#he was so comfortable to lay on like that

[mickyschumacher]

[BREAKFAST IN BED!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the racing season is finally over and lando is more than excited to have you all to himself. or in which lando prefers his breakfast in bed with you as the main course.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), breastplay, grinding(?), teasing, oral sex/eating out/cunnilingus, fingering, pure moments of fluff because bf!lando is the sweetest, discussion of lando mentally struggling at the start

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: i promised a post before the end of the year and it happens to coincide with a holiday of giving ;) merry christmas and happy hanukkah to those who celebrate it! and happy new year! // as usual poorly proof-read ♡︎ (sorry if it's shitty, i haven't written a full-piece in a while)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The season was over. Finally.

Not to be offensive or anything but you had been waiting for this moment for what, this year, felt like forever.

Yes, it was action packed–largely due to the fact that a certain RedBull wasn't winning every race. Yes, McLaren had whipped up the fastest car on the grid to shake things up. And yes, the same team had clinched their ninth World Constructor's Championship.

And while that made you absolutely over the moon, all you had wanted was for some peace and quiet on a random Wednesday morning so you could (maybe creepily) ogle your handsome boyfriend.

Was that too much to ask for?

It had been a tough season for Lando and naturally, as you promised from the very start of your friendship alone–that you would stick by his side no matter what–you had also been through the thick of it.

Convincing Lando to not look at the comments after every session or race had been difficult. You tried your best to remove any negativity that clouded his mind. Some days it worked and some days it didn't.

But that was life. And that was then.

Now you were wide awake at some odd time in the morning, laying comfortably on your stomach with your head turned towards Lando. There was about one degree of separation between the both of you, allowing you to carefully observe him.

Lando was never an early bird. If he was, it would be by some miracle or your upper arm strength pulling him from the sheets. A small smile crept onto your face. You had been friends for years now and together for even shorter. Yet you still couldn't believe that the sleepy bird next to you was yours entirely.

His dark tousled and recently cut curls, the stress lines on his forehead you were always aching to smooth out and comfort with the pad of your thumb, his "perfectly normal sized ears" that you definitely never made fun of, his lovely lashes you were jealous of, and the soft pink lips you couldn't decide whether to touch or kiss.... all yours.

Behind all the stupidity, humour, and claimed 'indifference' Lando sported on camera and with others, you always knew his heart. It was open for everyone and had more than enough love to go around. You were in love with the biggest sap you had ever known.

And on top of all of that, he made it out of that car to you... alive... every goddamn time.

You were luckier than you could ever imagine.

"How long are you going to stare at me, love?" Lando's voice queried, thick with the rasp of the morning and the events of last night.

You slightly widened your eyes, watching him open those beautiful baby blues and land on you. An flustered flush of heat wavered up your skin. You bit your lip before slipping beneath the covers, feeling the warmth envelope your skin entirely. You started with a muttered curse.

"How long have you even been awake, Lan? That's so embarrassing," you chided with a muffled tone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando couldn't help but grin at your sudden shy demeanour. It was hard for anyone to imagine you as shy but he had seen every side of you. How enjoyable it was that even after all these years, he could tease you and see how flustered you could get. If he had met you when you were kids, this is exactly how he imagined you'd be.

He stretched out his taut arm, grabbing you by the waist. His skin swarmed with heat as he felt your bare waist under your shirt as he pulled you over him. He moved your knees so you straddled him.

He pressed his lips to prevent a full blown smile at what he was seeing.

Your hair was fully covering your face, head down and hands hovering over to hide the tinges of pink and red on your skin.

"Baby... come on, love. Show me your face," Lando encouraged, nudging your hair lightly with the side of his finger. "Come on, baby."

You groaned, lifting your head, feeling all your tresses go back. You blankly stared at your boyfriend with burning cheeks. "I hate you," you mumbled, giving him a small glare.

Lando snorted, putting his hands firmly on your waist. His fingers edged up behind the hem of your shirt, rubbing small circles into your bare skin. "You love me. Someone who hates me wouldn't stare at me so lovingly."

"I–" You tried to open your mouth to retaliate but to no avail as you quickly came to the realisation that he was indeed correct. As Lando usually was with these things.

"Fine. You got me," you sighed admittedly, "I just missed waking up next to you in the morning. Is that such a horrible crime?" You dramatically asked, tease heavy in your voice.

In any other situation, Lando would've narrowed his eyes at your teasing but all he could do was gaze softly at you. You weren't able to travel with him all the time and he wasn't able to spend every day with you. You both knew that. And while it sucked, you had both gotten used to it, cherishing when you were together.

But this year... Lando had spent every living second wishing you were next to him. He wanted you to tell him your god awful jokes. To look at him from across the room and take his entire breath, mind, whatever, away. To drop the fake smiles and rest in your arms with all the time in the world.

"No," Lando whispered, warm eyes travelling over your face, trying to find anything new to memorise. Anything he had missed since seeing you. "That isn't a crime. If it was, I'd be guilty as charged."

Your breath hitched while a small shiver trickled down your body as Lando pushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. You chewed down on your lip before breaking into a smile gently. "I love you, Lando Norris. Forever," you murmured, placing a brief kiss onto his lips.

Lando stared at you hard, far more awake than he had ever been. He lifted his head slowly, holding you close to him. And without a second thought, he brought his lips to yours.

This kiss was different from the others you had shared. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or context that accounted for that different but the need, the love, the softness and the brutal passion was poured into every fibre of your being

Your hands curled around the back of his neck, pulling him tighter while your nose glided against his as Lando only just begun ravaging your mouth. He sucked on your lips with a small nibble here and there, relishing the muffled moans passing your lips.

His own hands continued to travel the path of your body he had committed to memory. He knew as he traversed your heated back exactly where the dark freckles he had come to love were.

Your soft moans became more audible and pleasing to Lando's ears as he curled his lips to your neck, leaving the sloppily yet controlled path of possessive kisses down base of your skin. He could feel your pulse against his skin and God, he wanted to burn it into his brain and save it.

"Lando," you gasped as you felt a sudden jerk underneath you, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your pillowy bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding down onto Lando's bulge.

"Ah, fuck," Lando cursed, feeling his cock throb in his underwear. His eyes fluttered shut, hands immediately returning to your hips to continue the stimulating pleasure.

You were driving him crazy.

Both of your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt Lando's clothed cock rut into your poorly covered pussy. You rocked your hips harder into him, feeling a slight jolt against your clit. "Oh, fuck, Lando," you moaned his name in his ear, fingers curling into his skin.

Lando opened his eyes, drawing back to capture your face. Your dazed eyes, glowing skin, panting lips, the way your hips bowed towards him... he had missed you. So. Fucking. Much.

"I want breakfast," Lando blurted with a slight gasp as the pleasure rocked through his body.

You stopped moving your hips, body shuddering from the halt. You raised a brow at the sudden desire but shrugged it off considering you were way past breakfast hours and you were only human. "Okay," you responded, about to move off of Lando to head to the kitchen.

Lando reached over, hand pulling your body back towards him, rolling your body so he hovered over you between your legs. "Where are you going?" he tutted, "Breakfast is right here."

You seemed to lose the ability to speak with Lando's hand kneading the flesh of your thighs, implying exactly what he wanted. You breathlessly watched his head move over your body. His tongue lapped at your skin, travelling to any bare patch he could find as though he wanted to feast on you. His warmth made your core tingle as you arched into his touch.

You were positively going to lose your mind.

His hands slid under your shirt, burning your skin until he could fill his palms with your breasts. "Oh baby," Lando moaned, fingers teasing your soft mounds. "I love your tits so fucking much."

A choked cry broke through your lips upon hearing his confession, fingers brushing against your hardened nipple almost painfully slowly. No matter how many times he said it, it set you alight.

"Lando," you moaned loudly, hoping he could read and hear the sound that beckoned him towards your aching core.

He paused, allowing you to take in the heavenly sight of Lando's bare chest, decorated only by the necklace you had gotten him on his birthday last year. In turn, his gaze was only focused on your core.

You tested your lung capacity, taking in a sharp inhale as he pressed his knuckles against your panties, purposely pushing harder against on the ball of your clit. You faltered at the smile sprawling on his face, your hips jolting forward and mouth unable to contain a desperate yelp.

Lando was every inch as desperate as you were, taking no time to waste. His fingers hooked onto your panties and removed them in one swift motion, leaving you bare from the waist down.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Lando nestling his head into your inner thigh, his once light blue eyes now dark and heavy with desire as he inhaled the scent of you. The moan escaping his lips made you shiver.

You were sure you were dripping. You could feel the slick trail down your pussy, glistening in a patient wait to be touched just like you were.

Your eyes fell back to Lando who groaned your name. "I promise to God, I'm going to make you cum so hard that breakfast in bed will be the only option you have," he stated so surely against your skin as his fingers slid from the seam of your entrance to your clit, bundling all your wetness onto his hand.

Oh god.

"Lando, please," you begged shamelessly, legs aching to clench together to relieve the pain of being untouched.

Your legs trembled around Lando's head, his hot breath nearing your pussy while his mouth drew closer. You watched him take you in for the last time before his lips firmly sealed over your aching clit.

The burst of pleasure cut through your body so sharply. Your cry of joy echoed in the late morning, hips bucking against his mouth.

Lando's hands travelled to the outside of your thighs, grasp tightening to keep them spread open on his shoulders. "Keep them open, baby," he ground out.

It took everything in your power to keep your legs from collapsing, particularly as he made his point with another hard to suck to your clit, but you body seemed to follow his command. His mouth returned your wet folds, tongue swirling around every crevice before coming back to the most sensitive part of you, turning you into absolute mush.

Your hands had found their way to those mop of curls you cherished so much, legs trying to conform around Lando's shoulder to welcome any better angle of pleasure.

Your gasp at the sudden dismissal of his mouth was short lived, any chance to complain gone as his fingers pushed into your slick folds, stretching your clenching muscles out.

"Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me, baby. I need you ready for me," Lando encouraged breathlessly as something feral inside of him emerged.

His fingers stroked your swollen walls from the inside, ensuring you felt every inch of them along the sensitive front wall of your pussy while his tongue glazed over every puffy slick fold like you were golden honey.

Lando watched in torture as he pushed his fingers in and out of your walls, your body jerking forward at the sheer pleasure. "That's it, baby," he continued to praise you.

"Doing so well for me, hmm?" He asked, a gleam of your wetness coating his lips. Moving his free hand down your thigh, he gathered your flesh in his fingers before reaching the small bundle of nerves, thumb going in small firm circles.

You were beginning to feel numb. A cold yet hot tightness coiling within your core, waiting to be unleashed. "Lando," you gasped, struggling to keep your head up, "fuck, I–I think I'm going to cum."

"Yes, baby," Lando coaxed, fingers speeding up with every action they had entailed, "Cum for me, please. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, love."

You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your eyes to travel to those familiar baby blues. All the trillion nerves in your body felt like entangled knots tied by Lando's tongue while his fingers found the sweetest spot of your pussy and held to you that pinnacle.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip while Lando held your gaze, tongue sliding, curving up, and pushing in and out of every crevice. Your pussy finally succumbed to the hard pressure, clenching muscles squeezing hard at the sharp pinch of pain.

The pain was explosive, searing, and all-consuming.

You cried.

You cried so loudly you were sure your neighbours would be complaining any minute now.

It didn't matter. Not when the pleasure shooting through you was disproportionately and literally blowing you out of this world as though it had been seated and waiting to be released since the dawn of time itself. Your hips bucked and stuttered while you squirmed and writhed against the bed, the fabric of your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin.

Lando's mouth had never left you through your orgasm, tongue still deep in your folds, savouring all the convulses, shudders, and clenches of your body.

Even better yet, he had watched every second of you falling apart.

And it absolutely drove him crazy.

Lando's hand rushed to catch your falling body, holding you up as a small wave of exhaustion crashed into you. You stared at Lando shiftless, still seeing the faint image of floating stars across his face.

Oh my god.

Lando had broken you with his tongue.

You watched Lando lick his fingers clean as you slowly removed your legs from his shoulders. You lifted your head, pressing a long kiss onto his lips.

Lando grinned, cradling his arms around your body as he pushed you both into the bed yet again. He pushed back your slightly greased hair, caressing your cheek gently. "You okay?"

His query made you feel soft all over. You smiled into his hands and nodded. "Perfect," you chirped, hands hanging over his neck.

"So... breakfast in bed?" Lando offered knowingly as he massaged your thighs gently. You were not walking to that kitchen.

You furrowed your brows. "What about my breakfast?"

Lando wanted to question you but as his eyes followed your gaze, the answer became as clear as the aching bulge underneath his boxers.

"Oh."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[mostly-imagines]

NSFT Alphabet

jason todd x afab!reader

warnings: >18 i’ll block ur ass stay away 18+

A = AFTERCARE

Aftercare is just as important to him as sex itself, if not more so. He’ll lay with you until you catch your breath, giving light kisses to the nearest part of your body. Once you’re back to baseline, he’ll get a warm rag to clean you up, being more gentle than he needs to be with your sensitive body. If you want it, he’ll grab one of his shirts for you to wear and pull it over your head for you. He’ll cover you up in your blankets and hold you close, murmuring to you how pretty you are, how good you did for him, how much he loves you.

B = BODY

His favorite body part of his own is his arms. He likes how strong he is, plus they emphasize his frame which plays into his size kink too. For you, it’s your waist. As we’ll discuss more later, he loves holding onto your hips during sex and he’s a big fan of kissing down your stomach as a way to initiate.

C = CUM

He prefers to come inside of you most of the time, but he likes coming in your mouth or on your body too. He will not come on your face though, he feels like it’s disrespectful to you, even if you’re into it. He’s a big guy and he comes a lot—more than he wished he would. That's part of the reason he’d rather come in you than on you, he thinks it’s embarrassing how much comes out. The first couple of times you had sex he’d tried to distract you with kisses as he came, hoping you wouldn’t notice it. Once he learns that you don’t mind it though, even like it, it eases his anxieties considerably.

D = DIRTY SECRET

He’s definitely masturbated once or twice when you were asleep next to him and he didn’t want to wake you. He felt gross about it but you looked so good with the way his shirt rode up against the curve of your ass, your panties on display. Your cheek was mushed up against the pillow next to him and he wanted to kiss you silly more than anything, but you had to be up early in the morning. So he took care of it himself, admiring your pretty face. No, he’ll never tell you that happened.

E = EXPERIENCE

He’s had sex just enough to know that he has a big dick and has to be careful when he’s fucking someone. Before you it was mostly a method of blowing off steam, but it wasn’t something he craved like he does with you. There was always minimal kissing, if any, and it was more procedural than anything. So when it comes to romantic sex, his experience was 0 but that makes it that much better. He didn’t have too much experience otherwise and he was fine with that. He had more important things to worry about than sex. That was, until he met you.

F = FAVORITE POSITION

He likes anything where he can hold your hips the most. So cowgirl and missionary are never misses, especially for how well he’s able to see your face. He also likes fucking you against the wall, it makes for easy access to kiss you. In spite of how much he loves seeing your expressions during sex, he can’t deny how much he loves holding your hips in place during doggy. His least favorites are probably prone bone and reverse cowgirl, they’re too impersonal and dispassionate.

G = GOOFY

He’s going to take it very seriously the first handful of times. He’s not taking any risks about hurting you or making the experience anything short of extremely pleasurable for you. And in his mind, to do that he needs to focus. After you get more comfortable with each other though, he starts to relax and trust himself to be able to take care of you, even with a more laid-back attitude. The silliest sex you have will be when you’re drunk/tipsy, it’s very smiley and giggly. Generally, he’ll make jokes now and again, smile at your smiles, but he’s still more serious about sex than not.

H = HAIR

He’ll trim to keep up appearances, especially after he meets you, but it’s not something he’s overly concerned about. For you, he’s really truly completely neutral about whether or not you shave, but he’s likely to encourage you not to, if not only so you know you don’t have to change anything for him. But he won’t blink twice either way.

I = INTIMACY

Sex with you is always intimate for him. He tells you he loves you during it often, praising you constantly. He brushes your hair back when it gets messy and wipes your tears away with a gentle hand. He’ll call you beautiful and kiss you nice as he fucks you, holding your hand all the while.

J = JACK OFF

He rarely needs to get himself off, really only if he’s away on a mission for a while. It’s definitely not the preferred circumstances but he’ll make do when he has to. He feels like a fucking perv when he thinks about you while he’s doing it, but he can’t come otherwise. He knows you wouldn’t care but he still feels gross about it. The way he remedies this is usually by communicating with you directly, telling you how much he misses you and how much he wants you there with him.

K = KINKS

Above all else, he has a major size kink. He absolutely loves how much bigger than you he is and it gets him going at the most random times. He likes being stronger than you and making you go/stay where he wants you. On a related note, he also likes to restrain you. The implied deepness of the trust you have in him turns him on so bad. Plus, he likes being in control, and you not being able to wiggle gives him the chance to take care of you however he wants. Edging is another one he likes but he’s not always so good at it. He has a hard time denying you and when you’re begging him so sweetly to let you come…who is he to say no? Though, if you’ve been a bit of a brat he’ll be merciless about it. On the flip side, sometimes he’ll overstimulate you but it’s not his favorite of the two because he can’t always handle seeing you cry like that. But he does like the idea of you getting lost in so much pleasure that you don’t know what to do with yourself.

L = LOCATION

His favorite place to fuck you is anywhere in your apartment. Your bed, shower, kitchen, couch, the rug…He likes it a) because it’s private and he’s free to take care of his girl whenever he wants and b) he likes seeing you in the same spot going about your day where he’d made you come just a few hours ago. He’s also not opposed to subtle car sex, especially for going down on one another. He’s not a big fan of public stuff, if he were to do it, it would be in a situation where he was certain you wouldn’t get caught. He’s too private to get off on the risk and frankly, he doesn’t much like the potential of someone else seeing you the way he gets to see you.

M = MOTIVATION

He gets turned on by just about anything you do. If you wear tank tops, his clothes, shirt and no pants, those will all get him going. Then there’s things like play fighting, seeing you stick up for yourself (especially against him), when you yell, if you just touch him. He really is in love with you and everything that you do.

N = NO

JTLHGF!jason is mainly dominant, but he can be submissive for you if you approach it the right way. You’d have to be subtle and encouraging or else his pride will get in the way. Anything him or you do in these times would be very soft and gentle, more vanilla than anything for the sake of reassurance. His biggest no here is restraints. Sex requires a lot of trust for him and as much as he does trust you, he would feel much too vulnerable tied up and he wouldn’t like it. However, when he’s the one in control he’s not afraid to be more…adventurous. That being said, he wouldn’t be into choking you or hitting you. I think even if you were very clearly into it, it would make him feel bad about himself on multiple levels. He doesn’t want to hit you, even sexually, and hates the idea of his hands around your neck. Public stuff makes him uncomfortable and degradation is a hard no for him.

O = ORAL

He prefers going down on you by a mile. He’s usually hesitant to let you do it, he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to or for you to potentially lose any pleasure during sex. He really does think it should be all about you and he has a hard time grasping that making him feel good makes you feel good too. He likes to hold your hands when he eats you out, or your waist. He doesn’t want to lose any physical contact with you—it’s a very intimate thing and he’ll treat it as such. He’s also been known to rub soothing patterns into your waist or wrap his arms around your thighs to hold them apart. When you give him head it’s overwhelming for him. He denies himself of it so much that he can’t handle it when he actually gets it. He likes to hold your hands here sometimes too, but more often than not he’s holding your hair out of your face so he can see you—the gentle weight of his opposite hand on the back of your head. He’ll struggle to catch his breath, lips parted.

P = PACE

It all depends on the mood for him. He can and will switch it up as needed. He can be very intense and rough, fast thrusts and heated kisses. This can be passionate or angry sex. He can also take it very slow and sensual, and depending on his mood, this can be either very romantic or very torturous.

Q = QUICKIE

He doesn’t really like quickies that much, he definitely prefers to take his time with you. Quickie’s don’t really allow him to prep you properly, something that’s incredibly necessary when having sex with him. Anyways he wants to make sure he’s able to give you the best experience possible and he can’t do that if he’s rushing. No, he really prefers to take as much time with you as possible.

R = RISK

As mentioned, he’s not much for risky situations. The riskiest he’ll get is car sex or sex at the manor. He might make out with you in an alleyway but he won’t full-on do it with you outside. He doesn’t want to be caught, doesn’t want to worry about it when he has more important things to focus on.

S = STAMINA

He can go for several rounds most nights and even needs to often. He feels bad about it sometimes though, he feels like one round should be enough for him and he shouldn’t need to take even more from you. Once he eventually gets it through his head that it’s okay for him to need more, he’s relentless. The thing about him is that he requires little to no recovery time post-orgasm before he’s on you again so you might have to remind him to slow down a little.

T = TOYS

He’s not the biggest fan of toys, honestly. He doesn’t like the idea of a piece of plastic making you come, doing his job for him. It also means he’s less hands on and he doesn’t like that at all. That’s not to say he wouldn’t use them ever, he just wouldn’t go out of his way to make it happen. If you had a vibrator or something and you wanted to use it he probably would, if not only so you don’t use it by yourself instead. Beyond that there’s not too much I see him wanting to use, nothing very intense for sure.

U = UNFAIR

He’s a big tease but doesn’t always have the capacity to see it through. If you beg him just the right way he just has to give you what you want. Until you’re able to crack that code though, he seems like an unbeatable force. He’s constantly touching you and it’s hard for you to tell if it’s absentminded or if there’s something more behind them. He’s an expert at attacking that one spot on your neck and getting you just as desperate as he is within a matter of minutes.

V = VOLUME

He’s a groaner and a grunter, low and deep. He, maybe intentionally, stops himself from moaning more often than not, especially when you’re first together. The best way to get him to make noise is to suck just below his jawline, caress over his v-line, or blow him. He can’t control himself when you do any of that.

W = WILD CARD

Jason secretly loves it when you give him as much shit as he gives you. He loves when you tease him, when you tell him “no, we’re not having sex you were being mean.” He can’t stop himself from smiling when you yell at him and he doesn’t even wish he could. As much as he doesn’t want to be submissive, he loves it when you don’t either.

X = X-RAY

Yeah so he’s 8.5 inches hard. He’s a big guy, it stands to reason that he’d have a big dick. It’s fat too, enough to make you cry the first time you take him.

Y = YEARNING

His sex drive is pretty fucking high after getting with you. It operates half as a means of affection and half as a stress reliever. And boy does he need stress relief. There’s phases where he wants you as much as every day, but more often than not it’s like 3-4 times a week.

Z = ZZZ

He wants you to fall asleep before him afterwards, he thinks it’s rude or something if he dozes off first. He’ll often brush his fingers up and down your back, easing you into sleep. If he’s not tired afterwards he’ll read while you nap on his chest, comforted by the in and out of your breaths.

[hanasnx]

Not that I’ve thought about it but I just want clark to fuck me into the mattress after a fight, like legs up on his shoulders and all and then him being condescending and stuff, definitely red k Clark

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Not much—mm—to say now, huh?��� RED!CLARK KENT grills you through his own grunts of effort, big hands clamped on your hips to stay in control of your movements. “Nothing for that shrill little voice to nag about ‘cept how hard I’m going.” Sharply, he exhales through his nose just as you gasp, his tip cutting a little too deep, shocking you at the touch of your cervix. It’s the position, it just makes it too accessible. Your feet bob next to his head with every sheathe while he keeps you folded over yourself with his weight.

“You are going too hard—!” you complain, but it’s just to get at him. Rough fingers press into your flesh, and you cry out as he uses your words against you.

“See what I mean?” he remarks, and the smirk in his lips exposes one of his famous dimples. Curtly, he adjusts you, propping himself up over you so he can lay his body over the backs of your thighs. It raises your hips naturally, makes the fit a little more comfortable. At the sight of your fluttering eyes, he leans in for a kiss, sucking on your pliant lips while the sounds of sex fill the room. He lets off with a pop, but murmurs against your mouth, “No matter how much we fight,” that irresistible Clark Kent charm shines through in his grin, flaring up your irritation at how easy it is for him to get you to forgive him. His head nods up. “Your ankles always have a place on my shoulders.”

[mxnhoo]

dangerous (l. hs)

✎ lee heeseung x reader genre kissing, blowing vape air into one's mouth, experienced boy x unexperienced girl trope, strawberry flavoued air, first kiss, reader has like 0 experience at all, not poofread cos a girlie just wants to write - get the idea off her head - sleep warnings ALMOST smut, vaping, nicotine (duh), hee wants to corrupt her lowk word count 905 cly's note i think this is different from what i usually write but i saw a tiktok with this idea and i couldn't stop thinking about it even during work. HENCE i am staying up to actually write it so i can get it OUF MY HEAD. i hate the thought of smoking/vaping but isn't this so hot omg. plus i've been so inactive i'm so sorry, so here's a proper fic i've written in a while (though it is short)

now playing heaven and back - chase atlantic

You breathed heavily, your eyelids heavy as you continued to stare at Heeseung, who layed below you. The room was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the lamp on your study table. You can't even explain how you got into this situation with Heeseung, your best friend — how you were sitting on Heeseung's lap, him being shirtless and just vaping in front of you. Though you've always known that he was quite literally the opposite of you, you and him remained as close friends regardless, and today you were seeing him in a different way.

Your chest moved rapidly, a new gush of unfamiliar feelings taking over you as you observed him taking another puff from his vape device. He exhaled and blew the air away from you, hitting the back of his head against the headboard afterwards, staring at you.

A strong strawberry scent took over the room, the sweetness making you want to melt into him. Despite the fact that he was the only one that was shirtless and that you were hovering over him, you still felt vulnerable, feeling unsure as to what to do next and anxious that you might fuck things up somehow.

He smirked seeing the state you were in, clearly enjoying the view of you. He was aware about how you were so naive and pure — you haven't kissed, smoked, vaped, or even fucked — and Heeseung just wanted to be there to open the new world to you. He wanted to check off every single thing off from the list, since he knew best how untouched you were. He wouldn't admit it, but he wanted to corrupt you.

He blew air up to his forehead, lifting the bangs away and he threw his head back, making himself more comfortable and showing his featuers off even more, especially his prominent Adam's apple and collarbone.

You couldn't explain it, but everything about him just felt so.. hot at the moment. You've never felt this way for anyone, but the way he was looking at you with such predator gaze, the way his exposed chest was moving up and down, the way he held his vape with his thumb and middle finger, his collarbone and neck, and even more.

"Say, you haven't fucked around nicotone like at all, right?" Heeseung questioned, his voice raspy after taking a huff of his strawberry-flavoured vape.

You shook your head and bit your lip, almost feeling humiliated that you haven't tried anything at all, and that for your entire life, you've stayed away from these things. You looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze, overthinking that he probably thought you were a loser.

He lifted your chin up with his finger, interlocking eyes with yours once again and he smirked, "Wanna take a step into my world?".

Your heart immediately skipped a beat, feeling thrilled at the thought of doing something you've always strayed away from. You stuttered, "O-okay".

He turned his neck downwards to look at you properly before flicking his middle and ring finger, gesturing for you to lean closer to him. You were already sitting on his lap as he layed down, and the closeness and warmth was driving you wild. You'd never experienced something like this before, only simple hand-holding and cheek kisses.

"I won't bite," he reassured, his voice still sounding dark, but you finally started to lean closer to him. Your hands inevitably rested on his bare chest, his chest muscles and abs feeling hard and the way he hitched his breath when you touched him didn't go unnoticed.

You were finally leaning closer to him, your hair falling forward as he nodded in approval, "Want a taste of my vape? Strawberry flavour, you'll like it". You nodded and he chuckled, bringing the vape to his mouth and taking another huff, making you slightly confused. Was he not going to hand the vape over to you?

You wanted to ask until you confirmed that he wasn't. He grabbed the front of your shirt to pull you even closer, his eyelids halfway open as he started to blow the air into your mouth. You immediately inhaled the air, tasting the sweetness of the air and suddenly feeling hot as your heart rate starts to increase.

You only stared at his lips as he blowed the vape air into your mouth, only wishing it was on yours, and he immediately noticed, immediately closing the gap between both of your mouths and smirking as he could feel you immediately snap back to reality from the sudden kiss.

He immediately pulled back, his thoughts feeling hazy as he is met with your half-fucked up face, chuckling that you were already half-spent when you did practically nothing other than share a huff and kiss for a second. "Did I take your first kiss?" he genuinely questioned, observing as you recovered from the kiss and puff.

"You did," you remained quiet before continuing, "I expect you to take my second, third and more".

"Is that a challenge?" he raised his eyebrows, clearly liking your boldness and the idea of kissing you as many times as he wanted.

"Maybe it is? Maybe it isn't?" you shrugged.

His face immediately darkened, the smirk on his face growing deeper, "I never back down a challenge". He put his hand behind your head to push you closer to him, causing your lips to clash once again.

watch out we pop out~ let's fill up some dopamine~ (if u understand ily)

[suksatoru]

sukuna and you got into a fight after you had a near death experience. when you're in need of comfort—he's hostile and enraged. you're hurt tenfold and overcome with sadness after his outburst. going to bed after fighting with sukuna is a war all in itself–but one day, you'll be able to see just how hard he works to be a good lover to you. pairing: sukunaxfem!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Sukuna is silent as he changes, save for the quiet grunts and sighs that leave his lips every now and then. The dim lamp lit on his side of the bed creates shards of gold that glisten and shine in his eyes, and he regards you quietly as he slips out of his formal robes and into a simple pair of pants.

He could be so mean sometimes. You were never one to take his insults to heart, they were always empty words he muttered out to mask his true feelings. You know Sukuna is bad at communication, you are all he's had and ever will have. There was no one before you, and there will be no one after you. So, Sukuna has to learn to go through all the hard stages that come packaged with a relationship alongside you.

Your back is turned to him as you lay in bed, your body tense and shoved so far towards the edge of the bed, he's sure you'll fall off if you shift even just the slightest bit. You're so desperate to stay away from him, and a small part of Sukuna's chest squeezes painfully at the sight.

He doesn't know how the argument started—you were always so level headed. He could come to you fuming, enraged from his duties and the stress he has to endure everyday—but your fingers raking through the pink tufts of his hair never failed to calm him.

Except today.

Because today—today he was mad at you.

You didn't mean to upset him, those were the words that tumbled from your lips as you weeped into his lap—begging for forgiveness. Your lashes clumped together with glistening tears, and all you wanted was to be comforted by him. But Sukuna scolded you instead, berating and belittling you with the cruelest of words that only made you cry harder by the end of the entire ordeal. He wasn't mad, he was fucking furious.

He told you to stay away from his estate's river whenever it's raining. But you ventured outside anyways, mindlessly and stupidly and almost died. He warned you how strong the currents were, told you how he'd lost so many idiot servants to the river's ruthlessness.

He thought you had died. It was the single, most terrifying moment of his entire life. Because when he pulled you out of the water, you were shaking like a leaf and your pulse was barely there. And when they took you to the medical wing, the doctors were brought to near tears as they tried to keep you alive. Because if you died, if they couldn't bring you back to consciousness safely—then Sukuna would probably kill everyone in a mile radius just from pure rage.

But you're here. Stubborn and alive, arms crossed over your chest as you curl up into a little ball. He slides under the blanket eventually, turning off the lamp as darkness finally envelops his room. The rain still goes on quietly outside, pitter pattering against his window softly.

He presses his lips onto your shoulder blades, pulling your back against his chest and frowning a little once he feels how stiff you are in his grasp. He doesn't want to speak the words—doesn't even want to acknowledge them, but he knows he has to. Or your tear stricken face was sure to haunt him and keep him awake the entire night

His lips are rough against your skin, and you let out a huff—before elbowing him, the King of Curses, in the gut.

He sucks in a hiss from between his teeth, before biting down on your shoulder in retaliation as you yelp

"You bast–"

You're turning around to tell him off, brows scrunched together and lips pulled back in a wobbly scowl, and he takes the opportunity to shut you up when his lips collide with yours

You would have expected the kiss to be rough—angry and hard and mean. But his lips brush yours gently as you pause, before his warm mouth presses softly onto yours

Sorry. He mumbles the word quietly against your lips as he wraps a single arm around your waist, turning you around and over him before securing you on top of his chest with a deep sigh. His irises are lined with a ring of ruby, and you watch him gaze at you through half lidded eyes.

The moonlight barely illuminates his face, but you can see the sheen in his eyes as he peers up at you

Thought I lost you. He murmurs when you suck in a cry, and he rubs your back whispering I know, I know.

Ryomen Sukuna wasn't gentle, no one would describe him as gentle. But the manner he's rubbing your back in has you sinking into his skin as you soak up all the comfort he offered—the one you so desperately craved.

"It was so scary. I-I was just—" And you hiccup on a sob as he coos quietly, curling his large palm around the back of your head as he presses your face into your chest, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair as his hand rubs up and down the slope of your spine

" 'm here now. Rest, you're safe with me. You know that, don't you?" He questions, and you nod, sniffling as your small hands wrap around his neck, legs locking around his waist as you breathe him in.

No, he wasn't the best at managing his emotions. He was quick to anger, and, simply put, the biggest asshole to walk the earth. But he feels. He loves and he hurts and he knows that there is only one person who can accept him and his broken heart as it is—you.

[cntloup]

subtle things Simon does that make you go crazy for him (even more than you already are) 🫠

I feel like his love would be a kind of quiet love with subtle/silent declarations of his profound love and devotion 🖤

Simon Riley would shield your eyes with his hand and quickly get you away from the scene if you ever happened to come across a gory accident/fight on the street. and if such a scene ever makes you cry, he'd hold your head against his chest, cooing softly and slowly rubbing your back to calm you down.

while walking together on the sidewalk, he grabs you by the waist and picks you up like you weigh nothing and puts you down on the other side so he's on the side of the road. then, interlocks your hands together, giving it a light squeeze as a subtle reassurance.

he picks you up with his burly arms and carries you bridal style when you come across a big puddle on the street without even asking, earning a loud squeal and a light giggle from you as you wrap your arms around his neck.

he wraps his beefy arms around your shaking form, no questions asked as you sob your heart out after a tough day. then, carries you to bed, wraps you up in a blanket and plays your comfort show on the tv with snacks ready on your nightstand.

he's always there to comfort you after a nightmare and stays by your side whether you wanna talk about it or not, letting out a slight chuckle after hearing your request of him to lay his full weight on you so you'd calm down. and he gladly obliges while of course, being careful not to hurt you.

he carries all the bags when you go on a shopping spree, no objections allowed even if you're more than capable of doing it yourself. he goes 'bup bup bup' when you start talking, "it's my job, princess." he always says, "now go put on that pretty dress you picked out, lovie." also, he's always glad to be your personal blank canvas to test different shades of makeup on.

when he comes back home before you or has the day off while you work, he always makes sure to keep the house clean and tidy in order not to burden you any further after a long day. also, prepares you a bath and your favorite meal and puts on the show that you both have been watching when you return. then, cuddles with you while you're wrapped up in several blankets in bed and keeps you in his warm embrace all night.

whenever he returns from a deployment, the first thing he seeks out is you and he doesn't calm down until he gets his hands on you; not in a sexual way, but it's just him making sure that you're really there with him. and he clings to you like a lifeline until his exhausted body gives out and he falls asleep in your arms, finally home and at peace.

when he gets home, there are no words spoken. the first thing he does is rip the mask off his face and basically run to you, crashing his lips against yours as his beefy arms wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him, feel your body flushed against his as he sighs and groans into the fiery kiss, filled with passion and love, burning only for you as he literally takes your breath away.

[bunnis-monsters]

Yandere!Vampire who has moments where the guilt gets to him.

“Do you hate me?”

You shivered when you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. Like usual, he felt cold and hard like a marble statue, not suitable for cuddling or laying comfortably with.

“… why do you ask?”

Not getting an immediate yes or no made him grow tense. Perhaps you should have simply answered, but you wanted to know why he would ask such a thing first.

“Well…”

He settled down with you, letting out a shaky sigh as your warmth began to seep into his flesh. Holding you almost made him feel alive again.

“I did take you away from everyone you loved… and I drink from you regularly, making you feel sick and woozy…”

Despite his evident guilt, his grip on you did not loosen.

“If you feel so bad about all of that, you could let me go,” you mumble, staring at the floor.

But he suddenly gripped you so hard you could feel the bruises begin to form.

“No. No, no I can’t do that. Never. You’re mine, if I lost you I…”

Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I couldn’t go on without you… can’t you understand that?”

The room grew silent for a while, and you spoke up once more just to break that crushing silence.

“… I don’t hate you, no… but I don’t know if I can love you the way you want me to… not while you hold me captive.”

He didn’t say anything, only rubbing your back, gently running his sharp nails along your spine.

Maybe you would never fall for him, but you were there and you were his. Eternally.

And that was enough for him.

————————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96 @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @an-ever-angry-bi @facelessfionna @bath1lda @ilyanadelarosa @iswearimnotadrugdealer

[my-castles-crumbling]

envelope - December 24th - jegulus - trans!Regulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 365

It took Regulus until the summer after his fifth year to run away from home. He decided the oppressive and bigoted nature of his parents was too much and he stole away in the middle of the night. Just like his brother before him, he showed up at James Potter's door, but of course, James greeted him with a kiss, not just a comforting hug.

Which is why he was greeted one August morning by James's loud voice.

"Hogwarts letters are here!" James announced, all but barging into Regulus's room with a giant grin on his face.

Regulus, who had been laying in bed and trying to get a few more moments of sleep, sat up blearily. "So?" he asked grumpily.

James just grinned brighter. "Er...your OWL results!"

"Couldn't we see those when I'd gotten a few more moments of sleep?" Regulus mumbled, sitting up and allowing James to sit next to him and place a kiss on his messy curls.

"Sure, sure," James beamed, wrapping his arms around Regulus and giving him a huge embrace.

"You're even more obnoxiously pleasant than usual this morning," the younger boy groused, leaning into James's arms and enjoying the warmth.

But James just held out the envelope expectantly, looking at Regulus with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. So Regulus took it, and looked down, only to pause.

It was addressed to Mister Regulus Black.

Though he'd been out at Hogwarts for a few years, living in the Boys' Dorms and wearing the boys' uniform, his Hogwarts letter had always come addressed with his old name. He knew it was for his own safety- his parents would have blown up the entire castle if it had been addressed otherwise. But it seemed that now...

"It has my name," he murmured wondrously.

"Yeah," James nodded happily, gazing at Regulus adoringly. "Sorry for waking you, I was just so excited to show yo-"

But Regulus cut him off by grabbing both sides of his face with his hands and pulling him in for a kiss. "I love you," he mumbled, smiling softly. "Now, let's seem how many more OWLs I got than you did.

"Oh, loads, I expect."

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 11)

Their background is clear to you—always has been since your social worker told you about them in her car on the way here.

They’re military men. Most of their long lives have been spent in the field. She even mentioned that their first children grew up on base when they were little.

Which sounded cool, you thought. It was so different from the office jobs other foster parents had. A bonus, even—it made you feel safe in their house.

They were bigger than most. If not by height, then by width. They were large. Buff. Even the damn harpy, who was supposed to be lean, had broad shoulders and lots of muscles.

So you felt safe. That was a big bonus. Better than that weird suburban house you stayed in, where the mother often avoided the creepy neighbor who looked predatory. You remember his strange glances and how nervous the mother was when he came knocking one night while her husband was away.

How nervous you were as you watched their interaction a few feet away.

So, you’ve always had a big thing about safety, thanks to the weird places you have stayed.

And they felt so safe. It was comforting, really. After the initial phase of settling into a foster home—when you flinched away from everyone until you got to know them better—you started to relax.

(Unless they were the angry type. Or worse, the type to lay their hands on you.)

So, when Price sat you on his lap, checking your temperature again and combing your hair with his hand and sharp claws, you felt... calm. Eh, not totally, you admit. You still tensed a little when his hand came near your face and stayed quiet because of your shyness.

But it was progress, and you really, really wanted to feel at peace with them.

When night came, after they gave you more medicine, warm tea, and another serving of John's bean and bacon soup, they decided to put you to bed early.

Which... was fine. You were actually very tired. Sickness does that to you.

Price carried you, lifting you easily from the dining room chair with the booster seat they’d gotten from somewhere. He placed you down carefully in the big nest full of heavy blankets and pillows, the others following behind at their own pace.

Being there gave you a chance to watch more of their routine.

Ghost was the last to enter. You could hear him rattling things downstairs and turning off lights as he came. His low voice confirmed that all windows and doors were locked.

Gaz was already in the room, sitting at the nest’s edge as he combed through his wing with a special tool, a weird looking comb thing. Johnny worked on the other wing with a concentration you didn’t know he could manage. Both of them were close to you, their legs nearly bumping your small form in the giant nest.

Price moved calmly around the room, putting things away and finishing his hygiene routine in the attached bathroom.

"Feeling better?" Gaz cooed softly, his leg—talons, talons, such sharp talons—bumping near you to get your attention.

"Y-yeah, better..." you answered quietly, nodding for emphasis.

"Good." He crooned, satisfied, especially when Soap purred right after.

(Is it really a purr if he’s a werewolf?)

"Good pup, such a good pup. Really brave, huh? Dinae complain even once. So strong..." Soap murmured, leaning over Gaz, who relaxed back against him.

"It's just a small fever..." you mumbled, frowning a bit at his exaggeration. You were shy. "It’s nothing..."

"Not nothin’, kid." Simon grumbled, finally climbing into the nest after discarding his mask and gloves. He lay beside you, checking your forehead again. "Sick is sick. A flu is a flu. Still makes you feel like shit."

"Simon..." Price scolded as he emerged from the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "Didn’t hear the hatchling say one bad word ’til now. Don’t influence her."

"To be fair, we barely heard her speak at all until now." Kyle retorted sassily, smiling at Price before glancing down at you. "Small, quiet fledgling."

"Nah, she’ll warm up to us!" Johnny declared confidently, shaking his head. "Right, pup? Wanna play with Papa tomorrow? We can play anything ya want!"

"Tone it down, mutt. It’s snowin’ outside," Ghost grumbled, already wrapping your small body in one of the blankets.

"We can play inside. We’ve got the space," Soap said smugly, finishing Kyle’s wing before slipping into the nest on your other side. "We can play, pup. Promise I’ll be gentle!"

You tensed a little, unsure. Your expression showed your doubt with your little frown. After a few seconds of silence, you managed to murmur.

"....o-okay... I guess..."

"See? Who said peer pressure doesn’t work?" Ghost deadpanned, making Price snort with laughter, faint wisps of smoke escaping his nose.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, hatchling. Soap will understand." Price says with a quiet laugh, approaching the nest as he adjusts some kind of shoulder weight attached over his sleeping shirt where his missing wing used to be.

You stare at him for a moment, frowning slightly in confusion.

"...Soap...?"

Your question seems to stun them for a moment before they all start laughing softly, like it’s some kind of inside joke.

"Tha’ would be me, lassie." Johnny replies with a big smile, flashing all his sharp teeth as he leans closer. "Just a codename. Military, aye?"

"Nickname...?" you mumble, still confused.

"Close, hun. Codename." Gaz explains with a gentle laugh, sliding into the nest now, his wings resting against Soap and Price’s backs.

"It’s like a nickname, but it’s used for secrecy. So bad people don’t know our real names." Ghost adds calmly, his heavy hand giving your back a slight pat.

That makes you scrunch your nose slightly.

"Why Soap...?"

Once again, the others laugh at your question, except Johnny, who just sighs quietly, though his smile remains.

"Doesn’t matter why." The werewolf says with a shrug, still grinning as he gestures at Simon. "This bastard is called ‘Ghost’ in the field, Kyle is ‘Gaz,’ and John just uses his last name, ‘Price.’"

You nod quietly, blinking as you process the information. It’s kinda weird, but it makes sense for their lifestyle. Military men for most of their lives, huh? That actually makes you wonder...

"...Are your kids also military...?" you ask softly, hugging your knees over the thick blanket.

"Thank fucking god, no," Price answers quickly, sounding both relieved and horrified at the thought.

"I thought we weren’t doing bad words?" Ghost asks slowly, his tone sarcastic as he sends Price a bored look.

"Oh, shut it." Price growls softly back, leaning closer to him with a sharp smile.

"But no, none of them are in the military." Kyle chimes in, smiling slightly. "Doesn’t mean they didn’t think about following our footsteps at some point, though."

"Wee lads and lassies always thought the military was cool, wanted to be like their papas." Soap says dreamily, though his smile falters slightly to a more nervous smile. "We would never let them, though."

"Why?" you ask innocently, tilting your head in confusion. "You didn’t like the military?"

"No, no, not that! Ah love the military, wee lass!" Soap defends quickly, waving his hands around. "Can’t imagine doin’ anything else with my life!"

"But no parent wants their kids in such a dangerous job," Price interjects, shaking his head as he mutters under his breath. "Honestly, if I had my way, they’d still be here in the nest with me."

"Ignore ’im. Dragon instincts get the best of ’im sometimes." Ghost mutters, shaking his head before gently nudging you down into the nest. "Come on, kid. We can talk tomorrow. It’s sleep time."

You’re still curious, but you nod, laying back against the nest. Johnny immediately curls around you, his giant body wrapping you up entirely. You even feel his tail loop around your legs. You tense for a moment at the closeness, but soon relax, rolling slightly to burrow your face into the blanket. His much larger body shields you completely.

"Night, kid." Ghost grunts as he settles, his hand resting on top of your wrapped form.

"Sweet dreams, hun." Gaz murmurs softly.

"Sleep well." Price adds last, leaning down slightly as the others settle into their spots in the nest. "Call us if you need anything, alright?"

"Gonna be monitorin’ her. It’s fine..." Johnny mumbles, still draped protectively over you. "Good night, lassie."

You fall asleep as the lights turn off and the others cuddle into the nest. Despite the heavy snowstorm outside, you feel incredibly warm.

Safe.

[persicipen]

𑑛 “WARMTH” ﾉ JING YUAN. HONKAI STAR RAIL

afab gn reader ﾉ words 1.2k ᯽ sleepy jing yuan. you two warm yourself up during the cold night. bit messy but very loving. one or two instances of his cock tapping the cervix. creampie. cuddles and some compliments. petnames — dear, love ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

An uninviting chill behind the warm walls of your private chamber — wind and darkness enveloping the world as it succumbs to the night, the summer weather long gone — keeps you away from unwrapping yourself out of the duvets. Here, you and your lover bask in the heated comfort created by each other’s bodies, basking in the gold light from the candles scattered around the room.

Jing Yuan’s breathing is hot, burning against your skin, sweat coating his toned figure and glistening like jewels, pearls he doesn’t need to buy as his own exertion adorns him beautifully — and you prefer him like that, anyway. Half-lidded eyes, sleepy, stay unmoved on your figure. His lips are bitten red as they ghost along the column of your neck and up to the shell of your ear. There’s an arm embracing your waist and another one keeping you close to his body, hand holding your wrist in a steady grip and pressed above your head, fingers entwined.

“Do you feel good?” He asks, face decorated with a smile before pressing a kiss right to your temple.

Your breathing hitches and legs wrap tighter around the general’s midriff, ankles digging into the muscles of his lower back and urging him even closer.

“Yes,” you murmur back, head lulling to the side, mouth parted open in silent moans and breathless pants, cheeks painted a deep shade of crimson. “More, please.”

“Heh… what an insatiable hunger, hm?”

The man laughs quietly at your impatience, honey-coloured eyes filled with adoration as he observes the way your eyelashes flutter and eyebrows furrow. One of your hands reaches upwards, untangling itself from his hold, and grabs onto his hair, fingers curling into the fluffy mane.

“Don’t tease me. You’re going slow on purpose…”

“No, love. I’m enjoying the moment with you underneath me.”

“Mhm, liar.”

He groans and lowers himself until his mouth finds yours; the kiss turns into a sloppy mess, trying to align your lips together, but you love it. You love him. He feels like home, your new home, a safe harbour to your heart and soul.

Jing Yuan parts away and takes a shaky breath, almost a chuckle when his thrusts start to become even slower, yet, thankfully, deeper and stronger. To think that you’re able to take all of his cock inside is an achievement on its own, albeit he relishes in the pride that he’s the one who made you so wet and needy and worked you open with his fingers first that you had no trouble letting his hefty shaft sink into your heat.

You two should get ready for sleep, plans interrupted by the growing desire once your bodies touched under the plush of the bedsheets. The general was always a weak man for you, your beauty, your words and smiles and affection — he’d give you the stars if you asked him to. How could he refuse to pin you under his weight, to feel your hot skin whilst you two urgently loosened up your robes? No chance.

It is no different now, where you lay under his broad form and take each and every movement, every roll of his hips. Your walls clench around him, slick coating his cock and sticking to his balls whenever he holds the entirety of his length inside of you, purring at the pulsing of your aroused cunt.

The candlelights illuminate the sheen atop your chest and cheeks like little suns, stars dancing in the reflection from the sweat. You look like a deity in his eyes, someone who he’d happily spend his life worshipping and admiring.

And he does so. His best, actually, based on the sweet sounds that escape your throat.

You meet his rhythm, letting yourself bounce back and forth on his girth with a wet gasp when his blunt head prods against your deepest parts, teasing the cervix, once, twice. He feels like burning steel, melting hot and hard inside your walls, tip reaching and nudging where it is too pleasurable, but you don’t want to stop, even reaching the brink of consciousness, dizzy at the tingling borders of your mind. The pleasure and warmth coil into a tight ribbon within the confines of your stomach, ready to burst out and set everything ablaze.

“I love you,” Jing Yuan breathes out, kissing the side of your face, trailing to your cheeks and then lips.

“I love you too…”

“How sweet to hear it coming from you. You’re so good to me, yes?”

“Yes, but… only if you stop teasing. Come on, general, move a bit more.”

A hand let go of your waist, and his fingers find the little nub above your folds. His digits play with it, and your thighs tremble and tighten around his body, breath stuck in your throat before a loud whimper escapes your mouth.

“I’m close,” you tell him, nails digging into his shoulder and dragging along the expanse of his muscles, leaving red lines on his pale skin.

“Yes, yes,” he pants out, forehead lowering until it’s pressing against yours. He smiles and his teeth nibble onto your lips, licking the spit and tasting the sweet remnants of spiced tea from your previous meal.

“Please, I can’t take it anymore, dear…”

“Come for me, my love. Come undone for me.”

Jing Yuan’s name tumbles out from your tongue when your back arches and your pussy clamps around him, tight, unbearable. The coil within you snaps, heat engulfing your whole figure from the tip of your clit to the ends of your limbs and fingers as the ripples of pleasure keep crashing against your nerves. Again and again, relentlessly.

Your orgasm is enough to drive him into his own completion. The snug grip and wetness of your cunt, the finest embrace, get him to grunt and lick the sensitive flesh of your neck, all while the twisted knot within his loins unwinds at last. His essence spills into you and fills up the insides with the whiteness of his cum, some of it immediately sticking to his cock and creating a creamy ring around his girth. He rocks his hips a few more times before stilling completely, chest rising and falling in unison with your own.

After a minute or ten, the general moves off of you — his weight palpable and allowing you to take a deep breath, although it’s not that having him on top of you was anything bad — and pulls back the head of his softened cock, nudging your entrance one last time before letting himself slip out.

Quickly, he gathers you in his arms and moves your body sideways, laying down and resting his back on the softness of the mattress, bringing you close to his chest, still damp from the exercise.

“Quite handsome you are, general.” You grin.

“Not as quite beautiful as you.”

Among giggles and sleepy kisses, your fingers rake through the matted strands of his hair and brush the unruly crimson ribbon from his face. Amazing that it somehow managed to keep the loose ponytail intact, merely loosened up and letting some more of the silver locks fall on his shoulders.

[you-know-honey]

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

[salemlunaa]

∘˚౨ৎ no need for desperation ౨ৎ∘˚

no matter what you’re going through, the state of pure consciousness is yours.

∘˚౨ৎ ACT I | why desperation isn’t needed…

“I need to “enter” RIGHT NOW, my circumstances have gotten 100x worse”

“you don’t understand i need help, an instant method, something”

“time is running out i need to induce pure consciousness and get my dream life”

You need to stop with that, take a second now and breathe. 1: Time doesn’t exist, you say you can get all the time back you’ve supposedly “wasted” if you properly apply what you know. 2: You don’t need anything, kill that thought of being the one in need, because you aren’t. 3: circumstances aren’t real, they are nothing. and everything will be worth it when realise you already have everything.

∘˚౨ৎ METHOD | the only one you need.

Whether you’re sooo desperate for pure consciousness or not, whether your life depends on it, this is the only method you need: (at anytime of the day, mind you)

eyes closed

breathe, relax, let go of everything around you

you don’t have to be in a certain position and you don’t have to be a statue, both dumb pieces of misinformation, scratch that itch, lay where you’re comfortable

you are “I Am”, whether in pure consciousness or not, you can remind yourself of that by affirming “I AM” if you believe it helps you,

or your mind can trail off and think about ANYTHING, whether that be your new life or one of your favourite songs, take that mind off the 3d

before you know it, you’ve induce pure consciousness

this is all you need, not some grandiose, 50-step intricate method. Just relax and focus on all but your 3d THATS IT BABE

you don’t need to be desperate for something so easy

there’s is no “it doesn’t work for me”, you’re not exempt from the law of shifting awareness, you’re not some special person who “just can’t” make it work. Inducing the “I AM” state is in our nature.

౨ৎ˚∘ACT II | get out of the cycle, you aren’t yearning anymore.

This desperation won’t get you anywhere. And it puts you in a vicious cycle. You’re desperate to change your life → you see the void state as the only ticket out of here → you put all your faith and adoration into the state of pure consciousness instead of you → you put it on a pedestal → you believe pure consciousness is the only thing that can pull you out of your misery= therefore, you are relying on external factors for something you must do.

And if you look at the base law for loa: think as if you have it. Would you have feelings of desperation if you’re a void master, if you supposedly have your dream life?

So leave the circumstances behind, like now this time, really don’t say you’re going to and go back to complaining in 2 days

“i have school soon and if i don’t induce-” no.

“i NEED to induce before-” shhh. you can do it right now, you know that.

“my circumstances are getting so bad and-” what circumstances?

“no you don’t understand how life is getting-” i thought you had your dream life?

The days of desperation are no more. No more will you beg for something that is so easy, something that is owed to you. No more will “fail”, failure doesn’t exist for you. Just believe it.

There’s nothing to be desperate about because circumstances aren’t real and you can have your desire whenever.

Would a baker be desperate to get ahold of the recipe for a cake he already knows how to make?

🎄🎅 it’s your reality, don’t allow external factors to make you desperate for something so easy.

also merry christmas lovies (and happy holidays regardless for those who don’t celebrate) hope you guys are digging the theme 😏

[meeinthesea]

DIVINE FRAGILITY — gojo satoru

outline— the one time you make satoru feel less like a god and more like a human.

contains— gojo satoru x reader, fluff, reverse comfort (?) suggestive ( mentions of sex, not very detailed tho ) established relationship, anxious satoru ( pls give him a hug ) i think that's it...

wc— 1.7k

a/n— i had the vision, not sure if i did it justice. not very proud of this (T^T) anyways, im sorry for any typos ! enjoy <333

gojo satoru.

the prodigy, the honoured one, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

it's everything that he is known as.

these titles seem like a luxury to anyone else, but for satoru, they are far from that.

it's not his fault, though, not when you've been revered, put on a pedestal from day one. pushed onto the throne even before you've had the chance to learn and write your own name.

satoru's declared untouchable, protected by the infinity that runs all over him nonstop. a god of its own kind, that not everyone has the mercy of.

that's what his life has become.

well, until you happened.

because right now, at this very moment, he feels the farthest from that.

so restless and so much on edge.

in the soft glow of sunrise, he lies right beside you, well more precisely under you, cocooned in the cozy haven of your fluffy blankets and tangled limbs. you always had this 'weird' habit of rolling over to his side, laying right on top of him, presumably mistaking him for your teddy bear.

usually, it does not matter to him. rather, he finds it adorable how you squeeze him from time to time like he’s your personal plushy. he wouldn't mind being one if it meant you'd hold him, kiss him, and use him to your heart's content.

and he wants to do the same to you, too. things that are reserved only for you, that he does only to you. like every other time, he would've set an alarm at the crack of dawn — waking up hours earlier than you just so he could see and admire your sleeping glory, laid bare in front of him — only for him.

however, not this morning.

today, satoru's still as a rock. unmoving. all the cells in his brain are working overdrive, gravely focused on the feeling of your skin on his. the subtle pumps of warmth permeating through his skin right where the flesh meets, orchestrates his heartbeat.

you feel so soft and plump, reminiscent of the cotton candies he devoured yesterday. shivers run down his body as your natural scent hits his nose every time he inhales. your gentle breathing is barely audible to him. his mind is all fuzzy, and it's too much for him.

there is not a single layer blocking you from him, nothing to shield you from his prying eyes. the reddish marks littering your neck tells of an intense story. heat rises up his neck as the events from last night flash vividly in his mind.

everything remains clear, the painting still fresh in his mind. from the moment you both stepped inside the apartment, unable to keep your hands off each other to both of you, shrugging your clothes off before finally surrendering to each other.

he can still feel the subtle undulating beats of pleasure pumping in his body the moment he pushed into you, chills erupting at the base of his spine. the melodious sounds that left you, the sweat, the breathing. everything.

it was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. so intimate and vulnerable.

connected — souls intertwined.

satoru shakes his head. it is way too early for sprouting a problem he's sure will be a major trouble to get rid of. his blue eyes trace the ridges and hicks of the wooden ceiling before they are flickering to your naked sleeping form.

all curled up on his chest like a small kitten, nuzzling into his skin, seeking his warmth on a cold december morning.

it's a bit of trouble to see past your nest of hair, but he can make out a line of drool connecting your lips to his chest. so adorable, his baby. you look so much at peace, without any care in the world (his favourite version of you).

worried and afraid, he dreads the moment you wake up, not wanting to make you feel scared.

are there any bed etiquette you are supposed to follow after a whole night of passionate lovemaking?

god, he is so lost.

where is he supposed to put his hands? should he just curl his arms around your frame, holding you for a few minutes? or should he poke you here and there so the both of you can get ready for the day? maybe a few kisses along your neck and jaw will ease you a bit.

really, satoru would have no trouble going through the little morning ritual on any other today, and he could commit to it if he wanted to, but today is different.

why is he feeling like this all of a sudden?

aren't the two of you way past this stage now?

right on time, he feels you stir against him slowly, resurfacing back to consciousness. he hears the little happy sigh you always do, and he can picture how your face breaks into a little smile. he has all of this memorized, burned in his mind.

your hand slither across his arms, searching for his own, and he gladly lets you intertwine your fingers together.

“are you awake?”

your words are sluggish, still coming to the realization of the waking world. you breathe against his collar, not daring to look at him right now, which upsets him a little.

satoru hums, voice unusually low and a bit croaky and eyes closed now. his hand itches with an urge to slide across your back, but he holds back.

“morning…” he hears you yawn loudly before you settle beside him once again.

you think you're being sneaky, trailing your hands up his chest, brushing against the hair on his chiselled muscles, but he feels everything, your touch arousing goosebumps in its wake.

“how are you?” you ask him, properly looking at him now still propped up on your arms, leaning over him (he tries not to think of the way your weight is pressing on him, your chest on his).

you poke his face, trying to get him to look at you, “what's going on, toru?” but he doesn't yield.

“baby?”

softly kissing the corner of his mouth, you whisper words directly onto his skin, urging him to look at you

he opens his eyes, granting you with the bluest of blues, heaven skies unfolding to reveal the adoration and love written all over the stars. before he is quickly averting his eyes away from you, deep red running from his neck all the way to his chest.

“it's nothing…”

it doesn't seem like it, though.

before you can say anything, he speaks up first.

“i just feel so…” satoru trails off, not knowing how to continue. what should he even say? he stills beneath you once again.

“whatever it is,” you shift on top of him, so you're straddling his lap, “you’re fine, m'kay?” you take his hand and press a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

he nods slightly, his gaze still avoiding yours.

“look at me,” he feels you squeeze his hand, “please?”

and he does because he can never deny you of something that you deserve.

“i am here always.”

this little assurance has satoru opening up. it's so easy with you, always have been. everything flows like water rushing down a cliff. he can't hide it, his true feelings from the one closest to his heart.

satoru tells of everything. the burden of being the strongest. always expected to be the best of the best — perfect. the weight has been heavy on his shoulders since his birth. it's lonely, unfair to be only seen for the power; the person beneath all the luxury, attention, forever lost to the shadows.

“but you…” he inhales sharply, “being with you, i realized that i don't have to keep up with this act.

i realized that there's much more than all of this.

that i can be just me, ya know.”

you do, and you know how beautiful he is both inside out.

all these years, you have slowly peeled away the many layers of glory and lavish to find a simple man tucked away from the world, his soul so beautiful. he longs for the most mundane things. he's grateful for the tiniest of things, and most importantly, he longs to be a human. just a human.

still to this day, many things about satoru remain unknown to others. that he's not this demi god that most claim him to be, that he's not some untouchable being.

touch him because he's not going to burn your skin. cuddle him because all he wants is just someone to hold him close to his chest after a long, tiring day. let him fall asleep to the rhythmic beats and praise him because he strives off of the littlest of attention.

love him because he deserves it.

tell him, show him that he is, in fact, very much in need of the love. that he is deserving of this — of being a human.

and that's what you do.

when satoru gazes at you, he finds solace in your smile. your eyes shimmer with love and adoration, mirroring the same emotions he holds within. he returns the gesture with a small albeit genuine smile of his own, which makes yours grow even bigger.

“there's my sweet boy,” you giggle, leaping into his embrace, and he catches you effortlessly, wrapping you in his warmth.

“okay, now you're just teasing me,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against your neck, trying to divert your attention from the blush spreading across his cheeks and the rapid beating of his heart.

“i love you so much, my whole world,” his voice is raspy with emotion as he adjusts you on his lap, holding you close.

“i love you too,” you reply, leaning down to kiss him softly.

satoru thinks he was being overly dramatic. he now realizes that with you by his side, life doesn't seem so frightening or lonely.

he has never felt this content before.

many new years have come and gone since the happiest times of his life — his blue spring, but it seems like he doesn't have to worry anymore. with you being the very essence of his happiness, he feels like a young boy in love once again.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else. 

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend. 

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh. 

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock. 

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out. 

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip. 

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically. 

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole. 

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?” 

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face. 

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

[ripeandsoft]

Hi Monae how are you babes? Can I request for terry and his wife having sex for the first time since their baby was born and she was trying to cover up her post baby body after having her baby.

🥺

A/n: I’m good baby! I’m so sorry this took so long, me and my brain weren’t friends lol. Please accept this as an early Christmas gift and apology! I hope you enjoy, feedback is always appreciated 💕

Content warnings: mentions of postpartum insecurity, gentle sex?, oral, a spank or two (i couldn’t help it), mirror sex, fluffy sweetness all around, also barely proofread oops

—

“Diapers, bottles, bibs, pacifiers…” You paced around the nursery as you packed your daughter Josie’s diaper bag. She was laying in her crib, fresh from the bath and drifting off to sleep under the musical chime of her mobile. Terry was quiet as he ambled up the stairs with extra clean bottles and formula. The shadow of you flitting around her room like a mad woman on the hallway wall made Terry laugh. This was Josie’s first time being away from you guys for two whole nights and your nerves were through the roof.

“Calm down baby, you know my mama will take good care of her” Terry sat the bottles and formula on the dresser next to her bag, coming up behind you to rub his hands soothingly down your arms. You leaned back into him and you closed your eyes to take a deep breath. You couldn’t help but be anxious. This was the longest you’d be away from your baby since she was born. You knew Mrs. Richmond wouldn’t let a curl on Josie’s head be touched but your nerves were still crackling with anxiety.

“I know, ‘m just nervous” Your words were hushed as you turned to loop your arms around his waist. “I’m glad we’ll have some alone time. Maybe even get some good sleep, give the baby monitor a rest for the weekend” Terry rocked the both of you back and forth in his embrace. You hummed against him, the warmth of his body against yours making your eyes close in comfort.

Soft gurgles spilled from Josie’s mouth as she shifted positions in her crib, her noises causing you and Terry to separate. “I’ll finish packing up here. You go start the car.” You ordered Terry gently with point of your finger. He nodded dutifully, giving both you and Josie a soft kiss on the cheek.

—

“I’ll miss you babygirl” You cooed at Josie, rubbing her chubby cheek with your thumb. She nuzzled against the contact while she smiled with all her gums. “Y’all better get out of here so I can spend time with my baby” Mrs. Richmond started to usher you and Terry out the door, eager to spend time with her granddaughter. “Can’t we say bye?” Terry asked.

“No you can’t. Now get before them roads get bad.” Mrs. Richmond nodded to the window, swirls of flurries falling outside.

—

It felt weird to be in your bathroom alone. When Josie is fussy but you need to shower you bring her with you, letting her rest in her bouncer while you clean up. Terry often joins you when you’re doing your hair or taking off your makeup. You were never really alone these days, not since Josie was born. Even when she’s not with you physically her presence crackles through the baby monitor seemingly attached to your hand. You’d heard of women who become so consumed with their families that they lose themselves, but that isn’t happening to you.

Right?

All you could think about was a hot shower. Your clothes were strewn across the floor, a fabric trail leading to you standing at the sink. You pulled your braids up into a ponytail before wrapping it up in a fat bun. The counter was cold as you bent down to rest your elbows on it, filling your palms with water so you could wash your face. Before you could reach for the cleanser, your husband slid his hands around your hips.

“Can I help you sir?” You asked him through the mirror, water dripping down your neck to your chest. “Mhm, you sure can” Terry’s voice rumbling low in your ears. His strong hands rubbed over all your soft parts—stomach, hips, thighs, tits, ass. You sighed at the feeling, leaning back into him. But before you can get lost in your man, the quiet part of your mind speaks up.

You’ve never been a stranger to stretch marks, cellulite, dimples, pimples, or moles. All these things came with your figure and you had come to love them. Growing your babygirl gave you immense pride in your body and you wouldn’t trade your pregnancy experience for the world. Being a mother was wonderful journey but every journey has its ups and downs, and these postpartum stages were mostly down. The things you once loved about your body have become insecurities.

“I need to take a shower” You pressed yourself into the sink to create space between you two. “Can I join you?” Terry asks. You avoid his hand reaching for you, side stepping him and going to stand by the shower. “No, thank you baby but I got this one by myself” Your lips quirk up in an awkward smile, your hands shielding your breast and stomach from his watching eyes.

Terry frowned, the crease in the middle of his brows growing deeper as he examined your behavior. You never shy away from his touch whether it’s sexual or not. You’ve been somewhat avoidant recently. Not necessarily detached or distant but just…not the same. It was strange.

“Go lay down” Terry instructs, nodding towards the bedroom. Your mouth opened to retort but the look in Terry’s eyes made the words seep into your tongue. You obeyed wordlessly, feelings his eyes follow your every movement.

—

“Don’t look away” Terry spoke against you, mouth full of your wet pussy. His head could be seen from between your cheeks, the mirror that normally leaned on your bedroom wall now closer to the bed propped on its thin stand. Your eyes watered in pleasure as his tongue swirled around your clenching hole. The silver band of your wedding ring dug into your skin as you held onto the sheets tight.

His lips were soft against you, vibrating with his own moans as he feasted on you. “Terry baby ‘m gonna mmm fuck come” You started to grind against his face, beard tickling your mound. “I know” His words were muffled as he pulled your hips back against his face. The room around you blurred into nothing as your eyes rolled back, orgasm rolling through you with fury.

The sheets were soft on your hard nipples, the added stimulation making you cry out. You pulled yourself away from him weakly only to be pulled back. “Where you going?” He questioned. The spank Terry placed on your right ass cheek had you jolting away from him, which made him wrap his hand around the back of your neck. “Tell me where you going girl” Terry’s voice echoed in your head as you tried to focus. “Nowhere, I promise” You head shook back and forth wildly, braids falling from your bun.

Terry rubbed soothing circle on your now red ass cheek, giving you a moment to calm down. You started to bounce back on Terry’s bulge, your stickiness making his hard dick shine in the light of your bedroom. “Oh you want it now?” He teased. His hand came to hold your hips steady as he started to do the work for you. His swollen tip nudged against your clit just right, bubbles of precum decorating your flesh. You reached back to grab his dick, tired of being empty.

You fell into an arch as he found his home in your pussy. Your walls pulsated around him as if to say “welcome home.”

“Tight ass fucking pussy” He grunted from behind you, his balls resting against your clit as he bottomed out. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt his balls start to throb. He fed you slow, deep thrusts, the slap of his thighs on yours filling the room. Goosebumps rushed over your skin with movement.

He hit all your spots with expert precision, catching your hand when you reached back to press it on his stomach. “No ma’am, this what you wanted. Be still and let me work my pussy open” He spoke, head thrown back and eyes closed. Your mind went numb with pleasure. The fat of your thighs started to jiggle as you shook, mouth open in silent moans. Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs.

“Let me tell you something” Terry wrapped a hand in your now messy hair, pulling to get you to look at him through the mirror. “Don’t you ever hide this body from me. This body carried my baby and I’ll be damned if you shamed of it” He punctuated his words with sharper thrusts making you squeal. “Tell me you’re beautiful” He demanded.

“I’m, ugh, I’m beautiful” Your words were quick, drool building up in your mouth and dribbling from the side of it. “Again, make me believe it” He responded. “I’m beautiful Terry, so beautiful” You felt yourself about to come again, walls squeezing him even tighter.

“Yes you are” Terry agreed, his own orgasm building. The sensation of you creaming around him triggered Terry’s orgasm. He continued to thrust as he spilled into you, the mixture of you two dripping onto the sheets. You fell limp onto the bed, shaking and whining at the overwhelming feeling. Terry pulled out slowly to watch his cum flow from your hole.

A warm rag was the next thing you felt on your pussy, the heat making you sigh in relief. “Don’t worry baby, I got you” Terry spoke softly, planting a kiss on your cheek.

—

tags: @kenshisluvrgirl @megamindsecretlair

[foodiegoogie]

pahinga (rest)

remus lupin x fem!reader | 1.7k

summary: remus can’t sleep again. luckily, you come to save him, and he finds his rest in you. cw/tags: self-deprecation, slight anxiety (?), three little eepy bois and one (1) insomniac, peter pettigrew appears (he’s not corrupted here), hurt/comfort <3 note: 'pahinga' means rest in filipino. its root word, 'hinga,' means 'to breathe/breath.' the 'pa' part can make it literally mean, 'let me breathe.' also, u can never have too much “reader patches up remus after a full moon” fics 🥰🥰 p.s. the vibes are inspired from isa lang (only one) by arthur nery <3

It’s way past midnight in the Hospital Wing, and Remus knows this because his friends are knocked out around him; James is sprawled out like a starfish on a cot to his left, Sirius laid asleep at the edge of Remus’ own cot, and Peter had long since made himself comfortable in the cot on the right, curled up in a blanket. 

Usually, they’d be up late with Remus. Something about boys being boys, having an endless amount of energy surging within themselves. But they were also only human at the end of the day, despite being unregistered Animagi. 

Remus also knows that he should be asleep himself alongside his best friends, but this particular night had taken a toll on him. Sure, he’s had full moon nights happening every month, every year, ever since he was turned at four years old. But regardless of how frequent they took place, it never became easy to deal with for the lycanthrope. Especially not now while he’s unable to sleep.

Poor Madam Pomfrey—she’d given Remus countless potions to aid him in his condition, time and time again. But it seems like even the Sleeping Draught that was brewed for him earlier just couldn’t work on him either.

Thinking about failing to fall asleep is ironically keeping him from falling asleep. Remus Lupin is, quite frankly, stressing out about not being asleep yet. He knows he needs it, so why can’t he do it? He almost feels immensely envious of how easy it was for his own friends to have fallen asleep quicker than he did, and he was the one who turned into a werewolf that night. 

Remus turns his head to get a look at Sirius’ slumbering face where it lay at the edge of his cot. Sirius is a handsome being, whether asleep or not. But right now, his wide-awake friend doesn’t know whether to be glad because he gets to appreciate his friend’s company because he’s asleep, or if said friend should be frustrated for the very same reason.

Before Remus even gets to decide however, he hears footsteps scurrying towards the entrance of the Hospital Wing. He perks up at the sound, attempting to sit up in his cot but failing, wincing as he was reminded of his injuries.

He doesn’t know which comes first: the sound of the double doors being pushed open or the bags of chocolate falling to the ground, coming from your arms.

Remus’ bleary eyes flicker over to your incoming presence - how he knows you’re here for him is needless to say with the bags of chocolate you’re re-gathering in your arms presently. He sees you throw an apologetic glance, mouthing “sorry,” but Remus receives it with a lazy smile, more amused and fond than it was teasing.

“Hope I didn’t wake them,” You whisper to him as you approach his cot, looking warily at the three slumbering boys surrounding him. Remus feels compelled to follow your gaze towards them, address that you didn’t actually wake them (and he’s certain that you didn’t, the lads sleep like a log), but his eyes remain on you as well as his smile.

“What’re you doing here?” He murmurs.

You scoff quietly, giving him an incredulous look. “What, not even a ‘hello, how are you?’ You’ve changed, Lupin.” 

Remus’ smile widens at your words, the familiar banter bringing a lighthearted feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his fatigue mixed with frustration that’s making him feel lightheaded, but he finds himself momentarily entranced by the sight of you as you start to near him in his cot. The moonlight which filtered through the windows finally landed on your features, and Remus was convinced at that moment that he’s met an angel in person: you.

“Anywho, I come bearing gifts,” You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, setting down the array of chocolates beside him. Remus shifts so that there’s more room for you in his bed.

He looks down at the sweets, the corners of his lips quirking up into a lazy smile, then looks back up to you. 

“Dark or milk?” Remus asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, giving him an incredulous look to which the boy grins at. “Milk, duh. I’m not dumb, Remus. You only go for dark when you’re feeling fancy.”

It’s true; Remus doesn’t like dark chocolate as much as he likes milk chocolate, which is a classic and a whole lot sweeter than the former. He tries not to think too hard about how you knew that about himself like it was just sitting casually in the place of your mind. He wonders, then, about what else you knew about him, and took care to remember and save for times like this. His heart races at the thought. 

“Did you come all the way here to butcher me for my taste in chocolate? Flattering, really,” Remus quips, reaching for one of the chocolates.

“No. I came here to do just that and more actually,” You mirror his actions, unwrapping the chocolate from its plastic shell, popping the whole treat in your mouth all in one go. 

It’s a lot more attractive than Remus would like to admit - you being so unapologetically yourself, uncaring about being seen as prim and proper. Here you are, sitting in front of him, munching on the chocolates you’ve brought him and looking like a squirrel stuffing nuts in its mouth for the winter. Adorable, he thinks.

But then your eyes narrow at him, and he’s caught in the act of shamelessly staring at you. It’s only then that he realizes that he has been staring at you.

“See something you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows suggestively, reaching for another chocolate from the dwindling bunch on the bed.

“No,” His voice comes out a little breathy, an octave a tad higher than what’s normal. Remus clears his throat. “Just- it’s amazing how you keep going.”

You pause mid-bite into another chocolate drop, putting it back inside its plastic wrap with a sheepish smile. “Right, I brought these for you. Not for me.”

“S’alright,” Remus smiles fondly at your suddenly shy expression. “I couldn’t finish them all by myself, anyway.”

A soft chuckle falls from your lips, shoulders relaxing from his reassuring words. Even in such a state, Remus still goes out of his way to make sure people are cared for in his own, heartwarming ways. But rarely does he ever take the time to inflict the same kind of treatment to himself. 

And, speaking of which—

“I thought you’d be asleep, you know,” You blurt out all of a sudden, fidgeting with the unwrapped, uneaten chocolate in your hands. “coming here. So… why aren’t you?”

“Dunno,” Remus lets out a deep sigh, his fatigue finally coming through in his expression. Your chest tightens at the sight and sound of it.

Finally, he finishes, saying, “I just… can’t.”

Almost instantly, a knot forms between your brows at the same time the corners of your lips turn downwards into a slight frown. Remus hates being pitied. He’s had enough of people apologizing on his behalf, as if he had been a mistake in the first place long before he was given this unfortunate tragedy, a weight he has to bear on his shoulders for the rest of his life. 

But with you, it’s never pity that he sees in your eyes when you look at him. It’s something warmer, something that’s coming from a deeper place of intent. Something like care—genuine care, and concern. Perhaps there’s more than that, but Remus is already dizzy enough as it is right now, and he doesn’t want to render himself unconscious just because he’s feeling a little lovesick by you. 

“Oh no, I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?” You say, and Remus is a bit startled by it. You don’t notice. “Should I leave? I– I feel like I should leave—”

“No, no. Just—” Stay.

Remus reminds himself to be very careful with his next words, lest he betrays his true feelings and ruins one of the few good things he has in his godforsaken life. 

Another thing that he hates is owing people something, or anything really. It’s no big deal for him to go out of his way and be the giver rather than the receiver out of a pair, but it bothers him to no end to think that he’d actually have people do something—anything just for him. 

For some reason, it just feels… wrong for him. Almost as if Remus believes that he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. 

But for the love of Merlin, he’d really like to get some sleep, and he really likes you being here with him. And if you walked right out of the Hospital Wing right now, leaving him alone, Remus is certain that he’d be getting no sleep at all. 

So, just this once, he’ll be selfish. 

“Just… just talk to me. Tell me about your night.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, a slightly amused smile coming alive on your face as you ask, “My night? Well, my night’s going pretty well right now.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face betrays his true emotions. “Tell me about your day, then.” 

Now, a full-blown grin takes place on your face. “Now that I can do.”

And so, you start telling him about your day in a hushed voice, careful not to be too loud as you recount something that had made you happy during the day so as not to wake the other three boys you’re surrounded by. 

Far along the way as you’re speaking to him, your hands—yours and his—drift closer and closer to each other. Remus wonders if you notice this, even as you’ve taken ahold of it now and started to play with his fingers absentmindedly.

Before he knew it, he was on the way to dreamland by the ticklish yet gentle feeling of you tracing the lines of his palm, coupled by the soft timbre of your voice, low and sweet. 

It is then that Remus realizes that he finds his absolute rest in you. 

A shame that he managed to miss the featherlight kiss you leave on his forehead as you bid him a good night, though. 

aaa thank you for reading! (づ￣ 3￣)づ as always, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated !! <3