#i wrote this half-asleep

[avonne-writes]

https://www.tumblr.com/avonne-writes/757613623658102784?source=share

Hello! Love the list :) so many good ones. But how about either 6 for the angst, or 13 for the (potential) fluff? Whatever you prefer!

Thank you for the prompt! 💖 This will be a HS AU drabble, set on the night of their prom. Just some simple fluff.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

Gale drifts on the gentle currents of sleep, giving in to the heavy weight dragging his eyelids closed. Long arms hold him warm and safe, and Bucky's chest rises and falls under his head like waves of the sea. It’s easy to imagine that Gale’s floating, rocked asleep by water - he certainly feels light enough for it.

Bucky brushes the back of his knuckles over Gale’s cheek. "What a night, huh?"

Gale hums. He knows he doesn’t have to add anything more to the conversation - Bucky can tell from the tone of his hums what they’re meant to say. They had their senior prom tonight, their last school dance. It’s hard to believe. Four years have gone by in the blink of an eye. But at the same time, Gale feels so... old. So sober, looking at the layers of naivety growing up scrubbed off him. He feels like an adult, but also not at the same time, and he doesn’t know what to do with that thought.

For now, he’ll just let himself bask in the afterwaves of the evening. In the new memories - the fun they had at the dance, then all the celebration that followed in Bucky's bed. Warmth pools in his chest and stomach when he thinks about it.

"I had the most gorgeous arm candy in the whole room." Bucky teases, running his fingers over the parts of Gale's arm that Gale's pj shirt doesn’t cover. "I wonder how our photos are gonna come out."

Here, the sound Gale makes is more of a groan, and it pulls a rumbling laugh out of Bucky. "Mom's gonna frame one for sure."

When Gale just continues dozing peacefully, he adds, "Maybe I will too." He thumbs at the inside of Gale's elbow, his voice as whimsical as it usually is when he's happy.

"You’re sleeping on the couch then." Gale mutters.

"Why?" Bucky laughs, then clicks his tongue. "We don’t even have a couch yet, and you're kicking me out of our bed."

Gale shifts to lie on his back, his head pillowed on Bucky’s arm. Under the blanket, he tangles his feet with Bucky’s. "We don’t have a bed either."

Predictably, Bucky rolls after him, draping himself over Gale with his elbows propped up on either side of Gale's head. Although Gale doesn’t open his eyes, he can’t help but smile in anticipation of the kisses that Bucky peppers all over his face a second later.

"We gotta look for a mattress together." Bucky mumbles against his cheek as Gale's hands slip under his shirt to stroke his back. "Something nice and bouncy."

Gale cracks his eyes open and raises a playful eyebrow. The shit-eating grin he expects appears on Bucky’s face without delay. Bouncy. Right.

Truth is, the idea that they're going to buy things specifically for the two of them makes his stomach flutter. They're going to have their own space, their own bedroom. Privacy. Anything they want to do, anytime they want. No one to judge them, no one they'd bother. The promise of that kind of freedom feels intoxicating already.

Bucky tucks his face into the crook of Gale's neck and sighs in contentment. "Tell me a secret."

Gale's fingertips settle in the valley of Bucky's spine. "You know all my secrets."

"Come on, everyone has secrets."

"Yeah? Tell me one then."

Silence reigns while Bucky thinks it over. "Curt and Kenny are back together again. I saw them making out in the bathroom tonight."

Gale snorts. "That’s gossip, not a secret."

Bucky shifts on top of him, fidgety. It’s obvious to Gale that his thoughts are running wild again, but Gale doesn’t acknowledge it. He's too sleepy. He could drift off like this, with his boyfriend's weight on top of him. Wouldn’t it be nice? He sighs and leans his head against Bucky's.

He waits patiently, and it pays off as usual. A moment later, Bucky opens his mouth again. "I'm so sleepy."

That's not a secret either, Gale wants to poke at Bucky, but he just yawns and hums again.

"But I keep thinking of you in that tux."

Gale bites his lip. Considers it. He almost tells Bucky that he’s on board if he doesn’t have to move too much, but Bucky continues before he could say it.

"While we were dancing tonight, I kind of imagined it was our wedding." Bucky kisses his neck. "Didn't wanna tell you, but you got it out of me."

Gale grins at the ceiling. Secrets don’t remain secrets too long when Bucky has to keep them from him. "Didn't take much, did it?"

Bucky laughs and kisses him on the lips. When he pulls back, Gale cups his face. "Guess I owe you a confession now."

Even in the dim light, he can see the corners of Bucky’s eyes crinkle. "Guess you do."

Gale combs his fingers through Bucky's curls. "What if I told you I imagined the same?"

Bucky's exhale rushes out of him in surprise, but he recovers quickly with a smirk. "Well, I imagined our wedding night too."

Gale snorts a laugh.

[misc-obeyme]

You sometimes wonder if the demons end up in your room at night because somehow they know that you no longer prefer to wake up alone.

Ever since you started living at the House of Lamentation, you have gotten used to finding one or more of them there with you. A friendly face, a gentle touch, the warm body of someone who cared for you, someone you cared for in return.

They all arrive in their own unique ways.

Mammon, who always crashes through your door so easily during the day, sneaks in quietly at night. Most of the time he doesn't wake you. But if he does, he gets flustered and starts to leave until you ask him to stay.

"Of course ya want the Great Mammon to stay with ya," he says. Even in the darkness, you know he's blushing as he says it.

If you whine with nightmares, he'll kiss your head, pull you closer, and whisper that it'll be all right. And instantly the nightmares dissipate.

You never have nightmares when Belphie is around, either. He shows up in your dreams himself, fighting off the terrors with an energy you never see in him when he's awake.

He'll snuggle up to you any time and any place, but most often he finds you at night. He's impossible to disturb, even if you kick him in your sleep. You sometimes wake to find him in strange positions.

Asmo always rearranges him if they both end up with you on the same night.

"You won't get quality sleep like this," he says. "And you need quality sleep if you want to have quality skin!"

When he's alone, Asmo will come in only to stare at you fondly for a while. You know he never intends to stay. It's just a little peek at his favorite sleeping human. But then he finds he can't tear himself away. You'll wake up with his lips pressed against your cheek, as he always wants to kiss you in his sleep.

You sometimes have dreams about eating something, but in the morning you find it's because Beel was there having a midnight snack before falling asleep beside you. He likes to hold you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. You wake up in the middle of the night sometimes because it feels like being held by a furnace.

Although these are the brothers you wake up to most often, you'll find the others come around sometimes, too.

Satan will crawl into bed with you directly, without hesitation, but you know he's embarrassed about the need to be next to you. He'll hold you tightly, like he's afraid to let go. If you ask him what's wrong, he'll tell you, but it's always muffled because he's pressing his face into your neck.

"I'm irritated and I can't calm down enough to sleep," he says. "You always… "

You brush your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know," you say. Because you do. You know that your presence relaxes him in a way nothing else does.

The ever elusive Levi only stops in when you're alone. He won't join any of his brothers and half the time, he's still awake in his room, binging anime or gaming into the wee hours. You pretend to be asleep if you know he's lingering outside your door because then he'll finally come inside.

He'll stand there and look at you, like he's just dropping in for a moment. He tells himself he'll always leave before you wake up, but that never happens. You deliberately shift yourself to be inviting, creating a space for him beside you. If he's here, he likely needs to rest, to shut off his mind for a little while, to indulge in his desire to be close to you when no one else is around. He blushes the whole time, but he does crawl beneath your covers and rest his head on your chest.

And then there's Lucifer.

The other brothers are constantly going in and out of your room. They have gaming competitions there and movie marathons. Sometimes they gather to do homework with you. Sometimes it's only one or two of them. And you always find one sleeping beside you.

Lucifer rarely takes part in these activities. He's always holed up in his office, working. He waits for you to come to him.

But every once in a while, you'll wake to find him kneeling beside your bed, his hand in your hair or resting on your cheek. Like he came in to check on you and couldn't resist a soft caress. His presence inevitably wakes you. And if you reach out, if you grab his hand, if you hold onto him, he'll give in and stay.

His most vulnerable moments are when he lies down in your bed beside you and lets himself run his fingers along your skin. He'll kiss your forehead and your eyelids, a tender gesture that speaks volumes.

And every morning, no matter who is with you when you wake, you find yourself next to someone who loves you. It becomes your favorite way to start the day. And somehow, every demon living in the House of Lamentation is aware of this. They make sure you're never sleeping alone.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[midnightorchids]

It’s nearing dawn when Jason comes home from patrol. His body feels exhausted and his eyes feel heavy, but despite his fatigue, he misses you and wants to be in your arms.

He enters your shared apartment through the front door, careful not to make any sudden and loud noise. He catches the tv on in the living room and he knows you fell asleep watching your show. A soft smile paints his lips as he makes his way over to the couch.

The soft glow from the tv reflects on your skin and he admires you in your sleeping state. Your hair is a mess, but to Jason, you look absolutely gorgeous.

He mumbles a small “so pretty,” and gently moves your bangs out of your face before placing a loving peck on your forehead.

You stir in your sleep and he wants to move you to the bedroom, but ultimately decides to leave you alone for a little longer, not wanting to corrupt your skin with the filth of the wretched city. He wants to shower first and free himself of the grime.

Once he’s all clean, he takes your sleeping figure into his arms and you subconsciously hold on to him tighter. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and place a gentle kiss against it.

“You smell good Jay,” you mutter against his skin and he shivers at the sensation.

“Just showered sweetheart,” he says in return and you kiss his neck again in response, too tired to speak.

He tucks you into your side of the bed and then makes his way to his own. He pulls your body close to his and caresses your hair. He gently tugs at the strands and brushes his fingers through your scalp.

Jason lives for soft and domestic moments like these. It was a privilege he wasn’t sure he deserved, but he adored it nonetheless.

Jason smiles to himself and places another kiss against your forehead. He whispers goodnight even though he knows you’re not listening and then, he lets his slumber take over.

[rift-in-worlds]

When Ratio kisses you, which isn't rare, yet not the most common, it's not purely physical. No, he pours all of his mind into the kiss and tells you just how much you mean to him through the rash movement of his lips against yours, as his words were never enough, nor were they his preferred display of love.

Due to this, he can't help but get carried away sometimes when demonstrating his affection for you, which is why you were now sitting on his lap panting as you tried to recover your breath.

Meanwhile, he seemed to be unbothered by the earlier lack of oxygen, mouthing along your neck and sucking and biting on the sensitive skin there as you breathed heavily from his previous kiss. He nipped at a particularly sensitive spot above your collarbone, leaving a dark mark as he was reluctant to pull away.

He loved the soft sounds you made as you weakly clutched at his clothes, swallowing thickly. He did not stop his ministrations completely, though he did give you a slight break.

After all, Ratio may be a genius with his higher intellect, but he was still just a man, and he had his own desires, especially when his lover was so stunning. He mostly opted for less words and more touch whenever you two were intimate like this, because he wanted you to feel him and his emotions.

“Veri-” You tried to speak, but were quickly cut off by his lips attaching to yours once again, your eyes swiftly closing as you let out a sharp breath into his mouth. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss, his hand tugging at your hair so he could slip his tongue into your mouth with the small opening your gasp gave him. He was greedy and desperate, that he was.

“Just be quiet.” He said after he eventually pulled away for only a moment, his eyes scanning yours as stray strands of his hair fell over his face, shifting you closer on his lap before pulling you back in with his hand on the back of your neck.

You refrained from talking again as he continued, his touch both a mix of roughness yet treating you gently at the same time. What an enigma he was, but your mind barely had time to dwell on that train of thought as he pulled away from your lips once again, marking your upper neck with sharp bites and a soft soothe of his tongue over the blemishes seconds later.

Ratio was insatiable, his hands seeming unable to stop their journey around your body as he wanted to touch you everywhere at once.

He held you as if you would leave any moment, but rather he did this because he needed you close, he just needed you. Despite him being extremely popular among the Intelligentsia Guild and known for his good looks with many rumors surrounding him and his love life, the poor guy was touch starved, barely letting anyone else this close before you.

He couldn't deny that he loved your touch a little too much, not even as you teased him while he pressed his skin against yours, panting for a moment as he tried to control himself.

When he finally met your eyes once again with the feeling of his hands tugging and undoing the buttons on your shirt, it felt like he was eating you alive already just by the intensity of his gaze. It sent chills down your spine and you knew you were in for a long night.

Not that you minded, anyway.

[brokenramunebottle]

Not the be mean but can the gravity falls people stop being boring

Stop making human versions of bill !!

FUCK THE TRIANGLE !!

YOU COWARD !!!!!!!!!!

[whispersfromaeons]

SNEAKY | a poly! wade wilson x reader x logan howlett fic.

synopsis - the consequences of sending a nude to your boyfriends.

tw - nsfw, afab reader, she/her pronouns and fem terms used for reader, threesome, double blowjob, fingering, anal, p in v, unsafe sex / no condom used, you take them both at the same time, pre-established relationship. wc 2.2k.

Dating both Wade and Logan naturally led you to do some rather bold actions that you otherwise would probably not have done in the first place. Just their little effect on you, one could say.

It was so lonely, so utterly quiet in the bedroom you shared with them. In your defense, you couldn’t really help it. Blame it on the fact that you were ovulating, and that their constant absence from the house due to their ongoing tasks did naught but rile you up. It made you feel a little guilty, deep within somewhere, for not being patient enough for them.

But hey, a small surprise wouldn’t really hurt, yeah?

That’s how you found yourself in front of the mirror, contemplating over your actions while your fingers tugged your shirt upwards, revealing your tits, nipples clearly hard. With only half of your face visible in the camera — thank the lords, you didn’t want them to see how flushed you were — you snapped a picture, pausing for a good second. Did you really just do that? Yes.

Opening the groupchat you had with your boyfriends, you attached this picture alongside a sweet text: Miss you ♡.

-

It was almost embarrassing how fast Wade and Logan had arrived at the house after that, taking only about an hour or two. You were concerned that they had ditched their mission, though instead of listening to your questions, they simply grabbed a hold of you.

“Such a naughty fuckin’ girl. Temptin’ us while we’re doin’ important things, hm?” Logan was the first one to grab your waist by his calloused hands, a stern look flashing in his eyes that perfectly blended in with the visible arousal. You were sure that if you were to look down, you would see a clear imprint of his erection, though you simply felt frozen, too captivated by his eyes.

“Mhm, couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw your text, baby. S’not good for me to get hard in the middle of a fight, y’know. Had to finish the bad guys quickly just for ya.” Wade’s voice rang behind you, feeling his body pressing against your back, clothed bulge nuzzling against your ass. Though you couldn’t see his face due to facing Logan, you knew that he was probably sending mischievous gazes to the other man, both having formed a plan you were unbeknownst of.

Though none of them looked to be bleeding, there was a significant strong scent of their musk that made your head a bit dizzy. It made you want to nuzzle your face in between their arms and just relax there, though you didn’t open your mouth, too busy squirming in between their bodies that were now both at your front and back, sandwiching you.

“I just… missed you both a lot.” The pout on your lips made Wade coo in adoration, quick to lift his mask off so he could press soft kisses against your cheek, scarred lips caressing your lips. Logan on the other head was too stubborn to show any affection, his grip on your waist instead tightening up.

“Don’t think we’re goin’ to let you off the hook so easily, bub.” Grunting, Logan pulled you away from Wade and proceeded to push you down on the bed, making you clumsily land on your ass. Somehow, it made you feel accomplished due to the way you had managed to rile him up so much. His sternness did nothing but make you all the more wet, hearing your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

Both men shared a quick look before unbuckling their pants simultaneously. Wade took his entire spandex bodysuit off, keen on flaunting his scarred muscular physique, whereas Logan kept his top on, getting rid of his pants alongside his undies. The sight of their cocks hanging, fully hard and all because of you, made you flush vibrantly. Any attempt to look away went to vain since Wade was quickly to grip your jaw, tutting. “Nah, nah, nah! You’re gonna suck off Wolvie and I together. You can, can’t you?” With that teasing grin on his face, all you wanted to do was punch him out of pure shyness at the moment.

After a few seconds, you nodded, eyes focusing onto the two cocks in front of you. Alas, as you expected, it was hard to keep a straight mind — not when their beefy thighs were literally on your face, the scent of their cocks thick yet not entirely unpleasant. Leaning in, both of your hands reached to grab the bases of their cock, Logan’s slightly thicker than Wade’s, pressing the tips together, your warm mouth soon gently licking them. The salty taste of precum was quick to flood your mouth, a clear sign of the condition your single picture left them in. Your heart jumped at the thought, unable to suppress a smile.

Your licks soon grew into more confident long stripes, occasionally taking in Logan’s tip in your mouth before moving to Wade, drool sliding down your chin. You could hear their soft pants and grunts from above, Logan’s fingers tangled into your hair tightly while Wade’s hand rested against the side of your face. Your lips and lower chin were so wet, smeared with drool and their precum, though you continued, both hands steadily rubbing their lengths. “Pretty girl… All messy just for us.” Logan huffed from above, trying to shove his cock fully into your mouth. Though you could not fit both of them at the same time, you attempted to pay full attention to both of them.

It wasn’t long until their orgasms washed over them, Wade cumming a few seconds before Logan, a delirious moan leaving his lips as he spurted thick strings of cum on your face, followed by Logan who came all over your chest, dirtying your shirt. You couldn’t even complain, too dedicated to licking their tips clean, a soft whimper unknowingly leaving your lips at the salty taste of their cum.

“Ah, she cleans us so well, doesn’t she?” Wade snickered at Logan, reaching for the other man to pull him into a brief kiss that lasted a few seconds before they went back to pay attention to you. Logan soon took off what was left on him, his perfectly sculpted torso alongside the hair that adorned his skin making both you and Wade gape in awe. It didn’t matter how many times you both had seen Logan shirtless, he managed to look better every time.

“C’mon, lay down.” Logan gestured, and all you could do was obediently nod, wiping your face with your shirt, too aroused to care about not being properly clean. They weren’t either, really, since they had just come from outside. All three of you soon got on the bed, your body laying down while Wade got in between your legs. Soon you felt Logan scooping you up from behind, nestling you perfectly behind his widespread legs, feeling his still rock hard erection pressed against your lower back.

Wade begins to strip your clothes off you, smiling in triumph once you were all naked, simply perfect for them. Scarred hands gently guided your legs open, a theatrical gasp leaving his mouth. “Look how wet she is!” He gleed, clearly talking to your pussy instead of you, his rough fingers lightly caressing the wet folds up and down, your body squirming against Logan at the sudden touch while you were sensitive. You could feel the other man’s chest pressed against your chest, the warm and the gentle beats of his heart comforting, though you couldn’t properly focus on it due to the way Wade’s fingers smeared your own juices over your clit, rubbing on it slowly until it was swollen.

“Wade, hurts…” You couldn’t help but whine, feet kicking a bit. Goodness, you needed him. You needed them both, needed them inside of you until you were all exhausted from cumming, all safe in their arms.

Wade couldn’t help but groan at the sounds you were making alongside the soft wet noises your pussy was making at being rubbed. You could feel Logan shifting behind you, his hand reaching at the right side to grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand’s drawer, putting some of it on his fingers. “Lean forward, bub.” He grunted, making you lean forward against Wade while his hands spread your soft asscheeks apart, sighing in contentment once his eyes laid upon your tight asshole, just waiting to be filled.

Carefully, his lubed up finger slid inside your tight hole, waiting for you to adjust to the size as you moaned and clenched at the intrusion, hiding your face against Wade’s neck. Logan gently moved his finger inside your tight hole before adding another, making sure to scissor them inside, spreading your walls apart. It felt so big, and albeit having done this before, you were still always caught off guard by their sizes.

“Y-You can put it in now…” Your words came out as a stutter, clearly too needy to be filled properly, tilting your head back to look at Logan. Sweat was forming on his forehead, the sheer heat within the bedroom too intense. With the way Wade had rubbed you earlier yet not made you cum, purposely for that fact, you knew that you wouldn’t last long at all.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot.” Pressing a soft quick kiss on your lips, Logan once again shifted to let you rest you back against his chest, while Wade went in between your spread legs and grabbed the base of his cock, gently rubbing it against your wet cunt. After a few little teasing pats of his cock against you, he slowly slid the tip inside your wetness, feeling the warm walls quickly engulf him in. “Fuck, always suckin’ me in.” He chuckled, hands grabbing onto your hips, one hand reaching to slowly caress your clit once more. Your body writhed at the stretch, his scarred cock deliciously stretching you out.

“Time for me to go in too, eh?” Logan gently nipped on your earlobe, earning an eager nod from you as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your tight hole. Gently, oh so gently, he pushed his girth in, earning a loud mewl from you, your hands instantly clasping into Wade’s shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin. Words couldn’t describe how full you felt once both of them had fully settled in, both of your holes stretched wide. For a moment, your frenzied mind was unable to comprehend the blend of pain and pleasure, making you feel as if you could explode.

Logan’s arms tightly wrapped around your waist, accommodating you as he began to thrust upwards, drilling his cock into your tight ass, his precum alongst the lube making it easier to slide in and out. Wade followed, his cock kissing every pleasurable spot inside your spongy walls, matching your boyfriend’s pace — a steady rhythm and gentle rhythm.

“Hey, keep makin’ those noises.” One hand of Logan’s reached up to lightly squeeze your breast, thumb flicking your hardened nipple. You cried out in pleasure, shaking with each thrust your body met. The three of you were simply so flushed and sweaty, the scent of sex thick in the air. Logan was grunting right into your ear, his voice quieter in comparison to Wade who was moaning freely while fucking your cunt, his grip on your thigh firm, his fingers rubbing your twitching clit at the same pace as before.

“Close?” Wade asked once he felt you clench tightly around him, earning a slow nod from you, your moans growing louder until you felt your stomach uncoiling, pleasure bursting within as you came hard on his cock, body convulsing though Logan’s strong grip didn’t allow you to move much except your legs that were stiffening and tightening around Wade. “F-Feels good, so good!” You spoke in broken, incomprehensible babbles, eyes closed shut and full of tears.

You could feel their thrusts growing uncoordinated and more frantic, both now chasing their own orgasms. Logan’s cock twitched inside your tight hole before he came once again, thick cum soon filling your ass up. “I-In me…!” You moaned at Wade, who obediently followed, breathing heavily as his orgasm hit him, cumming right inside your warm cunt, cock happily nestled inside.

Your body went limp against Logan as Wade collapsed onto you, your arms still wrapped around the scarred man as you tried to catch your breath, your legs trembling profusely, feeling your skin still tingle. “Quite a toll your lil’ nude took on us, pretty.” Logan chuckled from behind, his hand coming up to tenderly caress your head, allowing you to nuzzle onto his palm.

Wade’s head shot up to look at Logan, a wide smirk blooming on his scarred lips. “My turn now.”

It was going to be a long night.

[dindjarindiaries]

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “You could have died, you know.” “I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” and “I’m afraid of losing you, okay?”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

"Hey! Hey. Stay with me." There was a gentle tap on your cheek that smelled of leather and blaster fire. You groaned and blinked your eyes open, wincing as light caught the silver helmet that leaned over you. "Hey." The modulated voice was even softer that time. "You with me?"

You nodded, grunting as you sat up on your elbows. Din's hands continued to hold the sides of your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as his visor gave you a once-over.

"Easy." His command was gentle, rooted in nothing more than concern as his hands eased their way down to your shoulders. "That was a hell of a blow you took there."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me." You exhaled and began to stand. "We need to get back to the ship."

Din stood with you, one hand on your back and the other holding tight to your hand. If you weren't still somewhat disoriented, your heart would've been pounding at his touch and his proximity. "Only if you're able."

You huffed and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine." You gestured with your head in the direction of the ship. "Let's get going."

Din nodded, drawing his blaster as the two of you began to run to back to the ship. There was no doubt the two of you had already taken care of your attackers, but it never hurt to be cautious. Din, however, was even more on edge than usual, his free hand staying close to you as his visor checked on you more than it did on the way ahead.

It was perhaps the most nervous you had ever seen him.

Once you were on the ship, Din secured the hatch closed behind you, and he wasted no time heading to the cockpit to get you off the planet. You collapsed into the nearest chair and took a few breaths, running your hand over your forehead as a slight ache began to arise. You had known you wouldn't be able to walk away from a detonator blast without at least a little pain.

You were so distracted by these thoughts that you didn't even hear Din return until he was kneeling in front of you with the medpac. You lifted your head at the sight of it and clicked your tongue as you shook your head. "Din, that's really not necessary."

He didn't stop shuffling through the medpac as he answered. "I'd like to make sure." Din paused and glanced up at you. "Please."

You couldn't help giving in to the pure worry in his tone. Your lips stretched in a small smile as you nodded. He returned the gesture and lifted a handheld scanner, using it on various parts of your head, arms, and more to make sure you were free of any critical injures. It time and time again chimed in the negative.

You watched him as he worked, taking note of the way his gloved hand shook as he held the scanner. His free hand was on your knee, and his touch pulsated every once in a while as if he was grounding himself to you over and over again. You furrowed your brow, and once he had completed his scans, you couldn't help speaking on it.

"Din." You reached out for the sides of his helmet, encouraging him to look at you. You searched his visor before nodding firmly. "It's all right."

Din held a breath in his armored chest, his shoulders tensing as his hand on your knee tightened again. His visor fell to study his grasp on you, as if you would fall away if he let go or looked away. After a long pause, he spoke in a voice so strained that it pulled on each of your heartstrings. "You could have died, you know."

You softened even more at that, your thumbs running over his beskar cheeks as you tried to soothe him. "I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about."

Din shook his helmet, lowering it until it was resting against the knee he wasn't still holding. His shoulders rose and fell with each unsteady breath he took. Your softness was exchanged for fierce worry of your own as you ran a hand over his helmet.

"Din." You utterance of his name was just above a whisper. He still remained where he was, practically curled up into you as he clung to you the best he could. "What is it?"

He didn't move even as he answered your question. "I'm afraid."

Your eyes widened at that. You had been convinced that there wasn't a single thing in the galaxy Din Djarin was actually afraid of. He had sure as hell proven that over your time together. "What are you so afraid of?"

Din sighed, lifting his helmet once again so that his visor could face you. His hand ran from your knee to your thigh as if the motion helped him to gain the strength to say the words he was holding so close to his chest. "I’m afraid of losing you, okay?"

You instantly fell apart at his vulnerability. Your brow relaxed as you held his helmet between your hands again and urged him to get closer. The way you moved to the end of the chair helped to close the distance, and soon, you were able to rest your forehead against his helmet. "You won't lose me, Din." You shook your head to emphasize your point. "Not now, not ever."

Din exhaled a troubled breath. "We don't know that." His gloved fingers drummed against your thigh as he fought for strength to go on. "I... have lost so much. It almost feels inevitable. I've put my head down and kept going, but..."

His breath caught in his throat. Your sympathy for him nearly made your eyes well with tears as you waited patiently for him to finish.

"If it were you..." One of Din's hands rose to hold your wrist in place. "I couldn't bear it. Not even the thought of it."

You tried your best to put on a genuine smile for him as you began to reassure him. "I'll be more careful, Din. Okay?" You kissed the center of his visor. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it's not easy."

Din huffed, and a wave of relief flowed through you at the evidence of the darkness starting to leave him. "Neither is jumping near a detonator to protect me."

You chuckled, shrugging as your face began to warm. "Well, you would've done the same for me."

Din tilted his helmet at that. "Yeah. In protective armor."

You closed your eyes and savored your closeness. "I guess you'll have to find me my own suit of armor, then."

Din's hand gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. "I'll be your armor."

You reopened your eyes, smiling at him before you wrapped your arms around his neck to embrace him. Your cheek rested upon the cloth around his neck and shoulders as you nodded to yourself. "Perfect."

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x reader pt. 1

--------------------

You were a delivery girl who was a frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

----------------------------------------------------------

"He's been ordering a lot of Coconut water lately..." R/n mumbled as she loaded up her delivery van with the items on the shopping list Ken Sato's assistant sent her for his bi-weekly delivery, usually he just orders beer, protein shakes and a melange western food some of which were not a common find around Japanese super markets.

R/n had to go special import stores for some of the stuff Mr. Sato orders; which takes R/n though a wild runaround of the entire city, A route that none her other coworkers had the time or patience for; even the self-proclaimed "Sato-fan queen" Who stole R/n's route gave up within 20 minutes when she couldn't find the tiny shop that sold his special brand of coffee.

Her saga ended when she tried to cut corners and grabbed random items and delivered those instead...Yeah, that went over like a lead balloon. Her majesty got a harsh chewing out by the boss after Mr. Sato's assistant complained about the delivery and threatened a restraining order after the younger devilry girl displayed an obsessive and aggressive attitude.

(I.E. taking selfies of herself in front of the house, flirting into the intercom and trying to force herself into Mr Sato's house when she realized he wasn't home.)

Needless to say, R/n was assigned Mr. Sato's personal delivery girl, cos she was the only one that didn't have crush on him. Much to the ire of her female and few male coworkers. R/n remembered the first time Mr. Sato was there to receive his groceries in person. He seemed thrown off by her complete impassiveness towards him....

----------------------------------

{Flashback, To Ken taking the groceries from R/n, he kept staring at the delivery girl expecting her to crack a smile or squeal excitedly or something, but no, she kept a neutral expression on her face and stayed professional during the entire transaction.]

"Uh....Aren't you going to ask for my autograph?"

"Nope."

"But...I'm Ken Sato."

"Yeah, I know who you are and I don't care. sign here."

R/n holds out her tablet as Ken stares at her baffled; he signs the digital receipt, R/n printed out the receipt sticker and slapped it on the the box the baseball player was holding, The (Y/Height) woman then tipped her hat to him before getting into her van and driving off leaving Ken standing in his driveway completely dumbfounded. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After that Mr. Sato and R/n kept their interactions short and sweet, which seemed to work just fine for them. But things change and R/n was going to experience a very big change in her life.

It all started when the Sato-stalker queen Or Meiko AKA: "Meimei" as calls herself on her blog invited R/n to Mr. Sato's premier game, R/n tried to reject the offer as gently as possible; sports were never really her thing, but the bottle blonde girl had guilt tripped her into going. Apparently she doesn't have many friends (wonder why?), so there was R/n sitting up in the nosebleed section while feeling awkward in the sparkly baseball jersey Meimei had insisted she wear for the occasion.

The whole time the blonde was squealing and blabbing about Mr. Sato and how handsome he was and how unfair it was that R/n got to see him, thought the older woman was quick to dash whatever hopes Meimei had of hearing about Mr. Sato's personal life by informing her that he's barely home when she delivers to him and few times he is there it's just to receive the groceries.

"What goes on in Mr. Sato's private life is not our business..." R/n affirmed Meimei just pouted and called R/n mean before turning her attention to the pitch, she gasped loudly and started shaking R/n excitedly. "Ohmygash,ohmygash!! It's him! she squealed as Mr. Sato stepped on to the field towards his position at bat.

R/n couldn't help but wince when she watched Ken miss the first two balls, she saw the catcher from the other team say something that peeved off Mr. Sato; it looked like they were going to throw down until the umpire calmed it down and Mr. Sato change his position at the third pitch.

He pulled off an impressive power hit that got the crowd screaming and cheering. However, as Meimei was squealing and shaking R/n for what seemed to be for the umpteenth time she failed to notice her older coworker's attention was completely fixated on something else.

She felt R/n suddenly grab her hand. Meimei looked at R/n bemused but then noticed her complexion had gone ashen as the older delivery girl pointed up at the sky; the younger one followed her gaze and lost all of her peppiness in seconds as an explosion from a downed aircraft went off over the stadium causing the entire place to shake!

The stadium erupted into chaos as R/n instinctively covered her younger coworker from any fallen debris as the Kaiju alert system went off ordering everyone to evacuate! R/n and Meimei wasted no time getting out of the stadium just in time to see Ultraman arrive and punch the Kaiju away from the stadium. R/n stood back to watch them fight for a few moments before a hysterical Meimei dragged her away...

{Cut to a few hours later}

R/n was finishing up a few late night deliveries, some of her coworker didn't want to come in due to the monster attack so R/n was forced to take over their shifts. She had just finished delivering cat-food to a nice old lady, when she got a call from Mr. Sato he wanted donuts and coffee.

R/n sighed and went to work she pulled up to Ken's home on the old delivery scooter the boss had rusting in the back seeing as it was a small delivery, it was raining heavily by the time she pulled up to the house. R/n walked up and knocked the door Mr. Sato opened the door and looked startled to see her.

"Uh, What are you doing here so late?" He asked looking around his driveway, R/n cocked a brow and held up his order like it should be obvious. "Yeah, I know...But it's usually the old guy that delivers this late." R/n explained he took the night off she was filing in, Ken reluctantly took the donuts when he notices how wet her uniform was and looked outside again and noticed the rusty scooter just chilling in his driveway and frowned.

"You didn't drive all the way up here on that thing did you?" R/n just shrugged Mr. Sato looked like he was going invite her in or something, but they were interrupted by a weird cry coming from somewhere in the house. "What was that?" R/n inquired bouncing on her toes trying to look over his shoulder, the baseball player got this 'oh crap' look on his face as he quickly blocked her view.

"Uh, Nothing, j-just my TV! Here's your tip!" R/n's phone pinged the delivery girl's usual calm demeanor was replaced with one of panic as she tried to explain that Japan doesn't practice tipping! Only for her eyes widened in shock the amount he sent her. "...And e-Even if we did do tips, I think you overdid-" Mr. Sato quickly cuts her off. "No I didn't!" and slammed the door in her face.

R/n blinked a few times as she looked between her phone and the door baffled after a few seconds of trying figure out what that all about? Before shrugging then walked back her scooter and drove off....

{Ken gave the reader about three hundred dollars.)

[Next time R/n finds out just what Mr. Sato was hiding in his house the encounter was both cute and terrifying.]

------------

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

[satorusluver]

Virgin!Choso x fem!reader

Minors DNI

Word count: 650 ish

Tags/warnings: she/her pronouns, hand job, blow job for like two seconds, premature ejaculation lol

Choso, who is 150+ years old but has never been intimate with anyone, so he's shy and nervous and so so sensitive when you two first start doing things. He audibly gasps when you first palm him through his robes, and at first you think maybe you've done something wrong. But when you ask him if he's okay he gives an eager nod, his dark eyes already glazing over with pleasure and you've barely even touched him. And when you ask him if he'd like to go further, he chokes out a desperate "please, my love" in that deep voice of his.

Choso, who lets out a soft whimper when you finally free his cock from its confines and an even louder one when you wrap your hand around it. His dick is hot and heavy in your hand, already twitching and throbbing and aching to be touched. It's even prettier than you imagined it would be, too -perfectly straight, long and pale with a girth a little thicker than average, and a dark pink mushroom head that's already weeping precum from how excited he is.

Choso, who's never been touched by anyone else in that way, who's surprisingly vocal for someone who's usually so quiet as you slowly pump him up and down, taking your time trying to figure out how he likes it. Except he likes anything you do, every touch is heaven to him. It's unlike anything he could have imagined to feel your soft hand on him, and when your thumb rubs along his leaking slit, he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand with a low "oh, fuuuck." Your slow but firm touch feels so good that after only a few minutes he's already beginning to feel that pleasurable pressure building in the pit of his stomach, feeling his abs tense slightly each time you stroke your hand up his length.

Choso, whose pale face is so red and flustered at the sight of his pretty girlfriend lowering her face down to his achingly hard cock. He can't help but note the size of it compared to your face, but all coherent thoughts fly out the window the moment your hand curls around his base and your tongue comes out. His breath hitches in his throat when you slowly, teasingly lick your way up his length, never once breaking eye contact. It's the hottest thing Choso has ever seen, you're the hottest thing Choso has ever seen, and before he can stop himself, he's blowing his load then and there like the pathetic virgin he is. He opens his mouth to warn you, but all that comes out is a strangled moan before his cock twitches violently and a thick load of cum spurts out messily, covering your face in the thick, white substance.

Choso barely has time to enjoy the sweet sensation before he's panting out an apology, his whole body still tingling with the aftermath of his orgasm. "I'm sorry, shit, I'm so sorry. I couldn't help it, you were so good and you know I-" he babbles on, his face only turning redder with every word. Choso is petrified, terrified you'll be angry with him, disgusted with him, that you'll think he's as pathetic as he feels right now. So it's much to his surprise when you let out an amused giggle instead of a repulsed groan. And even more so when you wipe a streak of his cum off your face with two of your fingers before bringing those fingers to your lips and sucking them clean with an all too pleased smirk.

"It's okay, baby," you reassure him gently, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." You lean down once more to place a brief kiss to his still half-hard cock with a little wink. "I'll clean myself up and then maybe we can try again in a little while, yeah?"

[basslinegrave]

touch

[jeongin-lvr]

I have a veryyyy strong feeling that Jeongin is a bit of a perv (and by a bit I mean massive). He does the nasty stuff; jerking off into your panties when you’re not home, spraying your perfume on his pillow that he’s gonna hump when you’re asleep in the other room. He thinks of you when his cock gets hard and he wishes so badly you could come and suck him off. Jeongin is so closeted about it though… you would never know your sweet roommate who bought you stuffies and held your hand when crossing the street was also stuffing his mouth with your worn panties to keep his moans down as he fucked his hand. Maybe your innocence drives him mad— would you call him nasty if you ever caught him in the act? Or would you offer to help him with the same level of perversion in your sweet voice? He’s left to wonder every night when he feels extra horny, listening to you in the other room doing nothing in particular.

[tojisun]

jealous simon but it’s in a self-destructive way.

how he isolates himself and forces his own desires into the yawning of his heart so that they won’t see the light of day because he knows, more than anyone else, how he doesn’t deserve you. and so he would rather burn with the ferocity of his unreturned love than burden you with his devotion.

how he draws away from the easy companionship that you two have; what were once hour-long phone calls peter into minutes of checking in, until they simmer into sparse messages. sometimes you two won’t even talk for months.

how he begins to avoid you. he misses out on cafe dates or movie nights, or hangs out with the squad almost everyday.

how he burrows at his safe house—he hasn’t been home (withyouwithyouwithyou) for months now.

he thinks time will fix him. he thinks distance will do him some good, but—

“please,” you whimper, voice trembling with the weight of your heartbreak. “please, just talk to me.”

(you are just as beautiful as he remembered.)

simon digs his fingernails into his palms, hoping that the stinging of his skin hurts more than the pain swelling in his heart.

of course it doesn’t; nothing will hurt more than leaving you.

and simon knows this, but—

“there’s nothing to talk about,” he finally replies, forcing the nonchalance in his voice. he fakes a smile. “what’s got you worryin’, huh?”

your lips wobble. “how could you?”

“c’mon,” is all what simon could force out, ignoring the way his tongue feels like it’s sticking to the roof of his mouth. “y’ve got no reason to be throwin’ a tantrum like this, kid.”

he sees the moment your hackles rise, hurt bleeding into fury.

“oh, fuck you, riley,” you spit out, vitriolic in the way it dribbles from your snarling lips.

(your anger will be the last memory that simon has of you. he knows he will regret this moment.

he already is.)

but—

this—you, leaving him, and him, forcing it all to fall apart—is for the best.

[ghost-proofbaby]

15 with Eddie? :)

i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) <3

15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."

warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader

wc: 2.9k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene. 

It’s nice — it’s serene.

You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.

But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.

It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.

“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.

You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with. 

“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.” 

“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.

He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.

“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene. 

You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”

He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.

It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates  his left dimple. 

He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.

“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?” 

The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings. 

You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.

“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.” 

He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours. 

You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.

The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him. 

“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.” 

Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before. 

It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck. 

The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.

A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park. 

Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you. 

Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.

“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.

His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually. 

Eventually. There’s no rush.

Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”

“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.” 

The night before, he would have teased your desperation. 

But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting. 

He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions. 

Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further. 

But today? In this moment? The two of you have time. 

A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs. 

When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls. 

You need him closer.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.” 

The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.” 

You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion. 

His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.” 

His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis. 

You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun. 

And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.

“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance. 

He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.

Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.

When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.” 

Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it. 

He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair. 

And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process. 

You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.

And just as he knows you, you know him.

You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.

“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue. 

His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had. 

Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.

“I love you more.” 

You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.

But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually. 

The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air. 

Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips. 

And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.

“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.” 

You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter. 

“Look at me when you cum.” 

He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his. 

It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.

He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other. 

You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be. 

Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones. 

There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you. 

“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.

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[siren-of-agony]

Answers to "please stop"

No.

I can't.

I won't.

I don't want to.

I don't know how.

I will soon.

But then how will you learn?

We're almost done.

It's almost over.

Ask me again!

Oh well, if you're asking that politely…

Fine. For now.

Only once I've come up with something more fun.

Only once you've come up with something more fun.

Or what?

I know you can go a little bit longer.

You know I won't.

I love it when you beg.

I hate it when you beg.

I'm so bored by your begging.

Not until you're too weak to ask me to.

But I don't have anything better to do.

I wish I could.

Alright! See? All you had to do was ask nicely.

I'm not doing anything.

What, exactly?

Just once more, I promise!

Just once more, I promise! (🤞)

You're doing this to yourself.

You wanted this.

You want this.

You know you made me do this.

Are you ready to give me what I want, then?

I will once you give in.

What will you give me in return?

Why should I?

You know there is only one way to end this.

You know there is only one way this will end.

(Answers to "it hurts")

[knightoflove]

Self shippers who have to deal with a lot of aches and pain, whether it’s because you have chronic pain or have a physically demanding job.

Your f/o doesn’t mind helping you. They love you, so of course they’ll help with anything

💛 Cooking your meals

🧡 Running you a hot shower/bath and helping you wash up

💛 Massaging any sore spots

🧡 Applying salonpas and getting you comfy with your heat pad

💛 Keeping track of all your pain medications

They’ll never judge how many chores you can or can’t do, or if you can’t do any chores at all. They adore you, all of you <3

[mrsoharaa]

You and Miguel trip over each others feet, drunkenly, landing on the softness of your cozy bed with your back gently bouncing amongst the thick warmth of your blanket and his towering, stocky frame looming over yours protectively...admirably.

His soft hues of hazelnut irises gaze down at you with such tender and allure. Briefly glances down to the plushness of your pretty, fully lips promptly back up to your glimmering, hazy eyes. Contemplation roaming through his foggy mind.

Your gentle and sweet giggles lure him out from his thinking, eyes focusing more intently into your gorgeous eyes. Sinking and basking in the sheer beauty that resonates from your reeling optics. A lazy, half witted smile weaving across his strong cheeks.

"¿Qué es tan gracioso, preciosa?" he chimes with the same smile, watching you softly roam your tinier hands all over his wide, firm chest. Leaving a trail of arising goosebumps beneath the thin layer of his black shirt that snugged ever so nicely around his bulked stature.

"Y-you Miggy...you're so funny" you emit a small hiccup, fingers still grazing over the soft, light fabric that atoned to his fit body ever so perfectly. Your wandering irises stilling into his directly, nipping back your bottom lip as your palms smoothly, gradually glide their way up and around the juncture of his strong jaw to the back of his neck. Easing in the closeness between the two of you.

He raise a thick brow in curiosity and interest, chuckling lightly as he hums to the light invitation your fingers were hinting at, at the back of his head. Twirling and curling ever so delicately and diligently in between the soften locks of deep mahogany.

"Am I now? do share, dulzura" he keeps his adoring, flaunting smile on his beautiful face. Watching you ever so intently and longingly with every motion you'd make, consuming the intoxicating feeling of your welcoming gentle touches.

You giggle once more, another loose hiccup reverberating through your throat. Your hands clasping more securely around his neck and pull him down to meet your warm, tender lips. Hardly ghosting over the shell of his right ear.

"I can s-see you fighting back the u-urge to kiss me Miguel..." you whisper ever so daintly, smoothly deep into the depths of his ringing ears. You feel his muscles tense under your touch, arising a more coy and playful smirk to tug amongst your heated cheeks.

His head tilts lightly, lips skimming over the flush of your flawless skin, suavely rakes both of his large hands up along the strut of your calling body.

"...Would you be against it, mi amor?" his voice tremored with such lowered bass, rasp like as he grazes your cute cheeks with a teasing touch of his warm lips. Grinning oh so cheekily against the supple flesh as he feels you writhe and squirm a bit beneath him.

Your hands weave more profusely into his curly, brunette hair. Fingers curling and combing through each soften strand, as you pull him more closer towards you.

"O-of course not dummy...that's w-what I've wanted all this time" you breathe out faintly, listening to the sudden hitch of his breath settle at the back of his throat. His dilated pupils following over to remeet your coyish, yearning gaze.

It didn't take him much convincing afterwards to have his hungry lips lap over your own with such dire need and desire. A mixture of dizzying passion and aching want, fueling his ignited action against your lips. Devouring every moan, whimper and breathy gasps that slipped off your trembling, candied lips.

Diligently, wallowing in the devoted and amorous kiss.