#i got to hold it in my hands so tenderly. it was so nicely cold it was such a wonderful sensory experience

[kordbot]

my mechanics labs sucked today to the point where I'm shaking and crying gaah. one like one hug for me one reblog one bullet fired at my lab partner

[kissyrafe]

christmas eve with rafe

cw: smut, fem!reader, rough sex, usage of the words "daddy", unprotected p in v sex (not proofread!!!)

notes: just spreading the holiday cheer! also first post so nervous

"can you please just tell me? pleeaseee..." you whined, shaking at the nicely wrapped presents underneath the tree, dying with anticipation. rafe let out a small chuckle "come on baby, it'll ruin the fun," his large hand pressed against your back, rubbing it in small circular motions. "jus' wait 'til the morning, then we can open our presents together." he spoke softly, enjoying the torture you were in.

"okay... but i better see uggs first thing in the morning." you let out a bratty sigh, placing the present back where it belonged.

you sat on the island's marble countertop in your cotton shorts, licking the cookie batter off of the holiday-themed spatula while rafe continued reading the next step on his phone. "okay so, i think we need to-" he rubbed his flour-covered fingers with his forehead before walking over to where you sat "y/n, stop eating the cookie dough." now standing right in front of you, he took the bowl, placing it down to your side. "no, you're not my father." you let out a small giggle before draping your arms over his shoulders as to not contaminate rafe's clothes with your hands that were covered in cookie dough ingredients. "oh? what about all those times in bed you called me, what was it, daddy?" his lips curled into a smug smirk, squinting his eyes at you teasingly. "shut up." you kissed rafe before he could say anything else, his hands landed on your hips, rubbing them tenderly. "y'know, you've been such a little brat today..." he murmured against your skin "from the presents 'til now," rafe's lips traveled down to your necks, nipping on your skin as he went, "i don't know what i should do with you."

you were currently bent over, your mouth hung agape, grunts and small moans flowing through with every thrust. your skin sunk into the cold marble, weak hands gripping the bowl and whisk as you stirred slowly with the help of rafe, too distracted by what was happening behind you. "c'mon baby, you got this." rafe whispered in your ear, his cock sinking into oh so slowly as he guided your hands. "p-please..." you managed to whimper out of your pathetic mouth, eyes shut. he was being so cruel.

"please what?" he teased you again, trying to draw an answer out of you, knowing damn well what you want. "please rafe, ah!⏤ daddy..." a particularly sharp thrust made your body jolt as you heard rafe give a dry chuckle. "go... faster," was all you could plead in this agonizing pleasure. he let out a small hum before biding to your demand, picking up his pace.

rafe was enjoying all of this. seeing you all needy and frustrated made him pity you in a sense, but he took amusement. after all, you deserve it. maybe it was the holiday feels or whatever, but you seemed to be so impatient today and wouldn't listen. rafe needed to teach you.

sounds of skin slapping and metal tapping mixed with each other as rafe fucked you at a relentless pace. by now, the cookies were forgotten as the only thing either of you cared about was how his cock slid against your tight and warm walls. your hands held onto the sides of the counter as you tried to steady yourself under your haze of pleasure. rafe fisted your hair, holding your head up as drool came from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to the counter. his other hand kneaded your plush vanilla-scented skin. "shit baby, pussy s' good," rafe's honey voice filled your ears, "uh⏤mmm..." was the only way you could respond as you couldn't even form words anymore. he tugged on your hair, pulling it to the side as he made you face him. "what's that? are you seriously fucked stupid by my dick?" rafe said in a smug tone, lovin' this all too much.

"come on pretty girl, use that sweet voice of yours and talk to me." he asked, his hand moving to hold your face, squeezing your cheeks in his calloused palm. "y-yes..." you softly moaned out, biting the inside of your mouth to hold back from making too much noise. "have you learned your lesson yet, huh?" rafe asked, feeling as though you were reaching your high from your moans alone. he just knew you and your body too well. you nodded frantically, begging for him to let you come. "please rafe... i'll be good⏤ promise!" your eyes opened a slight, looking at rafe's pleased expression. "c-cumming, rafe!" you shut your eyes again as your orgasm hit you, limbs weak. his dick guided you both through your euphoria, and rafe's high came soon after. "fuck, baby... you're so⏤" was followed by a stutter of thrusts and grunts from rafe, his hips snapping against your ass while spurts of hot cum filled you up.

you both are breathing heavily, and no words are exchanged after riding out your orgasms. rafe slowly pulled out of you, his cum leaking out with it. opening your eyes again, you see him with droplets of sweat hanging from his neck and forehead. turning around while maintaining eye contact, rafe plants a kiss on your plump lips.

"wanna get back to baking?"

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of you - Ken x fem! Reader - PART 3.5

Edit: multiple parts have been uploaded and can be found on my pinned Masterlist on my profile :)

Check warnings just to make sure everything is safe for you to consume and if so, have fun! I hope you love it :)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / verrry horny Ken / Ken learning different aspects about s#x / being held down k!nk / light dom-sub (roles switch between characters) / spanking k!nk (light, nothing super intense) / P! In V! / fingering / Ken’s starting to get a little cheeky as he becomes more confident in himself / some light somnophilia but the reader loves it / restraint k!nk

Ken woke up before you the next morning, still blissed out from the night before. He loved that you let him sleep next to you for a second night in a row. It was SO much better than sleeping on the sofa like he had been doing before. He made a contented noise when he remembered that today was your day off from class. Surely now that he knew what we was doing much better than before, you’d want to have sex with him all day. He smiled and nuzzled his nose into your hair. He didn’t want to wake you but at the same time he really did want you to be awake, and now. He watched your chest rise and fall for awhile, loving hearing you breathe next to him. Gently, he moved to be on top of you, elbows holding him up, his hips resting on yours. He decided he would slowly wake you up, whispering your name as he left tiny kisses from your ear down to your clavicle. You twitched a little, still asleep, and Ken lovingly moved himself down your body, kissing and touching you softly all the way.

He thought you might have awoken when he licked around one of your nipples, your other breast held tenderly in his hand, as you moaned and small goosebumps formed on your arms. You remained asleep, however, and so after loving on each breast for a bit, he began moving down again, taking the comforter with him since he wanted to see you and not let his field of vision be hidden underneath it.

Moving down to your stomach, leaving wet kisses all over your sternum and abdomen, he then traced one of your hip bones with his tongue, and you arched a tiny bit, but remained asleep still. He removed the comforter completely away from both of you now. He considered that you might feel a little cold but if you did wake up uncomfortable, he would just carry you to a hot shower and then fuck you in there where you’d be warm.

He pulled one of your thighs away from the other, hooking it over his elbow as he began leaving open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh, watching you intently. After kissing and even nipping a little at your other thigh, your core was now open to him and he looked up at your face for any hint of being awake, but you were still passed out.

He wondered if you would be upset with him if he just pleasured you a little, just the tiniest bit until you woke up. He was obsessed with your vulva, and upon seeing it again he began to grow hard. Keeping an eye on your face, he lowered himself over your groin and kissed your clit, then slowly down until he reached your opening.

“Ken,” you breathed, barely awake and assuming you were having a really nice wet dream. That was until Ken dipped his tongue into your opening and you made a kitten noise. Ken liked that noise a LOT and began licking in circles inside your opening until you opened your eyes. You gasped when you saw this was not a dream but that Ken was actually waking you up with oral sex. Ken was going down on you, his blue eyes twinkling and his hands holding you open for him.

“Ahh, Ken,” you let out a shaky breath when he flattened his tongue firmly against you, licking up from your opening up to your clit, when he flicked with his tongue once he got there, causing you to cry out and grab his hair with your hands.

“Ken, please,” a breathy laugh escaped you. “This is lovely but let me wake up more. I’m a little overstimulated at the moment.”

Ken frowned but did as you asked, sitting up on his knees but keeping his hands on your thighs. You offered your hand to him and he took it, holding it up to his face and smiling.

“Good morning, y/n.”

“Morning,” you yawned. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. It read 5 am. “Why are you up so early, Ken?”

“Waiting for you to wake up.”

You laughed again, and he smiled.

“Did you not sleep very much?”

“I did,” he said, running his hands up the sides of your waist, making you giggle. “But then I woke up and really wanted you awake with me.”

“Mmmm,” you hummed, attempting you sit up a little but Ken climbed on top of you again, his hips holding yours down as he legs kept holding you open.

He smiled down at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said right before he lowered himself to where your chests were now touching as he began kissing you, softly at first, but then hungrily moments later. You gently pushed against him and he pulled his face back.

“I do love this, but I really do need a moment to wake up.”

“Okay.” He kept smiling down at you, but not moving his body off of yours.

“I mean I need to get up, Ken.”

Ken frowned and shook his head.

“I’ll fuck you soon,” you promised.

“How soon?”

“After some coffee and toast soon.”

Ken contemplated that and begrudgingly sat up, offering a hand to pull you up with him. You giggled when he left a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Want some breakfast when I make mine?”

Again he shook his head and captured your lips with his. “No food. Just want you.”

“You’ll have me soon.” You placed a chaste kiss on his lips before hopping out of bed and heading into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Ken watched you as if charmed and not able to look away. He loved the way you moved when you walked, wishing your hands were his as you ran your fingers through your hair, yawning again. He discovered his had a newfound part of you that he loved as he stared at the way your butt bounced the tiniest bit as your backside was fully facing him on your way to the bathroom. Hmmm. He would need to explore that further.

You had just finished brushing your teeth when Ken appeared behind you, squeezing both of your butt cheeks in his large hands. You giggled in surprise and watched him in the mirror in front of both of you.

“I like this.” He squeezed a little harder for emphasis.

“You’re so easily encourageable.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, Ken. I like it.”

“Okay, good.” He kissed the hickey he had given you a day prior, feeling ecstatic now that he knew the meaning of it.

Despite your ongoing playful protests to let you finish making breakfast, eventually Ken won and you were being thrown into the bed underneath him as the coffee brewed, Ken attacking your neck with sloppy kisses and bites. You squealed under his weight, your legs dangling over the bed and his feet planted firmly in between yours as he easily nudged you open for him. His hand fisted into your hair to pull your head back as he kissed along your throat and jawline.

“Such a horny Ken,” you laughed, his naked hips bucking into yours, as you had been the only one to dawn a silky robe before heading into the kitchen earlier.

“You have *no* idea,” he almost growled, and that tone of voice shocked you but you also were LOVING it. He kept alternating bucking his hips into yours and then firmly rubbing his cock into your folds while you grabbed at his back and triceps.

“What did you mean last night when you said you would ruin me?”

“Mmmmm,” you breathed, eyes closed, blissfully lost in all the simultaneous sensations. “It means the sex will be so good that anyone else that fucks you will fail by comparison.”

If your eyes had been open you would have seen him smirk, before reaching down to test his tip in your opening. You moaned and your hold on him gripped tighter, expecting him to impale you at any moment.

“You seem veeerryy wet,” he said, his voice raising into a question.

“I am.”

He pulled his hips back just enough to reach his hand down and finger your opening. You shuddered as he easily pushed two fingers inside you.

“You’re *soaked.*”

“Want you,” you moaned. “Need you.”

“You need me?” You couldn’t tell if he was taunting but you were pretty sure you heard a little gasp before he said it, and it was a genuine request for confirmation.

You opened your eyes and pulled him closed to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling up to kiss him. “Need you really badly, Ken.”

He withdraw his fingers and lifted himself off of you just enough to where you began scooting backwards higher up the bed but within seconds your ankle had been grabbed and he pulled you swiftly back underneath him, your legs hanging off the bed again, his arms encasing around you to ensure you didn’t go anywhere.

“Need you *here,” he said, untying your robe and opening it up so he could see your beautiful form underneath him, but didn’t want to move off enough to fully take it off you, so the sleeves remained on. You shivered and felt vulnerable this way, somehow still having your robe on but being fully exposed made you feel more naked than you felt when you actually had zero clothing on.

Ken kissed you deeply, gripping under your thighs tightly as he pulled back and stood up. Having him tower over your like this made you feel so small and that excitement rushed over you in an intense wave.

“Now it’s my turn to ruin *you.*” He thrust into you firmly but slowly, the impact making your back arch and you released an incredibly loud moan. He bottomed out within a few seconds, but those seconds were agonizing as you struggled to adjust to his size while your head became dizzy with pleasure. When you returned to reality you heard him groaning in pace with his thrusts, still slow but beyond intense as he would almost pull completely out before pushing in again.

He pulled you down a little farther so your butt was almost hanging off the bed and your hands floated above your head where you gripped the sheets as he started pumping into your faster. He watched your frame reacting to your every moment, your breasts bouncing in time with his thrusts, and became incredibly turned on by the image of you underneath him, at his mercy, your hands above you. He wasn’t sure exactly why that hand position affected him so strongly, but he loved it enough that he was desperate to hold them there. He wrapped your legs around his waist and you held on, completely lost in everything as he leaned over you to hold your wrists together above your head.

You opened your eyes, glazed and pupils blown, to witness him holding your arms hostage, and you wanted to giggle but couldn’t muster the time in between your panting to do so. So he likes the idea of you being restrained a little. Maybe you’d have to play with him later and see if he liked being restrained, too. You wanted to keep playing with that thought in your mind but it got pushed to the back for now as his breathing became louder and seeing him hovering over you, looking such a fucked up mess sent you over the edge, which also immediately caused his climax as well. He fucked you hard as you both chased your release, and his final thrust into you was so intense you felt like you would fall apart.

He helped you back up onto the bed, you facing each other as he repeated last night, wrapping your leg around his waist as his cock “snuggled” back up into you. Was this how after sex was always going to be? Granted, he still hadn’t gone soft yet, but god forbid he try fucking you again just now, you swore you would pass out. You were almost thankful when you saw him stifling a yawn.

You smiled, caressing his cheek. “Are you tired now?”

He nodded sleepily, eyes drooping a little. “Was it good?” He mumbled.

“It was perfect, Ken.”

He smiled and hummed in happiness, resting his forehead into yours, eyes fully closed now, his body relaxing.

“Sleep, my sweet boy.” You kissed his forehead and continued petting him until he fell asleep moments later. You gently untangled yourself from him, covering him up with the comforter, and watched him rest, looking completely content.

The next few days had you on the brink of mild insanity. You had never been fucked this much in your life, especially never with so much care and obsession. Ken literally fucked you any time you would let him. He discovered he *really* liked penetrating you while you were standing with your body pressed against the shower wall, your moans echoing all around him and him having to hold your frame up while you fell apart around him. It was like being completely surrounded by you and he loved how your body became so limp because of him.

He also became more interested in your butt as each day passed, which entertained you as he would massage it or press against your back whenever you would let him. You did it to him in return one day just to see how he reacted and it turned him on so much you had to hold on for dear life as he pushed you down and fucked you into the sofa. He was becoming a little more confident in himself each day, which was leading to what you knew was less about dominance and more about just being desperate and starving for feeling so connected to you, how much he craved feeling pleasured and seeing how well he pleasured you.

He brought up the spanking he had seen in that movie that somehow felt so long ago, you had forgotten he had asked. You were completely silent for awhile, not really sure how to explain that one.

“So, some people, they have sort of ‘kinks.’ Things that really turn them on.” You smiled, wanting to tell him about how he seemed to love being praised and had discovered he liked the idea of bounding your wrists together to dominate you. “Sometimes kinks can be something that on paper seems painful, and it isn’t that it isn’t painful in real life, but something about it gives them pleasure. Makes sex even better for them.”

Ken contemplated this. “So the woman in the movie, getting hit with the belt felt good to her?”

You nodded, for some reason crossing your harms, having that weird vulnerability come back.

He looked at you. “Do you like that?”

Your face turned so red. “I…haven’t tried it.” You felt desperate to not make anything you said sound like that awful 50 Shades series but you also felt embarrassed and weren’t sure why.

Ken spoke very slowly, hands going into his pockets, apparently also feeling shy. “Would you like to try?”

“I’m….not sure.” Your answer was truthful, and the fact that you were considering it surprised you. It had always been your job to get Ken out of his comfort zone but lately it felt like the roles had been reversed, especially now.

“Uhhh,” Ken laughed, looking down to try and cover his nerves. “Well, I don’t have a belt anyway, so.”

“You can also use your hands.” The words were out before you knew it.

Ken looked up, encouraged by your answer, and you realized this was less about pure curiosity and more that he had been thinking about this for awhile and had probably been trying to figure out how to ask you. So this must have turned him on, a lot, considering how small he was feeling based on his body language. “Yeah?”

Now you looked down, and you hated how this felt like an odd first date where neither party was certain what they were comfortable asking the other to do after dinner. You nodded.

Ken took a step closer, feeling out the energy you were giving him. “Is that something….” You saw him pull a hand out of his pocket then stare at it, then at you. Oh he was definitely imagining it now.

“Maybe.” You said, forcing yourself to look up again. “Maybe,” you stepped towards him too, and ran your fingers along his collar on the shirt you had bought him recently. “You can surprise me sometime, and we can find out together.”

Ken held his composure but you saw the excitement in his eyes, and he nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He looked so boyish and you smiled at him.

You both discovered together when the next day you were on your stomach on the floor, trying to retrieve an earring that had fallen underneath the dresser. You heard Ken inhale sharply behind you and you froze, but only because you expected him to be on top of you any second without warning. When he remained standing, you turned, still on your stomach.

His hands were opening and closing, like wanting to touch something but knowing he wasn’t allowed to. You decided to play with him a little.

“Whatcha doing, Ken?”

He startled. “Oh, I…did you lose something.”

“Just an earring.” You smiled at him then turned back to reaching underneath the dresser. You were wearing a button up shirt and some cute undies but nothing else, and you wiggled your ass a little, trying to maintain your giggle.

Ahh, there he is, you thought, as he was on top of you within seconds, his shirt already gone. He was pulling your panties off while kissing the back of your neck.

“Can you..” He pulled on your shirt, and you sat up enough to pull it over your head, after which Ken immediately leaned into you until you were pressed against the floor again. He sat up and began to squeeze your butt, almost kneading it as his excitement grew. You moaned and relaxed into it. Maybe you needed to start having Ken give you massages, you mused, right as your thoughts were cut off by a sharp SMACK.

You jolted and looked back at Ken, who was frozen, your left cheek stinging a little still. He looked terrified, like this desire had gotten the better of him and you hated him and you would make him leave and -

“Ken,” you smiled back at him, then looked at his hand. You felt playful and wanted to see where this would go. “Do it again.”

His eyebrows raised. “You’re…sure?”

“MMhmmmm.” Your voice was almost a purr and you knew Ken loved when you did that. He spanked you again, a little harder, and you moaned but did enjoy the sensation. He waited a second and when you didn’t make him stop, he struck again, harder. You intentionally encouraged him on with the noises you made, and you could practically feel how horny he was even though you weren’t looking at him.

“That’s *so* good, Ken.” He struck again and you giggled, then realized you were suddenly in desperate need to feel him inside you. Each strike made you tense up and you became almost overcome with the need to squeeze around him. “Ken? My love, my incredible boy. I need something.”

“Yeah?” You heard the excitement in his voice as he stopped to hear what you were going to tell him.

“I need you inside me. Feel so tight and need to feel you.”

He was on it in a second, on his stomach as well, raising you up so your chest remained on the floor but your knees held your hips up in the air, and he sucked your clit harshly, causing your knees to buckle a little. He raised himself onto his forearms to hold your hips steady and he devoured you for awhile, always loving your wetness against his mouth as his tongue fucked you. Once he felt you were ready, he pressed his fingers inside of you, allowed your hips to relax on the ground again as he used his other hand to knead your ass. He was circling his fingers inside you and you reveled in feeling *everything* when his hand came down onto your cheek again, sharp and fast.

You cried out, your entire being shuddering at how amazing the sting felt while your muscle gripped his fingers harder than you ever had before. “Ohhh god, oh god, oh god.” You felt little spasms ignite all throughout your groin.

“Is it okay?” Ken asked, concerned.

“It is incredible.” You had never heard yourself growl but your voice sounded pretty near to it. “More, please, more, Ken.”

He continued for awhile, your hips bucking into his fingers as your cheeks became redder. “Ken,” you whined, “need your cock, please. Gonna cum soon.”

“No.” He sped up his fingers a little.

“I…need..”

“You’ll get it when I give it to you.”

Holy fucking…you lost it then, seeing stars, spasming hard and wailing as your hands reached for anything to grip on the bare carpet. Your breathing calming down, you heard Ken unzip his jeans behind you, then open your legs wide, lowering his hips to meet yours as his cock slid all the way into you. You sobbed as his mouth met your ear. “*Now* you get my cock.”

His newfound enjoyment in dominance was incredible but as he pumped himself into you, you realized your sweet, innocent, bashful Ken was becoming a little lost in all the excitement the last couple days, and you grinned to yourself as you made mental notes on exactly how you would turn that back onto him as soon as possible.

For now, you reveled in just letting him take you, his moans right next to your ear absolutely music and when he spanked one of your buttocks hard again you tensed and cried out, causing Ken to gasp loudly when you squeezed around him impossibly tighter. Holy dear fuck. He wanted more of that but needed to make sure you were okay first.

“Was that okay?” He asked between thrusts.

“Mmmhmm.” You were in pure ecstasy.

“Can I do it again?”

“Yes, sweet Ken.” Ken cried out when his next strike was harder and you pussy reacted accordingly.

He wondered how long he could hold out at how deliciously your muscle clenched around his as he began spanking you in time with his thrusts, your butt cheek stinging more than before, and you had the pornographic thought of what if you actually would be sore and it would hurt to sit the rest of the day?

Right when you felt like you might have to ask him to calm down a little, almost unable to breathe between his rough thrusts and strikes, he stopped and pulled out. You were dizzy when he turned you around to face him and pulled you on top of him as his feet were planted on the floor, knees bent, and he sat you on top of him. You sobbed as you sank down onto his cock again, unable to muster the strength to push off with your legs.

Ken knew, and he loved it, he loved watching how you became less and less coherent every time he found a new way to fuck you, and he impaled you on his cock effortlessly as you screamed, your nails raking into his shoulders and chest, and he got lost in how good it felt to be marked by you in this way. His climax nearing, he sat up a little straighter and hugged you close to him, tears stinging your eyes as he kissed them away right before he came, and the hardest he ever had. You spasmed in time with him, Ken shouting your name over and over until you were both spent. It took you both awhile to calm down, your breathing rapid and both of your bodies trembling together.

Once Ken regained his strength, much faster than you, he gently picked you up and carried you to the bed. He snuggled you into him and had a deep desire to take care of you. He knew that was the most intense sex you had experienced together, and he became concerned that maybe he had gone a little too far in his excitement. Maybe he actually got so caught up in his want and how hazy the world was from the moment he entered you that he lost control and overdid it. You let out little moans into his neck while he tenderly held you, ran his fingers through your hair and down your back, giving you the softest of kisses on the top of your head.

“Ken?” You mustered up the energy to softly speak.

“Y/n,” he whispered back, hand caressing your cheek. He was in awe of you. He was also still lost in the anxiety that he might have -

“That was amazing.” You opened your eyes and looked up at him.

He exhaled a little. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, and turned your head to kiss his hand on your face. “It was insane,” you let out a barely audible laugh. Ken smiled then, wanting to hug you tighter but forcing himself to remain gentle.

“You’re staring to become a little *too* dominant,” you teased, pushing his hair out of his face and loving how the sweat he had worked up glistened on his chiseled body.

“Is that bad?” He browned furrowed. God, if you weren’t spent you would literally take him here and now, and remind he what it felt like to be submissive to you, but on an entirely different level than before.

“Not at all, but…” you trailed off for a second, getting lost in those blues eyes, those damn eyes that belonged to this fucking hunk of a man but made your heart melt every time you saw how sensitive he really was, and about how much he truly worshipped you. “Let’s just say I have some things in mind that I’ll be trying on you *very, VERY* soon.”

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Tag list: @microwgreen @skeletonea @sunpuffsstuff @maxcsworld @michaelslover

[justlemmeadoreyou]

in sickness and in health

Summary: Harry takes care of y/n while she's sick.

Words: 1,000+

Warnings: Mostly fluff!

Y/N groaned as she slowly blinked her eyes open, her head pounding and her throat feeling raw and scratchy. She reached for the box of tissues on her nightstand, wincing at the movement. As she blew her nose, the bedroom door creaked open.

"Morning, love," came Harry's soft voice. He padded in, a tray laden with toast, orange juice, and a steaming mug of tea balanced carefully in his hands. "Brought you some breakfast."

"Harry..." Y/N croaked out, her voice little more than a whisper. "You didn't have to do that."

He shook his head, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "Of course I did. You're sick as a dog, babe." Harry perched on the edge of the bed, his hand coming up to brush her sweat-damp hair back from her forehead. "Looks like that nasty flu is really doing a number on you."

Y/N managed a weak smile, nuzzling into his touch. "I feel horrible."

"I know, sweetheart." Harry's thumb stroked her flushed cheek tenderly. "But I'm going to take care of you, okay? We'll get you feeling better in no time."

Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to her clammy forehead before reaching for the mug of tea. "Here, drink some of this. The honey should help soothe your throat."

Y/N took a careful sip, the warm liquid coating her raw throat. She sighed in relief. "That's nice. Thank you, Haz."

"Of course, my love." Harry picked up a piece of dry toast from the tray. "Think you can manage a few bites? You need to keep your strength up."

Obediently, Y/N nibbled on the toast as Harry fussed over plumping up her pillows and layering an extra blanket over her shivering form. He clucked his tongue sympathetically at her pale, clammy appearance.

"I've got some cold medicine for you to take too. That should help with the aches and chills."

True to his word, Harry retrieved a dose of flu medication, holding it out along with a glass of cool water. Y/N swallowed it down gratefully.

"Such a good girl," Harry praised, stroking her hair again. "Now, I want you to try and get some more rest, okay? I'll be just down the hall if you need anything at all."

Y/N caught his hand as he made to stand. "Wait... Could you stay with me for a bit?"

Harry's eyes softened. "Of course, darling. Budge over." 

He slid under the covers, gathering Y/N's shivering form into his arms. She burrowed against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and letting it soothe her frazzled senses.

Harry pressed a kiss to her hair, rubbing her back soothingly. "Just relax and rest up, okay? I'm right here."

Y/N nodded, allowing her eyes to drift shut. She felt so safe and cared for wrapped in Harry's embrace. Despite feeling utterly miserable from her illness, having him there to look after her made it so much better.

Several hours later, she awoke feeling marginally less feverish - though her head was still pounding. Harry stirred beside her, ever attentive.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N sniffled pitifully. "A little better, I think. But my head is killing me."

"Hang on, let me get you a cool cloth for your forehead." In a flash, Harry was out of bed and heading for the en-suite bathroom.

He returned with a damp washcloth, gently draping it over Y/N's feverish brow. She sighed in relief at the delicious coolness against her pounding head.

"Thank you, baby. That feels heavenly."

Harry smiled, tenderly brushing her hair back. "I love taking care of my best girl. Are you hungry at all? I could whip up some chicken soup."

At the thought of food, Y/N's stomach roiled queasily. "Maybe just some more tea and dry toast for now?"

"You got it." Harry leaned in, dropping a featherlight kiss on her chapped lips. "I'll be right back with your tea, sweet thing."

True to his word, Harry returned a few minutes later with a fresh mug of piping hot tea and a couple pieces of dry buttered toast. He helped Y/N sit up against the mountain of pillows before passing her the mug.

"Careful, it's hot," he cautioned unnecessarily.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. "Yes, Dad."

Harry chuckled, taking a seat next to her on the bed and offering her a piece of toast. As she picked at the bread, he pulled her feet into his lap, gently massaging the soles.

"Mmm," Y/N hummed in appreciation. "You're too good to me."

"Nonsense. I'm just being a good boyfriend and taking care of my girl when she needs me." Harry winked playfully. "Afterall, I'll need you to return the favor when I inevitably catch this flu from you."

Y/N laughed weakly. "Deal."

For the rest of the day, Harry fussed over Y/N - keeping her hydrated, fetching her books and magazines to read, and just sitting by her side with his arms wrapped securely around her. She couldn't have asked for a better nurse.

As evening fell, Harry brought Y/N a fresh mug of hot tea, laced with honey and lemon. "Here, drink up. Should help that scratchy throat of yours."

"You're too good to me," Y/N said again, cradling the mug gratefully.

Harry shook his head seriously. "Never. You deserve the world, my love." He leaned in, kissing her forehead tenderly. "I'm just trying to give it to you."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~��~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[octuscle]

Bowling Night

"Bowling? Really?" Francis was fuming with rage. His friend was finally back home after two weeks away on business. He had dressed up. He had been looking forward to a romantic evening. And now his friend was taking him to a shabby bowling center full of fat rednecks. "Darling, please! I had five-course dinners every night for two weeks, had to make small talk in a suit every night. I was looking forward to seeing you so much. But I want to do something really simple tonight. I don't know how I came across bowling myself, but I passed this place on my way from the airport. And somehow I really felt like it now." Konstantin took his friend tenderly in his arms and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Francis tapped his pink sneakers on the floor. Konstantin knew his friend only too well. He knew he couldn't stay angry for long. He gently pulled Francis out of the parking lot and towards the bowling center. Maybe it was going to be a nice and relaxed evening after all. He had always loved going bowling as a child. He had loved celebrating his childhood birthday at the bowling alley. But it must have been…. "YUCK!" Francis cried out. "I'm not wearing those shoes in my life. They're disgusting. What brand is that anyway?" The young man at the counter rolled his eyes. Konstantin tried to calm everything down. Francis struggled to calm down. Konstantin had promised him a glass of sparkling wine. He could usually always calm Francis down with that. And it seemed to be working now too. Konstantin took Francis in his arms and they walked to their train together. Francis continued to grumble quietly to himself. "And when is my champagne coming now?" he asked. "Yo, two brewskis for two browskis?" Francis looked at the young man like an insect to be squashed

"I've already got a beer, you can have that. I'll get a second one for you, buddy." The young man pressed an ice-cold bottle into Francis' hand. He smelled of sweat and Axe. Francis almost had to hold his nose. But then he looked the waiter in the eye. Beautiful blue eyes. Damn, what a face. Features as if chiseled from granite. And even though he didn't know what was coming over him, he gave the waiter a fist bump and said, "Thanks buddy, you're such a lifesaver!" And to Konstantin he said "Come on then, let's throw some bowling balls." Shit, for supposedly still bowling, he was good. Damn good, Konstantin thought to himself. And how did Francis know the waitress? The two of them seemed so familiar, as if they'd known each other since kindergarten? A burp from Francis snapped Konstantin out of his thoughts. "Bro, like seriously? Wake up, it's totally your go!" Konstantin's eyes were almost watering from the stench of nachos, beer and cigarettes that Francis had belched out. They didn't have any nachos. And Francis didn't smoke. "Yo, Chuck! We're all thirsting for another round of brewskis, and hey, you got any cancer sticks on deck?" Francis called out to the waiter. The legs of his sweatpants were tucked into white socks that were no longer quite clean. And what had he done to his hair? Konstantin threw his ball. Strike! He turned around. And saw Francis openly grabbing the crotch of the waiter, who had just returned with beer and cigarettes, and sticking his tongue down his throat. Francis registered Konstantin's horrified look with a grin. "Yo fam, Chuck is gonna roll up later on. I'm thinking a triple threat situation would be straight fire to cap off this lit night, amirite?" Francis stood up, took Konstantin's head and pulled him towards him. And then he gave Konstantin a deep, long French kiss. Konstantin felt dizzy. Francis stank. No, he smelled male. Very masculine. And he tasted masculine. And he felt masculine. Konstantin wanted to run Francis through his curls. But there were no more curls. There was only cropped hair. Francis pressed his crotch against Konstantin's. Both their cocks were hard as steel. "We gonna have that lit threesome later, but right now, I need you, like ASAP, like yesterday! Hurry up, babe!" Francis whispered in Konstantin's ear. And pulled him towards the toilet.

Always when Stan rolled back from a away gig, Frank went total cray-cray like a hyped-up rabbit. Those two went at it like wild animals in the john. Chuck totally saw that coming, no more bowling for them today, duh. When Frank and Stan finally strolled back, Chuck was there waiting with three brewskis like a boss. "Yo, chill out outside while I dim the lights. Hope you've got some juice left for me!" Stan and Frank just grinned and nodded. They sauntered out to the lot, Stan sparking up a ciggie. The night was just getting started, y'all! 🍻💥✨

[jeding-png]

Phew... yes, now I can definitely talk about chapter 158. Probably.

Everyone who did not take advantage of the promotion "Buy a new chapter of VADD and get anxiety, tears, anger, despair, and a sleepless night as a gift!" it's time :D

In the previous chapter, we are shown a conversation between the Duke and Derrick ahead of time.

Thanks, we were satisfied with the slap of the young duke, but now the cold colors of the room disappear, and we are immersed again in the events of the coming of age ceremony....

And Penelope's poisoning happened!

Now the author frees us from the brainwashing... that is, from the unreliable narrator, to see the events from the other characters' point of view!

Have you ever heard the fans screaming during a football match? Everyone shouted in this chapter about the same way.

Doctors think they are almost never needed at events, except to give headache pills. That's why Callisto can't figure out where these strange creatures have gone.

No, it's not superman, not a bird, not an angel, not a demon, and not even Jack Frost. This Winter pleases me with his emotions.

In addition to unobtrusively promoting his manicurist, the Marquis says he has an antidote. He's paranoid, remember?

Winter declares that since he's wearing a white coat, he can be mistaken for a doctor and... LET HIM GIVE PENELOPE THE ANTIDOTE, GUYS!

Don't forget, Reynold Eckhart won't let others take his place of honor as a loudmouth! Therefore, he intervenes when everyone has doubts about the effectiveness of the vial in Verdandi's hand.

Even remembering the previous chapters, where Reynold distrusts Winter and looks menacingly in his direction every time, but he wants to help Penelope with all his might. Therefore, he believes in the marquis's power to help save his sister.

So desperate.

And my shipper heart was broken because they weren't shown together.... that's not relevant to the post. Anyway—

Everyone is on their nerves. The characters, the readers... except Penelope and Derrick.

I need the second frame detailed. But in the end, Callisto understands that if nothing is done at all, then Penelope can really die. Of course, under the pressure of all the hesitation, he allows Winter to use the antidote. Nicely warning him. Very gentle.

It was like....

"Okay, weird marquis, I'll let you see the love of my life, the most beautiful and strangest woman in the world, the future crown princess, my future wife and the mother of my future children... but if you do her worse, then know that first I will kill you, and then myself, so that in the next world you will not flirt with her. Got it?"

Ahem... this is not a direct quote—

But really, look at this shift in Callisto's gaze, which resembles a wild beast, to genuine hesitation and concern as he looks at Penelope.

His bloody gloves gently hold the face of Penelope, exhausted from the poison, whose hair seems to be losing its vital color. And the red marks on her pale face are as clearly visible as on the crown prince's white gloves.

But really, the whole chapter I just melted from the way he hugged her tenderly, trying to protect her from everyone in the world. His despair, his understanding of powerlessness.

Okay, Calliope's angst scene limit has been reached. It's time to get back to Zombie Derrick and the angry Duke!

Derrick reacts to the Duke's words as I do to my chemistry teacher. "I don't understand anything and in general what you want from me." Yes, like this.

But the following measures were taken:

Becky was imprisoned.

Locked Ivonne in the room because it was her maid.

Derrick was forbidden to question the maid.

So the duke authoritatively shut his eldest son's mouth. But I found it quite interesting to observe Derrick's thoughts and behavior.

Get your tissues ready, because in the next chapter we will see Callisto and Penelope again, and then the investigation itself!

And now I need a hug.

Added: At the end of the chapter, there was a message about merch. This chapter seems to have been a great anti-advertisement company for the merch with Derrick.

[lunajay33]

Help🍂

Request by @ravenrose18

Summary: Reader tries to have a normal life away from hunting but when her boyfriend becomes abusive and demonic she finds herself needing Deans help, maybe rekindling old love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

•Masterlist•

“Hey y/n what’re you doing? Why’re you packing?” Dean asked from behind me in the motel room just coming back with Sam from getting lunch

“I have to go” I sighed zipping up my bag

“Go where we can help” Sam stated

“No I have to leave……I can’t do this anymore, the hunting it’s…..it’s draining me I’ve lost my will to do anything” finally turning to them

“Maybe we can just take a break for a while just…don’t go” deans expression broke my heart, we always had an on and off situation going on

“I don’t want to, I love you both it pains me to go I just need some time” I said standing in the open doorway now as Dean approached holding my face in the palms of his hands so tenderly

“Please……” I’ve never seen Dean so vulnerable

“I’ll call all the time I just need to find my hope again”

It’s been 4 months now and trying to get over Dean was so hard, not being on the road with the guys all the time was hard to forget, now I live in a little apartment with what money I still had left over and had a boyfriend, he was nice, charming at first and it reminded me of Dean so I said yes to dating him to try and be normal maybe distract myself

But soon he turned cold, like everything I did was wrong and never good enough, always criticizing me and putting me down, it wasn’t until today that he truly put the fear of god into me

“Y/n where the hell are you!” He screamed through the apartment as I hid in the closet, he came home livid and full of hate

I pulled out my phone dialing deans number praying he’d be working on a case near by, as the phone rang I heard his steps get nearer

“Hey sweetchecks how’s things” Dean answered

“Dean please I need your help, he’s gonna get me” I whispered hearing the waver in my voice as the bedroom door swung open

“Y/n what’s going on where are you” his voice now panicked

“I’m home, my boyfriend he’s gonna kill me”

“I’m on my way” the closet swung open shocking me as I dropped the phone screaming in terror

“Found you, time to have some fun”

Deans POV

Zooming down the highway just a town over from where she lived, my veins pumping with fear and adrenaline, how could this happen, why didn’t she tell me about this before

“We’ll get her Dean” Sam tried consoling me from the passenger seat

“I’ll kill him”

Pulling up to the apartment complex we got our weapons and ran to her place, smashing down the door seeing her in the living room floor bloodied and bruised

“Sam and Dean we’ve been looking for you” I turn seeing the bastard his eyes pitch black, a demon

“What do you want” Sam stated

“Oh we want you, Lilith is just so eager for you both, was having a hard time but when I found this one it was the perfect opportunity”

“I’ll kill you” I groaned approaching him with my knife about to stab before he escaped out this guys mouth like a coward, Sam helped the guy as I went straight to the girl I love

“Y/n! Can you hear me” I pull her up into my lap brushing her hair back

“Dean you came…….it hurts Dean” she weaved before she passed out in my arms

Normal pov

Waking up to a blinding light, adjusting I notice Dean is asleep in the chair right next to my bed his head resting on my hand, as Sam was slouched on the chair across the room

“Dean” he groaned before he shot up frantic to check on me

“Angel oh god how’re you feeling, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner”

“You saved me Dean, you always do……I missed you a lot” his expression softened as he held my hand

“Missed you too Angel, please come back with us I hate not knowing if you’re safe”

“Okay but only if I get to pick where we eat sometimes, I can’t live off burgers and beer all the time”

“Fine I’ll do whatever you want…..I love you”

“I love you too Dean”

[konigsblog]

for angst, him comforting you with mental health issues (depression, anxiety, eating, bad coping skills, maybe he notices signs of mania?) things like that could be triggering but sometimes it’s just nice to feel like theres someone there for you, even if it’s not real :(

tw; mentions of eating disorders (bulimia)

whenever he came back from your deployment, you always looked different. your weight fluctuating, you jaw swollen and your eyebags growing. some days he came back and you had red marks and scars on your knuckles, your teeth grazing against your skin causing cuts to form.

you always smiled, even if you were really struggling, and he always grew worried. he didn't want tto find you leaning over the toilet, your stomach swollen with food, ruptured and deceased. he hates the way your tears would well up with tears when you brushes through your hair - chunks of hair falling from your scalp, losing your sex drive due to insecurities and your struggles.

whenever you slept, he'd hold you hand. noticing your purple and blue nails, freezing cold palms. you were so cold that he worried if you'd died, feeling like a corpse in his arms. gazing down at the redness on your knuckles, sighing deeply before kissing your forehead, removing the body scale in the bathroom and throwing away the food scales that rested in the cupboard draws.

simon despised the way you'd play around with your food, cutting them into small pieces and attempting to distract him with questions about his day or work. how was your day? what did you do on your missions this time? how's johnny? eventually, he couldn't take the fear forming in his gut everytime he looked at you, dropping his utensils onto the table and grabbing your hand tenderly. “sweetheart, speak to me, please.”

you were hesitant, knowing how much you hated your body, you didn't want to get help. the compliments you got from your friends whenever you lost a couple kilos encouraged you further, taking sips of water and repressing your hunger. the muscle inside you wore away, nutrients lacked, standing up too fast and fainting.

he made sure not to force you into eating disorder recovery, but acknowledging your problems and working on helping your slowly. he placed more food on your plate everyday, talked your through your meals and held you for however long you needed.

you both stood naked infront of the mirror, sat on his lap as he pointed out everything he loved about you (spoiler alert, it was everything) wiping your tears away while cradling you in his arms. “my love, i love you, baby.. you're so gorgeous, i don't understand how you can't see that.”

“you'll always be my sweet girl, you're so perfect - every inch of you, regardless of body weight, measurements and height, you're stunning to me, i can't imagine you any other way apart from with me, i need you, let me help you.”

[chirp-a-chirp]

Ikepri: Chibi Pet Shop

Emma: One Leon please! *Holds Leon lion chibi tenderly in her arms*

Sales Clerk: Ah, a classic choice. Can I interest you in other chibi selections?

Emma: Oh no, I love my Leon, he’s—wait, what’s that? *Ears perk at nearby loud barking*

Sales Clerk: Hmm, the dogs are fighting again. *The Rio beagle and Silvio Dalmatian chibis circle each other, growling*

Emma: Shouldn’t you stop them?

Sales Clerk: Oh, they LOVE each other! *Silvio has Rio in a headlock, Rio whimpering and yelling “OW ARF OW!”*

Sales Clerk: You know, Silvio comes with a bejeweled collar. Included with purchase.

Emma: No thanks. One Leon please. *Lion Leon nuzzles Emma’s hand affectionately*

Sales Clerk: You like affectionate pets? Jin the Eagle would be wonderful!

*A green cloth materializes out of nowhere from Leon. He covers Emma’s chest protectively while shaking his head*

Emma: Aw, thanks Leon! I was getting kinda cold here!

Sales Clerk: Man, where does that lion keeping finding those green flags?

Emma: Anyways…Eagles are very majestic and awesome but they’re not my thing. Plus, you know, talons aren’t exactly cuddly.

Sales Clerk: You like cuddly? How about cats?

Emma: You mean like the LION here in my arms?

Sales Clerk: *Ignores Emma’s comment* Now where’s that sweet little Yves kitty I can show you….Here kitty, kitty, kitty…

*Sales Clerk walks around the store and nearly falls into a gapping hole in the ground. A cat hisses from the bottom of the pit, tail bristling. Licht the wolf is also in the pit, silently watching Yves*

Sales Clerk: CLAVIS! *A pair of golden eyes glow from atop a cabinet. The purple leopard smiles and flees, laughing*

Sales Clerk: Umm, do you like troublemakers? That leopard comes with a set of nets and shovels too, free of charge.

*Leon Lion jumps out of Emma’s arms and ties a number of green flags end to end into a makeshift rope. Yves kitty and Licht wolf climb up and walk away. Emma crouches down to pick the Lion back up, ruffling his mane*

Emma: I’m sure that leopard’s GREAT and all but—

Sales Clerk: TIGERS. We got premier tigers. Cream of the crop. VERY popular. Look at this white tiger! *Points to a majestic Chevalier tiger chibi, elegantly sitting in a chair reading*

Sales Clerk: And this tiger has EXTENSIVE documentation on his background and where he came from. Very detailed and thorough.

Emma: Yeah, I meant to ask about documentation. See, Leon only has a single page with the word “ROAR” on it. Do you have ANYTHING else regarding his background? Lore?

Sales Clerk: He’s a Lion.

Emma: How about what he likes?

Sales Clerk: Of course! *Hands Emma a single paper with “MEAT” on it*

Emma: Seriously?

*A black Tiger chibi with an eye patch slinks next to Emma. He puts something in Emma’s hand, grinning*

Sales Clerk: Oh, Gil LIKES you!

Emma: Ummm, this tiger just handed me a piece of paper with my address, last three jobs, and a list of all my allergies and food preferences. Has he been following me?!

Sales Clerk: He REALLY likes you!

Emma: Good for him! But I want—

Sales Clerk: Foxes? Snakes? How about a nice stag?

Emma: I don’t get it. Leon’s your poster boy. He’s LITERATELY on a poster on your front door. Why are you trying to get me to prefer other chibis?

Sales Clerk: *Blinks*

Sales Clerk: So, can I interest you in Gil—

Emma: NO! No eyepatches, no puppy butlers, no lone wolves, no tricks or traps! No blushy tsunderes, no salty dogs, no cold beasts!

Emma: ONE. LEON. PLEASE.

Sales Clerk: OK FINE.

Emma: THANK YOU.

*Sales clerk rings up purchase*

Sales Clerk: Oh, here’s your complementary bag of green flags. Leon goes through a lot of them.

[bittersigns]

two thousand words of ian making his husband feel good and loved. no plot found here, just self-indulgent p0rn.

It's to the quietness around the bedroom that Ian slowly awakes to.

He feels himself being forcefully pulled away from sweet unconsciousness, and, refusing to pry open his eyes just yet, he lets his limbs roll over groggily to the side. Stretching his arms out a bit, Ian frowns as he nuzzles his face on his pillowcase because the mattress is cold and the spot beside him is empty.

Fighting off the sleepy haze from his brain is an arduous task, but he manages it, although begrudgingly so. He is facing the wall when his eyes blink open, and just like he thought, there is not a warm, sturdy body next to him, being embraced by his arms. 

Instead, there is a soft, Mickey-scented pillow, and Ian can't help but to grumble discontentedly. He inhales his husband's deep, slightly sweet cologne as his eyes shut for a second. It's not physically him, but his smell is enough for now, and Ian is drifting off before he can even think twice about it. 

Fuck it, it's sunday anyway.

Eventually, the bane of his existence—the fucking alarm in his phone—has him getting his ass up, and he scowls at the reminder that flashes on his screen and turns it off. Fucking “meds!!!!”. As if he needs a fucking reminder.

In the bathroom, he takes a piss and brushes his teeth, takes a brief moment to look in the mirror, rubbing a hand across the stubble growing along his jaw and deciding that he can deal with that later. Probably get Mickey to shave it off for him again, if he's in a good mood today, or maybe let it grow into a beard. He's been thinking about doing it someday.

Shaking his head, he downs his meds and checks the watch on his wrist. 8:08AM, it reads, like it always does because he fucking nails routine, and his own mood only seems to only get better. Sure, it would be even better if he had woken up cuddling with his husband. A good morning bj, perhaps. Get nice and handsy while they are still sleepy and stuff.

But, somehow, finding him in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of boxers and a shirt and fumbling with their brand new coffee maker has Ian's good mood skyrocket to perfection, and he's smiling as he creeps behind him, his hands firm as they slide down to hold Mickey by his hips.

“You're up early,” he says in lieu of a greeting, and the quality of his voice is slightly raspy from sleeping, deeper than it normally is.

Mickey merely rolls his eyes, and Ian knows he is smiling too, feels it as he leans to tenderly kiss the skin of his nape. His eyes look down over Mickey's shoulder to watch him pour coffee into their mugs, the steam curling around them, the aroma of coffee rich and familiar.

“Hard to do shit with you hangin’ onto me, man,” Mickey huffs, pretending to be oh-so-bothered by it.

He isn't. 

Ian hums in response, fingers digging into skin, pressing his weight into Mickey's back until he has him trapped against the countertop. 

“Almost made me drop my coffee, dumbass, lemme—” and Mickey is cut short when Ian's lips find his earlobe, body tensing up at the sensation of a warm, wet tongue licking around the shell of his ear. “Ian—”

“I know you're angry because I got home late yesterday,” Ian declares and rests his forehead where Mickey's neck meets his shoulder. “I wanna make it up to you,” he continues, satisfied as he feels Mickey's body giving in, opening up to his touches. “Gonna make it up real good to you, I promise.”

Despite what his body is screaming for, Mickey loves to be a little shit, so he says, “Fuckass Philip doesn't need you today?” and tries to get away from his hold.

Lip ringed yesterday asking for help—turns out that renovating a fucking house isn't a task meant for one person, especially if said person has 1) a toddler and 2) a goddamn newborn to take care of—and Ian, sweet, thoughtful Ian just couldn't turn his brother down for once and make him shove a hammer up his shitter (obviously, in Mickey's kind words).

So, a perfect saturday meant for fucking like rabbits was ruined again. Last week they had to babysit Franny. Fucking Gallahers man, Mickey had complained, can't live without tormenting everything and everyone.

And Ian wants to make it up to him because he misses him—a man can't live off of quickies and rushed handjobs and half-assed head forever. He misses that drawn out intimacy, the foreplay, that sweet reward he feels when he tears his husband apart just to pull him back together again with the white-hot pleasure he provides him. 

Knows Mickey misses it just as much, judging by the way goosebumps rise in his skin when he trails small, indulgent kisses all over his neck, paying a little bit more attention to the small, practically healed hickeys that are normally obscured by the collar of his shirts.

Laying his tongue flat against a faint mark there, the one that is barely noticeable, all tiny and yellowish and forgotten about, Ian sucks at the skin and then sinks his teeth into it just because he can. Just because the sound that makes its way past Mickey's lips is a low, throaty thing that shows him—proves to him that he's right. Mickey can act all high and mighty, so fucking bratty and stubborn, but he can't deny what his body wants. What his body craves.

And when Ian hears him set his mug on the countertop with a shaky exhale of breath, he knows he's won.

“Gonna let me make you feel good?” he asks, and the answer is yes, yes, yes, he knows.

Because Mickey is now smirking as he pushes himself backwards, effectively creating a sweet type of friction between his ass and the tented front of Ian's sweats, and it colors his voice as he answers, “Fuck yeah.”

It's an easy thing to do, getting Mickey out of his boxers, but Ian feels like taking it slow today—lets his hands explore a bit more, tracing the expanse of pale skin under the fabric of Mickey's shirt. He hears a soft sigh when his fingers brush over a small, pink nipple, his touch light as a feather, and a satisfied hum when he takes the nub between his thumb and index finger and pulls.

With a body so pliant like Mickey's, so giving, Ian just can't help but to marvel every single piece of him. Wrestling-as-foreplay is fun and stimulating and so them, but this slower, I-have-to-fucking-worship-you intimacy is always going to be in the podium for him. How wouldn't it, when Mickey groans so beautifully as he slips his boxers down his legs, making it pool at his ankles, and grabs two handfuls of ass in his big hands?

“C'mon,” it's all Ian makes out of his husband's words. “Ian,” he continues, urging, impatient.

Ian thinks about shutting him up, but deems it unnecessary—all he needs to do is get on his knees, spread Mickey's fat cheeks with purpose, holding him open with both thumbs to get a good look of that tight furl of muscle, and dart out his tongue to lick at him.

Mickey's knee jerks, knocking accidentally on a drawer handle, and a hiss slips past his spit-coated lips. “Mmm, God, again,” he's already pleading, bent over the countertop, trying to get Ian to stop with his kitten licks around his hole and actually get on with it.

Just so goddamn impatient, always. Ian loves him.

“Open your legs a bit, baby,” he instructs, petting his ass. “Yeah, that's it, c'mon,” and just as Mickey obliges, Ian dives in, lapping sloppily all over him.

He hums at the taste of him, clean and shaved and fuckin’ perfect, unhinges his jaw to prod around his hole with the tip of his tongue, applying just enough pressure to feel Mickey's legs wobbling. It's addictive, the way his husband sighs, immersed in his bliss as he shoves his ass shamelessly in Ian's face, fingers gripping tightly at the corners of the countertop.

It really is such a shame that Mickey took so long to get used to this. It took him someone to do it right. Someone that eats him out good until he's panting, desperate at the sensation of a pink, experienced tongue pushing past the tight ring of muscle of his hole, getting him nice and wet and wanting.

“Yeah,” comes a breathy drawl from above just as Ian begins to circle Mickey's hole with his thumb. 

He finds himself grinning, sinking his finger slowly inside, feeling the body he manipulates so well get accustomed to the intrusion. 

A thumb is nothing compared to the grand scheme of things, really, but Ian pushes it dry—spit can only lubricate so much before it dries up—and Mickey practically sings at the sting he feels, “Fuuuck.”

“You love this,” Ian rasps out with certainty.

Mickey nods, not ashamed in the slightest. “Damn right I do,” he says, looking over his shoulder, down so their eyes could meet, and smiles that nasty, lost-in-pleasure smile.

Fuck.

This time Ian spits directly over his rim, pushing his finger deeper inside. Mickey brings a hand to grab one of his ass cheeks, presenting more of him to Ian's hungry gaze, and gasps as another thumb starts to sink in. It's a stretch, a more painful one, but spikes of pleasure are running wild in his veins, his sharp eyebrows pinching together, mouth going slack.

It's filthy—Ian licking over both thumbs where they hold Mickey's hole open. It's even filthier because Mickey loves this shit. That fine line between pain and pleasure that leaves him deliciously on edge, heat pooling in his guts, his cock twitching as it stands proudly and untouched. 

Ian laps at his rim again and again like he's a starving man, has Mickey trembling and whining because it's so good, so messy, and his stubble offers a new type of sensation as it scratches the sensitive skin of his perineum when he goes down to suck it too. 

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey curses, eyes slipping shut. His tip is drooling, pre sticking to his fingers when he reaches down to tug at his cock, mind malfunctioning a little because he doesn't know if he wants to push his ass back and get Ian's tongue deeper inside his hole or thrust into his fist. “So good, fuck, 'm fuckin’ close.”

Humming, Ian pulls back, and a string of crystalline saliva connects his chin to Mickey's rim. “'m gonna make you come on my tongue, baby? You want that?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah? With your sloppy hole stretched on my fingers?” Ian punctuates his question by pulling both thumbs apart just so, stretching him open. 

Knows it stings sweetly because Mickey cries out, “Yes, fuck, get your fuckin’ mouth back on me n’ make me come.”

And Ian doesn't need to be told twice.

Using just his thumbs and his tongue, he makes Mickey's legs tremble—when he spits in his palm and wraps his hand around Mickey's aching, weeping cock, he gets him shivery and moaning, and it blends with the slick sound of his hand sliding up and down. So goddamn filthy, so fucking good.

Ian just needed to press the pad of one of his fingers up and grind it against Mickey's prostate. That's all it took before he heard a long groan, a “Shiiiit,” and felt Mickey's body spasming in his hold—muscles flexing and straightening, strings of cum spurting between his fingers, down his wrist.

Mickey is leaning on his forearms, breathing in shallow gasps of air as he comes down from his high, when Ian pulls back again. His knees hurt, his back too, but he can't find in himself to complain when his husband gazes down at him with a lazy grin, not yet fucked out but definitely satisfied.

“Good?” Ian hums, smiling, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

Mickey nods his head. “C'mere,” he tells him.

Ian goes, adjusting the front of his sweatpants where his cock is still very much hard. Just as he's on his feet, Mickey is already on him, bringing him down with a hand on the back of his head to crash their mouths together.

It's a slow and passionate kiss, tongues sliding against each other, teeth nipping at each other's lips. Ian feels Mickey smile against him, small hands trying to tug his sweats down, and he reaches out to link their fingers.

“I'm good,” he whispers into his mouth. “Just want to make you feel good."

Mickey huffs, clearly not content with that. “Not even a handie?”

With a shake of his head, Ian leans down to pepper kisses along his jaw. “Nah,” he decides, “Down to fuck you good after breakfast, though. I'm starving.”

That makes Mickey snort. “Okay, tough guy. Get some protein in you before you nut in me, then.”

And he says it so casually that Ian can't do anything but laugh, pecking him on the lips. “Love you.”

“Mmm, love you too.”

[pennyserenade]

ONLY BACKWARDS

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), pinv, references to unprotected sex, hate sex, light dirty talk (not degrading) tags: angst, age gap (reader is 34 and bravo is 48), hurt/comfort  word count: 2.8k+ summary: it has been 6 months since you last heard from dieter bravo. this time he comes back to you with a black eye and he asks for too much. it is just like always.  a/n: i wrote this in about a day so if its a little funky, that’s probably why. unbeta’d. songs i recommend you listen to while you read (if that’s something you enjoy): american dream by lcd soundsystem, sculptures of anything goes by arctic monkeys, californication by red hot chili peppers, and conversation 16 by the national 

Fourteen years and two days. Depending on the way you look at it, that’s either a long time or too little of it. 

As you take a good look at the man who you share this age gap with, you aren’t sure where you fall on the spectrum. 

Dieter looks like shit. Beneath his right eye is purplish yellow, no doubt the reward he got for committing one of his heavily repeated mistakes. His eyes are reddish, bloodshot and he looks like he made some attempt at looking nice a day or two ago, but what he’s left with is stubble on his cheeks and hair gone greasy from too much product. You used to want to nurse him in these states, to hold his head between your hands and speak to him tenderly. 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own age for once?” you say to him, pushing your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose. Your voice doesn’t possess the vitriol a sentence like that needs to really land. He squints against the sun, waiting. Your fingers press into the steering wheel. Be good, do good, you tell yourself. You can’t pick up a grown man’s baggage for the rest of your life. You don’t want to. 

He doesn’t attempt to charm you. “I just want to take a shower and a nap and then I’ll never bother you again.”

“Why can’t you do that at your own house?”

Dieter pouts out his lips, looking above the hood of the car. In the other corner of the studio lot, there are people making a ruckus, laughing, talking too loudly. He looks back at you, brown eyes devoid of any real emotion. “I don’t like my own home.”

You think of all you’ve got to do. A script to write, a meeting in the morning, a date at 9. You really think you could like the guy too—a salaried television writer who lives in a sizable house and graduated from somewhere like Princeton. Your friend who set you up says he’s the perfect match for you: handsome, sweet, smart. Reliable. 

“One shower and a hour nap, Bravo, and then you’re out.” He nods his head gratefully. “I mean it,” you say, voice serious. “No silly business this time. I’m doing this because I’m feeling charitable today.”

He makes his way to the passenger side and you take the time to glance down at the car clock. It’s two o’clock.A familiar pang of regret hits you. Seven hours seems like an eternity to you now. 

You decide it then: fourteen years is too much, even if you are thirty-four and he is forty-eight. It matters to you today, because you know if you don’t let it, you will be picking up his baggage forever. It is an entire ocean separating the both of you today, because it has to be. 

———

Dieter’s hair is still soaking wet, the towel you set out for him abandoned at the head of your bed. It hasn’t even touched him, didn’t get the chance before he settled between your legs. As he presses his warm tongue to your cunt, cold droplets fall from his head onto your thighs. You are keenly aware of the way they make their slow descent down, onto your freshly washed bed spread. 

You don't know why you let these things happen. It’s as if something takes hold of you when he’s around, makes you foolish.

The worst part is that you know it’s your fault. For once in his goddamn life, Dieter was being good. He didn’t make any passes, didn’t even say much aside from a few pleasant “Thank you”s. You couldn’t stand it, which makes you on par with him, foolish and reckless and self absorbed—and oh God, his tongue feels good. 

Your legs are draped over his shoulders and his fingers grip into your hips, pinning them down before they even get the chance to lift. Because he knows they will, knows because he’s made them do that before, many times. As he parts you with his tongue, lapping up your juices and making more of them, you watch him. His long nose barely grazes your sensitive clit and you moan openly siri want—too giving for so little effort. 

Dieter works with patience. You will give him this: he is a good pussy eater. He licks you open and leaves you wanting, pressing into every part of you except the parts you desperately need him to. He works you for so long, his warm tongue pressing hard against your lips, the place above your entrance, the place just below your clit. You are so sensitive beneath him that you feel like you might explode from the anticipation. You feel everything: the coldness of his wet hair as it presses against your thighs, your lower stomach, where he’s moved one of his hands, the fabric of the bra on top of your pebbled nipples. 

Dieter knows how to overwhelm you so well that it’s the center of most of your fantasies when you’re alone. You’d never tell him that, God forbid the ego it’d give him, but you relish the fact now. You’ve touched yourself so many times thinking about his tongue, the way it drinks you up and splits you apart, and here is he, doing it better than you remember. It’s like hearing a favorite song live after only listening to it on a scratched, over-loved vinyl for too long: exactly how intended, and better than it should be. Your toes curl and he doesn’t even come close to what aches the most.

You’re not going to make your date. It’s the fate he writes out with his precise tongue. He watches you as he spears the tip of it inside of you and he draws out the show he wants: that open mouthed, silent moaning that comes from feeling too much pleasure all at once. It’s the type that makes you tip your head back, flooded with a pulsing desire that causes your knees to try to draw together. He does it again and again, swirling around inside of one. You clench around nothing when he abandons it to run his tongue through your lips again, with no real destination. 

“Don’t make me beg,” you whine, voice low, tugging at his hair. Water drips out into your hands but you don’t care. He listens, attaching his mouth to your sensitive clit and he presses his tongue down, making you struggle, trying to lift the hips he’s got pinned. He takes it into his mouth, sucking at the tender flesh. You feel split open all the sudden, not vulnerable - not really - but laid out just for him, your body craving only what he can give. It is an embarrassing amount of desire that covers the entirety of you, and yet you aren’t embarrassed by it at all. 

For a moment, it is better than all the love in the world, which is exactly why you end up like this. You know that. You shouldn’t lie to yourself about it. That one second where he is enough - more than enough - can sustain you until the next time he will inevitably fail you. 

He draws the orgasm out of you quickly this way. The heels of your feet dig into his back, unable to stop the way you grow stiff with ecstasy of it coursing through you. He doesn’t stop when it hits, his tongue lapping up all your juices until you’re tugging at his hair, almost raw with oversensitivity. 

His lips glisten with your slick. You urge him forward, tugging at his forearm, letting him kiss you on the mouth before he has the chance to wipe you off of himself. He likes that, you know. You’re so blissed out for a moment, you forget the seas that part the two of you. Suddenly he is not Dieter Bravo, the man you have to rescue every six months, but Dieter, the one who knows you better than you do yourself sometimes. 

As his eager tongue meets yours, you allow him to position his hips between your legs, opening them up wide to fit his body. 

His weeping cock presses against you as he kisses you, hard and desperate to be touched. As his fingers gently skim over your jaw, down your neck, you think about how easy it would be for him to slip inside of you. How in one fluid motion, he and you could be so close, the thickness of him satisfying a greedy desire you have to take all of him. Fucking him all of the sudden seems like the very simplest solution to all your problems. It’s a primal thing that he inspires in you. His soft tongue drew out desires hidden in you and now that they’re out, you can’t put them back. 

You wrap your legs around him, pressing him closer. You want him to flirt with the idea in the same way you do, to crave it so badly he stutters asking for it. He freezes against your lips, overcome with the way you press against one another. Everything, everywhere, is warm. Tense. Taut. 

He kisses down your neck but is careful not to move his body, perceptive of the fact he is pressed to your cunt and with one accidental motion, will rub against it. He is wanting, sensitive. You want him to beg. 

“You’re so good, Dieter,” you tell him, hands intertwining in his drying overgrown locks. “I’ve missed this. Missed you,” you add, your breath against his ear. 

He pants against your neck, unwillingly pressing himself into you, rubbing slightly. He stops kissing you, focuses fully on not doing what he shouldn’t. He is being good, telling you to take the parts of him you want, saying sorry in the only way he really knows how: by clumsily handing himself over to you. 

You lift your hips into his, forgoing your need to hear him beg. His eagerness is akin to soft pleas. It is enough just to be wanted, and you know he does: he can hardly contain himself, pressing down when you finally press up. You wet his cock this way, letting him rub up and down, up and down, gathering you up and relishing what warmth of you you’ll give him as the mattress groans beneath you. 

“I could cum like this,” he pants, bringing his lips back to yours. He kisses you hard, enough to make your lips swollen, red. 

You shake your head. “Don’t cum,” you tell him, panicked. You stop moving and he stops too, eyebrows knitting together. “Fuck me, Dieter. I need you to fuck me.”

There is a vulnerability in his gaze as he takes those words in. You are pinned between his arms, beneath his solid body, surrounded entirely by him, and yet it is this look that makes you feel the closest to him. You share a feeling, not an agreement but an understanding: this is it. It is everything you are to each other, and perhaps all you ever will be. 

You hate him for that. You need him to tear you up, split you in half, make you feel the residuals of his affection through the quick snap of his hips and guttural moans you will feel in your bones. You don’t want understanding. 

Because you are angry or perhaps because you’ve gotten a little wiser since you last saw him, you tell him, “Condom,” evenly. It’s a barrier, some precaution you don’t usually make him take. He had told you once that he had never fucked anyone without one, that in all of his recklessness, he had never failed to do that. So of course you gave it to him, let yourself be his first. Now you’re taking it away. 

The purplish yellow of his under eye reassures you that this is right. He didn’t get that being good, being kind. Probably, he fucked someone’s wife, someone’s husband. He hadn’t called you for two months before today. He isn’t kind. Not always. The bruise is the violence he tears through life with. A marking of his wreckage. 

Dieter doesn’t protest about the condom, but you can tell he is wounded. He moves almost dutifully as he opens your bedside table and takes one out. 

You don’t watch him put it on. You look up at the dark of your ceiling, your heart in your stomach. 

“Okay,” he says with finality, wrapping a hand around your ankle. Your eyes soften as you look at him; he is blotted with desire, patchy with remorse. When his dark eyes gaze upon you with open tenderness, you feel your anger dissipate. 

When you open your legs wider for him, he crawls back on the bed, nestles between your thighs. His hands slide beneath you, groping your ass, lifting you to himself. When your bodies connect, his cock sliding into you, you feel all of it. The thickness of his head, the shake of his body as he eases in slowly, the way he settles in you as he bottoms out, trying not to lose control. It is tender, soft. It curls up in your chest and softens a resolve you need to survive on scraps. You don’t want it. 

You dig crescent-shaped moons in his ass, urge his hips forward as they begin to find a rhythm that is quick, angry. Your lips find each other clumsily, teeth clacking against teeth like inexperienced  teenagers. When you move your head away, he kisses the side of your mouth by accident, and then stops trying altogether, burying himself in your neck. He’s never faulted you for not wanting his affection and won’t now. Calloused fingers continue to grip at your ass, pushing you up to meet his hips; it is hip to hip, his cock pushing into the deepest part of yourself, filling you to the hilt with a shared frustration. 

You moan his name, a quick succession of Dieter, Dieter, Dieter, and he grunts helplessly, his body no longer his own, overtaken by desire and anger and disappointment. You are angry with yourself, angry you told him to put on the condom. You want him to fill you with it now—want the sticky substance of his desire to run down your legs and outlast the bitterness. 

He eases you into the mattress, fucks into you with the slow, lazy roll of his hips again. His hands slip away from your ass, travel up to your hands. He interwines your fingers together, pins them above your head. 

You whine, ache. “Harder,” you urge, your hips rising to make up for the lack of speed. You expected him to speed back up once he repositioned and the idea that he won’t fills you with dread. Fuck me, you echo again, hoping he understands. 

He pushes into you, more focused, like that is what you mean when you say harder: more focused. It isn’t. You mean harder. You paw at his hips, shake your head. “Dieter,” you plead. 

He draws back, snaps his hips into you. You gasp. Yes. You whisper it against his hot skin, and he does it again and again and again. Does it even when you sputter, voice straining, hips rising, rubbing against the patch of his body that meets your clit. He fucks you as you cum around his cock, lets your sensitive body feel the fury with which he takes you. With which you asked him to. 

He continues this pace even after he fills the condom, lingers over this spot in time and allows your cunt to suck him dry, to take pieces of him until he is gripping tightly to your hands and overdone with pleasure. He exits you quick, draws back like he’s going to snap forth but doesn’t. You miss the feel of him immediately and you understand the craving you’ve got has to do with far more than sex. 

Your eyes roll back, look at the clock on your nightstand. 3:30. You have time, but you won’t take it. 

Dieter discards the condom in the bathroom and comes back out wearing his underwear and a t-shirt. He offers you a towel and you take it, wiping your connection away. 

He helps you put your underwear back on and you let him climb back into your bed, lay yourself on top of him. He rubs your back as you listen to his heart thud in his chest. 

“Dieter?” you say, voice quiet. 

“Hm?”

“What happened to your eye?”

When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head up. His eyes are closed but he’s not pretending to sleep. 

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs, not opening them. 

“It’ll make me mad to know?”

He nods, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Why can’t you just be good?” Your voice is so quiet - timid - nearly inaudible. But he hears it, winces. 

“I don’t know,” he tells you honestly. You’ve touched upon an open wound; he shifts beneath you, moving you to his side. But he still wraps himself around you, holds you close. “Let’s sleep.”

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” 

He holds your head to his chest. “If you want me to be.” 

“Please,” you manage, before closing your eyes. 

[jkasperj]

Hi!!! This is my first post! I’m just starting with this so please pardon my bad writing! Feel free to request or tell me anything!

“Nice and slow”

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x reader fluff!! and smut! (mix mix:))

Maverick appreciated sensual lovemaking with you. He could get rough sometimes, but tonight he preferred to be in missionary with his eyes focused on you. He was caressing your cheek, each roll of his hips sending you higher above the clouds. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” Maverick says, kissing your neck. A smile finds its way to inch across your face, your hands trailing over his back. The rippled muscles between his shoulder blades cause you to hum.

“I love you more,” You answer. “O-oh, Mav, right there!” You grunt when he hits that one spot, the one that’ll have you seeing stars. “Nice and slow, please,” 

“Hold onto me, baby. I wanna feel you close.” Maverick whispers while holding your face. He kisses you tenderly. Angling his hips in just the right way, he pushes slowly into you, ensuring you feel every inch. “Sweetheart,” He grunts in your ear. He raises his head. He looks up at the ceiling in the midst of each thrust, his fingertips gripping the sheets beside your head. 

You spread your legs apart and wind them around his waist. “Are you okay?” He asks you between pants. 

“Mmhm,” You caress his cheek with your hand and slightly smile at the loving gaze he is giving you as he continues thrusting at a slow pace.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He genuinely asks and you could just nod given to the extreme amount of pleasure he was giving you. He was not the most vocal person when it came to sex, but tonight he was desperate to tell you just how much he loves you and how important you are to him.

“Yes, baby. Just like that right there, please don’t stop.” You begged, eyes closed, head tilted back. Within seconds, Maverick has you coming loud, moaning his name.

“This is where you belong, right here in my arms, baby.” his voice is sweet and affectionate, and it’s making you lose control.

You stare him right in the eyes, your gazes never faltering from each other. “Mav?”

you say in a low, barely audible voice.

“Yeah?” he replies, his hands rubbing up and down your sides as you pull him closer by his nape. “I love you.” 

You needed to say that to him. 

“I love you more.” He smiles, pressing a few needy kisses to your forehead, cheeks and lips, sensory, and affectionate.

He let a loud moan go and said “I can’t believe I get to do this. Can’t believe I get to make love to you, whenever I want” his moans become quite louder “So good baby. You’re so good for me.”, is all he manages to get out, before his lips are attaching to your skin, placing sensitive, wet kisses all over your chest. As he continues to pump in and out, he brings one of his hands from your hips up to cup your cheek. “I love you so much, baby.” He breaths, thrusts becoming needier by the second “so fucking much”.

He’s biting his lip as well, trying to keep himself from screaming your name.

He continues making love to you slowly, pouring his heart and soul in every thrust. This man really loves you. He could swear he had never loved anyone like he loves you and never will do.

When you both came to your orgasms, he slipped out of you and laid you on top of him putting your head on his chest so you could rest. “You tired, sweetheart?” He asked you and you just nod feeling incredibly tired. “Go to sleep baby, I’ve got you. I love you” Maverick says before kissing your forehead sweetly and covering you with the covers so you wouldn’t get cold at night. He fell asleep minutes later.

Ahhh! I really hope this wasn’t a total disaster! Love y’all ✨

[coffeecakefanfics]

Home with You ~ Astarion Smut/ F!reader

Summary: Basically, just the grave scene inspired by In A Week by Hozier.

Warnings: Fingering, oral (f receiving), PiV, mild fluff.

*I haven't written smut in probably three years so bear with me being rusty lol.*

Also the biggest of thank you's goes to celestialoutsider for beta reading and editing for me <3

~

The moonbeams that danced between the branches illuminated the cold stone in front of Astarion and (Y/n).  His name etched into the stone was still covered in a thin layer of dirt, but for the first time his grave was adorned with a single flower.  A gentle, loving hand had placed it there.  So many emotions swirled through the pale elf’s mind at the gesture.  The one that stuck out to him the most was the one that sent warmth through his chest, if he thought about it for more than a second, he might have recognized it as a mix of love and gratitude.

“I have a gift for you” the voice next to him drew his gaze to her face.  We watched with curiosity as she untied the small bag of holding from her side and rummaged inside.  “Ah there it is!” she beamed as her fingers finally grazed what she was looking for.  The dark red liquid splashed against the glass.  Astarion cracked a smile and gingerly took the bottle from his lover. 

“This looks expensive,” He commented, turning the bottle over in his hands.  The gold lettering shimmered in the moonlight, and the wine inside looked deep and rich. 

“It was,” (Y/n) bit back a smile, “But I thought it was worth it.  I was saving it for when we finally got these worms out of our heads,” she took the bottle from him and popped it open. The sweet smell went straight to his taste buds, saliva gathering in his mouth.  It had been so long without a good wine. 

“This however feels like a much better occasion to celebrate,” She smiled at him, and held the bottle out to him.  With a bowed thank you he took a sip.  Gods it would have paired so nicely with a creamy cheese or tender steak.  It was in fact rich, and sweet, it was a wonderful change from the vinegar they had at the grove party.  

“That really must have cost a fortune,” he smiled and took another sip before passing it off to her. 

“I’d argue that your taste is the reason it was so expensive,” she smirked and took a sip.  Astarion laid a hand on his chest in mock offense. 

“I can’t say you’re wrong, but it still hurts,” his grin was spreading wider. 

 The pair sat and drank over half of the bottle before the giggling started.  It was a wonderful change of pace from the fighting for their lives.  Here, under the moon, wrapped in the warmth of a good wine it was just the two of them, safe and happy.  The emotions swirled in his head now, everything else was clouded by the woman sitting next to him giggling over a dumb joke that he couldn’t bother to remember.  It was loud and unbothered, followed by a sush and giggles from him.  The smile on his face never faltered.  His ruby eyes took in (Y/n) fully, how she threw her head back when she laughed, how her eyes softened and pupils blew wide at the sight of him, how the wine had flushed her cheeks, how the sight of him made his undead heart leap. 

“You’re perfect.” the words had slipped out.  (Y/n) pursed her lips, her cheeks flushing more. 

“Well, you’re amazing,” she smiled at him, scooting closer to him till their knees touched. His nails scraped against the side of her scalp gently as he pushed her hair away from her face. Her own eyes took him in now.  His face softened as she scanned his features.

“Thank you,” his voice was hushed so that only she could hear the words spilling from wine touched lips, “for everything.  You’ve given me a second chance at life, and I want to live it with you at my side.”  

She placed her hand over the one holding her head, the other finding its way onto his chest, right over his heart. “I’m here with you, for as long as you want me,” she spoke tenderly. 

He captured her lips in a gentle kiss in response.  They moved as one, perfectly in tandem.  He slid his body over hers, laying them down onto the damp grass of the cemetery.  She sighed into his mouth as his leg slid up to spread her legs in order to rest between them. (Y/n)’s hands slid into his silver curls tugging him impossibly closer, earning her own groan from the man above her. He leaned his weight onto one elbow and used the other to cradle her face in his hand. He held her so gently, like she would spook and run away from him still.  After what felt like forever they parted for air, moving back just far enough to look each other in the eyes.  Their chests heaved, eyes were blown wide, lips wet and swollen, and smiles plastered wide across their faces. 

(Y/n) tugged his tunic off of him, running her hands down his torso after he was free from the garment.  Her fingers were so warm against his cold skin.  They ignited a fire in his belly as they softly roamed the expanse of his chest down his belly and toyed with the band of his pants.  He pressed his lips to hers again as her hands continued to explore his body. Her lips danced across his throat and up the edge of his ear, biting gently causing a moan to fall from him.  

“What a tease,” he said through a grin. 

“I learned from the best,” she breathed with a matching wide smile.  Her fingertips ran up his sides and over his shoulders using the position of her arms to tug him down to her.  His desire for her pressed down onto her clothed heat, earning a small sound from them both. Their restraint was chipping away at every roll of their hips against each other.  Astarion slid his own hand up (Y/n)’s shirt, he pulled away from her embrace to remove it from her body. 

“Look at you,” he let his eyes rake over her frame hungirly.  It was his turn to explore her body.  He pressed soft kisses to the sides of her jaw and down her neck, sucking over her pulse and nipping at the faded spot he feeds from, and she moaned in response.  Gods how he wanted to drink from her, to feel her blood coursing through his veins, becoming one in a different way for a little while. 

Another time he thought to himself, dragging his lips across her collar bones and down the valley of her breasts.  His fingers were ice against her perked nipples.  A gasp left her lips as her chest arched into his touch.  Astarion smirked at how responsive she was to him already.  His mouth found her other nipple causing another moan to tumble out of her mouth.  He took his time toying with each breast before kissing his way down to her waistband.  His lips followed behind the garment kissing down her right leg and crawled back up her left leg after discarding it into the dirt. 

“You’re so beautiful my love,” his voice was low and Desperate.  His eyes looked so dark and hungry, the sight above her made (Y/n) shudder with anticipation.  His fingers traced the tops of her thighs, teasing. “You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” she couldn’t tell if he was begging or wanting her to beg but she nodded her head furiously either way. 

“Please Star,” her voice was soft and dripping with a need that made his cock impossibly harder in his pants. “Please touch me, I need to feel you,” she begged.  How could he say no to such a pretty thing?  He found his way down to meet her sex.  The sight of her dripping for him had him licking his lips before spreading her and licking a wide strip from her entrance to her clit. (Y/n) threw her head back and loosed a loud, lewd moan.  The feeling of his mouth on her finally aiding in the burning desire that had been dancing in her belly since he laid her in the grass.  The sounds she was making as Astarion circled her clit were music to his pointy ears.  The way she was gripping his hair and grinding onto his tongue made his head swim.  

Astarion pulled away from her heat for a moment, earning him a whine.  He licked her essence from his lips and leaned against her left leg, using his middle finger to toy with her entrance.  Her moans filled the air again as she ground against him. “Come on sweet thing, I know you can use that pretty voice to ask” he teased.  She whined in response but managed to find her voice. 

“Please make me feel good. Want it so bad,” her hips rolled as his fingers brushed her clit. “I can take it Star, please,” her voice cracked slightly. He bit his lip at her honeyed words, his fang slightly dug into the skin.  His own need was growing unbearable at this point, and maybe he felt a little guilty at ripping her from the edge.  He slid his finger into her.  Thank yous tumbled out of her lips, more sweet music as he added another.  His dexterity quickly brought her back up to that peak.  Astarion growled and brought his lips back to her clit.  With a loud moan she snapped, white hot pleasure surged through her body as she gushed on his fingers and mouth. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, working her through the pleasure. He gently ran his hands up and down her thighs, coaxing her back to him. She looked so beautiful fucked out below him.  Her hair splayed messily around her like a halo, her cheeks ever flushed, and her lips parted as her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. 

“Can you give me another sweet girl?” he asked tenderly.  She simply nodded at him with hooded eyes and croaked a “Yes.”  Her throat was raw from the moans that had ripped through it.  He moaned at the feeling of his cock finally being let free of his pants.  (Y/n) licked her lips at the sight of him kneeled over her.  He gave himself a few pumps before lining himself up with her entrance.  He let his head and eyes roll back and he sunk into her, relishing in how warm and wet she was for him.  

“Is this all for me darling?” he asked, pulling his hips back.

“It’s all for you, always” Her mewls fed his ego. He held the backs of her knees holding her legs open as he thrust back into her.  The snap of his hips had her crying out in pleasure and rolling her head to the side. Throwing all caution to the wind he didn’t hold back his moans, letting her know just how much he was enjoying himself. 

She was surrounding him, her cunt, her smell, her touch as her hands gripped his shoulders.  He felt her flutter around him.  The way she was squeezing him was enough to make his thrusts falter.  He released her legs and wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her into him, the last bit of self-control he had gone.  He laid his head on her shoulder breathing in her scent.  “You’re gonna make me cum,” his voice was no more than a whimper.  

“Please, with me” was all she managed to let slip before he gave her a particularly deep thrust, spilling ropes of his cum in her.  Her own orgasm hit her right after, causing her walls to flutter and her legs to squeeze his hips.  They lay there tangled together catching their breaths for a minute before he pulled out and laid on the soft grass next to (Y/n).  She turned onto her side and brushed a curl that had fallen out of his face.  She gave him a tired smile.  He found her hand and pressed a kiss onto her palm.  This felt right to him, laying with her, loving her.  He decided that he could die there again and die happy.  He didn’t care if they found them decomposing under the wisteria tree, he was with her.  He was where he belonged.  He was home.

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 9

anakin x reader

(a/n: so ngl, I wrote the first scene for this a while ago and I was gonna put it later on and write a full smut scene, but as the story progressed it seemed more and more out of place, so i’m putting it here as a sort of conclusion to last chapter’s cliff hanger :)

NSFW (kinda)

the more you interact with Anakin, the more mysterious he becomes

warnings: implied sex, cursing, belittling, permanant injury, overthinking, drinking, depression?, derogatory term of disability (used by anakin)

________________________________

You eased yourself off of him and flopped down on the bed. He was panting heavily and a thin sheen of sweat crowned his blissful features. His brows were drawn together in pleasure and his lips were puffy from yours against them.

You observed his chest rise and fell at a rapid pace, the scarring on his left side pulling as his ribs expanded. 

You peered over his thigh to look at his cock, it was still twitching from his climax, thick ropes of cum were still spilling out of him. He came really fucking hard. You watched in amazement, you didn’t expect him to function this…well?

“Don’t flatter yourself” he panted out as he cracked an eye to look at you.

You shot him a confused glance.

He let out a scoff as he laid his head back down. He motioned to himself with one of his mechanical arms.

Oh.

“I wasn’t thinking anything about it” you responded, “But I’m glad I could please you”.

“Princess, I haven’t been touched like that in almost a decade, I think anyone could please me” he huffed as he closed his eyes once more.

“A decade…” you repeated, louder than you thought.

“Yeah, people weren’t exactly lining up to fuck a cripple” he stated as he began to come down from his high.

“Well what about yourself?” You inquired.

He held up his mechanical arms, “With what hands? You know, metal and plastics don’t exactly feel like the real deal”.

Your eyes softened, he had so much self hatred. Instead of recanting his statement you tenderly laid your head on his chest. The cool silver of his dog tags brushed against your warm cheek. It was nice.

He was still warm to the touch but he reached for the sheets to pull up. 

“You're still sweating, cool down first” you said worriedly; you didn't want him to overheat.

“It’s fine” he said grunting as his hand slowly closed around the edge of one of his gray sheets.

You observed the sweat still sitting on his forehead, “Anakin, I really think you need to cool down first”.

He sighed and laid back onto his pillow, “Can you atleast cover my legs?”, he asked defeatedly.

It took you a moment to understand why he was so adamant about the covers, but it was because he was self conscious. You felt a pang of sadness, he had no reason to feel that way. 

“don’t get used to this” he said shortly.

“Of course” you responded before pulling up the sheets. 

Once you returned to his side you shortly drifted off to sleep. You were a little disappointed at his cold attitude, but atleast you got to experience this once.

What you didn’t see as you closed your eyes, was his soft expression as you nuzzled into his side.

______________________

A streetlight peeked through the askew blinds, causing you to groan and turn your face away. You nuzzled further into the pillows beside you and let out a contempt hum when you felt the warmth of covers over you once more.

The weight made you drowsy again but you were startled when you felt something beside you shift. You shifted your head to see behind you. Surprisingly you were met with a head of sandy hair.

Anakin.

The weight over you wasn’t the blanket, it was his arm; he nuzzled into your shoulder as you exhaled a shaky breath. As much as you enjoyed his arm around you, you did have to use the bathroom, begrudgingly you whispered his name softly. 

No luck.

You slowly turned to try and wiggle out of his hold, but thankfully he turned the other way. Gently you eased off of the bed and went to the restroom. As soon as you left, you were wishing for his warmth again.

You stumbled to the bathroom, still not fully accustomed to the layout of the apartment. You sat with a yawn and checked the time.

3:48 AM

You rubbed your eyes as you felt a twinge of a headache, no use going back to campus now.

Once you were finished you made your way back to the warm bed. Your exhaustion returned as soon as you entered the covers and you drifted back into a contempt slumber.

—————————————

You were woken by the annoying beeping of a garbage truck outside. But this time when you opened your eyes you saw Anakin’s chest, his dog tags moving with every breath he took. You took a moment to analyze the situation; he was lying on his back with an arm under your neck and you were cuddled into his side.

Fuck. 

He wouldn’t be happy with this. You tried to slowly move from his hold when your phone began to ring. You cringed as the vibrations on the nightstand began to fill the whole room. You dashed for the phone and answered it in a hushed voice. 

Y/N?

“Hey Ahsoka, what’s up?” you asked, sneaking a glance back at the man behind you.

Where are you? I went by your dorm but I didn’t see you. 

Anakin probably wouldn’t want them to know you were at his house and you definitely did not want to be on his bad side, so you told her you had gotten up early to run some errands.

Oh, I coulda gone with you.

“It’s ok, I didn’t want to bother you”

No worries! Oh, wait. How did you get home last night?

You turned once more when you heard Anakin let out a small groan.

“Uber, umm hey Ahsoka, I don’t mean to rush you but I have to go, i’ll see you when I’m back on campus”

Ok! Don’t worry about it! See ya

You hung up the phone and turned back to Anakin. His brows were knitted together in a sort of scowl, he was probably upset you woke him up or maybe it was because you were even there at all.

“I’m sorry Ana-” you stopped yourself as you heard him wheezing.

He placed a hand over his chest as he tried to prop himself up with the other. You instinctually helped him into a sitting position and placed an arm around him. 

“Anakin, what’s wrong? What do you need?” you worriedly asked.

“I-In” he gasped out before wincing once more.

Once he could speak, he tried again. “Inha- inhal” he pointed towards the nightstand beside the bed. 

In the midst of random stuff you saw a small inhaler, you grabbed the small device and handed it to him. His hands shook as he brought it to his lips, you were waiting for him to press the button so he could get the medicine but his fingers weren’t cooperating.

He fumbled with the device as his breathing became more erratic. At some point you just grabbed the inhaler and administered it to him.

“Ok, 1, 2, 3” you counted before puffing the medication into his mouth.

After three puffs he started to calm down, his pulse was still racing though. You eased him back to lean against the headboard.

“Are you ok now?”

He nodded as he finished catching his breath.

“Anakin, what happened?” 

“I damaged my lungs in the accident and when I lie on my back too long it irritates them.” he said in a raspy voice.

Ok….you did not expect his voice to sound like that…

No.

Focus.

“Do you normally sleep on your back?”

“No, but you were lying on me” he said, wiping his forehead.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you could have moved me” you said, feeling a little guilty. 

He shook his head and admitted, “You looked comfortable”.

Blush rose to your cheeks, you didn’t expect him to say that. You zoned out for a moment and looked down at the covers. Anakin must have thought you were looking at his body, because he spoke.

“Yeah, I guess since you’ve seen everything, there’s no use pretending..”

“No use pretending i’m whole” he let out a small defeated laugh. 

“Oh, I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s ok,” he said sadly.

“Thanks for helping me with that” he motioned towards the inhaler.

“Of course,” you smiled. 

The two of you sat there for a moment just looking at each other until you asked him about last night.

“was it ok?” you shyly responded.

“yea, it was” he responded with a small smile.

“if i’m not mistaken, I recall you saying not to get used to it” you teased.

He just shrugged and began to hoist himself out of bed. You watched as he slowly rose to his feet and took a few wobbly steps towards the bathroom. 

You layed back down in the bed as he washed up. Surprisingly, he was being nice to you, maybe he was warming up to-

“When are you gonna leave? I have some stuff I have to do today” you heard him say from the other room.

That sounds more like the Anakin you know.

“I’ll leave now” you responded, jumping out of the bed, not wanting to stay and irritate him.

Quickly, you gathered your belongings and said a quick “goodbye” before heading out the door.

He was quite an enigma.

__________________________________________

The last time Anakin saw you was the night you stayed over, around a week ago and he still couldn’t get you off his mind.

You weren't afraid to stand your ground.

He remembered the time he called you to help him, you saw him in his most vulnerable state and you didn’t judge him, you didn’t leave.

As much as he wanted to hate you for getting so close, he couldn't. He hated that your touch made him feel so good. He hated that you stirred emotions he hadn’t felt in years.

Lately you were all he thought about at night, all he thought about at all. Your sweet voice, your soothing touch, your beautiful lips. 

Static filled the living room as he scrolled through television channels; he didn’t even mind the noise. He turned it down a hair and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. It had been years since he had felt such a spark with someone else, not since her.

He was afraid of heartbreak just as anyone would be, but something inside told him to pursue you. You were worth it.

He pondered over his behavior towards you in the past: mixed signals, verbal insults, passionate affection, cold shoulder, he was giving himself whiplash with the amount of mood changes he had give you.

As he thought about it more and more, he realized he owed you an explanation as to what happened for him to end up like this. 

Against his better judgment he reached for his phone and sent a text

Hey, would you mind swinging by later? I wanted to talk with you

Sent 11:48

He quickly shut his phone off and tossed it onto the cushion beside him; now, time to wait. Not even two minutes later, the notification popped up.

Sure, are you alright?

A smile graced his features as he answered you, you were always so selfless. 

I’m fine, just wanted to talk.

______________________________________

You drove over to Anakin’s apartment anxiously, you had been trying to take your mind off of him since you spent the night at his place but you just couldn’t seem to successfully distract yourself. 

Getting a text from Anakin was the last thing you expected when you got up this morning, he really hadn’t contacted you since you saw him last. You didn’t want to push your luck so you decided against reaching out to him first.

But when you opened his message you immediately froze; why was he wanting to see you now? Why specifically today? Was something wrong? Did you overstep?

Thoughts raced through your mind as you waited at the stop sign on the street closest to his place.

Soon you arrived on his doorstep and knocked on his door. Not long after you heard him call for you to come in.

He was walking from his kitchen to the living room with a beer.

“Hey, Y/N” he greeted, “You want a drink?”

“No thank you, Is everything alright?”

He nodded and walked over to the couch, motioning you next to him. 

“Yeah, everything is alright, I just thought I owed you a bit of an explanation” he said, taking a brief swig of his drink.

“Explain what?”

“All of this” he said, motioning to himself and his army stuff.

Was he about to open up to you?

***

a/n: so we’re getting to his backstory!! yayay heheh just so u know i’m not really following star wars cannon or even paralleling it that much for the backstory (yes padme is in there but her actions are not ones cannon padme would take) but i hope ur enjoying confusing ani!!! he’s the king of mixed signals frfr

taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana

[holding-monsters-hands]

I realize that Medic simps are like a bunch of messed up birds when there’s bread on the ground.

“mmmmmmm medic content”

I’m ALSO a sucker for the stars, so could I have some stargazing headcanons? The medic, engie, and spy package please.

and you are also very cool

-medic anon

HEHHSHS you're all like his little personal doves, just swarming around for attention!

also sorry this took me so long, allergies have been kicking my ass lmao

Stargazing with medic, engie & spy

medic:

He's been planning this for a hot minute.

He's got chairs set out for the two of you to get the best look at the sky without sitting in a position that hurts after a while.. Though you both end up ditching the other chair just so you can comfortably sit on his lap.

He’ll play with your hair while he holds you like you're his most prized possession, giggling like a lovesick fool while he presses kiss after kiss against your face.

His constant affections may prove to be a tad bit distracting, but he just can't help himself.

engie:

creates a telescope for the two of you, but mostly for you to gaze through, so you can get a better look at the stars!

He even has a nice little blanket set up on the ground, so the two of you can snuggle up nice and close!

He has his radio softly playing in the background, a dopey grin spread across his face as he wraps his arms around your stomach and rests his chin against your shoulder.

Honestly he prefers looking at you rather than the starry night sky.

spy:

Oh he goes the whole nine yards, bringing out some fancy cheeses and finely aged wine for the two of you two share while you watch the stars from the comfort of the base roof.

He’ll hold you close to his chest, his hand tenderly clasping yours as his thumb rubs soothing circles against your palm.

if you happen to get cold he will take off his suit jacket and wrap it around your shoulders, he always adores how absolutely ravishing you look with it on.

the two of you end up spending most of the night out there- well until you either want to go inside or until you fall asleep and he carries you back to bed.

[reneesbooks]

find the word tag

salt and brine is on an enforced break right now for editing/unblocking purposes but i can still Think about them. tagged by my lovely @oh-no-another-idea to find change, grace, escape, and mine <3. we got kamon pov exclusively today

change

Kamon pulls the Hass woman's shawl around his shoulders, hunkering down against another gust of cold air. He can't stop thinking of her expression when he offered to take her with him, the way shock had faded into fear, how she'd closed her eyes and stepped away. He wonders if he had asked again, if he went back—would she change her mind?

grace

Reijka has spotted the beach. She tugs on Kamon's sleeve and points with wide eyes. He crouches next to her and shakes his head. “You won't like it,” he says. “It's very cold.” She tilts her head to the side, unbothered, and he glances up at Meja and the merchant, engrossed in their negotiations. He stands and catches Meja's attention. “Reijka wants to see the Freezing Beach. We won't be gone long.”

She nods and turns back to the merchant, her jaw set in a stubborn way. Kamon offers his hand to Reijka and she takes it, skipping gracelessly alongside him. They make their way down the gently sloping hill, stopping where the grass fades into the strange white sand. Reijka looks up at him questioningly. He crouches down. “Touch it, see?” He puts his hand on the sand and has to pull back immediately, the cold so intense that it burns. “Too cold.”

Reijka slowly sets her hand atop the sand. She cries out, pulling her hand back, and he reaches out to steady her. “It's okay. It won't hurt you. It just doesn't feel good.”

She looks from her hand to the sand, then up at him with wide eyes. He smiles at her, a lump in his throat. He can't imagine how Stian could have wasted so much time hoping for another child while ignoring the beautiful one he already had.

escape

Reijka is sitting on the bed, speaking quietly to her hands while Eima gurgles happily in her cradle. Kamon pauses in the doorway. “Reijka? Who are you talking to?”

Reijka looks up, beaming. “What I was trying to show you earlier!” She holds out a disgruntled-looking frog, clutched tightly in her hands. “He tried to escape but I caught him again.”

Kamon blinks, registering the creature slowly. Meja runs a hand over Reijka's hair, saying something encouraging that Kamon doesn't manage to translate.

“Oh,” he finally says. “That's nice, darling.”

“Do you know what he is?” Reijka turns the frog over in her hands, examining it curiously. “I've never seen one before and neither has Mommy.”

“Oh.” Kamon shouldn't be so speechless about a frog. He thinks he might be in shock. His back hurts. “It's called a frog. They eat bugs.”

“I like bugs!” Reijka says, delighted.

“Of course you do,” Kamon says faintly.

mine

“Right on time, Kamon,” the captain's voice calls out, and the crew backs away to let her pass. She grins at him and gestures with her pipe. “What the hell happened to you, then?”

“Which version of events would you prefer?” he replies. “Leshen doesn't believe mine.”

“Oh?” the captain chuckles.

“He met a beautiful Hass woman who hid him in her cellar and nursed him tenderly back to health under the nose of her scary husband,” Leshen says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The crew roars with laughter and the captain takes a long puff on her pipe, grinning around it. “What really happened, Kamon?”

He shrugs. “That about sums it up.”

tagging @k--havok @writinglyra @akindofmagictoo and anyone else who would like to join in to find expression, fade, creature, and laughter <3