#he has these soft curls and a delicate strand at the side. and his eyes were so bright and soft his lashes

[leclercskiesahead]

Imagine living in Surrey in 2019 and you go to Marks and Spencer’s to do your weekly grocery shopping and some dude rolls up in a sports car with a camera crew following him around the store as he gets progressively more depressed while trying to find his fajita mix

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, vırgin nanami, cowgirl, praise, size kink, premature ejac, mdni.

virgin nanami loses it once you tell him to ditch the condom.

“sweetheart, i—” he’d swallow, choking up on his words once cool air settles against his skin. he swallows, chewing on his bottom lip once he feels a brand new feeling. the rubbery latex wasn’t blocking him anymore, and he groans once his swollen tip smears up against your entrance. soaked, he grows quiet once he looks down to see your dripping pussy hovering over his reddened frenulum that’s tearing up with glossed pre-cum. “god, ‘s warm,” the blond sucks in a single quickened breath as a curling pout twists against his lips. “a- are you sure?”

“ ‘m sure, baby,” you whisper up against the hot shell of his ear. he’s so warm, his entire body arouse with temperature all because of the sweet sound of your voice. the center of your palm rubs against his cheek and he leans into your touch. metaphoric heart eyes form in his eyes as they dilate, his own thumping heart beating out of his chest. “ ‘s okay, inside.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s head gradually tosses itself back, and with quick alignment, he’s back inside. he kisses his teeth once he feels the real thing, your silvery walls massaging around him. the glossy sweat that pours onto his skin shines against his body glimmers brightly. he groans, letting off a soft whine once he feels the brief tightness grow snug. “you’re gonna make me—”

and within seconds, he’s cumming, hard. nanami barely even last a second after you take off the rubber, and he’s an entire mess. with a firm grasp, he’s reanimating your hips with his hands as you slowly jerk and move. “please,” he gently pierces his teeth into your neck, shivering breath ghosting against your skin. “don’t stop, s- show me how to feel good, please.”

his words were like a broken rough whisper — you pause, staring into his eyes and he’s sincere.

nanami’s heavily panting, beads of sweat racing down each sides of his forehead. fawn kind eyes bore into yours before he glances down at your sprawled out legs. “so pretty,” he hiccups, and even his touch was delicate. he was always gentle, he didn’t want to hurt you. a few thick padded fingers drag and scurry down your hips before his lip quivers. “i- i want you, i want more.”

“so have me then,” you coo against his ear, the tone of your voice more teasing than anything. as your hips start to salaciously rock into him again, you grab onto both of his wrists, trying to guide him. “there we go, ‘ken,” you whisper, and you can hear a bundle of wanton whimpers leave from his lips—never has he had a feeling like this, ever. he was so weak from your touch, your body heat, your taste. as your fingers tenderly brush against his, you make him cling onto your rickety waist. “hold me, like this.”

nanami groans, and he’s still sensitive, very. he just came, ribbons of balmy hot seed shoots deep into you and it’s warm. it makes both of his ears ring and he only wants more, more, more.

“okay,” he replies in a husky voice, and you can see blond shaggy strands of hair glue across his forehead. “o- okay,” he repeats, his tone dropping a bit lower. the bed mercilessly creaks as your rocking accelerates, his bulbous tip jabbing around every part of your cunt. once you show him how to touch you, he just can’t keep his hands off of you. “i dreamt about this for so long, sweetheart,” and he watches your pretty lips contort into an amused simper. “s- sorry, is that too dirty?”

“it’s fine baby,” you plant a kiss near the inside of his neck. a long breath gets caught in his throat. he’s about to say something else but he pauses, pouting deeply. cute, he’s embarrassed. nanami’s cock continues to rummage through your doughy insides, so much pressure that you feel it everywhere. your sappy folds squelch within each solid thrust before your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “you dream about me?”

“sometimes, yeah,” he huffs, and the irregular unkempt thrusts slowly transform into pure blissful sync. nanami looks so pretty, he’s losing the more you bounce on his cock. so good, his jaw tightens and he’s feeling every vein in his body prod. you were starting to grow dumb as each second past and your moans only grew louder right with him. nanami’s head buries itself into your neck before he lefts off a frustrated whine. “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty,” and his voice cracks at the end. you feel the tip of his tongue swirl around near your collarbone and you gasp. “god, you’re even prettier inside t- too.”

“yeah?” you whisper, creating a trail of sloppy kisses down the slip of his exposed neck. he’s moaning more at your touch. you feel his beefy thigh start to bounce before his palm squeezes against your bare ass. “you gonna cum for me again, kento? ‘s okay, be a good boy ‘n make a mess for me.”

a sheepish smile stretches against his lips, though instead of sheepish smile—it’s more of a pussy drunk one.

as you stare at him, his dimples poke against both sides of his cheeks and he’s getting lost into the way your hips twirl around him. “your good boy, mhm. all yours, ‘m gonna cum a- again,” and his voice lowers significantly. your clit’s profusely getting thwacked and mashed up against his fattened tip and it’s so appetizing. with nanami’s soft mousy eyes flicking backward until it’s nothing but pure white in his sockets, he gives your ass a soft spank. “k- keep riding me like that ‘n i’m gonna fall in love.”

and it’s right as he said that — he came again.

this time it’s a lot more. it’s thicker and languidly, you feel it spew out in velvety strips. his entire base was flaccid and he’s just idle inside of you. nanami’s whimpering underneath you as his legs finally collapse. you watch him fall back against the cushioned pillows and he’s so flustered. “mhh,” he grouses as multiple jittery pants leave from his lips. nanami wraps strong burly arms around you, holding you close. “stay,” he rasps, still hearing the sloshes of his dribbling cum trickle in and out of you. he’s shivering, his teeth shattering and he’s never felt more sensitive. he’s definitely in love.

“okay,” you nod, feeling him hide his head into the crook of your neck again. he’s so clingy—but you didn’t mind, and his warm breath tickles against your skin. you get a brief scent of his rich cologne scent that drives forevermore drove you weak. sitting up to press a chaste kiss against his twitching ruby lips, you whisper shakily. “good boy.”

and nanami’s eyes were so half lidded, your praises—he couldn’t get enough of them. seconds later and he’s still pouring into you deep, painting your gummy walls with his pristine-white color. with droopy eyes and flapping long lashes taking in your beauty, nanami whines. “more, don’t stop fucking me,” and you let off a gasp once he suddenly lifts you off his lap, lying you flat on your back. you land with a soft ‘oof’ before he spreads your legs, gazing at the satiny masses of cum that race down the crevices of your thighs.

“please,” and you moan once he drags his tongue up your legs, stopping towards your puffy clit. “teach me h- how to eat this,” and his eyes rove towards your slobbering cunt. you feel butterflies build up in your tummy before nanami’s quite literally drooling right before you. not only was he probably in love, he was also hungry.

“please mistress.”

[skzzsya]

my man ?! || lee felix

ᯓᡣ𐭩 felix x fem!reader. genre : fluff & smut.

synopsis. in which your boyfriend gets mistaken for a girl but you're the only one to know how manly he is 𝜗𝜚 ⸝⸝ m.list ♡

You’d lost count of how many times people had mistaken your boyfriend for a girl. Maybe it was his soft features, the way his long hair framed his face, or the delicate way he carried himself in public.

And today it happened again, at a café. The barista, an older woman with kind eyes, had smiled warmly at him. "What can I get for you, sweetheart?" He ordered his usual, then you added yours. But before you could step away, she turned to you with an even bigger smile.

"Your girlfriend is so beautiful!" You saw it happen in real time, the moment your boyfriend’s soul left his body. His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around his wallet. You bit back a laugh, barely holding it together as the woman continued gushing.

"She has such delicate features! You’re a lucky young lady." Your boyfriend exhaled, slow and controlled. Then, without correcting her, he handed over the cash and grabbed the drinks. "Thanks," he muttered, walking away without looking back. You followed him outside, and the second the door shut behind you, you lost it.

"Your girlfriend is so beautiful" you wheezed, clutching your stomach.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "If one more person-"

"But, babe, she wasn’t wrong!~"

His head snapped toward you. "You think this is funny?"

"A little bit." You grinned. "I mean… you are beautiful." His jaw ticked.

“Oh, so you think this is funny?” His voice was dangerously calm, but the way he lifted his eyebrow told you exactly what was coming.

Your breath hitched. “A little bit.”

Felix hummed, tilting his head as he looked down at you. “Alright,” he murmured, fingers curling around your wrist.

"You better make this up to me later," he muttered.

—

The moment you stepped inside, Felix shut the door with a quiet click. The air between you shifted, slowly, he turned, expression unreadable as he gazed down at you.

"Strip." he says. Your breath caught. Felix had always been the gentle type, but when it came to this? He was careful but firm. Always soft, but never hesitating. You swallowed, hands moving to the hem of your shirt. His eyes darkened as he watched you peel it off, followed by your bra, leaving you bare under his heated gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, stepping closer. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

You shivered, nodding as his hands brushed over your sides, fingers ghosting over your ribs before settling at your waist. His lips met yours in a slow, lingering kiss. Not rushed, just deliberate and sweet. His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, pulling you against his warmth. "You laugh when people call me pretty," he whispered against your mouth, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that made your knees weak.

"But I know what you really think." His hands skimmed down, pushing your pants past your hips until they pooled at your feet. You kicked them off, breath stuttering as his fingers slipped between your thighs, teasing over your clothed heat.

"Already wet," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "You like when I prove myself to you, don’t you?" You bite your lip, nodding.

"Words, baby," he reminded you, his voice teasing.

"Yes," you exhaled.

A pleased hum vibrated from his chest. "That’s my princess."

He slid your panties down, guiding you back toward the couch until the cushions hit the back of your knees.

"Sit my love." And you did as he says. Felix knelt between your legs, eyes locked onto yours as he kissed his way up your inner thigh. His long hair cascaded over his shoulders, the strands tickling your skin as he moved.

"You always make fun of me," he murmured, warm breath fanning over your core. "But you love this hair, don’t you?"

Before you could answer, his tongue flicked out, teasing over your clit in the softest, slowest motion imaginable. Your head fell back, a gasp leaving your lips. He chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your body.

"Not so funny now, huh?"

You barely had time to process what was happening before he devoured you. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing and circling with precision. His lips sealed around your clit, sucking just enough to make your thighs tremble.

"Lixie-" you moaned, hands going to his hair.

The second your fingers tangled in his long locks, he groaned, the deep, needy sound vibrating against you. You tugged, just a little, his nails dug into your thighs.

"Baby, mhmm" he rasped, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. "Again."

Testing him, you curled your fingers tighter and pulled, guiding his head where you wanted him. Felix let out a moan, pupils dilating before he whimpered, sinking deeper into your heat. The sound alone nearly sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, Felix ah..."

"That's it, angel," he groaned, tightening his grip on you. "Cum for me."

And with one last flick of his tongue, your body tensed, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your thighs clenched around his head, but Felix didn’t stop, he kept going, drawing out every moan out of your mouth, until you were whimpering from overstimulation. Only then did he pull back, licking his lips as he gazed up at you with a satisfied smirk.

"Still think I’m ‘pretty’?" he teased. Your chest heaved, a dazed smile curling at your lips. "So pretty," you breathed. Felix giggled, shaking his head as he stood.

"You’re lucky I love you."

"Mmh i love you too~." You tugged at his waistband, looking up at him through heavy lashes. "I- need it please." He groaned, already melting as you pulled him down for another kiss. You reached for the waistband of his jeans, fingers brushing over the button. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his muscles as he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re impatient, love” he murmured, teasing you again, but the way his hands trembled slightly as he pulled back told you he was just as eager.

“I want you,” you whispered, voice softer now.

Felix groaned, kissing you deeply before stepping back just enough to shed the rest of his clothes. His long hair cascaded over his shoulders as he tugged off his shirt, then pushed down his jeans and boxers, revealing himself fully. Your breath caught. No matter how many times you’d seen him like this, it always stole the air from your lungs. He was beautiful, but not in the delicate, feminine way strangers assumed. He was lean but strong, toned with abs of six pack. His skin glowed in the dim light, a slight flush dusting his cheeks as he hovered over you again. Felix’s hands traced over your body with reverence, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, the curve of your waist, your thighs. He took his time, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then your chest, then lower. “Every single part of you.”

Your fingers curled into his hair again, and he shuddered, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before he met your gaze once more.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, you nodded, heart pounding.

Felix reached down, running himself through your folds, coating himself in your wetness before slowly, so slowly, pressing inside. Your breath hitched as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch, never rushing. His lips found yours again, swallowing the soft moan that slipped past your lips.

“Now, do I feel like a girl to you hm?” he asked, forehead resting against yours.

You exhaled shakily. “N-no.”

Felix nodded, letting out an almost desperate groan before he rolled his hips, pushing the rest of the way in. He stilled, letting you adjust, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. His hands never stopped moving, caressing your sides, your thighs, grounding you in his warmth. Then, finally, he moved. Slow, deep thrusts, each one dragging along every sensitive spot inside you.

Felix wasn’t fucking you. He wasn’t pounding into you with reckless abandon, he was making love to you. And God, it felt good. His fingers laced with yours, pressing your hands into the cushions as he rocked into you at a sensual, unhurried pace.

“Feels so good,” he murmured against your lips. “You take me so well, baby.”

You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer. The new angle sent a shiver down your spine, pleasure coiling tighter with his slow, precise thrusts. Felix groaned as your walls clenched around him.

“Fuck, angel- just like that.”

His mouth trailed down to your neck, sucking lightly at the skin, leaving faint marks that would disappear by morning. His hips moved in steady, measured rolls, his thrusts pressing so deep, rubbing against that perfect spot inside you. You were falling apart beneath him, he was stretching you so good.

“Lixie-,” you gasped, nails digging into his back. “I- I’m close.”

He kissed you again. “I know, baby. I can feel you.” His pace never faltered, never grew erratic. He wanted you to feel all the love he has for you, to reach your high slowly, beautifully.

His fingers slipped between your bodies, rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit. The added sensation sent you tumbling over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in waves. Felix groaned as you clenched around him, his thrusts growing just a little deeper, a little more desperate as he chased his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin.

“Gonna fill you up, baby ngh...gonna make you feel so good.”

And then, with one last thrust, he broke, spilling into you with a soft, breathless moan. His body trembled, muscles tense as he rode out his high, pressing you firmly against him. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Felix stayed inside you, chest rising and falling against yours, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. His hair tickled your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, your temple, your lips.

“Are you good my love?” he asked, voice thick with exhaustion and love.

You smiled, still breathless. “More than good.”

Felix chuckled, nuzzling into your neck. “Good.”

He pulled out carefully, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, not letting an inch of space remain between you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“You’re not laughing anymore,” he teased sleepily.

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Nope heh.”

Felix hummed, already drifting into the hazy warmth of sleep. “Told you I’d prove it.”

And God, had he ever.

─────────౨ৎ──────────

Ehm...this edit inspired me :3

(it's my first time writing this type of stuff please be nice 🙏🏻😽)

[blythesarchives]

18+ MDNI | Just a quick thought...telling beefy Bucky one of my favs he has a pretty cock.

God you couldn't help yourself.

He was sitting there on the couch, that perfectly fitted henley outlining every curve and plane of his muscles, making you feel a burning need deep in your core. Your eyes were drawn to the growing bulge in his tight jeans.

The way he restlessly shifted his weight on the cushions, his meaty thighs pressing together and releasing in an unconscious rhythm, his fingers absently gripping the fabric beneath them. His arousal was unmistakable to your knowing eyes.

His desire was mounting with your own.

Curling up against his right side and palming him through the rough denim of his jeans, the heat radiating from his semi-hard cock warmed your palm within a second of feeling him. His dark, disheveled hair cascaded over his forehead in messy, slightly tangled strands, his features flushed as he releases soft, breathy pants into the quiet air between you. Those pretty pink lips, giving a slight pout as they remain parted for those gentle, desperate pants to escape.

The poor man is so pent up.

Decades of denial while being used constantly really fucked with him psychologically. He associated the intimate act of sex with pain and misery, complete humiliation and dehumanization, just another form of punishment until he grew to both hate and fear any kind of intimate contact. But with you patience and gentle love...he grew confident enough, comfortable enough, to allow you to touch him.

He shifted restlessly, gradually allowing his legs to part wider as you continued your gentle ministrations, palm pressed firmly against him over the fabric. His jeans acted as both a barrier and a source of delicious friction, the sturdy material keeping him safely confined while still allowing him to enjoy your touch without triggering his usual anxieties about intimate contact.

Though the layers between you provided some sense of security, he was increasingly unable to resist the building desire for more intimate contact. The way he struggled against your palm alone made you wonder just how he would get when he was bare.

"Babydoll, please," he whispered, his voice dropping to a breathless, needy tone that revealed his growing desperation. His tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips, leaving them glistening in the dim light as his breathing grew more ragged.

A deep flush had spread across his cheeks, painting them a lovely shade of pink, while his heavy-lidded eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused expression. The poor, needy man was completely lost to sensation, his hips jerking up slightly into your hand.

"Oh, baby...you're so needy already. I've barely even touched you." You cooed gently, watching his reactions with rapt attention as your hand applied more deliberate pressure to his crotch. His erection strained harder against the confining denim with each teasing touch, making his breathing grow more ragged. They felt so tight now.

"Get 'em off," Bucky whined desperately, his head falling back against the soft cushions of the couch. Sweet, delicate whimpers spilled from his parted lips as his trembling fingers fumbled clumsily with his button and zipper, struggling in his heightened state of arousal. The burning need coursing through his body was overwhelming - he wanted to cry from the intensity of it.

You smiled at his sounds, helping the man out of his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free - slapping his abdomen as it stood at attention. The poor thing was so swollen and glistening with precum, the head shining and beading translucent pearls. He was panting, squirming and trying to encourage you to touch him.

"You have such a pretty cock, baby," You took it in your hand, carefully angling it so your thumb could pop those little precum bubbles and spread them all around his tip. Bucky whined, his hands fisting the couch cushion as his back arched sightly. Cute little pants left his lips as his hips threatened to thrust.

"Doll, nngh, d-don't...tease." He strained, looking at you with watery eyes, adorably blushed cheeks, biting his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. "I need more...please, stop teasing -"

"Shh, sh, I've got you sweet boy, let me take care of you..." Your voice was so smooth and sultry, his cock twitched in your hand as you continued to gently rub the pad of your thumb on his tip and using his excessive amount of precum to lubricate the rest of him. Your hand soon moved up and down his length with ease, gently applying pressure around those delicate spots you knew he loved.

You were driving him crazy.

"Pleasepleaseplease -" Bucky was completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, his brow deeply furrowed as his body moved instinctively, driven by pure need and desire. Your hand was thoroughly coated in his arousal, a steady supply of glistening beads and pearls continuously dripping down and creating a warm, slick lubricant between your hand and his cock.

"I've got you, I've got you...just let it go for me." You leaned closer, your breath ghosting across his heated skin as his hands desperately grasped and kneaded into your body. His hips moved in an increasingly urgent pace, the previously steady rhythm of his rutting growing more and more erratic and desperate as his approaching orgasm began to overtake him, causing his thrusts to stutter and falter.

"I'm close, I'm close doll," He managed through his panting and soft moaning, "Don't stop, don't stop...aah right there!" He pleaded and begged for that one spot. He loved it, teasing the underside of his cock while simultaneously rubbing the swollen head, it only took seconds.

The way his head falls back against the cushions, letting out a beautiful symphony of strangled moans and desperate cries that rip through his throat with increasing intensity - all perfectly synchronized with the thick white ropes that shot out in strands from below. The warm fluid coated your hand and splashed across his bare, trembling thighs as his hips continued bucked uncontrollably throughout his orgasm.

He panted heavily, chest heaving, as his tense, quivering body finally melted back into the soft embrace of the couch, completely spent after the overwhelming wave of pure ecstasy washed over him.

"Ah...hah...fuck..." He breathed out between ragged gasps, sitting there weak and thoroughly dazed, his hair now disheveled and sticking to his glistening forehead, matted slightly with the light sheen of sweat that had formed at his brow. You loosened your grip and let him go gently, feeling him slowly softening in your hand as the last few aftershocks rippled through him.

His cum coated your hand and you observed the mess he made as he slowly recovered, "Guess you like being called pretty," you teased with a satisfied smirk.

Bucky peeked his eyes open and looked at you, he saw his mess but he didn't comment about it. He was still a little out of breath, but he managed a huff in between. "Shut up..."

I love CW Bucky sm I want to do so many things to him. Anyway I hope you like this thought I needed to write it down real quick. I didn't read over it sooo don't mind that lol.

Thanks for reading <3 -em🌿

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・0.6k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・lee know x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship. lazy kisses & mutual obsession. / 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・for my @rachalixie: you've done well today (♡´ ˘ `)⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

𝟭𝟴:𝟮𝟮 — There’s a certain novelty to experiencing something for the first time.

Sure, the magic lives on as your love for the thing grows, but no sensation will quite beat out the first time the opening riff of your favorite song hits your ears, the flavor of your favorite fruit splashing onto your tongue, the climax of your favorite film rendering you a sobbing mess in a public theater.

But you walk into your room one Saturday afternoon to glance at the man lying face-up on the bed you share, scrolling absentmindedly with a mackerel tabby curled into his side. Cordate, coral lips that you know by now feel like satin and taste like home, catlike eyes framed by thick lashes that could run makeup conglomerates into ruin; perfect, prim nose and chiseled, angular jaw, strong and sharp enough to draw blood should you run your finger along the pretty perimeters.

You clamber onto the mattress as delicately as you can. Not delicately enough, by Dori’s standards. The cat tosses you a disgruntled look before landing noiselessly onto the hardwood, departing from the room in search of his less disruptive siblings.

Moments later, Minho’s phone is face-down somewhere out of reach; you are straddling his waist and leaning over him, your hands cradling his face so tenderly they’re barely there. You come close enough for wisps of your hair to catch onto the delicate curves of his lashes, for the tip of your nose to bump against his like a greeting from a butterfly.

His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips like a breath of your own. “What’s the matter with you?”

He threw the curtains aside and cracked the windows open earlier, letting into the room a shower of late-afternoon sun. It now dyes his skin a dewy caramel, lightens his eyes to pools of molten amber. For some time, you are unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that he holds. 

Eventually, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, dip down, rid of the distance between you with a soft seal of your mouth his. He doesn’t move until he’s overcome his surprise, but then he brings one hand to your waist, slipping beneath the sheer fabric of your top to press your hips down onto his, and wraps the other around the base of your neck, the pad of his thumb settling over your jugular like a gossamer wing.

You sigh in pleasure and part your lips; he pursues this opening with a fervor, pliant tongue keeping your mouth ajar, head tilting to one side to better savor you, your teeth knocking and limbs entwining in this passionate fray.

By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. You’re underneath him now, his hands positioned on either side of your head. His eyes are no longer amber but obsidian, his mouth ravaged and raw in the aftermath of colliding time and time again with yours. The sun has largely vanished beneath the skyline.

You collect yourself just enough to procure an answer to his question.

“Every time I look at you feels like the first,” you whisper.

Minho doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe in spite of how you’d just kissed the air straight from his lungs, doesn’t believe his ears. For that is the exact way he feels about you, always has been and always will, though you have always been the one to first verbalize the feelings that he doesn’t have the words for.

For some time, he is unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that you hold.

Eventually, he combs a hand through his hair, dips down, rids of the distance between you with a hard crash of his mouth upon yours, and there the two of you will remain until it’s no longer light from the sun that sets your room aglow, but that of the moon and a hundred thousand stars.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[realcube]

dilf december

day nineteen ⭑ keiji akaashi ⭑ work never ends!

tw: nsfw minors dni , vaginal, f! reader, inappropriate workplace relationships, imbalanced power dynamic, age gap, cockwarming & praise

the door to his office creaks open and you shuffle in, yet he doesn't spare you a glance.

he is intently focused on his work, tapping away on his laptop, eyes narrowed and fixed to the screen. sat on the desk beside him was a stack of paperwork he was likely putting-off as well. he'd been cooped up in his office for hours yet it seemed like there was still so much for him to do. work at the manga company never truly ends for akaaski.

his lips are curled into a scowl, while strands of hair fall clumsily into his face, and he'd frustratedly push them back. usually he did quite a good job of styling his hair to avoid dishevelment, but he has been at work for so long that perhaps his rigid hairdo was being to come undone.

you pout, and slink up to him quietly. as you near, you notice his glasses, which reflected the blue-light of the screen he was working on, were all smudged at the edges. likely from his continous adjustment of them across the bridge of his nose, and also how'd he often take them off entirely to massage his temples and rest his eyes.

once you reach his side, you point at his glasses and ask, "would you like me to clean those for you?"

he doesn't even look at you as he replies, "that would be kind of you."

you nod, and without further questions, you delicately sit yourself down on his lap, with your legs perpendicular to his, so you lean back and not interfere with his view of the screen. you wrap one arm around his shoudlers so you can keep your balance while tilted back, and you used your other hand to gently tug his glasses off, and wipe them clean with the cottony fabric of your cardigan.

even without his glasses, his mean stare is still fixed on the laptop before him, and he continues to work diligently until you set his newly clean glasses back upon his nose. "thank you, (y/n)." he mutters.

"no problem." you hum, admiring your work for a moment before resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. the minty scent of his cologne is quite overpowering, but you relish in it. "are you almost done for today, boss?"

it was a silly question, you know. you could quite clearly see the stacks of paperwork he had yet to touch and could infer from his unwavering concentration that he wasn't nearing the end of his current project either. and you knew akaashi wasn't the type to leave so much until the next day.

"unfortunately not." he states plainly, freeing one hand from the keyboard in order to place it on the small of your back, tenderly caressing you with his thumb, "but don't let me stop you from going home. your shift is over."

you frown, moving away from his neck, to look at his face instead, "but i don't wanna leave without you. plus, you said we can go to your house today."

"you can still go to my house, and i'll meet you there later. the key is in the left pocket of my jacket." he briefly uses his hand that is on your back to point loosely to the coat-rack in the corner of the room, where his jacket hung.

"it's not the same without you, sir.." you whine quietly, slumping your bodyweight against his chest and gazing up at him longingly.

"what a sweet angel you are." he murmurs, as his hand slips from the lower region of your back, up your spine to cradle your neck and pull you in for a deep kiss. at first, you squeak in surprise and tense up, but you are quick to melt into the loving kiss, guided by akaashi's soft lips upon yours.

his eyes are screwed shut, until it is time to pull away, then they drag open to stare at you. the face of his lovely, kind assistant who will stop at nothing to please him. you've always been so diligent in your duties and so pretty while doing them; he is so lucky have found someone like you.

truthfully, he's never had the courage to ask you out because of the glaring age difference between the two of you, since that might not be something you're willing to look past. not that he minded all too much, he thoroughly enjoyed the wildly inappropriate and borderline perverted workplace relationship you shared — it was exhilarating and make him excited to come into work every morning. but now, with you in his lap and after exchanging such as intimate kiss, he realised the way you felt on his lips was just so right and he wanted nothing more than to make you his. and with the way you looked at him with those sappy, yearning eyes, it make him think he might have a chance.

once you come back to reality, you jerk your head to the side and huff, with your arms crossed over your chest, "so, i'm not leaving until you're done." you say in protest, as though you were standing up to him or being defiant, when he hasn't expressed any opposition to you staying with him. in fact, the tiny smile that dusted over his lips indicated that he would be glad to keep you.

"so be it." he shrugs in defeat, pretending like he was succumbing to your will. "you can sit here, angel, while i work." he caressed your back once more, pulling you in for a brief kiss before returning both his hands to his keyboard and continuing his duty.

meanwhile, you were able to sit and watch him for around five minutes before getting painfully bored. however, you weren't in need of mental stimulation — you have quite an active imagination and could curate plenty of entertainment within your own head — but rather, it was physical stimulation which you were desperate for. and you knew exactly what would satisfy you.

wordlessly, you shuffly on akaashi's lap and straighten out your legs, to allow you to swiftly tug off your lacey black panties, and cast it aside. akaashi observed this out of the corner of his eye and while he was fully able to process what was going on, he purposefully ignored what you were doing as he knew it would distract him from his task at hand. so although he tried to pay no mind to your suggestive actions, you could still feel him getting firm under your thighs.

once you had taken your own panties off, you idly work on unzipping his trousers and pulling free his stiff cock. you held it gently in your palm and maneuvered it towards your hole, so his tip was nudging your damp enterance. he was so big , hence you wanted to ensure you were sufficiently lubricated before you even attempted penetration. thankfully, you were already quite wet from just looking at his dick, thus you only had to drag his tip sloppily against your labia and clit for a minute or so before you were utterly soaked, dripping arousal onto his perfectly pressed grey trousers.

your eyes screw shut and your breath hitches as you begin to sink down on his length, swallowing every last inch until your ass landed upon his lap again. a string of hushed moans and profanities left your throat as you did so, sobbing for the strength to take him all and cursing whoever let him be so long. but eventually, you were able to cram him all into your tight pussy, with the aid of your immense wetness.

though, you were left with an extremely conjested feeling. his entire cock was enough to saturate and fill your entire insides, leaving no space left untouched. you couldn't even breathe or move slightly without the risk of his grith rubbing against a particularly sensitive section of your walls.

it was a strange sensation but gradually it became less intense, as long as you remained very still. you had adjusted your position so you were stradling his lap, but you kept your head tucked to the side, so he could still get a clear view of his laptop.

"good girl. you're so tight.." he groaned lowly into your ear, hot breath tickling your skin, "but keep still. i need to concentrate."

instead of riding, you were able to get all the stimulation you need from simply cockwarming your boss, which kept you contented for as long as it took him to finish up his work.

[solvisun]

012125. cw | none. just fluff. 731 wc. notes | i got my first strike YEY 🧑‍🦲🔫 @phantasmaebg nighty night zzz

matsukawa issei isn’t the type to openly gush over people, though that’s not the same to say that he doesn’t. you know this. because he’s always gushing about you in his own way, the only form you’ve learned by heart, one you’ve come to fully adore.

when he spotted you across the room, he swore his chest tightened in a way he’d never admit out loud. still, his affection screams — in the spaces that reach you to understand without fail, how honest his eyes are, an open journal of sorts.

you were curled up on the couch, sinking deep into your phone in your hands, your messy hair thrown into a half-lopsided bun, only the upper parts alongside your bangs, sweatpants slung low on your hips, stomach looking so delicate & slightly revealed under your sleeveless top, and headphones perched lazily over your ears.

you look half-asleep, groggy. the sunlight filtering through the windows renders your tired eyes to look more dreamy. your whole skin glowing, lashes glimmer like specks of jewels. you yawn, looking soft and untouched and undone.

something about you like this—so completely yourself—has his heart diving over itself. he has no idea how you managed to look so utterly captivating without trying. his heartbeat races when you stood up, unaware of his presence. and you head to the kitchen, probably going to make something really delicious—like always.

he watches you in quiet reverence, lips pulling a slow grin, nothing but adoration in his gaze.

his arms crossed over his chest, letting the sight of you etch itself into his memory. you’re too caught up in whatever quiet ritual you’ve set out to do in the kitchen, and he finds himself enamored by the way you move—relaxed, deliberate, but so distinctly you.

he always think he loved you most in moments like these, where there was no effort, no pretense, just you being you.

you stopped in front of the counter, reaching for something on the shelf, and the hem of your sleeveless top lifted just slightly. that little sliver of skin caught the light in the gentlest way, and matsukawa felt his restraint falter.

before he knew it, he was behind you, large hands sliding around your waist with the familiarity of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.

you stiffen slightly at first, but then you easily settle yourself, the familiar warmth of his palms sending a shiver of comfort through you. “issei,” you murmur, your voice soft and tinged with sleep, “when’d you get here?”

he tugs the side of your headphones down as you turn to look at him.

“just now,” his voice low and husky, lips curling into a smirk you can’t see. “you looked too good on your own, had to come ruin it.”

you huff, chuckling, your body leaning instinctively into his as his arms loop around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “i haven’t even washed my face yet,” you mutter, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“doesn’t matter. you’re cute when you’re half-dead, y’know?”

you rolled your eyes, but before you could reply, he leaned in, resting his forehead to the back of your head, then he lowers himself, lips coming to plant tender kisses on your temple, a gentle nibble on your ear, and a shuddering warm peck to your nape.

this makes your cheeks flush, but you shake your head, focusing instead on the task at hand. “if you’re gonna keep distracting me, at least help me cook something,” you say, trying to sound stern but failing—quite horribly, actually— because he pulls you impossibly closer, practically snuggling against you so shamelessly.

“come take a nap with me instead.”

“issei.”

“please. i just wanna—” he inhales, a long, deep breath, and exhales, you feel his chest against your back rise and fall in result, “you’re the only thing i wanna see all day.”

and just like that, any lingering grogginess thawed away, like popsicles melting from the beautiful warmth of everything. like his touch, especially his touch, along the undertones of intensity laced by his words. you turn slightly in his arms, your hand reaching up to playfully flick his forehead, though your smile betrays so many parts of you.

“you’re impossible.”

“yeah? impossible for you, miss.” he quipped back, smiling tenfold.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) carmen berzatto comes home after a long day at the beef.

your eyes momentarily shift towards the front door at the sound of keys and you slowly sit up from your curled position on the couch, dog-earing the page to your book and setting it on the table next to the armrest. checking the time on your phone, you let out a soft groan as you realize it was late - much later than the usual time he arrives home.

the door finally creaks open and you smile softly as your boyfriend walks through the threshold, closing the door behind him gently and locking it. he was tense, more so than usual when it came to dealing with ‘the beef’ and its employees, and your smile dropped gradually into a small frown.

“carmy?”

you're greeted with silence from him and the sound of his bag hitting the floor with a resounding thud at the entrance. you can see the exhaustion in his eyes as he pads over toward you after shedding his boots, leaving behind the remnants of the outside world, he surrenders himself to vulnerability and sinks to his knees before you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nestling his face into your tummy. you can't help but smile softly, and run your fingers through the beautiful tangle of curls atop his head.

“hi,” you murmur softly, your thumb delicately tracing over his forehead to ease away some of the wrinkles that seem to always etch themselves there. carmen’s like jell-o in your lap, slumped and boneless. his body relaxes, the tension melting away, and you can feel the weight of his exhaustion dissipating. it's a rare sight to witness him so vulnerable, so unguarded, “hey,” is what he whispers back to you, it’s weary, strained, and lost. it makes your heart hurt like nothing you've ever experienced.

“tough day?”

carmen groans quietly into your stomach before flipping his head to the side, sighing weakly when your fingers move the brown curls from his eyes. it takes a moment but he’s finally able to sort through his mess of jumbled thoughts to communicate to you, “i don't know what i’m doing wrong, i don't understand.”

you hum and brush your thumb over his cheek, exhaling deeply. “with the team?” you inquire, a grunt of agreement, you hum softly once more. “sometimes, carmy, change and even big changes at that can be scary to some people." you detangle one of his curled strands. "the loss of michael has also affected them, and the thought of losing the things he’s implemented for so long can be hard.”

he’s silent, azure eyes flickering here and there as he processes, his brows knitting together and his tongue peeking out to moisten his lips. “i’m not saying they're right in the way they're treating you, i’m just saying you should wait a little, give them time. things will fall into place." you lean in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "remember, carmy, you're a leader. your guidance and support can make all the difference. encourage them, believe in them, and help them realize their own potential."

carmy lifts from his position on your lap and without hesitation, you lean in and plant a gentle kiss on his lips, hoping he can feel the love that you have for him without having to say it. when you pull away, he places his forehead against yours.“what would i do without you?” he utters; you grin and hum in a playful manner, “crash and burn, maybe?” he chuckles, his warm breath caressing your skin as he affectionately nods against your head. "you know, you're probably right," he admits, his tired eyes reflecting the amusement in yours.

you pat his cheek and pull away. “now, go shower. you smell like richie’s horrible cologne and sweat.” he dismissively rolls his eyes, but lovingly plants a tender kiss on your temple before getting up from the floor.

“yeah, yeah.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

could I request one for Benedict where he prepares a special date for reader after she has a difficult birth?

A/n: Benedict would, literally the sweetest.

You were everything to Benedict, the love of his life, his soul mate and now you gave him a child.

It was a difficult birth, one that scared him, one that made him think he was going to lose you, lose his child but you both made it.

You both were fine and he was going to spoil you because you deserved this and more.

Benedict gave you a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek then tucking a strand of your hair out of your face. You gave your husband a smile eyeing him for a moment. "Benedict you don't have too."

A scoff left his lips as he brought your hand to his lips kissing it as he then lifted you into his arms to carry you. "Nonsense...No protests,” he interrupted with a playful smile, but his eyes were filled with concern. “Let me spoil my wife...I promise, it is nothing strenuous. Just…let me do this for you.”

And so you did.

He carried you to the garden, where the warm glow of lanterns illuminated a small, intimate setting. A table was set beneath the canopy of wisteria, the delicate flowers swaying in the evening breeze. Soft cushions adorned the chairs, and a warm blanket was draped over one, waiting for you. Candlelight flickered against the silverware, casting a golden hue over the scene.

“Oh, Benedict…” Your breath hitched as you took it all in.

Walking towards a small comfortable chair he placed you down and placed a kiss on top of your head, his hand then found yours, fingers lacing together.

“You’ve been through so much, my love. You have given me the most precious gift in the world, and yet I feel as though I haven’t done enough for you in return.” His voice was quiet, filled with sincerity. “So tonight is just for you. No responsibilities, no demands—only comfort.”

Making sure you were warm and settled, Benedict settled down next to you. The meal was simple yet decadent, your favorite dishes prepared with care. He watched you with soft amusement as you took slow bites, ensuring you were eating properly, but not in a way that felt overbearing. A sigh leaving your lips, body visibly relaxing.

As the evening went on, the conversation flowed effortlessly—lighthearted at times, sentimental at others. The weight of the past weeks seemed to lift, even if just for a while. And when your exhaustion inevitably caught up with you, Benedict was at your side in an instant. Your eyes dropping for a moment, you did your best to keep them open but your exhaustion was clearing hitting you.

Without hesitation, before you even had a chance to even blink he pulled you into his arms, guiding your head to rest against his chest, your body now settled in his lap, and as you sat together his fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“You are extraordinary,” he murmured against your hair. “I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

Tears pricked at your eyes—not from sadness, but from the sheer depth of love in his voice. You curled closer, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothe you. Your head tucking into the crook of his neck a soft chuckle leaving your lips. "I love you, I do hope you know that Benedict."

For the first time in weeks, you felt truly cherished.

[moonstruckme]

I cannot stop thinking about this looking at Sirius after he says something stupid and saying “you’re so pretty baby”

Hi haha not sure if this was what you meant but hope you enjoy <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 662 words

It’s hardly more than a murmur, the barest whisper of speech rising above the soft nighttime symphony of crickets and frogs as you and Sirius lay in the grass looking up at the starry sky. 

“I think I could bench press the moon.” 

It takes a blink for you to process that, and even then you’re still not sure you’ve heard him right. “You what?” 

“I think I could lift the moon,” Sirius says in the same contemplative, tranquil voice. “Like, if I had to. With the way gravity is up there, it can’t be that hard, right?” 

A smile starts to form on your lips, and you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. “Oh, so you mean that if you went up into space and got below the moon, you think you’d be able to lift it?”

Sirius seems to think for a moment. Then he nods, still facing the sky. “I mean that if we were to somehow get a bench up there below the moon, I think I could bench press it. I’m not saying it’d be easy, but I could do it.” 

“You know there are, like, meteors that crash into the moon and don’t move it, right?” It’s impossible to keep the laughter out of your voice at this point, and Sirius looks over with a frown. “You think you’re stronger than a meteor?” 

“Maybe the meteors just haven’t tried the right angle.” 

You sigh dreamily, lifting a hand to brush your knuckles delicately across the fine plane of his cheekbone. “Sirius, baby,” you say, running a silken strand of hair between your fingers, “you’re so pretty. So, so pretty.” 

Dark eyebrows rise, and Sirius’ lips curl into an odd half-smile. “I know I am. Are you calling me dumb?” 

“No, not dumb.” You pull your lips to one side, toying with his hair while you think. “Just…not always the sharpest crayon in the box.” 

He laughs darkly. A giddy static goes through you, and it takes some effort to keep up your placid facade as you curl a piece of hair around your finger. 

“So you’re the brains of this operation, huh?” he asks you slowly. 

You hum. “If you say so.” 

“And you don’t think I could bench press the moon. I’m dumb and weak, is that it?” 

“Sirius,” you laugh. “I don’t think anyone could bench press the moon. It has its own gravity, and I’m not totally sure how that works but I’m pretty sure it means you can’t just toss it around like a beach ball.” 

“You think I’m not strong.”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“No,” he allows, calm settling over his features in the split second before he strikes, grabbing one of your hands in his and then the other as he rolls on top of you. “You just think my looks are all I’m good for. Did I get that right, sweetheart?” 

You laugh, trying to use your legs to push him off, but Sirius pins down your thighs with his knees. “I’m just saying,” you giggle, “it’s a good thing you’re pretty. Can’t you just accept the compliment?” 

“Oh, so that’s all I am to you.” His voice is scornful, but a playful mirth gleams in his eyes. “Just a hot piece of ass for you to strut about, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you bait, giggles worsening when he nips cruelly at the skin below your ear. “You’re like my trophy boyfriend.” 

Sirius squints down at you, and he really is lovely, all dark hair and brows that contrast against his pale skin. He looks like someone’s charcoal drawing come to life. The work of a very skilled artist, certainly.

He grins. “Fine,” he says, voice all smoothed out by certainty. “You can be the brains, honey, and I’ll just sit pretty. But that means it’s your job to figure out how to get me and a bench to the moon, because I’m gonna prove your smart ass wrong.”

[cheriecoke]

I've been thinking about pussy drunk husband nanami!!! being with an s/o who rides him so good, he cries and begs for more 😩😩😩

contents. overstim, riding nanami, praise, 18+ mdni, 800 words

you place your hands on kento’s chest, walls clenching tighter around his cock that’s buried deep within you. your thighs already ache, growing sore as you thrust your hips up down once more, riding his thick cock.

“kento,” his name leaves your throat hoarsely. “i’m so close.”

“feel so good, sweetheart,” kento groans in the quiet room, the sounds between your thighs lewd and heavy. blonde hair falls in thick strands onto his forehead, his dark eyes hazy as he stares up at you. “tight little pussy takes me so well,” it leaves his voice in a hum, deepening as he squeezes your sides, bringing you down on him harder. his fingers are rough against the soft skin of your hips, grazing the bone gently. “love you so much.” 

the words are raspy, chest rising and falling with desire as you hover over him.

“love you too, ken—” his cock stretches you as you suck him in deeper, your more delicate frame straddling him. “fuck,” arousal runs between your thighs, down the length of him, seeping onto the two of you.

there’s a steady thrum of energy in your stomach, and you squeeze his shoulders roughly, your nails nearly breaking the skin. “gonna cum,” you say, your voice high and airy, leaving your throat in a needy whisper.

“i know,” he pulls you down, kisses your lips roughly, sloppily as he tangles his hands in your hair. there's sweat on his forehead, the scent of him enveloping you in a thick cloud of lust. “god,” he cries, raspy moans leaving his lips. “not gonna last with you squeezing me like that.” 

his fingers curl in your hair, and he gazes at you with a desperation that has you moving faster. kento says your name in a raspy moan, whispering it like a prayer. 

it doesn't take much for you to come around him, squeezing his cock tightly. you fall forward onto his chest, kissing across his face. not long after, he spills into you, your walls painted with his cum.

though, as kento comes down from his orgasm, he doesn’t pull out of you, doesn’t move until he's hard again. he shifts forward, kisses up your neck until his cock is hard enough to pump himself inside you, shove you back down onto his hips. 

“kento,” you say on an inhale, as he forces himself into your soaked cunt. your eyelids flutter closed, hair falling over your shoulder as you lean over him, little puffs of air leaving your lips. “too much—”

he ignores your pleas, pumping you up and down on his cock as you claw at his chest. his cheeks are flushed, eyes so warm as and full of want as he stares back at you. kento’s fingers curl into your skin, leaving little imprints; he drags himself in and out of you desperately.

“it’s not too much,” he says softly, hunger dripping from every syllable. “i know it isn’t. just one more.”  he smiles up at you with a grin that’s a little out of focus. “give me another one, okay, sweetheart? fuck, you’re so perfect. need you again.” 

“s-sensitive,” you say, digging your fingers back into his chest as he watches you with glossy eyes. “please, i can’t—”

he brings you back down, hard on his cock, hands heavy on your hips as he smiles. “you’re such a good girl, i know you can give me one more,” he says through stuttered breaths, “can’t ever fucking get enough of you.” 

“kento,” you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, his movements even more erratic as he curls his fingers around your neck, groans deeply into your mouth.

“please,” he mutters, “please.” your name rests on his lips over and over, sweat gliding between the two of your as he grazes a thumb across your nipple, squeezing your breast gently. “fuck, could live right here, stay inside you forever.” 

and though you want to protest, you sink back into him, kiss him sloppily as you grow overwhelmed by the feeling of him once again. you clench hard on his cock, a thick ring of cream between you as he fucks into you, your mind slowly becoming numb. 

your orgasm hits you, almost immediate, and you tug at his hair, squirm in his grasp to break free. “kento,” you mutter, “please, i can’t—” you try to stop him from fucking you any longer, the sensitivity almost overwhelming. 

but his smile is lazy, and his eyes are faraway as his breathing grows heavier. he doesn’t stop the pace, doesn’t slow down as his fingers slip between you to play with your clit. “one more, pretty girl. won’t you be good for me?” 

i posted two pieces of writing in one day ! everyone clap ! <3 GUYS I GET EMBARRASED TO POST THESE LMAOO so sorry if this is bad idk ... im trying to get better at writing thirsts & short drabbles

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico wakes up with a mouthful of hair.

“Are you serious.”

He sticks out his tongue, trying to get it out of his mouth without spitting on it, giving up after about four point three seconds of trying. He wriggles his arm out from where it’s pinned between his body and Will’s, flicking the last few strands off his tongue. For good measure, he kicks the first thing he can reach — his boyfriend’s thighs, go figure — in protest.

“Please, no,” Will mumbles tiredly, batting blindly under the cover until he slaps on big hand over Nico’s ankle, squeezing. “Please. I got in at three thirty last night. It’s barely seven. Please.”

Nico sighs, relaxing his muscles. Will presses a brief kiss to his shoulder in gratitude, face buried in his chest, sinking boneless into him.

“The whole knowing the time without a clock thing will never stop being weird,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to a freckled forehead. He rubs his hands over Will’s bare shoulders, digging his thumbs along the knotted muscles, and smiles as he groans, trying in vain to plaster somehow closer to Nico, practically melting into him. “Gracie keep you up all night?”

He shifts as he nods. “Harley, too. Poor things just want someone to hold their hair outta their face and rub their back, they’re so miserable.”

Nico hums in sympathy. It’s flu season — hitting the little kids, mostly. Will has been on his feet for days trying to mitigate symptoms, soothe aching bones and sore throats. There’s not too much he can do for the flu, but the kids are miserable and they trust him, so his presence is more of a cure and a comfort than anything.

“Kayla there now?”

“Austin and Lou. Kayla’s on after lunch; Piper’s with her.”

“Good.” He squeezes his shoulders again, leaning down to press a long, lingering kiss right between his eyes. He leans into it, sighing. “Sleep for a bit, okay? I’ll come check on you, but I don’t want you up before 2.”

“‘Kay,” Will sighs, unconscious again by the time Nico’s wiggled out of his hold. For a moment he stands, watching him: his bare, broad back, spattered with dark freckles and moles, dipping at the base of his spine and covered barely by the soft, white sheets; arms curled up all the way around his face in Nico’s absence, bicep squeezing his cheek, pursing his delicate Cupid’s bow; long, light eyelashes fanning over round cheeks; even, steady breathing, in and out, in and out.

Golden hair, of course, frizzy and messy and poofing out around his head; haloed in the early morning sun.

He’s barely able to tear himself away to go shower.

———

“They’re everywhere,” says Kayla in disgust, peeling a long, curly strand off her shirt. “I haven’t been in the same room as him in two days. This is a brand-new shirt. How am I still somehow covered in his hair?”

“He’s like a dog,” Austin explains. Nico snorts. “He sheds, and at first it’s subtle, here and there, you get used to it. The suddenly two years go by and people are complimenting the fur coat that was not fur before you bought it.”

Gracie sticks out her bottom lip, eyes watering. “Will is not a dog, he’s a boy!”

Austin groans, muttering something about favourites and annoying older brothers and where was this energy when I ate the last secret cabin twinkie and was accused of being a ratbag, huh, Gracie, where was my defense squad and annoying older brothers again. Gracie is unmoved by his whining, glaring at him with big green eyes — ever her oldest brother’s defender.

Nico hides a smile in his hand. No wonder, with how Will dotes on her. On all his siblings, really, but only Yan and Gracie are young enough that it doesn’t embarrass them.

Kayla and Austin, on the other hand. (At this point, Will enjoys embarrassing them in front of their friends as much as the actual doting.)

Kayla, weak to her sister’s pouting, pokes her playfully in the side. “I’m only teasing, Gracie-girl. Of course Will isn’t a dog.”

“Except the shedding, and the constant yapping, and the fact that if you don’t let him loose to run around for a while he goes batty, and of course the following Nico around like a lovesick pup—”

“Thank you, Austin,” Nico interrupts, clearing his throat. He sends a quick prayer of thanks to his father for hair genetics covering his flaming ears.

Austin snickers. “Anytime.”

After three years it’s futile, but sometimes Nico really considers rescinding his doctor’s note. Is sitting here during meals really worth his peace? Is it?

“He really does shed, though,” Kayla says after a moment of silence. She pinched yet another hair off her shirt, sighing. “Like, not to agree with Austin or anything —”

“Hey!”

“— but, like, damn. If he’s been there, you know it.”

Nico snorts. “Tell me about it. I keep finding hair on my pillows, it’s driving me insane.”

It does drive him insane. He finds it in the shower — although to his credit Will really does try to get them all there — and in his hairbrush, on his clothes, his sheets, his mattress. The floor. Once, notably, on the shrine in his cabin, after which Will had panicked and sprinted to the pavilion to scrape an entire pot roast and pray not to get smited, leaving Nico to laugh himself to tears at the base of it.

Too late, he notices the total silence at the Apollo table, the wide eyes boring holes into his head, the loose, dropped jaws.

“What?” he says, shoulders curled defensively.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, realization dawns on him. He chokes on a grape.

“You two didn’t tell us?” Austin demands. “How long has this —” he gestures vaguely at Nico and at the infirmary, which, he assumes, is meant to represent Will — “been going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezes. With his rapidly asphyxiating brain, he attempts to summon his boyfriend, still conked out, via sheer force of will. GET THE HELL UP AND COME RUN DAMAGE CONTROL, he screams silently.

Predictably, this does nothing.

Kayla shrieks. “Oh my gods, look at his face! They’ve been doing this forever!”

Nico bangs his hands on the table, trying at once to convey his protest and also hi, hello, children of the god of medicine, I am choking to death, fix please. Neither signal gets picked up, inhabitants of the table erupting an a screeching series of questions so loud that other campers notice, understand, and approach, equally as screechy.

“Will and Nico are together?”

“Holy shit! Since when?”

“I thought they’d never get out of the pining stage!”

“Don’t they hate each other?”

“Bro, are you stupid? Do you not know what bad flirting is?”

“Hey, is di Angelo turning purple, or is that just me?”

Throwing himself into the nearest shadow, Nico disappears.

———

“Get up, get up, I fucked up, I fucked up!”

Will shoots straight upright with a gasp, force of his own body sending him careening right over the side of the bed. He goes down in a tangled heap of cursing and yelping and ow, fuck, shit-damns.

“What happened?” he demands as soon as he’s free from his fabric prison. He rushes (stumbles) over to wear Nico is still wheezing, hands braced on his knees, for dizziness now as much as to catch his breath. “Neeks, woah, slow down for a sec. Deep breaths with me.”

He tries to follow along to Will’s exaggerated breathing, steady, long inhales and exhales. A calloused hand touches the curve of his neck, warmth blooming under it, and suddenly his airways are cleared.

“Thanks,” he manages hoarsely, breathing back somewhat under control.

Will squeezes his hand. “No problem.”

There are several pillow creases criss-crossing on his cheeks, making him look soft and sleepy, although his eyes are alert, crinkled in poorly-concealed amusement. His hair is somehow more mussed than when Nico left him this morning.

“What happened?”

“So I. Um.” Nico clears his throat. “Your bother was roasting you for shedding like a dog. I, of course, had to join —”

Will rolls his eyes, mouth twitching. “Of course.”

“— and I mentioned super casually that I get your hair all over my shit, right? And, well — well.”

“Well?” Will prods, when Nico cuts himself off. Chancing a glance, Nico finds he doesn’t look angry, or nervous, or disappointed — and of course he wouldn’t. Not for something as silly as this.

He is gonna laugh, though. Nico hates when he’s righteously clowned.

“Well, I.” He lowers his voice to a mumble. “May have said something about all of your hair that ends up on my pillows.”

For a moment it’s silent. Nico keeps his eyes trained away, although he leans into Will’s touch, his hands in his face, the side of his neck, the warmth thrown off his sleep-addled body.

He’s almost startled by the giggle.

Almost.

“…Oh, you dumbass.”

He tries very hard to look annoyed as Will cracks up. He taps his foot, crosses his arms, and tries very, very hard to frown, but Will’s laugh has always been the most musical thing about him, and he loves to serenade. And Nico is very weak to song.

“Stop laughing at me,” he snaps, without heat.

Will’s cheeks puff up from the force of him trying, face going red around the edges.

“I’m trying, Neeks, I am —”

“Not very hard.”

“I am, I am.” Valiantly, he draws in a deep breath, only breaking into giggles twice before managing to hold a somewhat straight face. “Nico,” he says, suddenly very close and very warm, “I love you.” He presses a kiss to his forehead. “And I love sneaking around with you —” the bridge of his nose — “and making out in dark closets —” his cheeks, both, quickly, one after the other — “and behind the Big House —” the base of his jaw — “and in the —”

“I get it,” Nico interrupts, flushing. He can feel the curve of Will’s smile against his skin.

“My cabin, if it’s empty,” Will murmurs, kissing the underside of his jaw, his neck. “Yours.” Slight nip of his teeth. Nico gasps.

“Will,” he whispers. His knees start to shake. “Will, c’mon, we gotta —”

Will presses a kiss square to his Adam’s apple, lingering. “We’re in yours quite a lot. I’ve gotten used to it, honestly, Neeks, I —”

The door bangs open, making both of them yelp. The matching screeches to not help the general air of panic and sitcom level foolishness.

“Oh my gods, you really are porking!”

“Get out, Kayla!” they both yell together.

“Jesus,” Will curses, forehead resting on Nico’s shoulder.

Nico bites his lip. Will shifts, turning to meet his eye.

They last two whole seconds before losing it.

“Three years of sneaking around without so much as a soul finding out,” Nico huffs as Will snickers. “Three whole years.”

Will pecks him loudly and exaggeratedly on the cheek. “And endless more in the open.”

“You’re such a goddamn cheeseball.”

“And yet you’re in deep, deep love with me.”

“…I am.” He cradles his face, pressing a kiss, finally, to his lips. Will presses back, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[uhbambii]

The Lazy Morning

The chill of a late Winter morning seeped through the cracks of the grand Dellamorte villa, despite the thick stone walls and heavy drapes. Frost painted the windows, the delicate patterns a testament to the icy fingers of the season outside. But within Lucanis Dellamorte’s bedroom, warmth reigned.

Rook, wrapped in an absurd number of blankets was cocooned in the middle of the oversized bed. She had commandeered every available layer of warmth, from the soft linens to the embroidered quilts. Only her head poked out from the fortress of fabric, her hair a stark contrast against the dark, richly woven coverlets. Her sharp crow-like wit was nowhere to be found this morning; instead, her sleepy expression resembled a satisfied feline, reluctant to face the day.

Lucanis stood by the window, silhouetted against the weak light of the rising sun. His dark hair was tousled, as though he hadn’t bothered running a comb through it yet, and his sharp features were softened by an air of amused indulgence. His dark eyes flicked toward the bundle of blankets on the bed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You look ridiculous,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice, low and smooth, carried the hint of laughter beneath its polished veneer. “I’m fairly certain this villa has never housed anyone as absurd as you.”

Rook’s only response was a faint grunt of protest. She burrowed deeper into the blankets, curling tighter like a contented bird in its nest. “Cold,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “This house is a mausoleum. I swear the Dellamorte ancestors haunt it just to drop the temperature.”

Lucanis huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ll have you know this mausoleum is the pinnacle of crow architecture. Generations of the Dellamorte family would take offense at your critique, cara mia.”

Rook peeked one pale eye out from the blankets. “The Crows didn’t invent insulation, apparently,” she quipped. “Or comfort.”

Shaking his head, Lucanis turned from the window and approached the bed. The morning light caught on the intricate embroidery of his house robe—a deep crimson velvet with black and gold trim, so perfectly tailored it was almost offensive. Even lounging in his own home, he carried himself with an effortless, lethal grace that marked him as both First Talon and assassin.

When he reached the bed, he gave a mock bow, leaning forward to press his forearms against the edge of the mattress. “If you find my family’s ancestral home so inhospitable, why don’t you simply get up?”

Rook glared at him, though her expression lacked its usual edge. “No.”

Lucanis’s smile widened. “No?”

“No,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “This is my home now, too, and I’m declaring this bed the warmest spot in the villa. You can pry me out of here if you dare.”

He sighed, long-suffering, but there was no hiding the warmth in his expression. Lucanis leaned closer, his face hovering just above hers. “You’re lucky you’re adorable, uccellina,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Rook tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “So lucky,” she replied, voice heavy with feigned exhaustion.

Without warning, Lucanis slipped a hand beneath the mound of blankets, his fingers cold as they brushed against her side. Rook let out a sharp yelp, her eyes snapping open fully. “Lucanis!” she squawked, swatting at his arm as she squirmed beneath her fortress.

His laughter was soft but unrestrained, a sound that carried rare warmth. “It’s good to know you’re not entirely immobilized, Uccellina,” he teased, using the nickname he’d given her early in their partnership.

“You’re awful,” she muttered, but there was no venom in her words, just a grudging affection.

Lucanis settled on the edge of the bed, his smirk softening into something gentler. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. Despite her protests, she leaned into his touch, relaxing.

“You know,” he said, his tone quieter now, “if you’re so determined to stay in bed, I suppose I could join you. For the sake of preserving your fragile constitution, of course.”

Rook’s gaze flicked up to meet his, her eyes glinting with amusement. “For my sake, huh?”

“Entirely selfless on my part,” Lucanis replied smoothly, though the tilt of his lips suggested otherwise.

She sighed theatrically but shifted to make space for him, her blankets rustling as she lifted a corner in invitation. “Fine. But you’d better not steal the covers.”

With an elegance that bordered on infuriating, Lucanis slipped beneath the layers, his warmth immediately seeping into the cocoon of fabric. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as they settled together.

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Rook nestled closer, her breath warm against his chest.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice softer now, “I could get used to mornings like this.”

Lucanis pressed a kiss to her temple, his dark eyes closing as he held her close. “So could I, cara mia. So could I.”

———————————————————————————

Uccellina: Little bird/crow

Cara Mia: My beloved

_________________________________________________

[shotmrmiller]

@magicislikelove said pathetic!simon with single mom reader.

pathetic!simon sees you the first time when you move in, dragging a heavy box through to your door, and he is enthralled.

he also doesn't move to help you because the grunts that escape your lips from the effort set his loins ablaze.

your flushed skin glistening with sweat— a rosy hue across your face, perspiration dripping from your temple down to your chin, where it collects like dew drops. (he wonders if you taste like brine, or sweet like golden wheat)

the swell of your soft hips peeking from under your damp shirt that rides up whenever you bend down to get a good grip on the edges of the cardboard box. (he wishes those dainty fingers would caress his scarred back, leaving trails of red in their wake)

every noise that spills from your bow-shaped lips the color of petals sends a lick of pleasure up his spine, white-hot and agonizing. (what he wouldn't do for you to spit into his mouth, or maybe just on him altogether and make him clean it up)

he watches you raise your arms to pull your sweaty hair away from your face with delicate hands— slender, fragile wrists twisting it into a makeshift sloppy bun. (would you tug on his hair like that? would you pull until you felt the cropped strands pop from his scalp?)

and then you look up and notice him standing in the hallway, right by his front door. your eyes lock onto his, and he feels the oxygen in his lungs being siphoned away.

"uh, hi."

his breath lodges in his throat, or maybe it's spit because he's spinning on the balls of his feet, his back to you as he barks out dry coughs until he can breathe again.

"are... are you alright?" the slight worry in your voice has his cock twitching.

he'd be better if he could use that shirt you're currently wearing as a mask— the wet spots right over his crooked nose.

"yes. sorry. i'm a little ill," he hoarsely utters before turning back around to face you. "it's just a mild cough, so i can help ya with tha', if ya like." his head tips toward the box he's been watching you fight with for the past half-hour.

"i'd, i mean, yeah...okay." he doesn't care that you sounded almost coerced, simon moves with the speed he uses in the field, and is by your side in seconds, hoisting up the box wordlessly.

he stares at you, waiting for you to turn around and invite him into your home.

"uhm, right this way," you push open the door quietly, and point at the kitchen floor. "there please."

simon does as you say, (like a good boy, he thinks, won't you let him be your good boy?) when he hears a child's cries come from behind a closed door.

"ah, duty calls. i really do appreciate you helping me," you give him a small grin. "i'll see you around, yeah?"

simon slowly nods at you before turning to leave, opening your front door when he notices that you've begun to walk toward your wailing offspring. (he didn't see a ring on your finger)

he discreetly swipes the scented plug-in (just a touch too hot in his roughened palm) by the door and heads toward his own flat.

simon doesn't even fully undress, just hastily undoes the button of his jeans and lets them drop mid-thigh before he slams his back on the living room wall and begins to unscrew the plug-in.

the slick, hot, aromatic oil pulls a sibilant hiss from his thin, chapped lips as it touches the sensitive skin of his meaty cock and lathers himself in it with a couple of experimental strokes.

he squeezes the base of it, encircling it with his large hand, so tight it hurts.

that's what you'd feel like around him.

simon grips himself and starts to fuck his fist— choppy, desperate thrusts that has his toes curling in his muddy, creased boots.

his hand is calloused, just on the edge of too rough, but it doesn't stop him from imagining it's you that's on his cock, bouncing on it with fervor.

his nostrils sting with the overwhelming smell of the oil even through the thick fabric of his mask— a heady mix of lavender and vanilla— and it makes his head spin.

the web space between his thumb and pointer drags along his frenulum, and white spots dance behind his eyelids. sweat beads his brow as he gets closer to his end, the ecstasy coursing through his veins threatening to consume him whole.

simon replays the sounds you made earlier in his head, and for once, it drowns out the usual low ringing in his ears, intensifying his arousal.

he's pumping himself roughly now, fast and jerky as he rears his peak.

would you let him come inside of you? paint your silken walls with his unworthy spend?

when he thinks of you trying to hook your ankles at the base of his spine to keep him deep inside of you as he tries to weakly pull out is what breaks him.

his cock spasms as thick spurts of warm cum dribble all over his scarred knuckles and pants.

simon's hand is slippery as he continues to pump his softening length, and squeezes right under his flared head, the remnants of his pleasure beading at the tip.

his gait is awkward, and stiff as he waddles toward the kitchen with his trousers still by his wide, hairy thighs— plugging in the wall scent on his way there.

unbeknownst to him, he was giving you that kubrick stare and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you also thanked the stars that he wasn't a serial killer.

[girlyrafe]

──── ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇꜱ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 ❝ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀꜱ¡ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ⟡ ݁₊ ❞ 

⌗ with rafe cameron .ᐟ.ᐟ

ᝰ summary .ᐟ In a quiet, intimate moment beneath a starry sky, Rafe and you share a tender, passionate connection. Your attraction is electric, filled with unspoken desire, vulnerability, and longing. As your emotions deepen, Rafe cherishes every touch, savoring your growing closeness, and your connection blooms into something sacred.

.ᐟ smut, explicit sexual content, fingering, p in v, dirty talk and creampie

₊ ⊹ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The truck bed is softer than you expected, the blankets thick and warm beneath you, carrying the lingering scent of sun and something unmistakably him—woodsmoke, earth, a hint of soap. The lantern beside you flickers gently, casting golden light over his face, the sharp cut of his jaw softened by the glow. Above, the sky stretches endlessly, stars scattered like freckles across deep indigo, their quiet brilliance making you feel small in the best way. You’re curled up beside him, knees tucked to your chest, wrapped in your little spring dress as the night air cools. He’s close, his arm propped behind his head, the other resting between you, fingers twitching—like maybe he wants to reach for you but won’t let himself.

The air between you is thick with something unspoken, something fragile and sweet. You tilt your head to glance at him, ready to point out another constellation, but his eyes are already on you, and before you can speak—before you can even think—he leans in, stealing the breath right from your lips.

Neither of you has spoken in a while, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s heavy, charged.

You peek over at him, watching how his jaw tenses, how his fingers twitch slightly against your skin. He’s trying to be casual, to just soak in the moment, but there’s something crackling between you, something warm and nervous and new. 

You swallow, your voice quiet when you finally speak.

“You’re thinking really loud.” 

Rafe lets out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah?” 

You hum, shifting so you’re on your side, facing him. “What about?” 

He hesitates, turning his head to look at you. His eyes flicker across your face, pausing on your lips. His voice is quieter when he says, “You.” 

Your cheeks burn, your fingers curling into the blanket. “Oh.” 

Rafe smiles softly at your shyness, but there’s a nervousness to it too, like he’s not sure how much he can push. He licks his lips, exhaling slowly. “Can I kiss you?” 

Your breath catches, but you nod. “Yeah.” 

It’s slow at first—tentative, searching. His lips brush over yours, testing, and when you don’t pull away, he presses deeper. You sigh against his mouth, your fingers reaching to touch his chest, curling in his shirt.

When he pulls back, his breath is unsteady. “sweetheart…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know what he’s asking. What he’s hoping for. 

You feel so small beneath his gaze, but not in a bad way. He’s looking at you like you’re something fragile, something sacred, something he’s afraid to break.

You barely get the words out before he’s on you.

“I want you.”

Rafe's breath hitches, his grip on your waist tightening. His pupils are blown wide, his jaw clenched, like he's barely holding himself back. But then his restraint shatters, and he groans, dragging you into a deep, languid kiss. His lips move against yours like he’s savouring you, like he never wants to stop. When his teeth graze your bottom lip, you gasp, and he takes advantage, swallowing the sound like it's his to keep.

“You sure, kid?” He murmurs against your lips, voice thick with need. “Don’t want to—fuck—don’t want to rush you.”

You nod, fingers slipping into his hair, tugging at the soft strands. “I want you, Rafe. Please.”

A shudder runs through him, something molten flickering in his gaze. “Fuck, angel.”

His hands are everywhere—slow, reverent, like he’s memorising the feel of you. He pushes your dress up, palms skating along your thighs, thumbs tracing delicate circles just below your hips. When he finds you soaked, he exhales sharply, pressing his forehead to yours.

“All this for me?” He whispers, eyes dark, awed.

You nod, cheeks flushing. “Always.”

His breath stutters, and then his fingers are moving, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your panties, feeling the heat and wetness through the fabric. He’s so gentle, like he wants to savour every little reaction, every little sound you make.

“You’re so soft,” he breathes. “So fucking pretty like this.”

You arch into his touch, hips seeking more, and he chuckles, low and knowing. “So needy, sweet girl.”

His fingers slip beneath the lace, finally touching you without barriers. He groans as he spreads you open, his touch featherlight at first—just enough to tease, to make you tremble beneath him.

“Rafe,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

“Please what, angel?” His lips ghost over your jaw. “Tell me what you need.”

You shiver, your face heating. “Want your fingers.”

His smirk softens into something tender. “That’s my good girl.”

And then he’s giving you what you need—two fingers sinking into you, stretching you so perfectly it makes your breath catch. He watches your face the whole time, groaning when you clench around him.

“Jesus, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, pressing kisses down your throat. “So fucking’ wet for me.”

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as his fingers work you open. The pleasure builds too fast, your thighs trembling as he curls his fingers just right, pressing into that spot that makes you see stars.

“Rafe,” you sob, hands fisting in his hair. “I—I’m—”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, voice rough. “Let me feel you.”

And then you’re gone, pleasure slamming into you, leaving you boneless and shaking in his arms. He watches you unravel, eyes dark with something like reverence.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing you through the aftershocks.

Before you can fully catch your breath, he’s shoving his pants down, his cock thick and flushed, leaking at the tip. Your breath catches, thighs instinctively pressing together, but Rafe just smiles, soft and amused, as he pries them apart.

“Don’t get shy on me now, angel,” he murmurs, dragging himself through your slick folds, teasing you, making you whimper. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

You nod, dazed. “Yes.”

His jaw flexes. “Yeah? Then take me, sweetheart.”

And then—he pushes in.

The stretch is slow and deliberate, his hands gripping your hips as he inches deeper, watching your every reaction. He groans when you pulse around him, his forehead dropping to yours.

“Jesus,” he breathes. “You’re perfect.”

You clutch at him, overwhelmed, and he shushes you, pressing the softest kisses to your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead. “Relax, sweetheart,” he soothes. “You’re taking’ me so good.”

When he’s fully inside, he stills, breathing ragged. “Fuck,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “You feel so fucking’ good. Like you were made for me.”

His first thrust is slow and deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. Your body arches, a soft cry spilling from your lips, and Rafe groans, gripping your thigh to hold you open for him.

“God, kid,” he murmurs, his voice shaking. “You’re going to kill me.”

He moves languidly, savouring every inch of you, letting you feel every slow, deep roll of his hips. The pleasure builds between you like something sacred, something unbreakable. His forehead presses to yours, his lips brushing yours between breathless moans.

“Feels so good,” you whisper, hands trailing over his back, his shoulders. “Rafe—”

“I got you, angel,” he reassures, kissing you, swallowing your soft whimpers as his pace quickens. “Gonna take care of you.”

The tension coils tighter, pleasure spiralling higher, and you know you’re close. Rafe must feel it too, because his thrusts turn desperate, his voice breaking as he whispers against your lips.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he pleads. “Wanna feel you.”

You shatter beneath him, a choked cry escaping as you tighten around him, trembling through your release. Rafe groans, his rhythm stuttering as he buries himself deep, his own release hitting him seconds later. He moans your name, wrecked and breathless, his arms wrapping tight around you as he spills into you.

For a moment, neither of you move—just tangled together, gasping, shaking.

Then Rafe presses a kiss to your temple, his voice hoarse but warm. “Are you okay, angel?”

You nod, nuzzling into him, feeling safe, cherished. “Yeah.”

He hums, stroking lazy circles into your back, his lips brushing your hair. “Good,” he murmurs, voice soft and full of something deep, something unspoken. “Because you deserve the best.”

ᝰ Avery yaps .ᐟ Ahh, do we like this? Because I swear, I'm still bad at writing this sort of stuff. Find all things Valentine's here for everyone.

©GIRLYRAFE

[estellan0vella]

Smoking and Giggles ❀ includes: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuji, Yuta & Megumi

Masterlist

You sit cross-legged on Gojo's plush couch, the air thick with a sweet, pungent scent. Gojo lounges beside you, an amused smile playing on his lips. You take another hit from the joint and pass it to him, your eyes already starting to water from suppressed laughter.

"Feeling good?" he asks, taking a slow drag and blowing the smoke out in perfect rings. His eyes twinkle behind his sunglasses.

You nod, trying to hold back your giggles but failing miserably. Every little thing seems hilarious, and Gojo's relaxed demeanor only makes it worse. You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach.

Gojo chuckles, his laugh like music to your ears. "What's so funny?"

"Your... your hair! It's like... like a fluffy cloud!" you manage to say between giggles.

He grins, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "And yours is like a bird's nest. We make quite the pair, don't we?"

You nod, leaning into him, your laughter infectious. In this moment, everything feels perfect.

Nanami leans back in his chair, the joint balanced delicately between his fingers. He watches you with a soft smile as you dissolve into giggles for the umpteenth time.

"Are you having fun?" he asks, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to your uncontrollable mirth.

You nod, trying to speak but only managing to laugh harder. Nanami shakes his head, his smile widening just a fraction. He takes a slow drag, the smoke curling elegantly in the air.

"I've never seen you this giggly," he remarks, his tone affectionate. "It's... charming."

You lean against him, your laughter finally subsiding into gentle chuckles. He wraps an arm around you, his touch soothing. "Let's just enjoy the moment," he murmurs, and you nod, feeling a warm sense of contentment wash over you.

Choso is lying next to you, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you dissolve into giggles for the umpteenth time. The joint you've shared has left you both feeling light and carefree, and your laughter echoes in the quiet room.

"What's so funny?" he asks, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

"I don't even know anymore!" you gasp between laughs, clutching your stomach. "Everything just feels so... silly."

Choso's lips twitch into a small smile. "Your laughter is nice to hear," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You manage to calm down enough to smile at him. "And your voice is nice to hear," you reply, giggling once making Choso shake his head fondly.

Smoke trails from your lips as you lean into Sukuna's side before you hand him the joint. Sukuna's sharp eyes never leave you, his smirk widening as you start to giggle uncontrollably.

"What's so amusing, little bird?" he asks, his tone both curious and mocking.

"You! You're so... serious all the time!" you manage to say between fits of laughter.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint. "Serious, huh? And what would you prefer?"

You giggle harder, shaking your head. "I don't know! Maybe... maybe you should try smiling more!"

His smirk turns into a full grin, revealing his sharp teeth. "Like this?"

You laugh even harder, clutching your sides. "Yes! Exactly like that!"

Sukuna chuckles darkly, pulling you closer. "You're an odd one, but I suppose that's why I tolerate you."

Toji sits beside you, the joint balanced between his fingers. He watches you with a raised eyebrow as you burst into another fit of giggles.

"What's so funny, huh?" he asks, his tone amused.

You try to explain, but the words get lost in your laughter. Toji shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. He takes a drag, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're a mess," he says, but there's a warmth in his voice that makes you laugh even more.

You lean against him, your giggles finally subsiding. Toji wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. "Let's just enjoy this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. The sweet moment is shattered when you snort and start giggling again.

You and Yuji are sprawled out on the couch, the TV playing a random comedy that neither of you is really paying attention to. The room is filled with the smoky scent of weed, and you're both giggling like children.

"Did you see that?" Yuji asks, pointing at the screen, his laughter contagious.

You try to focus on the TV, but everything is too funny. "What are we even watching?" you giggle, leaning against him. "Does the pig have a British accent?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "I have no idea, but it doesn't matter," he says, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You burst into another fit of laughter, unable to control yourself. "You're right! This is the best," you say, your heart swelling with affection for the boy beside you.

You and Yuta are sitting on his small balcony, sharing a joint and watching the stars. You take a deep drag, feeling the laughter bubbling up inside you. Yuta watches you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with affection.

"What's so funny?" he asks softly.

"Just... everything!" you say, dissolving into giggles. "The stars, the night... you!"

Yuta chuckles, shaking his head. "You're adorable."

You blush, leaning against him. "No, you're adorable."

He smiles, wrapping an arm around you. "We can both be adorable."

You giggle, feeling warm and content. "I like that."

Megumi sits beside you on the porch steps, the cool night air wrapping around you both. He's always so serious, but tonight, there's a rare, relaxed smile on his face as he listens to your endless giggles.

"You're really enjoying yourself," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You nod, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. "I can't help it. Everything's just so funny right now."

He shakes his head, but there's a fondness in his eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," you tease, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Megumi sighs, but it's a content sound. "Yeah, I guess I do."

You look up at him, your giggles subsiding into a warm smile. "You should laugh more, you know. It suits you."

He looks down at you, his expression softening. "Maybe I will, if it means seeing you this happy."

You snuggle closer, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm always happy with you, Megumi."

This is super self indulgent because this is what I'm like and my partner just breathes a funny way and I'm in BITS