#it's all about the intimacy and the tenderness!!!!
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anhedoniawrites · 24 hours ago
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just feeling my way back to you.
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gif by @reidgif
lovers - anna of the north
part one!
Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader
summary: the two youngest BAU agents explore their wants & needs together.
genre: smut🔥
word count: 5.2k
warnings: 18+, NSFW, MDNI! no use of y/n, proofread, size difference, nipple play, oral (f receiving, only if you squint), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, aftercare.
Spencer sat beside you, his gaze drifting over to you in the quiet of his apartment. You took slow, thoughtful sips of your wine, your eyes wandering around the space as if you were trying to memorise every corner of it. You looked at the bookshelves stacked with well-worn novels, the photographs framed on the walls that captured moments from Spencer’s life—some familiar, some foreign—and the odd assortment of trinkets and souvenirs scattered across the surfaces. It was as though you were taking the time to piece together who he was, each object a small window into his world.
The way you moved—so effortlessly, so naturally—caught Spencer off guard. You weren’t just occupying the space; you were making it your own, adding a layer of comfort to a place that had always felt a little disordered and incomplete to him. It was a quality he found magnetic, the way you seemed to settle into any space with such ease, as if you could make anywhere feel like home.
Without realising it, he found himself staring, lost in the soft curve of your profile, the way your fingers delicately held the glass, and the gentle way your eyes traced the walls. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice when your gaze shifted to meet his.
Your brow arched slightly, and you set your glass down with a soft clink, the sound breaking the quiet. “What are you looking at?” Your voice was light, and playful, but there was a warmth in your eyes that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat.
He blinked, startled, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips, his usual self-consciousness melting away in the moment. “You’re just captivating,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, the sincerity in his words impossible to hide.
The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and without thinking, he reached out. His fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the touch gentle, lingering for a second longer than he intended. It wasn’t a grand gesture—just a simple act of intimacy—but it felt monumental. There was something about the softness of the moment that made everything else fade away.
Spencer smiled softly, his heart fluttering in his chest at the way you looked at him. The warmth in your eyes made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t quite experienced before. Your breath caught for a brief moment, your cheeks flushing with a delicate blush as their eyes locked, and then, without another word, you leaned in.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile intimacy they’d built. But the softness of it, the way your lips met his with such quiet certainty, deepened the moment in a way words never could. Spencer’s breath caught, his pulse quickening, as his hand instinctively found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing the side of your cheek.
For a moment, time seemed to slow, the world outside of the apartment fading away. It was just the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of the kiss, the tenderness between them undeniable. The soft pressure of your lips against his felt like the culmination of everything that had been building throughout the night—the laughter, the quiet moments, the connection. It was all there, in the simple act of their kiss.
Their kiss deepened, a fiery hunger igniting between them that neither could deny. The heat of the moment consumed them as Spencer got up from the couch and walked backward, guiding them toward his bedroom without breaking contact. Their lips moved fervently, breaths mingling as they stumbled, almost losing their balance. Your hands were insistent, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and pushing it from his shoulders.
“Please,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft but urgent. Your nimble fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one, until the fabric parted to reveal his chest.
When the back of Spencer’s legs hit the bed, he sat down abruptly, his knees spreading to invite you to stand between them. You stepped closer, your arms draping over his shoulders, your touch warm and possessive. His shirt hung open, exposing a lean, lightly toned frame—exactly the way you liked. Your eyes roamed over him with unspoken appreciation. Spencer’s hands found your upper waist, his palms gliding down your sides to your hips, even as the fabric of your dress teased the skin beneath. Every curve, every line of your body seemed to captivate him.
“You can take it off,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. Your thumb brushed along his jawline, the small motion grounding them both in the intimacy of the moment. Spencer swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. Slowly, almost torturously, his hands travelled lower, skimming the soft material of your dress until he reached the hem. He rose to his full height, towering over you, and you instinctively lifted your arms above your head, allowing him to lift the dress from your body.
The fabric slipped away, revealing your bare skin to the dim light of the room. Your beauty took his breath away. For a moment, he held the dress in his hands, his gaze locking with yours before he let it fall to the floor at their feet. Your cheeks flushed under his intense gaze, but you stood steady, letting him drink you in.
“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. He reached out, his hands settling on your waist again as he pulled you closer. Gently, sitting back down he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your stomach in a kiss so tender it sent shivers up your spine.
Spencer’s lips began to wander, trailing kisses across your abdomen. Each one was deliberate, an unspoken promise of adoration. When his mouth brushed against your hip, you jolted slightly, a giggle escaping your lips before you could stop it.
“That tickles,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and delight.
He pulled back just enough to look up at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good to know,” he said, his voice laced with warmth. Then, with a soft chuckle, he pressed another kiss to the same spot, revelling in the way your body reacted to him.
Each kiss was a worshipful touch, his lips moving with a mixture of restraint and longing as if he wanted to memorise every inch of you. For the first time, you felt completely and utterly seen, cherished in a way that made your heart ache with the intensity of it.
“What do you want, baby?” Spencer murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your skin as he trailed a series of tender kisses along your collarbone, your shoulders, and down your arms. His lips were soft yet insistent, his touch a silent promise of his devotion. Every movement, every kiss, spoke volumes about how much he adored you—how much he cherished every moment they spent together.
“I want you,” you whispered back, your voice breathy but resolute, as your hands moved to the collar of his shirt. Your fingers trembled slightly, but you didn’t falter, eager to rid him of the barriers between them. The shirt slid off his shoulders with ease, exposing his lean, toned chest to your hungry gaze. You bit your lip softly, your teeth grazing the tender flesh, and Spencer’s eyes darkened at the sight.
He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over your bottom lip, his touch both possessive and reverent. “Don’t do that, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, his thumb lingering for a moment before he cupped your face, his palm warm against your cheek.
“Please, Spence,” you murmured, your voice trembling with need. Your knees hit the floor as you lowered yourself in front of him, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. You were at eye level with his belt now, your fingers already reaching for the buckle, your gaze seeking his approval.
His breath hitched, his resolve wavering for the briefest moment, but he quickly regained control. Spencer nodded, his jaw tightening as he watched you deftly unfasten his belt, your fingers brushing against him as you worked. The sound of his zipper being undone filled the room, and his slacks pooled at his feet, springing free his stiff erection.
You looked up at him, your eyes wide and expectant, your lips parted slightly. Your hands hovered over the waistband of his boxers, but before you could go further, his large hands gently wrapped around your wrists, stopping you.
“No, baby,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Tonight is about you. I’m going to take care of you.”
Before you could protest, he leaned down, his hands sliding beneath your arms as he helped you to your feet. His lips found yours in a kiss that was both slow and all-consuming, a kiss that left you breathless as he guided you backward toward the bed.
Your back met the soft mattress, and he eased you down, his hands gentle yet commanding as he positioned you just how he wanted. You lay beneath him, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, your body clad in nothing but delicate lace that did little to conceal your curves.
Spencer stood above you for a moment, taking you in. The way your hair fanned out across the pillow, the way your skin seemed to glow in the soft light of the room, the way you looked at him as if he were the only thing you needed.
Spencer shifted beside you on the bed, his breath warm against your skin as he lowered himself to your knee. His lips pressed delicate, lingering kisses along the curve of your leg, trailing upward with unhurried devotion. Each touch sent a shiver cascading through your body, anticipation pooling in the pit of your stomach.
When he reached the edge of your bralette, his kisses faltered for a moment, and he glanced up, catching your gaze. Your back arched instinctively as if your body was urging you forward, your fingers fumbling behind you to unclip the fabric that kept your textured. The moment the tension snapped free, your bralette slid off your shoulders, leaving you exposed.
Spencer stilled. His wide, hazel eyes roamed over you, his breath catching as though the sight of you had stolen every coherent thought. You were radiant—utterly captivating—and for a brief moment, he felt foolish just laying there, staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, but filled with reverence. His hands hovered hesitantly, his gaze locking onto yours with a pleading vulnerability that made your heart race. You could see him wrestling with himself, clinging desperately to the fraying edges of his self-control.
Your lips parted, and you nodded, the simple gesture granting him permission.
He exhaled slowly, his hands finding your skin with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. His fingers skimmed the swell of your breast before settling at your peak. He pinched softly, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, drawing out the most delicious tension before giving a subtle upward tug. When he finally released, the sensation left you trembling, a soft whimper escaping your lips.
The sound drove him mad, his restraint slipping with every second. Spencer leaned closer, brushing his lips against the column of your neck as his hands continued their exploration, worshipping every inch of you.
You were utterly undone, your head falling back against the pillow as his touch turned you into a mess of quiet gasps and whispered pleas, each sound echoing like a symphony in his ears.
“More. Please, Spence,” you whispered into his ear, your voice trembling with need. Your head rested on his shoulder, your breath warm against his skin. His fingers continued their slow, deliberate pinching at your nipples, drawing soft gasps from your lips.
With his free hand, Spencer moved down, hesitating at the waistband of your underwear. He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fabric as his eyes searched yours for the permission he craved more than anything.
Your response was a broken moan, a breathless, “Mm-hm,” followed by a shaky nod. It was all he needed. Carefully, he slipped his hand beneath the elastic, his fingertips brushing against the soft, slick heat of your folds. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily at the sensation.
“You’re so sensitive, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with adoration. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded eagerly, your body arching toward his touch, silently pleading for more.
Spencer’s movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every moment of this intimacy. Slowly, he ran his fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal before letting one finger dip inside you. The sensation made you gasp, your body tightening around him instantly. You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway, soft and unrestrained.
He began to move his finger in and out of your at an achingly slow pace, his touch gentle yet deliberate. Your head fell back against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as a quiet plea slipped from your lips. “More. Please.”
Obliging your, Spencer carefully added a second finger, easing your open with patience and care. You let out a breathless whimper, your hips rolling instinctively to meet his hand. It wasn’t greedy—it was perfect. He set a steady, measured rhythm, his fingers curling slightly to brush against your sweet spot with every stroke.
As he worked you, his palm pressed against your clit, adding a delicious friction that had your thighs trembling. You clenched around his fingers, your breathing growing shallow, your body teetering on the edge of control.
“Right there,” you gasped, your voice cracking with need. Your high was building rapidly, a fire igniting deep in your stomach, threatening to consume you whole.
Spencer’s eyes never left your face, his heart racing at the sight of you coming undone in his arms. He continued his rhythm, his touch unrelenting but tender, wanting nothing more than to give you everything you needed.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent, as if the words themselves were a prayer.
Your body tensed, your hips lifting off the bed as your climax overtook you, a shuddering cry falling from your lips. Spencer held you through it, his fingers coaxing you through the waves of your release, his free hand brushing soothingly along your side.
As you came down, your body relaxed against him, your head nestled into the crook of his neck. “I’ve got you,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.
Spencer shifted from behind you with tender care that made your chest tighten. His movements were deliberate, his gaze soft as he positioned himself above you in missionary. His hands gently brushed over your thighs, his voice low and soothing.
“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone laced with both reverence and restraint.
Still basking in the haze of your orgasm, you nodded, your mind too clouded to form words. The intensity of what you had just felt lingered in your body, leaving you breathless and pliant beneath him. You didn’t understand why it had affected you so deeply—maybe it was because it was Spencer who had given it to you. Whatever the reason, it had felt better than anything you’d experienced before, though you weren’t about to tell him that. His ego didn’t need any more fuel tonight.
Spencer hooked his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties, pausing as his eyes flicked to yours. “I need you to lift your hips for me, darling,” he murmured.
Your body responded instinctively, your hips rising just enough for him to slide the fabric down your legs. The cool air brushed against your skin as the damp material was removed, and you felt an odd relief to be rid of it. You barely noticed Spencer had already used his boxers until your eyes flicked downward.
You froze for a moment, your breath hitching. You’d had a rough idea of his size when you unzipped his pants earlier, but seeing him now left you speechless. He was bigger than you’d expected—not that you were complaining.
Spencer must have caught the flicker of surprise in your eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back up your body, his touch reverent as he gently parted your legs. His lips found your clit in a soft, feather-light kiss, and you couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a quiet gasp falling from your lips.
“Do you have a condom?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse as he positioned himself above your, their faces now inches apart. His gaze searched yours, filled with both desire and care.
“I’m on the pill,” you whispered, your cheeks flushing as a wave of shyness overtook you. You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so bashful when Spencer had grown so confident, but you found yourself enjoying the new dynamic.
His brow furrowed slightly, his fingers reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed over your cheek before trailing down to your lips, his touch both calming and electric. “You’re sure, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.
You could hear the sincerity in his question. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you—he just wanted to be absolutely certain you were comfortable with what they were about to share.
Looking into his eyes, you saw nothing but tenderness and a quiet devotion that made your heartache. Leaning up, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your hand resting lightly against his cheek as you nodded.
“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the butterflies swirling in your stomach.
Spencer exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “Okay,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile before he kissed you again, his movements deliberate and full of unspoken promises.
“It might hurt a little as I’m going in, okay?” Spencer murmured, his voice soft and full of care. His body was pressed against yours, their chests flush, and his forehead rested lightly against your breast as he glanced down to line himself up. He moved with the kind of precision and gentleness that made your heartache, as if every movement was a testament to how much he cherished you.
You nodded, your breaths steadying as you braced yourself for the discomfort you expected. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against his skin in a silent reassurance. You trusted him completely.
When he finally began to press into you, it wasn’t as bad as you had anticipated. There was a pinch—a sharp but fleeting sting—but it faded quickly, leaving only a sensation of fullness that sent a shiver through your body. Spencer stopped the moment he was partially inside, his brow furrowing as he glanced up at you.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You blinked, surprised by how gentle it all felt. “That was it?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.
Spencer chuckled softly, his forehead lifting from your skin so his eyes could meet yours. The vulnerability in his gaze made your heart flutter. “Half-ish,” he replied with a playful smirk.
Your eyes widened at his words, and he couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound low and warm in his chest. “Only half?” you echoed, incredulous.
“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he explained, his tone patient and soothing.
Your lips pressed into a thin line, giving him a look he knew all too well—a look that said, You should know better than to underestimate me. As if to prove your point, you spoke the exact words he expected. “I would tell you if I needed you to stop.”
He smiled, his hand brushing tenderly against your cheek. “I know,” he said softly, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Okay, sweetheart. Just let me know if it’s too much.”
With that, he slowly pushed the rest of the way in, his movements careful and measured. Your body tensed for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, and you bit your lip to stifle a gasp. Spencer paused again, giving you time to acclimate.
Your arms instinctively wrapped around him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to the fullness. You hated to admit it, but he had been right—it was almost overwhelming. A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, and you felt your nails drag against his skin as you gripped him tighter, the pressure grounding you.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice thick with concern, his gaze searching yours for any sign of discomfort.
You nodded, your lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “You feel... really good.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips slow and deliberate against yours. The kiss deepened as he began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, keeping his pace slow and steady.
Your breath hitched with every deliberate movement, the pleasure surging through you like a wave, steady and unrelenting. Each thrust was slow, measured, as if he were savouring every moment, every reaction he drew from you. It wasn’t rushed; it wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate, a dance that spoke of connection, trust, and a shared yearning.
Your body arched into his, your hands sliding over the taut muscles of his back. Your nails dug in lightly, not in pain but in a desperate attempt to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. The words were soft, almost vulnerable, as though he were baring his soul in those few syllables. They wrapped around your heart, filling you with a warmth that was just as intense as the fire burning between them.
Your response was a breathless moan, your lips parting as your head tilted back against the pillow. His lips found the curve of your neck, brushing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering, as though he wanted to imprint himself on you.
The rhythm they created together was almost hypnotic, their bodies moving in perfect sync, a harmony that felt instinctual, and natural. His hips pressed against yours with each deliberate thrust, slow and deep, leaving you gasping for air. Your body responded to him as if it had been made for this, every nerve alive, every inch of your attuned to him.
“Spencer,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion, with need. Your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his body pressed fully against yours. He responded with a kiss that was both tender and consuming, his lips capturing yours in a way that made the world fade away.
His hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves with a reverence that made you feel utterly adored. His fingers traced patterns along your sides, his touch firm yet gentle, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He held you as though you were precious, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice steady and soothing, grounding you in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure building between them. The sincerity in his words brought a lump to your throat, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and desire that threatened to consume you.
The intensity between them grew with each slow, deliberate thrust, their movements a testament to the unspoken connection they shared. Your breathing quickened, your chest rising and falling as you clung to him, your body trembling beneath his. The pleasure was a slow burn, building gradually, each wave more intense than the last, until it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something vast and all-encompassing.
Spencer’s own breathing had grown heavier, his control slipping as he lost himself in you. His hands tightened on your hips, anchoring them together as he pressed deeper, his forehead resting against yours. Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything else ceased to exist.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. His lips brushed yours in a kiss that was almost unbearably tender, a stark contrast to the heat simmering between them.
The pleasure built to a crescendo, their bodies moving together in perfect unison, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word driving them closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your back arching as your body surrendered completely to him.
“Spencer,” you gasped, your voice trembling, your body taut with anticipation.
“I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice steady despite the strain in it, his movements never faltering.
The tension between them snapped like a string pulled too tight, pleasure crashing over you in a wave so intense it left you trembling. A cry escaped your lips, your body shaking as you clung to him, your nails raking down his back as you were consumed by the sensation.
Spencer followed a heartbeat later, his movements faltering as he let go, a low groan escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as they rode out the waves together, their bodies trembling in the aftermath.
They collapsed against each other, breathless and sated, their hearts pounding in unison. Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing stray strands of hair from your face.
“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice soft, his lips curving into a small, contented smile.
You smiled back, your chest still heaving as you nestled closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder. In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and completely, undeniably his.
After a peaceful moment of rest, Spencer stirred, shifting carefully as he climbed out of bed. The warm sheets clung to him, but his attention wasn’t on himself—it was on you. He moved quietly, trying not to disturb you too much, but the shift in weight made you protest softly.
“Spence, no. What are you doing?” you murmured, your voice laced with sleep and the reluctance to lose his warmth.
He bent down beside you, his soft, intelligent eyes meeting yours as his hand cupped your cheek. His fingers gently brushed away a few stray strands of hair that had fallen across your face, revealing your delicate features. His voice was tender, a soothing balm in the quiet room. “You have to pee, or else you’ll get a UTI,” he said softly, his tone both practical and caring.
You groaned, turning your head away from him, your body heavy with exhaustion and unwillingness. “I don’t want to move,” you mumbled, burying your face into the pillow.
Spencer, ever patient, leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “If you pee, I’ll carry you,” he offered with a knowing smile. It wasn’t the first time he’d used this bribe, and he knew it would work.
Your lips quirked up into a small smile despite yourself, your facial muscles betraying your resolve. He saw it and smirked in return, victorious before you even gave in.
Finally, you turned back to face him, raising your arms in surrender, signalling for him to carry you. “Fine,” you said, your voice playfully exasperated.
Bending down, he slid his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly in a bridal-style hold. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you to the bathroom, his steps careful and deliberate, ensuring you felt secure in his arms. When they reached the bathroom, he set you down gently on the cool surface of the toilet seat.
“I’m just going to grab you a shirt to sleep in, okay?” he murmured, brushing a kiss against your forehead before stepping out to give you some privacy.
You nodded softly, watching him leave with a small, sleepy smile. Left alone, you did your business, moving slowly and carefully, still basking in the warmth of his touch and the care in his voice.
Moments later, Spencer returned with a spare pair of boxers and one of his oversized shirts, the fabric worn and soft. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and comforting as he approached you.
You nodded again, a droopy smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes followed him as he moved to the sink, filling it with warm water. He grabbed a clean washcloth, soaking it and wringing out the excess water with precision.
“I need you to stand up for me, okay?” he said gently, his hands extended toward you.
With his help, you stood slowly, leaning on him slightly as your body protested the movement. He supported you easily, one hand steadying your waist as he brought you closer. You looked down at him with a soft expression as he knelt before you, his every movement careful and deliberate.
Guiding your legs apart just slightly, he took the damp washcloth and brought it to your skin, his touch feather-light as he began to clean you. The warmth of the cloth combined with his gentleness sent a wave of comfort through you, even as you winced slightly at the tenderness.
You hissed softly, your body still sensitive. “I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with apology. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’m almost done.”
To emphasize his words, Spencer leaned forward, his lips brushing against your stomach in a soft, tender kiss. The gesture was full of care and regret, a silent apology that made your heart swell. You glanced down at him, your fingers instinctively moving to run through his hair as he lingered there for a moment.
“You’re too good to me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
His lips curved into a small smile against your skin before he straightened, his hands moving with the same deliberate care as he finished cleaning you. When he was done, he leaned back slightly, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he looked up at you. “There,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “All done.”
He helped you into the boxers and shirt, his hands steady as he guided your arms through the sleeves and adjusted the hem. “You’re so good to me,” you repeated, your voice filled with affection as you looked at him.
He smiled, his expression tender as he cupped your face again. “You deserve nothing less,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before scooping your back into his arms.
Spencer carried you back to bed, settling you beneath the covers and tucking you in before sliding in beside you. You curled into him instinctively, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around you.
“Goodnight, Spence,” you murmured sleepily, your voice soft and content.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair as he held you close.
In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and cherished—a feeling you knew you could get used to.
thank you for reading!
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masterlist!
taglist: @pleasantwitchgarden
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nianeyemystic · 2 days ago
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💕✨ How the Venus Signs Like to Be Pleased in the Bedroom ✨💕
this post is for 18+ viewers.
🦋 Aries Venus: They want energy, excitement, and a little bit of *risk*. Think fast moves, passionate kisses, and no hesitation. 💥🔥
🐢 Taurus Venus: Slow and sensual. They love being spoiled with touch—soft caresses, tender moments, and all about that indulgence. 💆‍♀️💖
👯‍♀️ Gemini Venus: Keep it playful! They like variety, lighthearted teasing, and some intellectual stimulation too. Keep things fun and witty! 💬😉
🦀 Cancer Venus: Emotionally deep. They crave intimacy and emotional connection. Think cuddling, eye contact, and making them feel safe. 🥰🌙
🦁 Leo Venus: Give them the spotlight! They love being adored, showered with compliments, and a little dramatic flair. They want passion and attention. 🌟🔥
♍️ Virgo Venus: Detail is everything! A little perfectionism goes a long way—thoughtful touches, gentle praise, and taking your time. 👌💫
⚖️ Libra Venus: Romance, romance, romance. They like a beautiful, balanced atmosphere—soft music, candlelight, and mutual pleasure. 🌹🎶
🦂 Scorpio Venus: Intense, transformative, and passionate. They want you to dive deep, no surface-level stuff here. 🔥🔮
🏹 Sagittarius Venus: Adventure is key! Keep it spontaneous and exciting—maybe even a little wild. They love the thrill of something new. 🌍🎢
🐐 Capricorn Venus: They like it steady but strong. Make them feel respected, and they'll reward you with loyalty and deep connection. 💼💋
🎣 Aquarius Venus: Unconventional and cerebral. They’re into mind-blowing experiences that break the norm—think new things and exploration! ⚡💫
🐟 Pisces Venus: Dreamy, romantic, and deeply connected. They love soft, slow, and intuitive pleasure—bring the fantasy to life. 🌙✨
Which Venus sign are you? 🤔
- @nianeyemystic ✨💕💫
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bestalbertcamuslover · 2 days ago
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The Moon Above
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︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶
✯ pairing: Max Verstappen x Ex! Reader ✯
✯ content warnings: None✯
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶
It was only the moon that could judge her that night—high in the sky, pale and white, glistening and imploring—as she walked into the bar. It had become a recurring custom, at least since the breakup. Perhaps twice a week, the moon would witness her enter the bar alone and leave with a complete stranger.
Through the window, the natural satellite observed them: two bodies seeking solace in fleeting, meaningless pleasure. An intimate moment devoid of true intimacy, driven by a conflicted mind desperate for clarity.
Later, the moon would see her again, her eyes filled with desperation, her need for answers etched into her conflicted expression. She stared up at the pale orb, silently pleading. If only the moon could talk, she thought, as she did every night. If only it could tell me what to do…
The moon vanished with the arrival of daylight, its soft glow replaced by the sun’s harsh, violent rays, piercing through the blinds and disturbing her restless sleep. She turned over, her gaze landing on the person she’d left the bar with—a figure that had seemed far more appealing under the forgiving light of the moon than in the unforgiving glare of the sun.
It was the same old routine: no feelings, at least none born of the heart. That part of her had been damaged, too terrified to risk being hurt again. Yet, the rest of her craved the company, a momentous distraction from the void that had only grown larger��like an insidious tumor—since he left.
Well, the moon might tell a different story, for it had witnessed everything since she left. That judgmental satellite could recount how her inability to trust had brought an untimely end to a tale that might have continued, its pages brimming with tender moments and enduring promises. And yet, the moon—her silent confidant, the one she gazes at for answers as often as she blinks—remained mute.
The pattern repeated itself, another night she headed to a bar, glancing up at the starry sky, before getting inside. The bar was alive with its usual symphony of clinking glasses, low chatter, and occasional bursts of laughter. She stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the worn wooden floor. The familiar scent of stale beer and cheap cologne greeted her like an old, unwelcome friend.
Her eyes darted to the far end of the room, scanning the crowd out of habit. She wasn’t looking for anyone in particular; she never was. The strangers were just noise, a blur of faces that would fade by morning. But that particular night, amidst the haze of bodies, one face stood out—a face she knew all too well.
Max.
He was seated at a table with a few friends, a bottle of beer in hand. His laughter rang out, easy and genuine, as if nothing in the world weighed on him. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in months, not since everything fell apart. Her stomach twisted, a storm of emotions brewing—anger, sadness, longing.
Max hadn’t noticed her yet, his focus on the story one of his friends was animatedly recounting. She thought about slipping away, leaving before his gaze found hers, but her feet refused to move. She stood frozen, the moonlight pouring through the window casting a faint glow on her figure.
And then, as if sensing her presence, his head turned. Their eyes met, his smile faltering for a brief moment before his expression softened. He looked surprised, then curious, and finally, determined. He excused himself from his friends, standing and walking toward her.
“Hey,” he said when he was close enough, his voice low and hesitant, yet somehow steady. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same,” she replied, her tone guarded, the hurt she thought she had buried clawing its way back to the surface. Her posture stiffened, and she instinctively folded her arms, a subtle shield against the torrent of emotions his presence unleashed.
Max studied her for a moment, his expression softening despite the invisible wall she had put up. “I’m just here with some friends,” he explained, nodding toward the table he’d just left. His friends were clearly trying not to look like they were watching, but their stolen glances betrayed their curiosity.
“Good for you,” she said, her words sharp enough to cut but her voice quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. Her eyes flicked past him, searching for an escape route, but there was not one. Not tonight, and less with the invasive moon upon her.
He took a breath, as if steadying himself. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening before he continued. “I think we should. Just for a minute.”
She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Talk? About what? About how you—” Her voice broke, that word too hurting to say it out loud. She shook her head, blinking rapidly, and her gaze darted toward the door. “I don’t think there’s anything left to say, Max.”
His brow furrowed, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “There is, though. Because you think I… that I did something I didn’t do. And I need you to know the truth.”
Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat. “I don’t—” she started, but he cut her off.
“Please,” he said, his tone pleading now. “Just hear me out. If you still want me out of your life after, fine. But at least let me explain.”
His blue eyes locked onto hers, pleading yet resolute. She would be lying if she claimed they didn’t affect her—they did, with a power so profound it felt like a spell.
“Fine,” she sighed, more to herself than to anyone. “But not here.”
Max nodded, relief flickering across his face. “Outside, then,” he suggested, gesturing with a slight tilt of his head.
Without another word, she followed him, her heart pounding as she braced herself for whatever truth he was about to lay bare.
The moon now watched intently from above, no stranger by her side this time, but someone intimate. His features were softly illuminated by its glow, yet she knew she could see him even in the darkest of dark.
“I know you think I betrayed you,” he began, his voice low, each word carefully measured. “But the video you saw... it wasn’t what you thought.”
Her gaze was fixed on him, though her arms were still crossed over her chest, a protective barrier she hadn’t fully dropped. “It sure looked like it, Max,” she replied quietly, her tone a mixture of disbelief and lingering hurt. “What was I supposed to think?”
He winced at the sharpness of her words but didn’t back down. “I get it,” he said, his eyes softening, filled with regret. “And I know how it looked. But the angles in that video—hell, it was filmed at such a weird position. If you’d seen it from another side, you would’ve known. That girl, she was... she was leaning in for a hug, not a kiss. I was trying to pull away, but the camera caught it at the wrong moment.”
She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, unable to formulate a response. The flood of emotions from that moment, all the confusion, betrayal, and hurt, rushed back as his words tried to piece together the narrative she had built in her mind. 
Max stepped forward, closing the distance between them, though his movements were slow and cautious, as if he feared she might recoil. “I sent you another video,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “After everything happened. I didn’t want to push you, but I needed you to see it. It’s clear. There’s no kiss. I wasn’t cheating, I swear. But you blocked me before you could see it.”
The air around them seemed to shift, tension crackling between them as her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t known about that video—hadn’t known he had tried to explain it further. The thought of him reaching out, wanting to clear things up, felt like a knife twisting in her chest.
Max’s gaze never wavered, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that she couldn’t ignore. “I understand why you did that,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for how it looked. But I swear to you, I didn’t cheat. And if I’d known how deeply this hurt you, I would have tried harder to make you see the truth.”
The words hung in the air between them, neither of them daring to break the fragile silence that had descended. The moon above seemed to listen, a silent witness to a conversation that could change everything—or leave them both just as broken.
She swallowed hard, her mind racing, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the weight of the decision she had to make. Her eyes meet the pale orb for a second, waiting for an answer, for something, but the wise moon remained silent. 
She sighed to herself, feeling like a complete idiot for not letting him explain himself earlier. Her eyes landed on his, the sincerity in them overwhelming. “I should have listened to you,” she said, her voice soft.
His eyes seemed to light up slightly, sensing her words for what they were—an apology. He took a small step closer, still leaving some distance between them. His hand gently took hers, caressing it softly. A very soft smile appeared on her face as she looked one last time at the moon, before pulling him into a hug.
“I’m sorry for not trusting you,” she whispered as his arms wrapped around her.
“It’s fine,” he replied, as the moon seemed to brighten in contentment.
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✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <333
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farthest-harbor · 2 days ago
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What’s your favorite and most off the wall Nick theories?
Okay, I shall give you some of the most unhinged things I have thought about Nick Valentine, and you will see how weird it is in this head of mine. Most will be NSFW, so if that ain't your jam, don't read 'em!
Nick has a network of teeny tiny wires embedded in his skin that function as nerves. I think that when he gets injured and a section of his skin is torn away, the nerve wires are left exposed. When the injury is new, anything that touches these exposed nerve endings is painfully overstimulating. As the injury gets older, it gets less sensitive and eventually can be touched in a pleasurable way. Try stroking, licking, sucking... See what happens.
Also, I think Nick's skin isn't totally hard plastic. I think it's somewhere in between hard plastic and silicone in texture, and is a bit pliable, more flexible around his face, hands, and joints where more range of motion is necessary. Therefore, when you kiss Nick, I think his lips aren't as squishy as human lips, but still kissably soft.
I think Nick overheats like a computer. When he's flustered, stressed out, or ~stimulated~, I think a bunch of internal fans kick on in his chest, the way they do on a hot laptop. I imagine his main processors are in his chest, so his chest probably gets the hottest. So during sex, his chest is almost scorchingly hot. Instead of an orgasm, he overheats till he crashes and shuts off for a few seconds, then slowly reboots. Be patient with him when it happens, if he hasn't taken care of you already, he will when he's back online.
Also I totally buy into wireplay. I bet that shit sends him to the moon.
I think synth Nick hasn't had any sort of romantic relationship, or else he wouldn't still be hung up on Jenny. I think after Sole helps him avenge her, he's more able to move on, but never entirely let go. It helps that Sole lost a spouse too and understands the pain of losing them, and that a part of Sole's soul will always be with their spouse.
Nick also never put himself out there because he's always deep down felt that his body is inadequate, especially since he once had a human body to compare it to. He's deeply self-conscious about not having a dick, and if Sole shows an interest in a physical relationship with him, he will feel the need to have a talk with Sole about it first. The way he sees it, it's better to tell Sole before they get him undressed than to watch Sole be judgemental/disappointed when they find out. That's an indignity he just couldn't bear. He struggles with vulnerability, particularly about his body, so treat him with care and be patient with him. Let him open up at his own pace.
I think body worship would be a very good way to begin intimacy with Nick. To slowly make your way down his body, kissing and gently touching all the way, letting him know that each inch of him is beautiful and worthy of affection and attention. He gets accustomed to intimacy one tiny bit of himself at a time, with the constant affirmation that he is worthy and he is enough.
I think Nick is a very different person with Sole than he is in public. He walks around wearing wit and sarcasm as armor against the volleys of prejudiced remarks thrown at him. When he's alone with someone he knows loves and accepts him, he doesn't need to make his usual witty comebacks and snarky remarks. He can take off the armor and show how badly he needs to be loved and cared for. He will thrive off tenderness and care.
In a similar vein, I think Nick is kinda submissive in bed, at least for the first few times. He likes having Sole take the lead, as he's not terribly experienced. He would probably do well with a soft dom partner. As he gains in confidence, he might start taking the lead more, and getting more creative. At an advanced stage in the relationship, you might use a few props, especially his tie, hat, and a set of handcuffs. But at any stage, I think he doesn't want violent/aggressive sex, but rather passionate, affectionate, and explorative.
And finally: I don't think he needs to wear underwear, since he doesn't have any genitals, but he wears underwear anyways because it feels proper to do so. It's just such an ingrained rule from his prewar life that he feels weird not wearing underwear. He wears plain white boxers and an undershirt. They are horribly ragged and stained, but he will not leave home without them on.
There you go, enjoy my utterly unhinged thoughts. I'm sure I can muster up more if someone asks very nicely :)
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laseracronym · 1 day ago
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NSFW Alphabet (Aizawa Shouta)
(NSFW obviously, Demi/Ace-Spectrum!Aizawa, fem!Reader, chubby!Reader)
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Sleepy (no surprise there) and cuddly, very soft. He'll help you clean up, get you anything you may need in that moment, and then he'll pull you into his arms and close his eyes. His voice is a groggy murmur, speaking with you in his half-asleep state, not bothered if you want to talk for a while, but not exactly trying to stay up for it, either.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He likes to watch his hands press into your soft flesh, the way you look so delicate against his scarred body. He likes to brush his stubbled jaw along your tender neck, the lightest of shivers he gets from you after doing that.
He favors your waist, which he likes to grab and give a soft squeeze while passing you in the house. He likes your thighs, how they clench around his head as he goes down on you, like you need him there. He likes your upper arms, running the back of his knuckles up and down them as you spare a few moments to talk in the morning. Your body is so soft, it's precious, decadent, he's in awe that he's allowed to touch you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He likes cumming inside of you. It hits on some sort of primal need in him that he's never experienced with a previous partner. Just you.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Midnight made a joke that you should try wearing cat ears in the bedroom and Shouta hasn't stopped thinking about it.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He has experience, enough to know what he's doing and what he likes. But he's found with you he has a bigger sexual appetite and he's found out even more about himself than he has with previous partners. He's greatly expanded his knowledge.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He likes positions where he can see your face and watch your expressions, where he can crowd in close to you and be flush up against you.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Not necessarily either. He's soft with you, more open, he's not so stoic that there's no room for laughter in the bedroom.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He doesn't really trim any of his body hair, down below included, if it really bothers you, he'll probably do some basic maintenance.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He's all about the intimacy when it comes to sex with you. Before you, sex was scratching an itch, with you, sex is another expression of his feelings for you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Occasionally jerks off in the shower if he feels the need, very disinterested about it. He's gotten into mutual masturbation with you, he loves watching you play with yourself, the way you react to him watching you.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Body worship. He could spend hours appreciating your body if he could, running his hands over your soft curves, pressing kisses to your sensitive skin. He also loves eating pussy, your pussy specifically. All of his most intense desires revolve around you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
The bedroom or the living room couch, because the post-sex nap spot is right there and ready to go.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
You do. Sometimes you'll do the most innocuous thing and it'll just cause desire to bloom in him. If you look to him, express your want for him, your need, he reacts instantly.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He's not a fan of pain play, especially inflicting the pain. He might be willing to try bondage with you but he refuses to bring the capture weapon into the bedroom. It's a tool for his job, and he doesn't want to bring that into his intimate life.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves giving oral, he could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs. There's nothing more intimate and satisfying than giving you pleasure in this way and he's made sure over the course of your relationship that he's damn good at it. Honestly, he doesn't even need to be reciprocated, this could be the extent of your activities for the night and he'd be a happy man.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It varies, he's very much willing to go at your desired pace. He gets a lot out of the pleasure he gives you, so if you want faster, slower etc that works for him as well.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He doesn't prefer them, he likes taking his time.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He's open to new ideas but slow to voice his own curiosities. He can take risks if properly motivated.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Shouta's pretty much a one and done kind of guy, but he makes it last. He spends a lot of time on foreplay and he's pretty good at holding off on his own orgasm. He makes sure that you're satisfied.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He doesn't have any toys for himself but he likes to use toys on you and he likes watching you use toys on yourself. He likes getting you new toys and helping you shop for them, and helping you test them out, of course.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He can get in a teasing mood sometimes, but he caves so easily when you whine and beg.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Not too loud, lots of rumbling groans and cut off swears. He checks in with you a lot, wanting to know how you feel, what you need.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He's somewhere on the ace spectrum, maybe demi. He's desperately attracted to you, and it's because it's you. He'd never thought much of the curve of a person's waist, but the curve of your waist will often catch his attention. He doesn't really question it, he doesn't spend a lot of time pondering labels. He's happy with you and that's what's important.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
He's got a thick cock of average length, not much of a grower, what you see is what you get. He's got a lot of body hair, you'd think he has some sort of werewolf quirk, and a littering of scars all over from his dangerous job. Rugged. He's muscular, of course, after all the training, but he's got a little bit of softness to him still. He's not strict with his diet and his exercise isn't to achieve a particular form.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
He's got a moderate sex drive, but even on nights where he's not in the mood to receive pleasure, he can readily be spurred in the mood to give it.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Very quickly, and eagerly. It's one of his favorite parts of the whole ordeal.
(Let me know if you want to see me do this or the SFW Alphabet for other MHA characters. Feel free to drop me an ask for headcanons or drabbles.)
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brunettemarionette · 1 day ago
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The low rumble of engines and the familiar buzz of laughter fill the lot as the sun dips lower in the sky, casting warm amber hues over the rows of bikes.
You’re standing, sharing a laugh with Tig and Chibs as they spin yet another ridiculous story—something about a dog, a donut shop, and a very angry old man. Your laughter comes freely, light, and genuine, the sound carrying across the yard.
From a distance, Happy leans against his bike, arms crossed over his chest. The faintest grin tugs at his lips, softening the edges of his usually stoic expression. He doesn’t say anything or call out to you—he just watches.
To anyone else, he might look the same as always: calm, collected, and maybe a little intimidating. But you know better. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something warm and unguarded, meant just for you.
When you finally glance his way, you catch the look on his face. Your laughter fades into a curious smile, and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. “What?” you ask, taking a few steps toward him, leaving Tig and Chibs behind.
“Nothing,” he replies, his voice low and rough, but there’s a softness to it. The grin hasn’t left his face, and when you stop in front of him, he reaches out, tugging you closer by the belt loop of your jeans.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” you tease, but your voice is quieter now, almost shy under the weight of his gaze.
Happy shakes his head, his grin widening just a touch. “You’re just… you,” he says simply as if those three words explain everything.
Your chest tightens at the rare tenderness in his voice. Happy isn’t the kind of man to spill his feelings or make big romantic gestures, but moments like this are his way of letting you in—his way of saying more than words ever could.
You lean into him, resting your hands lightly against his chest. “Is that a good thing?” you ask, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
“The best,” he murmurs without hesitation, his dark eyes locking onto yours.
For a moment, the world around you fades: the laughter of the guys in the background, the metallic clink of tools, even the distant roar of an engine. All that matters is how Happy looks at you, his guard completely down, his smile meant only for you.
It’s a side of him no one else gets to see, and you cherish it more than words can say.
He leans in, brushing his lips against your forehead, and you close your eyes, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. With Happy, it’s the small things—the fleeting smiles, the gentle touches—that speak the loudest.
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bloodinmymilkshake · 2 days ago
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Perc'ildan 18+ headcanons
Yes, there is suggestive content. if this is unacceptable to you, scroll through.
✨Their first time, Percy was embarrassed and blushed. Vax knew that he was Percy's first partner in life, but he did not expect that he would create a horny monster. As Percy gets used to intimacy, he becomes insatiable in bed and literally exhausts Vax.
✨Vax's favorite position when he's bottoming is doggy style. He loves it when Percy wraps his hair around his fist and holds him until his thighs are bruised. Vax's second favorite position is to straddle Percy's hips and control the process, enjoying the admiration in his eyes and the blush on his cheeks.
✨When Percy is bottom, he is the ultimate pillow princess. He loves Vax's fingers inside, which stretch him for a long time before sex, gentle kisses on the neck and words of praise. Percy melts at Vax's tenderness and care and the way he listens to his wishes. This is when their most tender lovemaking happens.
✨They both enjoy to be in situations where someone can hear them, and one of them has to cover the other's mouth with his hand to hide his moans of pleasure.
✨The main experimenter in their relationship is Percy, who comes running to Vax with sparkling eyes and “Let’s try this thing I read about in a book!”
✨During their quiet life in Whitestone, Percy invents various sex devices for him and Vax. Perhaps even a sex machine, which he will test on his lover. Percy watches carefully and writes down all the results in a notebook as poor Vax has multiple orgasms. Make love, not war!
✨Percy's biggest anti-kink is bondage. He is uncomfortable with most practices in which he is deprived of control over the situation.
✨Their first time, due to inexperience, Percy came in two minutes (possibly from Vax's fingers alone) and felt shame for it. However, Vax calmed him down, saying that it was even hot.
✨Percy was the first one Vax allowed to enter him (he had experience before, but usually Vax was on top or it was non-penetrative sex).
✨Percy often nibbles on Vax's ears during sex, especially after he realizes that it is an erogenous zone.
✨Vax had fucked Percy at least once in front of the mirror, kissing and caressing his scars, which he was so embarrassed of, and running his fingers over them.
✨Vax was petting Percy under the table until no one could see his hand under the tablecloth, rising from Percy's knee to his thigh.
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clary-jace · 6 months ago
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my top 20 paceyjoey moments:
18. forehead kiss (the longest day, 3x20)
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vaguely-concerned · 2 months ago
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I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha
*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao
#meanwhile rook is kicking himself for being unprofessional b/c he WAS getting something important from spite there#and also lucanis had like. just woken up was that cool of me. should I have told him. should I have slowed that down???#watcher's duty crashing into watcher's longing blues ensues#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar#rook x lucanis#rookanis#I think I might have done something hilarious and a little wonderful to the lucanis romance#by making a rook who's even slower to romance than he is fhskjfhsa#even here I was straight up like 'oh this is a little early for this don't you think' on rye's behalf (it's not we have to be mid-game)#imagine how he'd fare in some of the other romances you'd just bowl him over. davrin might kill him#(and also they would kill each other for unrelated reasons during it but that's another matter (affectionate I love my lads))#lucanis has been squinting at rook in stolen moments ever since the café scene like '...did I imagine that vibe. surely not right.#i'm pretty sure. but am I. I do know he likes me. but DOES he like like me or is that just what I want it to be. this is very embarrassing#for everyone involved' (it is)#davrin has had both their numbers the entire time tho. and been extremely annoyed but professional about it#he knew from the moment these two chucklefucks showed up in his recruitment mission. and has been an adult about it. mostly#even when they've made it real hard ('so I'm gonna go ahead and assume you're not letting the abomination serial killer run around#just because you're transparently excruciatingly sweet on him. right. RIGHT??')#I have accidentally given lucanis a pattern of falling for people who keep covered neck to toe at all times#but like not to be a metaphor for their emotional intimacy issues or anything haha. imagine.#I'm making my own heart so tender by imagining lucanis struggling to get rye out of his (many-layered) robes during the romance scene#and both of them laughing right from the soul in relief and delight at each other b/c like 'how could I kill a god only to be bested#by nevarran fashion. also how in the maker's name do you get dressed so quickly in the mornings this is intense'#'same way one does anything else lots of practice and a can-do attitude'/'well I'll just have to put in the practice then'#and they just hug for a while. *head in my hands* yeah okay I can be normal. I can be normal about this.
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theyarebothgunshot · 6 months ago
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if this doesn't lead to a scene where buck just goes crazy and says "eddie. eddie please let me shave your face you are killing me, man" (killing him cause it makes him horny or cause he cannot stand it? yes.) eddie rolls his eyes but says "i can shave myself, you know" but for some reason eddie cannot use one of his arms so buck insists on doing it for him, holding his chin as he goes to work with a razor, taking his job very seriously as eddie looks at him fondly.......... then what's the point?
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kentuckycaverats · 1 year ago
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greater clan tremere is asleep, do gay shit in the chantry
tara clellan (tremere) and delphine fujinami (thin-blood) by @neonjess
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cream-and-tea · 8 months ago
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oh man the judge/calliope and pallas&agnes thoughts are really eating holes in my brain tonight,,,,,,
#about to ramble extensively in these tags so bear with me lol#anyways it makes me want to run in circles bc there r like. the similarities of course there are.#judge and agnes separated from their families and home for better or for worse trying to make their way back to that.#calliope and pallas absolute gnarled messes of self loathing calcified by extremely destructive magic.#both duo’s have the undying loyalty have the tenderness have the when is a monster not a monster oh when you love it#of it all.#but then there’s the fact that what judge and calliope have going on is very much romantic+sexual where pallas and agnes are Not#and that undeniably colours so many of their interactions#so the intimacy in both of the relationships is expressed in a different context#and there’s also agnes primarily concerned with her own survival vs judge’s dedication to a larger cause and quest#pallas priding themself on control of their powers vs calliopes unmanageable werewolf transformations#the fact that pallas and agnes meet at 17 and are total strangers#while judge and calliope have known each other since they were kids and growing into each other#judge wanting to protect agnes from pallas and warning her to Be Careful Because They’re A Killer while calliope#(<- has killed and will kill again) is literally standing at her shoulder#agnes BONE DEEP conviction that pallas will never hurt her despite everything vs calliope having hurt judge VERY badly in the past#and judge forgiving him for it even tho they didn’t want to be forgiven#this is probably incoherent but i am THINKING i am pondering#these four…. god.#wip: ghost story
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variousqueerthings · 1 year ago
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we watched the famous much ado about nothing in preparation for macbeth, and the thing is... ive never seen it before (this iteration, i have seen other much ados...)
for some reason, for the longest time, until now, i kept waiting until the "right" moment, feeling like i'd know when it was and finally, at last, the moment has happened, and i have watched david tennant and catherine tate playing benedick and beatrice, and truly it was absolutely beautiful bisexuality in action the entire way through -- and the way this play balanced comedy and drama was fantastic. we've watched josie rourke's direction before and she's so pinpoint
the part where we go from the heartbreak of the wedding, to a hilarious love confession between benedick and beatrice to an incredibly intense demand that benedick kill claudio, and it's all sooooo alive! that's the thing about shakespeare, especially if you're trying to get in an audience who isn't so used to it, you need to get out of the stuffiness and yeah, certain lines won't be understood by all the audience, but they'll understand the beats if you map out those beats clearly, which is exactly what this one did with its Big comedy and Big drama -- not saying every production wants or needs that, but with these two actors it was the exact right choice
I think that catherine tate and dt nailed those shifts the best (of course they also have the most to work with) but most everyone got to have some of these beats for themselves. fascinated by their don john, who seemed to have a lot less power than other versions I've seen of this play, and also dogberry, whom I uuuusually don't get so much out of, but really enjoyed him this time (it's not a falstaff situation, where I've hated 99% of falstaffs -- although I note josie rourke is also the person who directed the henry iv with a falstaff i liked. her and gus van sant), and also gave claudio and hero some feeling of being a bit more alive and grappling with their various kinds of emotions throughout, where often they end up just being "sweet bland girl and dick who was easily manipulated" in my head
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swordsonnet · 10 months ago
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not to brag but i've read no less than three books with gay stabbing scenes so far this year 😎
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captainxsassafras · 1 year ago
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Not me thinking about talking to someone (maybe someone from the Day Court? They probably have oodles of animal knowledge bound up in those books. Maybe a relatively friendly Illyrian camp? I'm sure they know everything about their wings. The real question is: would they share that knowledge?) Specifically talking to someone about how to take care of bat wings. Like massage techniques for when they're tired, or when they've been injured, etc. Any special cleaning or treatments that are helpful for upkeep.
Then surprising Azriel the next time he comes home bone-weary or the next time he (pulls a self-sacrificing move and) gets injured by taking care of his wings afterward yourself.
Uggghhh, the intimacy! The care! The goddamn trust it'd take! The beautiful feeling of being so thoroughly exhausted/hurt then having someone tenderly do all the little things you would normally have to do yourself!
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loumauve · 4 months ago
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the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub
#life is ridiculous and I'm its biggest clown#in my defense it's not even 9 am and I woke up at 6 for some reason (the reason prob being that I start work at 6 atm)#so I chose (violence) reading Stray Gods fic in bed for a few hours followed by the need to just vibe in the bathtub#I've only just had my coffee and a slice of cold pizza leftover from yesterday and it's such a uni-days thing to do#I've kinda missed it. tho I wasn't drinking coffee back then (how the fuck did I survive mornings without it??)#anyway. feeling very soft and tender abt my past self today. I miss her even if she was just as much of a mess. in different ways#the kind of mess who would openly flirt with some strange dude she didn't really know over the phone#the kind of mess who moved across the country just for a chance at trying with sb she liked who really never wanted to date her#the kind of mess who's always fallen for her best friends and who'll likely never stop#the kind of mess who feel so damn hard for a woman 15 yrs older than her just bc she was kind and sweet and a mess herself#the kind of mess who moved in with a friend she was solidly in love with for a bit who had her boyfriend over most nights#just.. it's not all about those feelings but they're decidedly a big part of why I've ever done anything#and I will prob always miss the friend who'd lie on the train platform with me just giggling into the night as ppl walked past#her head on my stomach and me just feeling so high it felt like I'd never stop floating (just for a while though)#I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that Mi miss just letting my feelings take me places even at the risk of losing it all#I'm so much more hesitant and guarded now. and sure part of it is being medicated for my bipolar. it's good that I don't call strangers#and almost invited them over. or that I no longer walk barefoot through the city at night by myself (usually)#but I do miss just idk. intimacy I guess. and how easily it used to come to me to just try and be open abt wanting it I guess#oh well. best be getting out of the bathtub. it's not a good place to be with these thoughts. and it's too early for this anyway#a day in the life of..
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