiful.

You file away a thought about how to handle this, if you have another long trip – phone sex, probably. And the thought sends a tingle of anticipation down your spine.

“I always want you, baby,” you murmur, squeezing a bit tighter and moving just a bit faster. He twitches gratifyingly in your grip. “Now let me take care of you, hmm? You can let go, now. I’ve got you.”

Marcus sighs and somehow curls even more snugly into your arms. You start a slow and steady pace and feel his heart rate increase in his chest. 

“That’s it,” you whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss just in front of it. “My handsome man, relax for me, hmm?” You move just a bit faster and feel his hips thrust forward. “You’re so beautiful like this, baby. So perfect for me.” When you twist your hand around the head of his cock, Marcus whines, softly, and you smile. “You love me so well, Marcus,” you say, softly, and he gasps. “You’re so good, baby. So good for me.”

You move your hand faster, grip his cock tighter, and the sound he lets out is almost like a sob. He has a vice-like grip on the sides of the tub and you wrap your legs around his, holding him down and in place. Marcus’ chest begins to rise and fall more swiftly with his unsteady breaths and the water of the bath moves choppily around you. 

You press a soft line of kisses up his neck. “I’ve got you. Let go for me, baby,” you say, voice firm. “Now.” You bite down on his shoulder, and with a sharp exhale, he does.

Marcus’ body goes tense as he moans your name, and you feel his release overcome him completely. You pump your fist two, three more times, and then he goes completely boneless in your arms.

You release his cock, wrapping both arms around his chest, pressing soft kisses all along his neck and shoulders. “Yes, Marcus,” you praise, “that was so beautiful, baby. You did so well.”

He says your name again, softly, and you tighten your arms around him. You know he’ll need a few minutes to come back, to swim back upwards through the pleasure and relaxation and release. “I’ve got you, baby.” Your voice is low, meant just for him. “Take your time.”

You whisper and murmur soft praises to him as he drifts, and you feel his arms twitch as he starts to come back to himself. The water is still warm, but you know you’ll need to get out soon. Slowly, you release your hold on him and smooth your hands along his arms. You carefully encourage his hands to let go of the sides of the tub, gently massaging his palms as he does. 

When he sits up slightly and turns to look at you, you smile. “Hello there,” you greet him, and he smiles back.

This Marcus is so different from the one who met you at the airport. He looks well-rested, with all the cares of the world lifted from his shoulders. His brow is soft, his eyes warm as he looks at you. The soft smile that plays at his mouth is so handsome it takes your breath away.

“Hello, love,” he says, and leans in to kiss you. “Welcome home,” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile.

“Thank you,” you say between kisses. “Next time, we won’t let it get that bad, hmm? And you’ll talk to me. And tell me the truth.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love. I promise. I got so lost in my own head. All I could do was wait for you to come back.”

You run your hand through his hair gently, before bringing it down to rest against his cheek. “We’ll talk about it later, alright? But I think I know how I want you to show me just how sorry you are.” You let a bit of teasing enter your voice, but you know he knows you’re serious.

He leans into your hand. “Anything, love,” he breathes, and his desperation to please you makes you smile again.

“Well, baby,” you tighten your grip on his hair and smile when he gasps and leans into it. “I’m going to go lay on the bed, and you’re going to dry off and meet me there.” You kiss him and nip softly at his bottom lip. “And then you’re going to make me come with your mouth as many times as I want until I tell you to stop.”

He shudders in expectation and smiles. “Yes, love,” he breathes. He watches, wide eyes tracking your every move as you stand from the tub. “Please.”You smile and lead him towards the bedroom. My perfect man.

...

a/n: thoughts? lol