#its like. you know when you love something so much and are so intimately familiar with it that

[recapitulation]

I haven't really talked about it but going to a performance of mahler 2 was without a doubt the most intensely I've ever felt anything in my life. like clamping my hand over my mouth bc I felt like I suddenly had no control over my body. I felt like I was going to burst out laughing or start ugly sobbing for no reason other than pure intensity of emotion

[celestialtarot11]

What can indicate intense eye contact with some one? Is that something astrology can tell? 🤔

Intense Eye Contact

—Sag sun are masters of strong eye contact. They have that wise beyond their years look. Like they’ve been alive for centuries and this is another re-run of their last shitty trial.

—Scorpio degrees/big 6 placements have strong eye contact. And some may avoid it actually because it feels too intimate. Everytime they look at someone its as if they’re skinning them to see their soul.

—Virgo 8h is another one. Always staring at you to figure out who you are behind what you say. Studies your body language to a T. They don’t take anything at face value. Bonus points if mercury sits in the 8h.

—Aquarius placements/stellium their stares penetrate through flesh and bone. They have this manic pixie look at first and it drives you in real deep, you have no idea what you’re signing up for.

—Mars 1h undressing you with their eyes, both in the spiritual sense and physical :) id say this is more so spiritual if they have strong neptune asp to personal planets, neptune conj mars, pisces/cancer placements. They just want to read your soul, but often comes across like they’re trying to figure out what color your underwear is. (Love ya mars 1h)

—Taurus placements have so much soul and rhythm behind their eyes. Serenade me. Hold me. Beautiful gazes, like gazelle. Reminds me of 90s rhythm and blues.

—Cap Venus has that look, similar to a thousand mile yard stare but more solemn. Tranquil. Somber. Always aching for more and wishing for what could’ve been. It moves you.

—Saturn dom has a resting bitch face, it’s iconic. Always looks annoyed or slightly disgusted at something they saw. Rarely stays for long so you can really see the depth in their eyes. Quick glances, or long drawn out eye contact so you know your place, especially if you messed with them.

—Gemini moon can also have intense eye contact. They’re always analyzing the moment and studying in their head, so it looks as if they’re focused innately on you. Paired with Leo gives them a languid, sultry stare. Feline like and does not approach first, no, they invite you with their eyes.

—Pluto-venus asp is another one entirely. Crash and burn with me gaze. Catch me if you can. Play games with me and chase after me. Never gives away their real intentions, always hidden with that same smirk and their flaunting eyes.

—Cancer moon looks absolutely whimsical, embodying the stars. Droopy, bedroom eyes. Can have a delicate tilt to their head when they listen to you. God, it really draws you in. Like two pools of honey, warming you.

—Neptune asp personal planets. A stare you can’t explain. Dreamy, hazy, personal yet you’re placed on the outside. Feels like a sacred reunion when they look at you, adorning you. Strange familiarity like they’ve always known you.

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

[hiitsm]

Whispers of Desires

You and your girlfriend are navigating the tender stages of experiencing your first time together.

Whispers of Desires is for 18+ only.

This piece contains intimate conversations about sex, characterized by a mix of awkward, shy, and loving moments. It also includes a depiction of soft, slow, and tender sexual activity, with a focus on emotional connection and mutual care.

-

Note: I’ve spent a lot of time crafting this piece, and while it may be a bit longer than initially planned, I felt that each moment deserved the detail it received. I've adjusted it a little. I hope it meets everyone’s expectations. Thank you so much for the kind messages and support after the teaser. I appreciate it a lot.

-

The kitchen is warm with the scent of freshly baked pastries, the lingering aroma of sugar and butter mixing with the comforting familiarity of Alexia’s home. You stand at the counter, carefully folding a dishcloth, trying to keep your thoughts focused on the simple, repetitive tasks. The to-do list lies nearby, a silent reminder of the things you can control, and the one thing you can't seem to face.

You glance at the list, its contents scribbled in your neat handwriting:

To-Do List: 1. Clean up the kitchen 2. Fold laundry 3. Talk to Alexia about her sexual desires

Your eyes linger on the third item, the one you've been dreading. With a sigh, you quickly strike through it, the pen's ink cutting across the words as if that could erase the anxiety gnawing at you. You can’t bring yourself to talk to her about that, not yet. What if the rumors are true? What if her desires are something you can't fulfill? You don’t want to lose her, but you also don’t want to lose yourself in the process.

You’ve heard all the rumors about Alexia Putellas. That she loves to dominate, to pull her partners apart with a fierce intensity. That she revels in control, in the thrill of the chase. That her passion is raw and fast. Each whisper you caught only fueled your anxiety, a churning storm of nerves that seemed impossible to quiet. You tried to ignore them, to push the thoughts aside, but they lingered in the back of your mind, casting shadows over the love you share.

And now, with the possibility of taking the next step in your relationship looming before you, the fear has only grown. You’re scared to take that step, terrified that your desires aren’t the same as hers. What if you can’t match her intensity? What if what she wants is something you can’t give? The thought of not being enough for her, of failing her in some way, sends a cold shiver down your spine.

You start wiping down the counters, moving in a methodical rhythm, each swipe of the cloth offering a brief distraction from the storm brewing in your mind. The sponge glides over the cool surface, removing traces of flour and sugar, but the tension in your chest remains.

As you straighten up the scattered baking supplies, your eyes drift toward the small, framed photo on the windowsill. It's a candid shot taken on a sunny day, the two of you caught mid-laughter, arms wrapped around each other, the kind of joy that feels almost too good to be true. The memory makes you pause, your fingers brushing the frame lightly as you wonder if you’re letting your fears overshadow the truth of what you have.

The whispers, the rumors, they all seem so distant when you think about the woman you know. The Alexia who smiles softly at you over breakfast, who texts you in the middle of the day just to say she misses you, who holds your hand like it's the most natural thing in the world. But still, the doubts linger, making you question whether you truly know her as well as you think.

The front door clicks open, and you hear the familiar sound of her footsteps, steady and sure, as they approach the kitchen. You barely have time to turn before she’s there, her presence filling the room with an effortless grace.

“Hola, amor,” she greets you, her voice soft and filled with warmth that wraps around you like a blanket. She glances around the kitchen, taking in the clean counters and organized space. “Cómo va todo?”

You quickly grab the to-do list, folding it in half and slipping it into your pocket before she can see the items you’ve been obsessing over. “Everything’s good,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds more steady than you feel. But Alexia is already closer, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of affection and curiosity.

Before she can ask anything more, you close the distance between you, leaning in to kiss her softly. Her lips are warm, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, shared moment. She hums contentedly against your lips, a small, pleased sound that makes your heart flutter.

“Mmm, that was nice,” she murmurs when you pull back, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She switches to English, her accent making the words sound even sweeter. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer into the safety of her embrace. “What were you up to, amor?”

“Just trying to get things sorted around here,” you say, your voice quieter now, more intimate. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but good,” she replies, her voice a little softer now, as if the closeness between you demands a gentler tone. “I missed you, though.” The sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you admit, your hand resting on her arm, tracing small patterns on the sleeve of her shirt. You can feel the steady beat of her heart through the fabric, and it gives you a small sense of calm. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Alexia’s eyes soften as she leans in for another kiss, this one more urgent, more filled with the longing that has been building up in both of you throughout the day. Her lips move against yours with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more, a hunger that you feel echoing in your own chest.

Your heart races as you return her kiss, your fingers threading through her hair, holding onto her as if she’s the only solid thing in your world. For a moment, you lose yourself in the warmth of her touch, in the way she makes you feel safe and cherished.

But as the kiss grows more intense, a wave of anxiety crashes over you, pulling you back to the surface. You break the kiss abruptly, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Alexia pulls back just enough to look at you, concern etched on her features.

“Qué pasa?” she asks softly, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture. Her eyes search yours, trying to understand what’s going on inside your head.

You struggle to find the words, torn between the love you feel for her and the fear that’s been gnawing at you for days. You want to be honest with her, to share what’s been weighing on your heart, but the words stick in your throat, refusing to come out. You’re scared, scared that your desires don’t match hers, scared that what she wants is something you’re not sure you can give. And more than anything, you’re scared of losing her, of the possibility that this might be something that could drive a wedge between you.

Alexia waits patiently, her gaze steady and filled with a quiet strength that both comforts and intimidates you. She deserves the truth, but you’re not sure you’re ready to face it yourself. Not yet.

Alexia's concerned gaze remains locked on you as you struggle to find the right words. Your chest tightens with the weight of your fears, and you can feel your face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety. The warmth of her hand on your cheek feels comforting, yet it only amplifies your nervousness. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“I—” you start, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been... thinking a lot about us, and, um, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” You stumble over the words, each one feeling like a hurdle you’re barely able to jump. You clear your throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I mean, I know we’ve been... close and everything, and I love you so much, but... but I’ve heard some things, and I—”

You stop abruptly, your hands gesturing awkwardly as if trying to physically grasp the right words. The shame of not being able to articulate your feelings is almost overwhelming. You glance around, desperately searching for something to focus on.

Alexia, sensing your distress, gently guides you towards the couch. “Come on, amor,” she says softly, her voice soothing. “Let’s sit down. You look like you could use a minute.” She leads you to the couch and gestures for you to sit, her touch light but reassuring.

You sink onto the couch, feeling a mixture of relief and dread. Alexia moves to the kitchen, her movements quick but purposeful. She returns with two glasses of water, handing one to you. “Here, drink this. It might help you feel a bit better.”

You take the glass, your hands still trembling slightly as you sip the cool water. Alexia sits beside you, her proximity comforting, yet her eyes are filled with an inquisitive tenderness. She reaches out and takes your free hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

“Whatever it is, we can talk about it,” she says softly. “I’m here for you.”

Feeling the pressure of your emotions building, you fumble for the to-do list you’d tucked away in your pocket. With a sheepish glance at Alexia, you pull it out and hand it to her. Her eyes widen slightly as she looks down at the list, and you see a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“I, um, I had this list,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It was supposed to help me keep track of things... but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about... that last item.” You gesture vaguely at the paper, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Alexia’s eyes dart to the list, and she blushes lightly as she reads the crossed-out line. The color in her cheeks deepens, and she bites her lip, clearly feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation. “Oh, um...” she stammers, her cheeks growing warm. “I see you’ve, uh, crossed out that part.”

You can’t help but feel a pang of guilt as you watch her reaction. The sight of her blushing and stumbling over her words makes your heart ache. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… I’ve been hearing these things, and I didn’t know if we were on the same page.”

Alexia’s eyes soften with understanding, even though she’s clearly flustered. She reaches out, gently squeezing your hand in a gesture of reassurance. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression,” she says, her voice a little shaky but kind. “I really didn’t mean to cause any worry. I guess I didn’t realize how much those rumors were affecting you.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot,” you admit. “I’m just scared that my own desires might not match up with what you want. I’ve always preferred things to be a bit softer, you know?”

Alexia’s blush deepens, but she quickly shakes off her shyness, her eyes meeting yours with a sincere intensity. “I understand,” she says softly. “And I want to make sure you feel comfortable with us exploring this together.” She pauses, then adds, her voice growing more confident but still tinged with a hint of awkwardness, “I, um, like to be in control and, well, sometimes a bit rough. But that doesn’t mean we can’t adjust things to fit what we both want.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you at her honesty. “Thank you for sharing that,” you say, your voice tinged with gratitude. “I really appreciate you being open with me. Can I ask you something? What do you like, exactly?”

Alexia takes a deep breath, her shyness melting away as she becomes more animated. “I, um, really enjoy taking the lead, feeling like I’m in charge,” she says, her eyes brightening with a newfound confidence. “But I also love hearing what you like, what makes you feel good. I want to make sure we both have what we need.”

Her willingness to adapt and consider your feelings makes you feel incredibly valued. You squeeze her hand back, your heart swelling with appreciation. “I like it when things are gentle and tender,” you admit, feeling more at ease now that the conversation is flowing openly. “It’s important to me that we both feel good about what we’re doing.”

After the conversation, the dynamic between you and Alexia shifts subtly but significantly. There’s a new warmth in her gaze, an added layer of intimacy that wasn’t there before. The initial awkwardness has melted away, replaced by a deeper understanding and a tangible current of desire that flows between you.

In the days that follow, the air seems charged with a new energy. You notice the way Alexia's touches linger a little longer, the way her kisses are filled with a gentle urgency that wasn’t there before. Conversations take on a more flirtatious tone, filled with playful teasing and soft, suggestive glances. The connection between you feels more electric, more alive, as if the boundaries between affection and desire have become wonderfully blurred.

One evening, after a particularly busy day, you find yourselves curled up on the couch together. The soft light of the lamp casts a warm glow around the room, creating an intimate cocoon where it’s just the two of you. Alexia’s head rests on your shoulder, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on your arm as you talk about your day.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about,” Alexia murmurs, her voice low and warm. Her breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. “I’m really glad we had that conversation.”

“Me too,” you reply, your voice soft. “I feel like things are... different now, in a good way.”

Alexia lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours with a sparkle of playful mischief. “Different how?” she asks, her voice taking on a teasing edge.

You smile, feeling a flush of warmth at her proximity. “Well, for one, there’s this new... tension between us,” you say, your words coming out with a hint of nervousness and excitement. “I feel it every time we’re close.”

Alexia’s smile widens, her eyes darkening with a mix of affection and desire. “I’ve noticed that too,” she says softly. She leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that quickly deepens into something more passionate. Her hands find their way to your face, cupping it gently as her kisses grow more fervent.

As the days pass, the physical connection between you both becomes more intense. You find yourselves stealing kisses whenever you can, your touches lingering with a newfound intensity. Each caress, each look, becomes a promise of what’s to come, a gentle build-up to the moment when you’ll finally give in to the desire that’s been growing between you.

With your heart full of anticipation and a touch of nervousness, you decide to make tonight special. Something that reflects the tender connection you both cherish. You spend the afternoon preparing, wanting every detail to be perfect.

The apartment is filled with the warm, inviting scent of your cooking. You’ve prepared a simple yet elegant dinner, something that you know Alexia loves. The table is set with your best dishes, a bottle of wine breathing on the side, and soft, flickering candlelight casting a golden glow over everything. The lights are dimmed, the apartment bathed in a warm, romantic ambiance that feels almost magical.

You’ve added little touches around the room. Fresh flowers in a vase on the table, the soft strains of music playing in the background, the living room rearranged slightly to create a more intimate setting. It’s a space that feels safe and inviting, designed to make tonight memorable.

As the time draws near, you catch yourself fidgeting with the edges of your dress, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, adjusting the candles on the table one last time. There’s a nervous flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and anxiety as you wait for Alexia to arrive. You want everything to be perfect, but more than that, you want to show her just how much she means to you.

As the final touches are set, you hear the front door creak open, and your heart skips a beat. You quickly smooth down the fabric of your dress, a soft blush warming your cheeks. You’ve chosen something special for tonight. An elegant dress that flows gracefully, making you feel beautiful and confident, even if your heart is still racing with anticipation.

When Alexia steps into the apartment, she pauses in the doorway, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the sight of you. Her reaction is immediate and genuine. A wide, happy smile spreads across her face, lighting up her features. For a moment, she just stands there, staring at you as if she’s seeing you for the first time. The look of admiration in her eyes makes your heart swell with warmth.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her voice tinged with awe. “You look... increíble, amor. So beautiful.” She takes a step closer, her gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of affection and admiration. “I—I’m so lucky,” she stammers, her usual confident demeanor giving way to a shy, almost bashful expression.

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at her praise, and you can’t help but smile shyly. “Thank you,” you reply, feeling a rush of warmth from her words. The way she’s looking at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

Alexia’s gaze then shifts momentarily to her own outfit—casual training wear that she’s clearly worn just for comfort. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks as she nervously tugs at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Oh, I, um... I didn’t realize I’d be, uh, underdressed,” she stammers, her eyes flitting between you and her own attire. “I didn’t expect—”

You cut her off gently, stepping closer and taking her hand in yours. “You look great,” you say sincerely, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I love how soft and relaxed you look. I just wanted to make tonight special for you, for us. It’s not about the clothes. It’s about being together.”

Alexia’s blush deepens, but she seems to relax at your words. She looks into your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softening. “You really didn’t have to do all this, but it means so much that you did.”

Without another word, she leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. The kiss is warm and full of affection, a perfect encapsulation of the love and understanding that has blossomed between you. When she pulls back, her eyes are filled with a soft, loving glow. “I’m really lucky to have you,” she murmurs, her voice full of emotion.

Her words are reassuring, and you feel your nervousness begin to fade, replaced by a sense of calm. You lead her to the table, pulling out her chair before taking your seat across from her. The candles flicker between you, casting soft shadows on her face as she looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

Dinner is a quiet, intimate affair. The conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and shared glances that say more than words ever could. The food is delicious, but it’s the company that truly makes the evening special. With each passing moment, the connection between you deepens, the unspoken promise of what’s to come lingering in the air.

After the last bite of dessert, Alexia leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving yours. “This was amazing,” she says, her voice low and warm. “Thank you for doing all of this.”

You smile, feeling a flush of pride at her words. “I’m glad you liked it. I just wanted us to have a night that’s... just for you, for us.”

Alexia’s eyes soften even more, and she reaches across the table to take your hand, her thumb gently stroking the back of it. “You’ve made me feel so special tonight,” she murmurs, her voice filled with emotion. “And I want to make sure you feel the same.”

The intensity in her gaze sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s a different kind of shiver than the anxiety you’ve felt before. It’s one of anticipation, of knowing that you’re about to share something incredibly intimate and meaningful with the person you love. You nod, unable to find the right words to express what you’re feeling, but knowing that she understands.

She stands, pulling you up with her, and with a gentle smile, she leads you into the living room. The atmosphere here is even more intimate, the music playing softly in the background, the candles you’d placed around the room casting a soft, romantic glow. Alexia pauses in the middle of the room, turning to face you, her hands resting lightly on your waist.

She looks at you with such affection, such care, that it takes your breath away. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, her voice filled with concern and love. “We can take things slow, amor. There’s no rush.”

You nod, your heart full of love for her. “I’m okay,” you reply, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I want this... with you.”

Alexia’s smile is soft and full of warmth. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, one that speaks of all the tenderness she feels for you. The kiss deepens slowly, her hands moving up to cup your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks in a gesture that is both protective and loving.

As the kiss lingers, your hands find their way to her back, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. The room seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of intimacy. The fears and doubts that had once clouded your mind now seem distant, replaced by the certainty that this moment, this connection, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

When she pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, you can see the love and desire in her eyes, tempered by the same care she’s shown throughout the night. “I want you to feel safe with me,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “And I want you to tell me if there’s anything you need, anything you want.”

You nod, your heart swelling with emotion. “I feel safe with you,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your feelings. “And I want to be with you... just like this.”

Her smile is full of understanding, and she takes your hand, leading you to the couch where you’d spent so many nights talking, laughing, and just being together. But tonight, it feels different. There’s a sense of anticipation, of something new and beautiful blooming between you.

She sits down, pulling you gently onto her lap, her arms wrapping around you in a way that feels both protective and possessive. Her lips find yours again, the kiss slow and tender, her hands exploring your body with a softness that speaks of her care for you. You feel her breath hitch slightly as her hands move over the curves of your body, her desire evident but tempered by the gentle way she touches you.

You respond in kind, your hands moving through her hair, down her back, holding her close as you both sink deeper into the kiss. The world outside ceases to exist, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

Her lips trail from your mouth to your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one sending a shiver of pleasure through you. Her hands continue their gentle exploration, never rushing, always mindful of the pace you’ve set together. You can feel the tension in her body, the restraint she’s holding onto, and it only makes you love her more.

You shift slightly, straddling her lap, your hands resting on her shoulders as you look into her eyes. “Alexia,” you whisper, your voice filled with all the love and desire you feel. “I want this... with you.”

Her eyes darken with desire, but there’s also a softness there, a tenderness that reassures you. “I want this too,” she murmurs, her hands settling on your hips, holding you close. “More than anything.”

The moment feels like it’s wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and mutual affection. Alexia’s fingers gently trace the curves of your waist, and you can feel the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second.

Suddenly, with a playful glint in her eye, Alexia shifts slightly beneath you and starts to rise. You yelp in surprise, your arms tightening instinctively around her shoulders as she lifts you effortlessly from her lap. Her strength is both reassuring and exhilarating, a reminder of her athletic prowess.

“Whoa, careful!” you laugh nervously, gripping her tightly as she stands up. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she chuckles softly at your reaction.

“Relax,” Alexia teases gently, her voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you. I’m an athlete, remember?” She holds you securely against her, her muscles flexing as she adjusts her grip to make sure you’re comfortable.

With a tender smile, Alexia walks slowly towards the bed, her steps measured and deliberate. As she reaches the edge of the mattress, she carefully lowers you onto the soft surface. Despite her careful movements, you cling to her, your arms wrapped around her neck as if reluctant to let go.

She pauses for a moment, her eyes roaming over your body with a mixture of admiration and affection. Her gaze lingers on you, taking in the sight of you stretched out on the bed, your dress clinging to your form in a way that makes her eyes darken with desire.

A warm, affectionate smile spreads across her face as she looks up at you. The connection between you both feels electric, charged with an intensity that makes your heart race. Without breaking eye contact, Alexia leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. The kiss is soft and lingering, a promise of the intimacy to come.

As she deepens the kiss, she begins to lay her own weight down beside you, her body pressing against yours with a comforting warmth. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, syncing with your own in a rhythm that feels perfectly natural.

Her hands explore your dress, her fingers tracing along the fabric as she starts to unfasten it. You help her, your movements synchronized as you pull the dress up and over your head. The dress slides off with a soft rustle, leaving you in your underwear.

Alexia’s fingers trail along your exposed skin, her touch light and teasing. She smiles up at you, her gaze filled with adoration. “You look beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice low and sincere. The way she looks at you makes you feel cherished, every inch of you appreciated.

She then starts to peel off her tracksuit, her movements slightly awkward as she tries to juggle her clothing while maintaining her focus on you. You help her, your fingers brushing against her skin as you assist with removing the tracksuit. Her clothes fall to the floor in a soft heap, leaving her in a simple, form-fitting top and underwear.

With the room filled with a tender, expectant silence, you take a deep breath, your fingers hovering hesitantly above her skin. You let your hands drift toward her chest, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You want to trace your fingers over her beautiful breasts, but you hesitate, unsure if you’re crossing any boundaries.

Shyly, you lift your gaze to meet hers, seeking reassurance in her eyes. The vulnerability in your expression is met with a soft, reassuring smile from Alexia. Her eyes, full of warmth and encouragement, seem to invite you to continue.

“Está bien, amor,” she whispers in Spanish, her voice soothing and full of affection. She gently takes your hands in hers, guiding them with a loving touch to cup her breasts. The warmth of her skin beneath your palms is both exhilarating and comforting.

As you make contact, Alexia lets out a soft, breathy moan, a sound so beautiful and intimate that it sends a shiver of pleasure through you. The sound resonates deeply within you, amplifying the connection you share and making you feel incredibly close to her.

With a gentle yet assertive grace, Alexia begins to take more control of the moment. She shifts her weight slightly, pressing her body more firmly against yours, allowing her warmth and softness to envelop you. Her hands glide over your body with a tenderness that feels both exhilarating and reassuring.

“Just let me guide you,” she murmurs softly, her voice a mix of confidence and tenderness. “Tell me what you like, and we’ll explore this together.”

You nod, your breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as you let her lead. Her fingers trail down your sides, exploring your curves with a careful touch that sends waves of pleasure through you. She lifts her gaze to yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, and you respond with a soft, encouraging smile, giving her the silent permission she needs.

Alexia’s hands continue their journey, gently slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. She eases them down slowly, her movements deliberate and careful as she uncovers your skin. The cool air against your exposed core contrasts with the warmth of her touch, intensifying the sensations you're experiencing.

As she removes your underwear completely, she turns her attention to her own, her fingers deftly working to peel them away. The sight of her undressing, her body illuminated by the soft light, makes your heart race with anticipation. When she finally discards her last piece of clothing, she pauses, letting you take in the beauty of her fully exposed form.

Overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment, you slowly shift into a sitting position on the bed, reaching out to wrap your arms around her. The softness of her skin against your body is electrifying, and you hold her close, your breath mingling with hers.

You lean in to plant gentle kisses on her exposed breasts, your lips brushing against her warm skin with a reverence that conveys just how much you adore her. Each kiss is tender, filled with love and a desire to show her how much she means to you.

You then trail your kisses down her left inner arm, admiring the beauty of her tattoo as your lips make contact with her skin, adding a layer of intimacy and appreciation to the tattoo. You slowly and softly set you teeth in her soft flesh.

The sensation of your kisses and bites elicits a soft, appreciative sigh from Alexia, her body responding to the gentle affection. “I like that,” she murmurs softly, her voice laced with warmth and pleasure. “It feels so good.”

She continues to revel in the intimacy you’re sharing, her hands tenderly caressing your back as you continue to kiss her. The closeness between you both becomes even more palpable, each touch and kiss a testament to your deep connection.

After a while, with a loving and considerate touch, Alexia gently guides you back onto the bed. “Let’s take our time,” she says softly, her voice filled with reassurance. As she helps you settle onto your back, her gaze remains tender and attentive, ensuring you feel both comfortable and cherished.

Once you’re comfortably situated, Alexia positions herself above you with a graceful and deliberate motion. Her core makes contact with yours, and she begins to move with a slow, rhythmic motion. She rocks back and forth with a gentle, deliberate pace, creating a sensation that blends pleasure with the perfect amount of pressure.

Her movements are tender yet purposeful, each shift and glide against you enhancing the intimate connection you’re experiencing together. The rhythm she sets is both soothing and stimulating, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the shared moment of closeness. The feeling of her body moving against yours is a harmonious dance of pleasure and tenderness, deepening the bond you share and making each moment feel incredibly special.

As the pleasure builds, you finally allow yourself to be vocal about how good she makes you feel. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips, each sound a testament to the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. You find yourself unable to keep quiet, your voice betraying the immense pleasure you’re experiencing. The sounds you make only seem to encourage Alexia, her own movements becoming more attuned to your responses, amplifying the mutual pleasure you both are sharing.

As the pleasure between you builds, Alexia’s focus remains unwaveringly on you. Her eyes, filled with a mix of adoration and passion, roam over your face and body. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her voice tender and filled with genuine appreciation. “And you make me feel so incredible.”

Her words are a soothing balm, adding to the warmth of the moment. The pleasure between you becomes almost overwhelming, and in the throes of it, her movements start to quicken. The rhythm of her grinding grows faster, her passion driving her actions as she becomes more lost in the sensation.

In her heightened state of desire, Alexia’s hand reaches out and firmly grabs your right breast, her fingers pinching your nipple roughly. The unexpected intensity makes you gasp in surprise, your body reacting sharply to the sensation. Her eyes widen in alarm as she notices your reaction, and she immediately halts her movements.

“Oh mierda, lo siento, lo siento mucho,” she breathes, her voice laced with concern. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Despite the sudden stop, the sensation had been unexpectedly pleasurable, and you find yourself blushing, feeling exposed but also intrigued. You look up at her, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. “It, um, actually felt good,” you admit shyly. “If you want to, you can continue.”

Alexia’s expression shifts from concern to a warm, relieved smile. Her eyes reflect a blend of affection and excitement as she takes your words to heart. “Are you sure?” she asks softly, her voice tender and filled with a gentle eagerness.

You nod, feeling a newfound confidence in sharing your desires. “Yes, I’m sure,” you affirm. “I trust you, and I want to experience this with you.”

With your reassurance, Alexia resumes her movements, her touch becoming more deliberate and attentive as she finds a rhythm that balances both pleasure and sensitivity. Her continued exploration of your body is filled with a renewed passion and care, ensuring that every moment is both thrilling and deeply intimate.

As the sensations between you intensify, Alexia’s movements become a rhythmic dance of passion and tenderness. Her body rocks gently but purposefully against yours, each motion sending waves of pleasure through you. She maintains a steady gaze, her eyes never leaving yours, communicating unspoken affection and desire.

“You feel so amazing,” she murmurs softly, her voice a tender caress against your ear. “I love the way you respond to me.”

Her words are a constant comfort, her sweet reassurances adding an extra layer of intimacy to the moment. She leans down to kiss you, her lips finding yours with a fervent yet gentle touch. The kiss is a melding of emotions, a silent conversation of love and longing that deepens with each passing second.

As the pleasure reaches its peak, her hands move with a delicate precision, enhancing the sensations and making sure you feel cherished and adored. She holds you close, her body pressed against yours, and the steady rhythm of her movements becomes a perfect symphony of shared ecstasy.

The culmination of your mutual pleasure comes as a breathtaking crescendo. You both feel the rush of release, a powerful and overwhelming wave that washes over you, leaving you breathless and blissful. Alexia’s soft, contented moans mix with your own vocal expressions of pleasure, creating a harmony that is both beautiful and deeply personal.

You kiss her tenderly, your lips moving in a gentle rhythm that matches the lingering waves of pleasure. The kiss is a promise of love and devotion, a sweet exchange that further cements the bond you share. Her hands cradle your face, her touch tender and reassuring as she pulls back slightly to look into your eyes.

“Thank you for being so amazing,” you whisper, your voice filled with genuine affection. “I’ve never felt this close to anyone before.”

Alexia’s eyes shine with a mix of love and satisfaction. “It’s because of you,” she replies softly. “You’ve made this so special. I love you so much.”

As the euphoria of the moment begins to settle, Alexia’s teasing smile makes a reappearance, her eyes twinkling with playful affection. She leans in close, brushing a strand of hair from your face before speaking, her tone light yet filled with meaning.

“I don’t stand a chance of having a normal life with you, do I?” she teases, her voice laced with warmth. “You’ve made me want to do this with you every single moment, exploring new things, finding out what we both like. We’re just getting started, and I’m so excited to explore even more with you.”

She punctuates her words with that little shy smile of hers, the one that always manages to melt your heart. It’s a perfect blend of her natural confidence and the sweet, awkward vulnerability that makes her so endearing.

You can’t help but laugh softly at her words, feeling both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed by the intensity of your connection. “Gosh, what have I gotten myself into?” you tease back, your tone playful but your heart swelling with affection.

Alexia chuckles, her smile widening as she leans down to kiss you again, this time more slowly, savoring the moment. “Whatever it is, I hope you’re ready for it,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice carrying both a promise and a challenge.

“I am,” you whisper back, feeling a surge of anticipation for the adventures yet to come.

With her by your side, you’re ready to explore everything. Every desire, every emotion, every new discovery. As you lie there in each other’s arms, the future feels wide open, full of possibility, and you know without a doubt that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

As you hold Alexia close, the warmth of her embrace and the depth of your connection make you realize how unfounded your doubts had been. In this moment of intimacy and understanding, you know with certainty that your fears were unnecessary, and that what you share is stronger and more beautiful than you ever imagined.

-

Note: I realize that some transitions might not be as smooth as l'd like, and plan to refine them later. I just wanted to share this now, even though I haven't done a thorough grammar check yet. Please be gentle with your feedback!

[thriftedtchotchkes]

a matter of time

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, late boston qz era, joel's pov, smut, porn with a twist ending, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, slow/intimate sex, finger sucking, premature ejaculation, nostalgia, internal monologue, tess doesn't exist

word count: 2.4k

It's been a long time.

Joel's all but forgotten what it feels like when it's this gentle. There's almost a tenderness to it, even though he doesn't know much of anything about you at all. Not your name or how you ended up here in this hellhole of a safe haven.

Nothing but the sweet, tacky taste of your 20-year-old Lip Smacker gloss and the tang of sweat and something sweeter lingering on your skin. But he's learning.

And he likes this new knowledge. Even if he never gets the chance to use it again, he'll devour it hungrily because it's a worthy distraction from the monotony of life in a quarantine zone. Day in and day out, he returns to this shitty apartment with its peeling floral wallpaper and rotting mahogany furniture—memories of a distant past that aren't his own and, yet, sting just as viscerally.

Tonight, the space hums with a different energy. Highlighted by the soft rays of the setting sun, the room's only purpose is to serve as a backdrop to you, and that alone changes everything. Your beauty, your responsiveness, as he lays you across his moth-eaten duvet is reminiscent of a different time, and he'll happily accept that reminder.

It's one of the few pieces of nostalgia that doesn't ache or eat away at him the longer he lets it in. No, you feel good. You're warm against his fingertips, soft and pliant under the path his lips follow from the sticky smear across your cheek, past the breath hitching audibly in your bared throat, down to your soaked, coarse curls.

You want him. More than that, you want to take your time with him, and he's surprised at how much he wants that, too. Trapped within these walls, what else does he have but endless, empty time? And there's nothing he'd love more than to spend it taking care of you, just like you asked him to.

He hovers above you, refusing to part his lips from your body as he urges you up the bed to rest against his pillows. They're flattened and scratchy from years of use and abuse, but they smell like him, and you like it. He can tell. The moment your hair fans across them, rich and lively in contrast, you bury your face into the fabric to breathe him in, and your body's reaction is instantaneous.

Your back arches with a heavy sigh of contentment and your legs fall apart naturally, welcoming him closer, but he waits. Reverently, he slowly leans back onto his heels to appreciate the sight in front of him, and he can't help but feel grateful. You're already glistening for him, preening under his undivided attention as your delicate fingers trail up to your breast to tweak a nipple.

As your eyelashes flutter and a gasp escapes your parted lips, his hand quickly drops to squeeze his twitching cock over his boxers and he keens, nearly doubling over at the pleasure that overcomes him. A coy, knowing smile quirks at the corners of your mouth, and he decides he needs to taste you again. Now.

He lurches forward, and you let out a surprised squeal as he licks into your mouth and commits to memory the faint taste of artificial root beer and mint on your tongue. The familiar fight for dominance he's so used to after years of quick fucks and one-night stands isn't there, and, instead, you set a languid, passionate pace that makes his head spin. It's a slow, deep caress—wet and warm and all-encompassing—and it's everything he hopes fucking you will feel like.

He's so hard it hurts. God, when was the last time he was this fucking hard? He's leaking messily through his boxers, desperate to be touched and enveloped and claimed.

And how could he not be? He's kissing the perfect woman. A patient goddess who's leading his hands across every inch of bare skin, showing him exactly how you like to be stroked and gripped, sighing encouragingly when he heeds your lessons just right.

You're one hell of a teacher, and he thinks he might just be your favorite student. He separates from you with a lewd smack and a string of saliva keeps you connected for a fleeting second before you lean up to lick it off his bottom lip. Your eyes lock with his and they're dark, almost completely consumed by desire, and it's further encouragement to continue on to his next assignment.

This one might just send him over the edge. You guide his hand down to cup your wet heat and you're drenched, dribbling and smearing slick patterns onto his sheets that he'll probably trace with his tongue while he jerks off to the thought of you long after you're gone.

Bathed in the dwindling embers of twilight, your silhouette—the plush slope of your breasts and soft curve of your belly and thighs—is cast around the room in artful shapes and shadows, and he wishes you were a permanent fixture. That your visage covered these walls instead of false depictions of growth and life. It's a dangerous train of thought, but he's too lost in the haze of your warmth and wetness to think about anything else.

He needs to feel you. He needs to fuck you.

He barely even realizes he's already slipped inside you as if he's been there all along, stroking your walls with the rough tips of his middle and ring fingers and honing in on that hidden, spongy spot with such precision, you'd think he'd done it a million times before. Thick, cording veins strain against his forearms as he tenses with the effort of keeping his thrusts long and purposeful, and he watches, captivated, as your cunt sucks him in greedily and fruitlessly tries to hold him inside you.

Tight—fuck. You're so tight. He's bucking into his unoccupied hand, jerking himself off over his boxers, and he doesn't remember when he started, but he can't stop. It feels too good...you feel too good, and the steady, simultaneous rhythm he sets for both of you isn't nearly enough.

Faster. Harder. Still so goddamn tight. He'll never be able to stretch you out enough to take him, and he's starting to worry he'll cum before he even gets the chance to try. His cock throbs violently against his palm, and he bites back a groan at the vision beneath him. Christ, how did you get here?

You can't possibly be real. Your thighs are quaking on either side of his waist and your pussy clenches dangerously hard around his scissoring fingers. There's a thin sheen of sweat matting the wispy hairs around your temples and pooling everywhere your body connects with the mattress, your searingly hot skin an addictive, sticky trap he willingly and faithfully succumbed to.

And those sounds.

You need his cock. Fucking hell, you need it. Greedy, patient, needy fucking woman. He can hear it in your soft pants and hitched breaths. You're quiet and subtle in your pleasure, so unlike any other woman he's ever been with, but when you whimper—fuck. Fuck.

He's going to give it to you. Right now, after taking the time to map and explore and discover, he's going to use his newfound knowledge to hollow you out, then fill you up until you're overflowing with him.

He slows to a stop and pulls his glistening fingers from your cunt, and there's that faint, perfect sound again. A stuttered, broken whimper that lilts with each knuckle that catches on your entrance. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and adds your taste to his list of all-time favorites, right alongside your Barq's root beer-flavored lip gloss.

Then, he offers you his middle finger, and he swears he can feel your lips sealing tightly around his cock as you wrap them around it. You work your mouth up and down, bobbing your head eagerly like he's about to blow his load down your throat, and—

He's going to fucking cum.

With his finger still nestled between your lips, he wrenches his boxers down his thighs and lines himself up with your entrance, ignoring how close he's suddenly teetering on the edge. His balls are already taut between his legs and it worsens as he inches in his aching, neglected tip.

"S'time, beautiful," he grits out, still tender in his touch as he splays his hand across your waist to stroke your heated skin. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, humming your affirmation around him, and he gives you another shallow inch. He was right. No amount of preparation was going to ease the stretch. You're gripping him so hard, it almost hurts, and the thought of how tight you'll be when you cum—he feels delirious with it.

Yes. Yes. Squeeze him. Let him feel you wringing him fucking dry. Let him pump you so full of his release, you'll be dripping him for days, an intimate, lingering reminder of this night. You have no fucking idea how long he's been waiting for this, for you. He doesn't even know your name, but that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is this.

This deep-seated, unspoken connection. It's been a long time. And, right now, his time is up.

He slides home in one long, deep thrust, the tip of his cock tenderly nudging your cervix, and your body struggles to accept him. He lights up every nerve ending like a live wire, drags against every sensitive pressure point in perfect succession, and your walls begin to mold around him as if they recognize the sensation. Like your body's remembering him.

Sharp nails dig into his side and drag from his shoulder down to his ass, urging him closer. You're trembling beneath him, your breasts thrumming with sharp, rapid breaths akin to a hummingbird as he fucks you further up the bed, one slow thrust at a time. You're fluttering around him, a delicate spasm and, then, an indicative clench, and it forces a sob from his chest that he barely recognizes.

That's it, beautiful. It's right there. C’mon, give it to me.

He doesn't speak it aloud. He hasn't coaxed or rushed you with his words this entire night and he's not about to start now. He knows, for some inexplicable reason, that he doesn't have to.

But you do. It's barely a whisper—a single, hushed syllable that trembles and passes your lips like a plea. A prayer only he can answer.

"Joel."

Christ. He knows you.

Christ, he's cumming.

His vision whites out, and he's only vaguely aware of his tightening grip on your hips and the long, drawn-out groan that tapers into something devastatingly familiar. Your name.

Now, it's his turn to pray. He repeats it like a mantra, breathing it into your lungs as his lips crash onto yours. It's almost as if he's afraid he'll forget it again if he stops, but your body's response quickly convinces him otherwise.

You bear down on him harder, driven closer and closer to your peak each time he calls out to you, for you. You're molten hot around him, searing each letter into his skin with every pulsing clench of your cunt, and he does the same, thick spurts coating your walls.

He can't help himself. He stays deep—he knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous the consequences could be, but he needs to—and your ankles digging painfully into his back to hold him in place wordlessly tell him you need it, too.

So good, you're so good. You're perfect. You're his. You're—

Gushing, squeezing, finally moaning for him. You’re cumming.

With it, your orgasm brings every memory of you flooding back at once. Late summer afternoons spent in bed while Sarah visited her grandma. Champagne-flavored kisses on New Year's Eve, soundtracked by Dick Clark and cheers from the crowd in Times Square filtering through the plasma TV in his living room.

He loved you. He loved this. He should've known the moment he kissed you, the moment he saw you, but he's been surviving for so long. He can't remember the last time he lived.

Your limbs surround him, pulling his entire weight down to rest on top of you, and you continue to swivel your hips into his pelvis, riding out your high as his name falls breathily from your lips. He works you through it, frantically blinking away the sudden blur that engulfs his vision so he doesn't miss out on another moment with you. Not ever again.

He's...he's crying. He didn't even know he was capable of that anymore. Sensitivity starts to set in, in more ways than one, but he doesn't want to leave the heat of your embrace. He thinks he might break at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and seeping into the undeserving fabric of his co-opted sheets, far away from where it belongs.

But, then, your lips meet his tanned, weathered cheek—a stark contrast to the young man he was when he was yours—and you kiss away his tears. He feels more fragile than he has in decades, and that's surprisingly okay. Because you're here to protect him, now.

Trailing from the apple of his cheek to his lips, up to the years of tension creasing his forehead, back down to kiss him tenderly, you establish a comforting repetition. He chases you every time you part, but, after a while, he's struck with a realization. What you've been trying to convey with your actions all night.

You always return to him. So, maybe this was just a matter of time. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful face he hadn't allowed himself to think about since the outbreak, and you huff out an affectionate laugh, your fingertips curiously running across his back and tracing raised lines and jagged shapes you've never felt before.

"Hi, Joel," you murmur fondly, still close enough for the tacky remains of your gloss to catch his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out to taste you.

It's real—it's too vivid not to be real. His eyes dart between yours, and he can still see everything your future together was supposed to hold. He still sees forever.

"Hey, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with tears and disuse, and something unidentifiable that sounds a lot like hope.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you.

thanks for reading!

[chrissturnsfav]

𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 | 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

as you scroll through your phone looking at pictures of perfect skinny girls, you can't help but compare your curvy body to theirs and wish you were as beautiful as them. but your boyfriend knows exactly how to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

ᰔᩚ requested from @littlestella2010: Can you write a Matt x fem reader and she is chubby and I don’t know you write smut I prefer smut but you don’t do smut fics can you do fluff

ᰔᩚ bf!matt, soft!matt x chubby!reader, fluff, body image issues, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), creampie, praise kink

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,684

you scroll through your instagram feed, the bright, curated photos of skinny, effortlessly beautiful girls filling your screen. they pose in trendy outfits, smiles wide and radiant, their confidence practically glowing through the photos. as you swipe, a familiar feeling settles in—an ache of insecurity that wraps around your heart like a heavy blanket.

you glance down at yourself, feeling the snugness of your clothes. the way they hug your body, the tiny rolls that spill over the waistband of your jeans. it’s hard not to compare, especially when every post seems to scream perfection. your mind races with thoughts that echo too loudly: “why can’t i look like that?” “what are they doing that i’m not?”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the feelings aside as you put your phone down beside you, but they linger. the laughter in the photos, the vibrant energy—it all feels so far removed from how you see yourself in the mirror. you wish you could feel that same confidence, that same ease, but instead, you feel like you’re living in a shadow, just out of reach.

as you lean back against the soft sheets of matt's bed, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body beside you. the dim light casts a gentle glow, making his room feel intimate. you catch him stealing glances at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“hey,” he says softly, a hint of concern in his gentle voice as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “you okay?”

you nod, but there’s still a flutter of insecurity in your stomach.

he senses it, the slight shift in your mood. "something seems wrong, what's up baby, talk to me," he asks gently, shifting on the bed to sit directly in front of you.

you shrug, staring down in your lap as your eyes move along the small curves of your stomach, "just...there's so many pretty girls on instagram. and they're always skinny. i wish i looked like them..." you express softly.

you pick up your phone again, handing it to matt to look at some of the instagram posts of the perfect looking girl you were stalking.

he holds your phone in his hands, swiping through the pictures. “i see. those girls are pretty skinny,” he says, his tone gentle. “but you know that doesn’t mean anything, right?”

you shrug, feeling a lump form in your throat. “they look...they just look perfect, and here i am looking so much heavier than them. it just sucks, makes me feel...ugly," you mumble.

matt’s expression shifts to something more serious, gently gripping your chin and lifting it so your eyes are on him. “no, listen to me,” he says, taking your hand in his free one and squeezing it firmly. “you are not ugly, you're beautiful. and i mean it. your curves are perfect baby, you don't have to be skinny to be pretty."

you meet his gaze, searching for sincerity, and find it there—deep and unwavering. “really?” you ask, a mix of hope and disbelief in your voice.

he scoffs, “of course,” he replies, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i love everything about you. its not all about looks, baby. the way you're so kind to everyone, the way you laugh, all that other shit. that's what matters to me most."

his words wrap around you like a warm hug, and you can feel the tension in your chest begin to ease. “but those girls…they look so perfect.”

matt shakes his head, leaning in closer. “what’s real is so much better. you’re real, and that’s what I love. and you're still beautiful on top of it. trust me, you don’t need to change a thing. i wouldn't lie to you and you know that. i'm not saying this to just try and make you feel better, i'm being 100% honest with you."

with his reassurance, the weight of your insecurities starts to lift. you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling grateful for his presence. “thank you,” you say softly.

matt's arms move around you, pulling you closer to him like a koala bear as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt comfortingly, "don't thank me, i'm just telling you the truth."

you pull away from his embrace, your arms still around his shoulders as you gaze into his eyes and take in the pools of blue. matt smiles softly at you, "want me to show you how perfect you really are?" he asks, a hint of lust in his gentle tone.

you nod with a hint of pink creeping on your cheeks, a bashful smile on your lips as you feel desire slowly running through you. matt smirks softly as his hand slides to your waist, fingers tracing the curve.

as he leans in closer, you can feel the heat between you, the tension crackling in the air. his lips brush against yours, soft and inviting, and you melt into the kiss, feeling cherished and adored.

“you deserve to feel amazing,” he murmurs against your lips. “and i'm gonna show you just how pretty you are.”

with every gentle caress and reassuring kiss, he makes you forget your worries completely, allowing you to embrace the moment fully. in his arms, you feel desired and gorgeous—just as you are.

the kisses grow a bit more hungry, his tongue massaging your own as his fingers creep below your top and they slowly run over your now hardened nipple.

he leans further into you, not breaking the kiss as he mumbles against your lips, "lay down for me."

you oblige immediately, letting your body fall against his bed as he hovers over you. his lips are soft against yours as his hands rest on your tits, brushing over your nipples that make you shiver beneath him.

he pulls your shirt over your head before pressing his lips lustfully against yours again. one of his hands move to unbutton your jeans and tug down the zipper as your thighs burn with need for him.

his lips move down to your jawline to leave wet kisses along it, then moving down to your neck. your hands are behind his neck, gently toying with the brunette strands as your eyes flutter shut, tiny whimpers escaping your needy lips.

"you're perfect," matt murmurs softly against your collarbone, his fingers tracing the curves on your stomach as his other hand pulls your sticky panties down.

his lips move down to the valley between your tits, his hand caressing one of them while his other remains on your waist.

your body is aching with desire, fingers now tugging softly at his hair and he smirks against your skin, "your curves are so pretty," he mumbles, fingers tracing your underboob.

his lips then move to your stomach, kissing every curve there is as he whispers, "wish you saw yourself how i see you."

moments later, matt's jeans and boxers are discarded somewhere on the floor. your thick thighs rest on his shoulders as he moves gently, but quickly into you. you pant, moaning softly at the ecstasy as he watches above you with a soft smirk.

his hands grip your hips tightly, watching his hardened dick move and out of your sopping pussy as small grunts leave his lips, "see, so pretty," he groans lowly, your hands resting behind his neck as you moan.

"so curvy 'n perfect, i love you," he pants as his pace quickens, watching your fucked out face twist in pleasure.

"i-i love you," you respond in a whimper, your half lidded eyes opening to look at him through blurry vision.

matt smiles softly at you as he breathes heavily, "just as beautiful as those other girls," he grunts deeply, moving his face in the crook of your neck as he kisses it deeply.

you moan softly, his breath on your neck making you feel weak while you grow closer with each movement he makes.

one of his hands move to your thigh on his shoulder, picking his head up and leaving sloppy kisses against the skin, "such thick thighs my girl's got," he murmurs in a grunt.

his praising words only make you grow closer to the edge, your moans squeaky in pleasure and euphoria, "f-feels so good," you breathe out.

matt smirks softly against your thigh, "yeah, it does, right?" he mumbles in a breathy moan. "wanna make my curvy girl feel beautiful."

your thighs begin to burn, your orgasm seconds away as your hands move to cup his face, turning it to look out at your twisted expression, "i-i'm...m'gonna cum," you say in a choked out moan.

"mhm, go ahead pretty girl, make a pretty mess on me," he mumbles in a deep grunt, feeling his own high approaches as well.

your jaw falls open, legs shaking on his shoulders as he grips your thighs with a smirk at your expression. your high pitched moans are like music to his ears, his climax moments away at the sight of you cumming so pretty for him.

"look so pretty when you're cumming for me, m'so close," he pants, his actions growing messy and quicker leaving you moaning softly as you come down from your high.

your thumbs brush against his cheeks, watching him get closer and closer as he grunts deeply, fingers digging into the soft skin on your thighs.

"shit," he hisses deeply, thrusting one last time into you as his eyes roll back and he releases his thick load inside of you. he pants as he pulls out, watching his seed drip out of you with a soft smirk.

he looks back up at you, all messy and tired from the events that just transpired, "you okay?" he asks softly, leaning his face close to yours, his breath fanning against your face.

"yeah," you breathe out, "you make me feel so pretty," you smile, your hands still cupping his face.

matt smiles in awe at your words, pecking your lips lovingly, "good, that's what i wanted to hear," he mumbles against your lips.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this was such an adorable request! i hope you all liked it, wanted to get it up before halloweekend bc i will most likely be very inactive and getting plastered LMAO.

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[loveemagicpeace]

🥃Astrological Things☁️🥥

🎨Fire signs are full of passion and life and everything they do involves passion. And they don't like being with people who are too serious and down to earth. They always say "okay lets do this". They love to do things and are there for all the drama and action and will always do crazy things with you.

🍬Mercury in Aries are very honest and straightforward. With them, you will always know where you are and what is happening. Everything you ask them, you will get a direct answer. They seem to me to be the most sincere and true with words.

🌙You will feel most comfortable and familiar with people with which you have 4th house synastry. With these you will feel the warmth and feel as if they will always be there for you. You'll feel like they've known you forever. You can feel this with your friends as if they were your brothers or sisters. It's home vibes so u two can be homies or family. Your family can look at them as part of the family. I think this is very beautiful synastry for relationships & friendships.

🫧Pluto in the 1st house - in the early period of your life you will face many trials. Many people may put you down or not treat you well. Many times I have noticed that they experience contempt from people or people humiliate them. Their early life can be quite difficult - they can attract many people who are jealous of them and wish them ill. You achieve strength later in life. But you transform yourself throughout your life and become an ever stronger person.

✨The difference between capricorn rising and scorpio rising is that capricorns will always get respect. What is one thing i have noticed that no matter what - they always get the respect of others and will always want to be respected. You will make an impression on other people with your silence. You're not going to do anything and you're just going to kill people with your looks. Your energy is very strong. Scorpios, however, want power, and with that they can go through anything to achieve it. Many times their energy can be too intense and tense. A lot of times they do something related to intimacy. Scoprio rising - intimate areas, sexuality..mc leo - sex, playfulness, visibility. Scorpio wants power & Capricorn wants respect.

🔥Mars in 1st house & Mars in 12th house - the difference is that someone who has Mars in the 1st house comes forward angry, aggressive, scary. But he is aware of his anger, which means that whatever he does, he is aware of his limits and how far he can go. Mars in the 12th house, on the other hand, hides its anger and anger manifests itself in many ways. These people can be much more scary and dangerous when someone makes them angry. Many times I notice that these people have at least one contact with weapons or they like it. They like guns. These people could have a collection of guns.

🌛Cancer & taurus moon are similar in that they both will leave if they don't feel the energy in the room of people or wherever they are and both moons don't like to go out with strangers or with really big group of people. They prefer to be with only one person. They both love food and movies. Both of them have a sense of security and always take care of the people around them.

🌱Cancer rising- you are more of an introverted person, prefer to keep back and do not like to be in the company of strangers. You need your own space and I have noticed many times that these people do not like to drive strangers in their car or go to the vacation with them. They don't like it when people invade their private space.

🌼Venus and Cancer - these people are enthusiastic about children, they have a good feeling for children. They immediately immerse themselves in the conversation with them. They are very family oriented.

🥥Capricorn moon people have a lot of empathy towards people. A very friendly moon, otherwise they can be too focused on work and the things they have, but they are very friendly.

🫐Virgo placements especially rising sign a lot of times they are insecure about their body and how they look like. Also a lot of times they don't like taking pictures of themselves for example : for the men -without shirt on it and for woman the body parts the chest or belly. Or any part of the body that is intimate. But a lot of times it's the upper part of the body. Many times they are also very critical of their bodies. I think they have a very beautiful body, but they are too critical of themselves about their appearance. And they look very sexy when they have messy hair!

☁️Taurus/ sagittarius/ virgo placements especially venuses will be very critical of the bodies of other person like they would see the details of the person's body. For example: you like someone's arms and fingers - and the person will gain weight in their arms and suddenly you won't like it anymore, or they will have a too thick neck or their legs will be too muscular - You will see certain flaws on the person's body that you will no longer like. Hard to explain, but there are little things that they notice. Also, if the person goes on beauty corrections or something similar, it can quickly turn them away from the person.

💕Libra placements can sometimes be a little too obsessed with being liked by everyone and having a lot of people around them. Sometimes I have the feeling that they are too obsessed with the fact that people have to love them. They need the love from others way to much. And I have a feeling that sometimes they can be even more obsessed with perfection than virgos. The difference between libras and leos are that libras need people's attention. While Leos need attention to themselves, to be seen for their talents. Or that one person they really love.

🎯Aries in the other hand will always be honest and direct. But people often find them selfish because they focus more on themselves than on the people around them. And yes they could be but also when they love you and they find a connection with you, they will give you a lot of their energy. The difference is that Aries will only give their energy to people they really like and suit them. While libras will give their energy to everyone.

🍿The general energy between fire signs and air signs is that air signs can get along with everyone and will give everyone the same energy. Fiery signs are picky when it comes to people and will only give their energy to those they really like and will find passion with.

🧊8th house synastry create an energy like you have to have this person to yourself. And if the person is not only yours, you can quickly start showing jealousy. You want it to be just your person and you don't want to share it with any other person. These two people, even if they want to, cannot alienate themselves from each other. You cannot let go of this person even if you try. I mean it's very hard to go if you have a powerful relationship with this person.

🧃Geminis are very comfortable talking on the phone in front of other people. They always don't care if someone is around or listening to them. Many times they talk about very personal topics and don't care if anyone is listening.

☁️It's actually the earth signs that hides the most pain in themselves because they never talk about feelings out loud. They don't want to bother other people with their emotions and feelings and all of it. They want to be strong for others especially Moon signs and that's why they never talk about feeling so openly because they always feel this pressure they they have to be strong.

⭐️The signs you have a love-hate relationship with are actually the signs that will give you the most love and growth. For ex.: you have leo in your 8th house and you just hate their energy sometimes or how they made you feel. And all the times characteristics that they have bothers you and they will say all the wrong things to you and you will be like” I just hate them so much”but you will find out that this signs will actually do the most sacrifice for you. They will be the most loyal to you & you will have with them the most deep relationship of all the people in your life.

-Rebekah💗🦋🫧

[meazalykov]

whiteheads

lena oberdorf x esthetician!reader

summary: with an esthetician girlfriend, she can spot anything on your face.

warnings: one suggestive mention

you sit in your cozy esthetician studio, the low hum of the diffuser filling the space with the soft scent of lavender and eucalyptus. 

your eyes flick to the clock, a gentle smile tugging at your lips as you think about your next client—your favorite client, really. 

lena had been so caught up in her recovery from the ACL injury and all the intense training sessions that came with it, that she'd fallen off her usual skincare routine. her skin was still gorgeous, of course—she was lena, after all—but you noticed the subtle changes. the stress, the long hours of practice, the constant travel. all of it was taking its toll in ways that she hadn’t paid attention to, but you had.

so, naturally, when she mentioned feeling like her skin hadn’t been looking its best, you immediately scheduled an appointment for her in your studio. 

"my favorite client needs a bit of pampering," you'd texted her with a wink emoji when she was at bayern’s training ground last week

she responded with an eye roll, followed by a simple, “i’ll be there.”

you hear the soft creak of the door, followed by her familiar voice. 

"is it too late to back out?" obi teases, stepping into the room with that easy, confident smile that still makes your heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

you turn, grinning. "too late. i’m already prepping your skin in my mind."

she chuckles, moving toward you, her hands slipping into her pockets. "i can’t believe you’re making me do this," she says, mock-complaining. however, you can see the glint in her eyes, the way she’s more than happy to let you work your magic on her.

you gesture to the treatment bed. "you’re going to thank me when we’re done, trust me."

after you say that, you reach into the small closet and hand lena a soft, pink, plush robe to change into, one that you've had ready just for her. 

she raises an eyebrow as she takes it, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "really? a robe? you’re going all out, aren’t you?"

"of course, all of the clients wear a robe because i don’t want their outside clothes on the bed– even though I do wash the sheets after each client," you reply with a playful grin. 

"however.. all of the clients use all of those blue robes that are hanging in the other closet. the pink one I gave you is my personal one– nothing but the best for you."

obi shakes her head but doesn’t argue. she’s used to you doting on her at this point, and honestly, you know she enjoys it. 

without much hesitation, she begins to strip off her t-shirt, revealing the toned muscles of her back and shoulders that you’ve traced with your fingers countless times before. you’d step out the room before this point for every other one of your clients– but with lena there's no need for you to step out or give her privacy—you’ve been together for three years, and this level of comfort is something you've earned together. 

you’ve seen much more of her than this, in much more intimate settings.

as she tosses her clothes aside and pulls on the robe, you can’t help but admire her for a moment. despite the months of recovery, despite the grueling rehab sessions, she still carries herself with that confident grace you love so much. 

she ties the robe loosely around her waist, glancing at you with a small smirk when she catches you watching her. 

"like what you see?"

you shrug playfully, trying to keep your tone casual even though your heart skips a beat. 

"always."

lena chuckles softly, stepping over to the treatment bed, moving with a slight limp that reminds you of all she’s been through with her ACL recovery. she carefully settles onto the bed, stretching out with her leg propped up on the pillow you’ve set for her. 

you lean over, adjusting the blanket around her, making sure she’s completely comfortable before you get started.

“ready?” you ask, your voice soft as you hover over her with your rolling chair.

lena grins, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. “as ready as i’ll ever be.”

with that, the session begins, and you slip into your professional yet tender mode, knowing that this is just as much about relaxing her body as it is about taking care of her skin.

"this feels so weird," she admits with a laugh. 

"i’m used to seeing hannah, not... this."

hannah is the physio at bayern.

"well," you say, stepping closer and brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "this is a different kind of healing."

her eyes soften at your words, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. there’s an unspoken understanding between you—she knows how much you care about her, how you notice the little things even when she doesn’t.

you break the silence first, giving her a playful smirk. "now, lay back, relax, and let me work."

lena raises an eyebrow as she leans back, settling into the bed. "you’re getting bossy."

"only when i need to be," you shoot back, grabbing your first cleanser and starting to work on her skin. 

you begin with the first cleanse, your fingers moving gently over her face, massaging the cleanser in slow circles. "just taking off the surface stuff," you explain as you work, your voice soft but steady.

lena closes her eyes, sighing softly. "this feels... really good."

"good," you whisper, your hands never pausing. 

as you wipe the first cleanser away with a warm towel, you glance at her face—her features are relaxed, her breathing steady. the tension that usually lines her forehead and jaw, remnants of her intense focus on the pitch, has already begun to melt away.

"so, this is what you do every day?" she asks, cracking one eye open, a teasing tone in her voice. 

"you get paid a lot of money just to... touch people’s faces? i could retire from football now and go to school for this."

you laugh softly, moving on to the second cleanse, this one deeper and more targeted. 

"there’s a bit more to it than that, lena."

"uh-huh," she murmurs, clearly enjoying the sensation of your fingers gliding over her skin. "i could get used to this."

"you should," you say, leaning a little closer, your voice dropping a touch. "i mean, i don’t work on my off-days for anyone except for you."

her lips curve into a smile, her eyes still closed. "oh yeah? i feel special."

"you are special." you let the words hang there, simple but true. and for a moment, it feels like the world outside your studio doesn’t exist—just you, her, and the soft intimacy of the moment.

you finish the second cleanse, wiping her face gently with another warm towel. 

"how’s your leg?" you ask as you reach for your next tool.

"better," she says, her voice a little quieter now, a little softer. "you already know that. i’m getting stronger every day."

"i know," you say, your tone filled with pride. "i can see it."

as you prepare for the next step—extractions—you hold up the small metal tool. 

"okay, so... next up are extractions. how are you feeling about that?"

lena’s eyes flick open, and she looks at the tool in your hand, her brow furrowing slightly. "what exactly are extractions?"

"basically, i use this tool to gently press around your pores to get rid of any blackheads, whiteheads, clogged pores... you know, stuff like that."

"and this is... necessary?"

you nod, smiling reassuringly. 

"it’ll make a difference, trust me. but if it’s too uncomfortable, we can skip it and go straight to the enzyme mask and LED light."

lena squints at you, the skepticism clear on her face. 

"how uncomfortable are we talking?"

you tilt your head, considering how to phrase it. 

"it can sting a little, but i’ll be as gentle as possible. and remember, if it’s too much, we can stop."

she eyes the tool again, then finally nods. 

"okay. i’m tough. i can handle it."

you smile, loving her determination. 

"i know you can."

starting with her nose, you gently press the tool against her skin, carefully working around the small blackheads that have appeared. lena winces almost immediately, a small hiss escaping her lips.

you pause, looking at her with concern. 

"you okay?"

she opens one eye, giving you a lopsided grin. 

"yeah, just... didn’t expect it to sting like that."

"we can stop if you want," you offer, setting the sterile tool down momentarily.

lena shakes her head, her competitive nature shining through. 

"no way. i’m not tapping out. finish what you started."

you laugh softly, admiring her grit. 

"all right, tough girl. let’s keep going."

you continue the extractions, moving slowly and carefully, making sure not to cause too much discomfort. fortunately, lena’s skin doesn’t have too many issues—just some whiteheads that you quickly take care of. 

when you’re done, you set the tool aside and wipe her face down with another warm towel.

"all done," you say, smiling at her as you clean up. 

"how was that?"

lena lets out a dramatic sigh of relief. 

"i thought you said you were going to be gentle."

"i was!" you protest, laughing. "you’re just sensitive."

"or maybe you’re secretly trying to torture me," she teases, her lips curving into a playful smile.

"i’d never," you say, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "besides, you survived."

"barely," she mutters, but the smile stays on her face.

now that the extractions are done, you move on to the enzyme mask, smoothing the cool, creamy, raspberry scented, formula over her skin. 

"this part’s the easy part," you tell her. 

"it’ll just sit for a bit while it works its magic."

"finally," lena says, her voice taking on a teasing tone again. 

"something that doesn’t involve pain."

you laugh softly, finishing up with the mask and setting the timer. "well– it will make your skin tingle but here's a fan to blow on your face," you say, stepping back to admire your work. 

“by ‘tingle’ do you mean an actual tingle– or burning?” 

“a small tingle. if your skin starts to burn please say something.”

“oh– i will.” lena whispers with her eyes closed.

as the enzyme mask settles onto lena’s skin, you take a moment to glance at her, admiring how peaceful she looks lying there. her eyes are closed as the fan blows cool air onto her skin.

obi is breathing steady, and she seems to have completely relaxed under your care. the soft, warm light from the lamp above casts a gentle glow over her features.

you set the timer for the mask and move behind her again, placing your hands gently on her shoulders. lena tenses slightly at first, but as your fingers begin to knead into the muscles, you feel the tension start to melt away. you apply just the right amount of pressure, working in slow circles over her shoulder blades, feeling the tight knots that have built up from months of intense training and rehab. 

your thumbs press into the spots just above her shoulder blades, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. you smile to yourself, continuing to massage her, knowing that lena never fully admits how sore or tired she gets, but you can feel it in her muscles—the tightness, the strain. 

you take your time, moving down toward her neck, your fingers expertly working over the base of her skull and into her hairline. with each stroke, you can feel her sink deeper into the bed, her body completely giving in to the relaxation.

“you okay?” you murmur softly, more out of habit than necessity, since you know she is.

lena doesn’t respond, but the soft rise and fall of her chest tells you everything you need to know.

you smile to yourself, convinced that she's on the verge of sleep. continuing your gentle ministrations, you move your hands into her hair, lightly massaging her scalp in slow, circular motions. 

obi loves when you run your fingers through her hair, and you know this will send her over the edge into pure bliss. her head tilts slightly to the side, completely relaxed under your touch.

as you move your hands back down to her neck and shoulders, working out the last bit of tension, you glance down at her face. the breathing in her body has deepened, her lips slightly parted. 

yep, she's asleep. you chuckle softly to yourself, careful not to make any sudden movements that might wake her.

for the rest of the time, you keep your touch light, alternating between massaging her shoulders and running your fingers through her hair. the timer finally goes off, signaling the end of the mask’s set time, but you’re in no rush to wake her. 

she looks so peaceful, so content, that you almost hate the idea of disturbing her. 

eventually, though, you clean the mask off of her face with a soft warm towel. afterwards you press a soft kiss to her temple, and whisper, “babe, time to wake up.”

lena stirs slightly, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly comes back to the present. 

“was i... did i fall asleep?”

you laugh quietly, running your fingers through her hair. 

“yeah, you did. i think i’ve got some magic hands.”

she chuckles softly, still half-asleep, her voice drowsy. “you really do.”

"you look amazing already." you admire her glowy skin.

"i always look amazing," she quips, but there’s a playful gleam in her eyes as she glances at you.

you grin, rolling your eyes. "humble as ever."

"i learned from the best," she shoots back, smirking.

you prep the LED light therapy, getting everything ready for the final step. after you set the timer on the LED, you gently put safety eye covers on obi’s eyes before guiding her head beneath the LED light. 

the soft red glow fills lena’s vision through the safety eye cover, and you sit behind her, running your fingers gently through her hair as she relaxes under the light.

"this is my favorite part," lena murmurs after a moment, her eyes still closed.

"oh yeah?" you ask, smiling softly.

"yeah," she says, her voice low and content. "you. taking care of me."

your heart swells at her words, and you lean down to press a soft kiss on the top of her head that isn’t underneath the light. 

"always."

as the LED therapy wraps up, you remove the light and finish with a light serum and moisturizer, massaging the products into her skin with gentle, soothing strokes. 

when you’re done, you help her sit up, and lena stretches, touching her face lightly.

"i feel like a new woman," she says, examining her reflection in the mirror you hand her.

"you look like one too," you tease, stepping back to admire the glow of her skin.

lena turns to you, pulling you by the waist and into a warm embrace, her hands resting on your waist. 

"thank you," she murmurs, pressing her lips softly to yours.

“for everything."

you smile against her lips, feeling the familiar warmth of her body against yours. "anytime," you whisper, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze. 

"but next time, no slacking on the skincare, okay?"

lena chuckles, nodding. "deal. but only if i get to come back here for more of your special treatment."

"oh, you’ll be back," you say with a playful grin. "whether you like it or not."

she smirks, leaning in to kiss you again. "i think i’ll like it."

masterlist

[bratscave]

this blog got me feeling some typa way babesssss

dreaming about a young professor reader who thinks logan is constantly condescending to her when he asks about her lesson plans or curriculum… but he just doesn’t know how to start a conversation with her.

so when she has a bad day and snaps at him about his constant ‘patronizing’ he’s obviously very amused. because he’s honestly been looking for an excuse to chat with the hot, way too young for him piece of ass in a pencil skirt.

bonus points if he bends her over her desk and fucks her like a whore on it. and bonus bonus points if she thinks about it when she comes to her classroom the next day for class to find him leaning on it.

gotta feed the monsters in us i guess

ugh i need to write some logan smut to post already

I LOVE YOUR BLOG ITS SO- *animal noises*

- visionsofcarnality 🤭🫶

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ — a lil' help !

The past few days have been hell, actual fucking hell. You had never imagined that the kids would be so... unnerving. It turned out that they cared a lot less about genetic mutation biology then you would've thought. All you needed was a cigarette and a calm, quiet office for god's sake — no interruptions, especially not logan. “Got your curriculum figured out for next week?” his voice, low and rough, cut through the silence as he leaned against your doorway. You stiffened, feeling that familiar sting of irritation. It was the fifth time this month he’d asked you something like that, and every time, it grated on your nerves. You knew you were younger than most of the faculty, barely in your mid-twenties, but did he have to rub it in with his constant questioning? As if you didn’t know what you were doing. “Yes, Logan,” you replied, barely masking the edge in your voice. “I have it under control.” You didn't like how your words had absolutly no affect on him, he didn't move, didn't budge, didn't back down. It was like he was waiting or searching for something, “You sure about that? You look like you could use some help.” “I don’t need your help, Logan. I don’t need you constantly questioning me about my lesson plans, my missions or my fucking curriculum. I’ve been doing this for years, and I don’t need some — some condescending jackass acting like I’m not capable.” His mouth parted in surprise yet his lips twitched in amusement, "Really? Is that what you think I’ve been doin’? Condescending to you?” You shake your head, looking through the papers for tommorow, you couldn't deal with this today, "Yes, that's what I think." Logan pushed himself of the door frame, his fingers instantly moving to your shoulders like he was trying to reassure you, "You're young. You're new and you're trying your best, but you're feeling a bit...overwhelmed." You took another puff, finally looking up to his face. "I appreciate," the tone you use sounds almost sarcastic, "your concern but I'm getting by just fine." Yet you feel his finger absentmindedly trace over the skin of your neck as you lean back ever so slightly, almost on auto pilot. “Logan,” you said, trying to inject some authority into your voice whilst putting out the cig in a close ash tray but it came out breathier than you intended- His proximity was doing things to you, things you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone act on. But Logan, perceptive as always, didn’t miss a beat. He didn't decide to comment on the little faltter in your voice, just brushes one of your hair strands behind your ear, the action feels intimate, a bit to much so. His hands work on gently pushing you down onto the desk, your face pressed against the cold surface, his rough fingers work on riding up your skirt. If you're not mistaken you can hear the fabric of your panties ripping as you scoff, "Y'know you could've just taken them off." It sounds more like a statement then a question, not that you'd really be intrested in one when all you could think bout was his dick. "That's no fun," you could faintly make out, the dull sound of his belt hitting the floor also, "You don't even understand how much i've been imagining you, like this — you, and your damn skirts." Your hands clench into fists on the desk, your knuckles turning white as you try to keep some semblance of control as he thrusts into you. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he pounds into you, his breath hot against your ear. “This what you needed, darlin’?” he growls, his voice rough and strained with his own pleasure. “Needed someone to fuck that stress right outta you?” He’s fucking you like an animal, hard and fast, and it’s exactly what you needed. The desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, with this pace you could perfectly forget about all those kids that make you lose more and more brain on the daily. That's exactly what you think about when you see logan leaning against your desk the next day, all innoccently yet gazing u you like he was about to eat you alive, in front of countless of children.

You could certaintly use his help every now and then — not on the curriculum of course.

[twistedlovelines]

Do you have anything for Sebek please, I'm like so desperate for any smut about him cause he's so underrated 😭

sdfHDIFS sebeks so cute , , , he's a little cunt (2 me) i need to shake him in a jar

here's some personal hcs, but lemme know if u want me 2 elaborate or anything!!

18+, gn! dom! reader, sebek zigvolt, breeding kink later on

he's a service sub. 100%.

this man has dedicated his life to serving the future ruler of the briar valley and he will dedicate himself to your pleasure with the same steadfastness and determination <3

this rings particularly true when it comes to oral- he'll ask you what feels good and what doesn't. he's not the best at gauging your reactions since it's all new to him, so direct communication is incredibly helpful and will benefit the both of you in the long run.

mostly voices his pleasure through groans at first, but after you notice how much he's biting his lips and encourage him to be more vocal, you'll hear all the pretty moans he's been holding in <3

i also hc sebek to pick at the skin on his fingers/bite his lips when he's feeling anxious. when you're more familiar and comfortable with each other sexually, i think he's quite touched and gets a bit teary eyed if you were to ever kiss the tips of his fingers with reverence, holding his hand as if it were the finest jewel on earth.

praise kink. i mean is it really that surprising , , , the first time you give him orders in bed you can see his eyes sparkling when he looks back at you , , , every time you praise him, it eggs him on even further and it'll feel as if he has no end to his stamina sdhfuji

i wouldn't say his libido is high but if you tease him and leave him pent up for a week he gets sooo desperate its adorable. he wouldn't voice it out loud (he would never dishonor you!!) but. he's not the most subtle LOL. he gets more nervous and gives excuses to escort you places so that he can walk close to you (just kiss him when u get back to your dorm <3 he will be very receptive <3)

cries the first time you say i love you during sex

his breeding kink is also crazy aiugsdhf. the thought of building a future with you and cementing your legacy together makes his brain go haywire so fast. gets whimpery and whiny when you croon about him marking you and making sure you're his and only his , ,,

he's also a biter LOL. doesn't do it on purpose but he can't help but want to have you in his mouth when he cums , , , (mind, he won't bite your dick off if he cums while giving you oral but he has an oral fixation and enjoys biting akhusdfi). will get so embarrassed if you have hickeys the next day and will beg you to cover it with makeup or clothing to "protect your decency" but gets a half chub when he wakes up and sees them on u.

as for oral fixation . . . i mentioned how he is with oral earlier but he genuinely loves having his mouth on you so much. kissing is so intimate to him. will melt into your arms the second you plant your lips on his and turn your head to the side just so , , ,

but anyways. if u have a cock he will be between your spread legs like it's his last day on earth every time he gives you oral. something about you filling his mouth and being immersed in your scent , , , if you cum down his throat he's swallowing because he wants to savor your very essence. will also stick his tongue out if you ask for proof that he swallowed, no question <3

and if u have a pussy he unintentionally bullies your clit sm asbdhfiS. he can't help it!! he just likes how it feels in his mouth and enjoys how you squirm when he's focusing on it , , but god its so worth it because when he finally parts from you in order to breathe the lower half of his face is shining.

but yeah!! these are my general nsfw hcs for sebek, lmk if you wanna hear more <3

[starless-nightz]

Hii! I love your writing sm!!! I'd like to request Jane Doe with a reader that really likes biting her, like leaving lots of hickeys and bite marks over her body...basically just body praise with Jane :3

Jane Doe with a S/O who loves to bite her

note -> I refuse to watch her teaser/trailer it was disgusting they had to ruin her character ugh.

warnings -> SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WRITTEN BY A MINOR!!

content includes -> fluff, suggestive, hickeys/bite marks, teasing.

The first time you bit her, she was caught off guard, you had been kissing her, your lips trailing across her neck, but when your teeth sank into her skin, a soft noise left her lips that she hadn’t expected, she didn’t understand why, but she liked it

Jane plays it off like it doesnt affect her much, rolling her eyes whenever you lean in with that familiar glint in your eyes, but she actually she finds it strangely intimate, theres something about the way you mark her, the little bites and hickeys you leave, that makes her feel wanted in a way shes not used to

It doesnt take long before Janes body becomes a canvas for your affection, her neck, her shoulders, even her thighs—you leave little marks everywhere, and she never complains, when she looks in the mirror, catching sight of the fading bites, she smiles to herself, knowing its your way of showing love

Jane never lets on how much she likes it when others notice the marks you had left on her, she keeps her cool, acting like its no big deal, but deep down, she loves the possessive nature of it, the way people glance at her neck, at the bites peeking out from under her clothes, knowing they’re from you—it makes her feel like shes yours in a way words cant describe

Jane isnt above teasing you for your habit, teasing you, smirking as you leave yet another hickey on her collarbone, but she never stops you—if anything, she tilts her head to give you better access, her smirk deepening as your bites get more playful

There are moments when Jane catches you eyeing her neck or her bare skin, and she will subtly lean closer, giving you the chance to mark her again, she would never admit it outright, but she likes the way it feels, the sensation of your teeth against her skin, the slight sting that reminds her she’s yours

While Jane might act laid-back, the bite marks you leave on her stir something protective in her, she likes knowing that those marks are from you, that only you have the privilege of leaving them, if anyone ever tried to flirt with her, she would casually glance down at the hickeys you left, a quiet but clear signal that she’s taken

Jane lets you bite her pretty much anywhere, whenever you want. She’s casual about it, shrugging off any embarrassment or discomfort, when you're curled up together, your hands trailing across her skin, she will give you that knowing smile, wordlessly giving you permission to leave more marks, she is abke to hide them pretty well so she doesnt really care

Jane is confident and usually the one in charge, but when it comes to this, she likes letting you take control, the moment you start trailing kisses and bites along her neck, she melts a little, her guard slipping as she lets you have your way with her, she wont say it, but the way she relaxes into your touch says it all

As time goes on, Jane starts looking forward to your little bites, the marks you leave on her skin, she might not be vocal about it, but the way she subtly shifts to give you better access, the way her breath hitches when you sink your teeth into her skin, all hint at just how much she enjoys being yours

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part nine.

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: with the war at its end, rhaenyra summons you to the red keep to choose your reward for your part in it. · tw: intimations that reader has ptsd, war flashbacks, murder, fire · word count: 2,448

The people are screaming and great plumes of smoke rise into the sky, blocking out the sun. There is only darkness here.

Flames lick at the sides of sunken ships with sailors still trapped inside.

You can’t save them.

There is only one who you can.

The rest of them can burn.

“Jacaerys!”

You scream his name until your voice is hoarse, even it’s difficult to even try. The air here is unclean.

Everything is. Including you and the beast you ride and commit unspeakable acts upon the back of.

It reeks of the stench of burning, boiling flesh upon this stretch of sea now.

Your fault.

That is your fault.

You’d seen Vermax fall from the sky and Jace with him. And then you had snapped.

You’d unleashed Silverwing upon the enemy without reservation. Had burned ship after ship which blocked the Gullet, screaming in your grief with bared teeth like a venomous serpent looking to swallow its prey whole.

Your lover, your prince, the young man who now holds your heart has disappeared from sight.

But you know his soul has not gone quiet yet; you can still feel him within you. Buried inside of you.

Such a familiar feeling it is to you now.

One you’ll never forget for as long as you live. You pray to the Gods for as much, at least.

You know they won’t forgive you for what you’ve done here, but you plead for them not to punish him for your transgressions.

“Jacaerys!”

A scorpion bolt launches in your direction and your dragon swoops low, easily dodging it.

And the fire in your belly only grows at them trying to take you down, too.

No one here is safe. Not anymore after harming him. After killing a part of him: his dragon.

“Dracarys!” You screech , and Silverwing opens her maw and a funnel of fire shoots forth, charring the scorpion, as well as those manning it.

She doesn’t stop until the entire ship is turned into a mass of charcoal.

Tears slip down your cheeks as you begin to fear that you’ve gone mad.

You’d had something else to live for, but in this moment… In this moment, all you can think of is him. Nothing else matters. Not anymore.

“Jacaerys!”

Suddenly, Silverwing dives and dives without your command, and you don’t try to stop her, because that same draw she’s following toward something unknown, you feel it, too. Trust it. Trust her.

And then you see him clinging to the side of a ship and you could cry and shout from the relief of the sight of him.

But something is wrong.

Something is pinning him to it.

One of those same bolts that your dragon had so easily dodged is lodged firmly in Jace’s left leg, which is turned in the wrong direction.

Bile rises in your throat at what they’ve done to your beloved.

“Jacaerys!”

His head slowly rises and curls full of ash fall over his glazed-over eyes as he stares up at you.

Your dragon dives lower, her feet hanging over dark water as she flaps her wings slowly—only fast enough to keep her afloat.

You strain, reaching out a hand toward him.

“Please!” You shout with tears brimming in your eyes.

He blinks up at you and you know he’s far away within his mind. Perhaps infection is already spreading through his blood.

You won’t let him die like this.

You won’t.

You can’t.

“My sweet boy, please! My love, take my hand!”

Silverwing roars and Jace begins to reach toward you.

“Mama.”

Your brows furrow as you stare at his lips.

The words leaving them are not in his voice.

This isn’t how it happened.

“Mama.”

No, this is all wrong. This isn’t—

“Mama, wake up!”

When your eyes open, you find yourself safe within your bed, but drenched in sweat as little Maisily leans over you with a concerned look upon her young face.

“Mama,” she says, pressing her palm to your damp cheek. “Another nightmare.”

You nod slowly and wrap your arms around her, before pulling her against your breast. “I’m sorry if I woke you, my love.”

She snuggles against you.

“You have to go to the castle today,” she says quietly.

You nod while cupping the back of her head and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know.”

“But I can’t come,” she says with a pout.

Your lip twitches. “Not today, I fear. I’m sorry, little one.”

There’s a soft knock on your bedroom door then and your eyes flit to it.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opens and your mother steps inside with a smile on her lips, if not a near-distant look in her eyes.

You understand her better now, you think.

Though, you’re admittedly not the same. She’s not a murderer. It’s not her own unspeakable acts which haunt her, but instead the death of the man she loved.

At least you do not share in that.

Alike in some ways you are, different in others.

You’re grateful that Maisily did not actually come from you, then. For you are a monster. And she is pure.

“Today is the big day,” she says softly. “Do you want to rehearse your list again?”

You sit up slowly while Maisily curls around your lap, burying her face in your stomach.

“A proper home, which I know is already being arranged anyway. Nevertheless, I will mention it. And the surety that you and Maisily will never go without again. That you’ll never want for anything,” you say, running your fingers through your little girl’s curls.

Your mother steps closer inside and wraps her shawl more tightly around herself.

“It would do you well to insist upon something for yourself,” she states, seating herself beside you.

You shake your head. “All I want is to know that both of you will be looked after for the rest of your days. That’s all I ever wanted since the beginning. And now I’m sure we’ll have that.”

She nods slowly. “I don’t imagine the queen telling you no in anything after saving the life of her son.”

Maisily sits up then and wraps her arms around your neck.

You smooth the wild curls at the back of her head.

You merely hum in agreement.

You stand silent and only your eyes roam about the room you now stand in.

All you can think about is the swords. There are so many of them.

You wonder how Aegon and his sisters were able to do it: kill thousands without remorse. With pride. With conviction.

Your body twitches and you fight the feeling to run screaming from this room in a panic down.

You need only get through this audience and then you can go home.

And then you hear it.

Click.

Click.

Click.

You remain facing forward, even if it takes all your strength not to turn and look. To watch him. Rather, see him.

The last time you did, he’d barely known who you were, he was so heavily under the influence of milk of the poppy to dull his pain as maesters tended to his ruined leg.

And then he passes you, his betrothed following closely behind.

You swallow down the lump in your throat at the sight of his polished wooden cane and the new limp to his gait.

If you had gotten to him sooner, then maybe…

You tell yourself that you did the best you could. That he may not be here at all, were it not for you.

You feel like a failure anyway.

Next is the young princes, following closely behind their brother: Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon.

Poor Stormcloud died upon the steps of Dragonstone and Viserys’ dragon egg will forever be lost at sea. But he’s young enough that you’re sure he’ll be given another to replace it.

If Silverwing produces any clutches herself, you will offer one up to him—whichever egg he’d like.

And then the queen enters the room and all bow to her in reverence, including you.

She takes her throne and gestures that you all should rise.

Your eyes flit nervously to Jace and tears sting them at his refusal to so much as glance in your direction.

You need to accept it: that whatever it was that the two of you had—rather, what you thought you’d had—is as dead as his dragon.

As dead as your soul.

You’d been right about him from the beginning: he used you for his own purposes and has now chosen to dispose of you like waste.

You turn to the queen, knowing it matters not. You’re here for your family. And once you’ve claimed your reward for your part in the war, you’ll never see one another again.

He will go on to marry Baela and produce heirs and take the throne when the time comes. And you will long be forgotten to him.

You know not if you want for him to be to you one day.

The wounds of war you bear will never heal.

They will instead leave you twisted and broken, much like his damaged limb.

“I know little of where to start, Y/N,” the queen begins, adding a gentle, thankful smile. “Without your efforts—your part in this war—my son and heir would not be standing here with us today. Without you and my other dragonseeds, Spicetown would exist only in memory.”

You force a smile and wipe your sweaty palms against the skirt of your dress. “For the latter, we have you to thank as well, Your Grace.”

It’s true.

After you returned the injured Jacaerys to Dragonstone, Rhaenyra went near-mad with anger at the sight of her son so close to crossing the veil that shields you all from the realm of the Gods.

And so all mounted up, including her, to go and defend Spicetown.

She’d been a grand thing to behold on the back of Syrax as she served alongside you and Addam and Daemon and Hugh and more as you defended the town’s people.

Lives, homes, and shops were lost, but from what you understand, she has reallocated funds to aid in rebuilding.

The people praise her for it.

You think it is much deserved.

She bows her head slightly. “Thank you. Nevertheless, we are not here to discuss my good deeds, but instead yours, and the reward you would claim for them. For risking your life for us at the Gullet and at Spicetown. So, tell me, My Lady—for I intend to dub you as thee as well—what do you desire?”

You swallow thickly. You are to be titled now? Something you had certainly not expected… You feel yourself undeserving, but do not say this.

Her decision is made in that already.

You shift on your feet and glance quickly to Jace, who stares up at his mother, and then back to the woman in question.

“I know you assured me on Dragonstone, after the Gullet, that if we survived this war, you would provide my family and I with proper housing more substantial than what we now live in.”

She nods. “I did. I would offer you a place here, if it please you.”

Your eyes grow wide.

No.

You can’t have that.

Cannot be near, yet so far from him.

Cannot be near the reminders of this war.

“I…thank you for the offer, Your Grace. But my family and I… We wish for solitude. After…”

You glance down nervously, trying to gather yourself, ignoring the way your hands twitch and your stomach churns, making you feel nauseous. “I merely want peace. Quiet. To be left alone. I can’t…”

She interrupts, so as to lift the burden from you of trying to explain that which words have no use for. “I had anticipated you may decline. As such, there is housing just off of Rhaenys’ Hill I’ve had prepared for you. Just incase. It will be furnished and tended to however you like, to best suit you and your family. Any work you need done, I will have personally saw to.”

Your chin wobbles. “Thank—”

Your voice breaks and she merely nods her head that you needn’t say more.

“Is there nothing more I can do for you?” She presses.

You take a moment to gather yourself. “My mother. She… After my father passed, she has not been the same. To have servants to tend to and look after her—”

“Consider it done. She will want for naught and will have whatever care she requires. That burden is no longer yours to bear from this day forward.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and begin to weep, but know you must press forward for one last thing. “Maisily. My little sister. P-proper schooling. Perhaps a septa, so she might be raised correctly.”

Rhaenyra smiles. “And a septa she will have for all her lessons. And, as she grows older, if she takes other interests, say in music, or the arts, she will have tutors to guide her along in that as well.”

You bite your lower lip and nod.

Rhaenyra shifts and cradles her chin between her fingers. “Would you ask for nothing for yourself, then? Your family will be tended to for as long as my line reigns. Including your sister’s children and so forth. But what of you, My Lady?”

You shrug slightly. “That was all I wanted: to know they’ll be taken care of. And thanks to you, Your Grace, they will be.”

She gives you a warm smile of understanding. “For anything else you might need, I want you not to hesitate to request an audience with me, or to correspond by raven. You have my undying gratitude for your service to me and my cause during this war. The crown thanks you deeply.”

You bow your head. “Thank you, Your Grace, for everything. You have my family’s thanks as well.”

You lift your head and take one last look at Jace, and that is when your eyes finally meet.

It may last for only moment—you gazing into familiar orbs of brown while he looks back at you with a look of indifference, which officially shatters your heart for good—but it simultaneously feels like an eternity…and not long enough at all.

He looks away, as do you as you turn and leave the Keep for what you hope is the first and last time, never to see him again.

You wonder for the briefest of moments if you ever truly knew him at all.

You bury that grief inside of you of losing someone you love yet again, and go home to those you still have.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea @burningwitchobject

@zizouu23 @baybaybear1 @sugyomama @dracaryxzs @hayloftxxo

@gentlejoy @darlingcharling-blog @s0urw00lf @usaguisenpaisblog @kqlopsia

@marvel-at-stucky @rafslytherin @kysoshir0 @johnshelbywife @coolgirl458

@armycaratlover @jessicar401 @ericasabe @sillyemanusz @tempo-rary-fix

[makeyoumine69]

Being Bateman’s Soulmate | HEADCANON

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader; CW: Romance & Angst; Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: The Cure — Lovesong; A/N: This is dedicated to everyone who is madly in love with their fictional crush! 💗 If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

— “Soulmate? What the fuck does that word even mean?” Bateman would say the first time you mentioned it. His reaction would amuse you at first, although you knew that Patrick would understand its meaning in time, and that feeling when you could touch another person's soul as if it were material. The feeling of wanting to scream because you were so in love that you couldn't even believe it was possible to have such feelings. All of this would eventually overwhelm him, and then he'd never want it to end.

— "You think I have a soul, huh?" He would smile whenever you had sentimental conversations, and even though Bateman kept repeating that he didn't like them, you would sometimes see him sitting alone, thinking about his life before he met you. Did you make his life better? Well, was it even possible to judge such things? Since nothing in this world could be black or white, it was always gray.  But with you, his life was painted in new colors.

— “I remember you telling me that your favorite color was red.” Red like the blood that spilled on his perfect sheets whenever he treated you too rough, but you never asked him to stop. Sometimes those little scarlet spots on the white sheets could look like petals from the red roses Bateman used to give you, even though he knew how clichéd that was. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?" The man would ask, tracing his long finger over the red marks on your hip.  Sighing, you would roll onto your stomach and give him your most devoted look. "Because I like it," and that was all he needed to hear from you. "I'd tell you if I didn't." Having said that, you would sit up to find his lips and kiss him, slowly but eagerly, transmitting all the love and emotion you had for him through that kiss.

— "If you say you love me, why does it hurt so much?" He would ask you this question over and over again after he had a breakdown because he was so overwhelmed by everything you were giving him: your care, your affection, your understanding, and your support. Eventually, it all became too much for him, and when Patrick realized that he was probably in love with you, a sharp pain coursed through the very small pitch of his body like an electric impulse. He loved you so much it hurt.

— One night, you were sitting in the living room in Bateman’s slick apartment and watching some classic romantic comedy from the 1930s, the scenes from it made you think about something you never expected you would. "Patrick, have you ever thought about death?" You asked suddenly, holding his hand and noticing how tense he became. "I mean... I'm afraid of death because I don't want to be without you, if that makes any sense." At first, Patrick just laughed and gently moved closer to you, hugging your shoulders possessively. "Can you promise me that... if there is an afterlife, you will find me there?" Nearly sobbing, you looked into his dark, brown eyes, at the way his eyebrows furrowed as the man considered his answer. "And we will be together even after death?" Your voice cracked at the weight of your words, never before had you dared to speak of such things.

— The question of death, an abstract yet intimately familiar topic, drew a thoughtful arch to his brow. Death was not a stranger to him, nor was it an adversary he feared-not in the way that the average person might. "Death," Patrick began, his voice tinged with a cold amusement that belied the gravity of the subject. "It's the only certainty in life, isn't it? A final transaction, one we all must make." His arm tightened around you, a gesture that feigned warmth but held an undercurrent of something sharper. Bateman met your gaze, the hazel of his eyes unreadable yet intense, reflecting the black-and-white dance of images on the screen. "If there is an afterlife," he continued, weighing each word like a coin on a scale, "I'll find you. But let's not be so morose, darling." The man leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his breath a whisper that carried the scent of the red wine you had shared earlier. "Life is for the living, and I intend to savor every moment I have with you. Making promises about the afterlife is... morbidly romantic, but unnecessary. I have you now, and you have me. Isn't that enough?"

— And that was even more than enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[famwhy]

Bereavement (2)

noun

/bɪˈriːv.mənt/ The state one is in when losing someone important to them

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

42! Miles X F!Reader, 1610! Miles X F!Reader

Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Note: I can't—for the life of me—believe how many notes the first part got after just a few days of being out, you guys are actually insane. Thank you all so much. And thank you too, Kingpin, for giving me the idea in the first place lmao. (Do me a huge solid and lemme know if any of my Spanish needs some work, I studied it for 3 years but it's been over a year since it's been put to practice so I'm a little rusty)

Miles would never drop you, not in a million years—you knew that.

Something had stopped him, forced him to let go as he froze in time; in an assortment of colours he couldn't control—that was how you found yourself where you were now—free-falling to your death for what was perhaps the second time in your life.

"Y/N!"

It was a lot scarier the first time—you had to admit—when you fell from the glass room right beside the huge collider more than a year ago. At the time, Miles had insisted you stay away from his spider business for your own safety, but you—being you—followed him down anyway.

That was your first mistake.

Your second—however—came in the form of letting Kingpin know you were there after allowing quite the ridiculous sneeze out of your mouth. And once he saw you, it wasn't hard for him to pick you up and throw you through the shattered glass in his rage and dismay of his failed plan.

Miles had his back completely turned to you when it happened, and yet—somehow—he was the first to whip his head around and notice your quickly descending form.

"Y/N!"

You had come so close to the ground—seconds away from touching it—when that familiar warmth wrapped its way around your waist, carrying you through the wind to prop you onto your own little cloud of safety.

Ever since then, Miles refused to leave your side. He took you out on every mission he went to—pretty much every news station had you pinned down as 'Spiderman's girl' and he never bothered to correct them.

So even as Gwen went off to another dimension, Miles grabbed you before following after. Even as he was invited to the headquarters of this 'spider society', he refused to go without them also granting you permission inside too.

When you asked him why he went to such lengths for you, he simply replied, "I almost lost you once while being in the same dimension as you, if you think I'm going to let it even come close to happening again, you've got another thing coming."

So no, you didn't find the second time you were falling to your death all that scary. Not when you knew Miles would save you—

"I've got you, cariño."

—you just didn't exactly know that it would be the other one that did.

His arms were wound tightly around the underside of your knees and upper back—carrying you so intimately, looking at you with so much love in his eyes, you found yourself growing slightly flustered.

...okay, very flustered.

"Oh, Cariño," as he spoke, he didn't lose the breath in his tone—the gentle air of disbelief he took on since your arrival, "you're here. I can't believe it—you're here. Te extrañé mucho." ("I missed you so much.")

You were speechless, gaping up at him like a clueless fish—what else could you do? You were being held in the arms of a copy of your best friend after he basically just confessed to you because the 'you' in this universe was apparently dead.

Though, luckily for you, there was no need to say a word for he continued speaking with those soft, fond eyes, "I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed how you always used to tug me around whenever something caught your eye... and how you would go on and on about whatever show was your new obsession of the month. You were always so... pretty when you spoke passionately.

"Speak for me, cariño," he continued, "let me hear that pretty voice of yours again."

"I—" you were stuttering—why were you stuttering?—"I, uh..."

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

"Miles—"

"Ah, I just realised how much I missed the way you say my name."

"—guh!" How the hell was he spitting such smooth lines? "Miles! Just listen for a minute, okay?!"

"Of course, mamí."

"I— I'm not who you think I am. I mean, I am Y/N but I'm not your Y/N. And you're not my Miles."

As the words came tumbling out your mouth, the boy's—this earth's Miles'—lips tugged down, gaze hardening and grip around you ever-so-slowly growing tighter.

"Don't be silly, mamí, of course I'm your Miles. I always have been and always will be."

Your brows furrowed and your eyes trailed to the view behind him, moving rapidly as you tried to locate your best friend. Though, soon, your view of the sky was cut off by the male with braids once more.

"What are you doing?" A growl. "Stop looking for him, look at me. I'm right here. He dropped you."

"He glitched! This isn't his world so of course he would, it wasn't his fault!"

You were quick to defend him—he was your best friend so of course you were. There was no way you were having anyone accuse him of anything negative, even himself.

"Cariño, you almost died. Again. He can't take care of you." Miles narrowed his eyes, as if just the thought pissed him off; as if he had the right to be pissed off.

"Oh what?" You scoffed. "And you can? I'm my own person, I don't need to be taken care of."

Stubbornly, you found yourself pulling away from him—or well, attempting to at least, he didn't seem to want to let you though, judging by the way his claws slowly began to dig into you a little.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were tugged down, gaze seeming to pierce through you—as though he was trying to use you as a vessel to glare at the person he was really mad at.

Though, soon, the expression was gone, replaced by sullen eyes and an almost-far-away look—glossed over in a cloudy haze full of what you could only assume to be the grand despair that was grief; grief over a loss so great, it would pain someone to even admit it ever happened.

"Cariño, please. I don't want to argue with you, I just got you back. Please."

The look on his face, the crack in his voice—it was all too much, you almost couldn't stomach it, and soon, your arms loosened up as you lost the will to pull away.

"Miles," you whispered, "I... I'm really sorry—"

"Don't be, you're here with me now, aren't you? We can make up for all that lost time."

"I can't." Your vision blurred as you shook your head from side-to-side. "I'm sorry, I can't."

For a moment, all was silent. No words were exchanged, leaving only the strong wind to howl in your ears; to warn you of your grave mistake and whisper taunts into your ears. Then—

"It's because of him, isn't it?"

You almost couldn't muster words. "Huh?"

"The other me—it's because of him that you won't stay with me, isn't it?"

The look in his eyes was something of a dark nature, swirling with malice; with hate so inextricibly deep, you almost couldn't believe your own eyes—because... because there was just no way, right? There was no way your Miles (or any other Miles for that matter) could exhibit such a lethal level of loathing towards anyone...

"If I get rid of him, it won't be so much of a problem anymore... sí?"

...or was there?

@justmare, @majestichugs, @milktealvrr, @ladyfairenvale, @sakura-onesan, @haunted-pass, @phoenixgurl030, @stupendousnightmaretrash, @ultimate-geek14, @liaaa-1, @sluslutts, @angrypomeranianwifey, @thatbeanieboss, @kkate8008, @lilslmao, @honeydewpie, @elenasstxarr, @sloverr, @quartzangel0, @crystalsinwater, @astrosdelululand, @sflame15-blog, @nightshxdex, @dottoresgarden, @crowshiny, @teamowolverine, @bangtannie7, @k0la22, @kissmxcheek, @myloveforreading, @jared-oranges, @shisuishoe, @veryfancydoilies, @sunshinesetsstuff, @lovefks, @omg-the-nutella-queen, @hazzapotter, @levanneisdumb, @angie2274, @blueberrystigma

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 1.

Summary: It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around. You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader with Felix, Venetia, and implied Farleigh in this chapter. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: Smut (M & F Receiving (not reader)), discussions of gender set in 2003 (no slurs tho). Degrading language (reader is referred to as as dog)

A/N: 3698 words. HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME!! Im so excited for this, this first chapter is essentially setting up the reader's life and dynamic with Felix and the Cattons. There's some Venetia/Reader and implied Farleigh/Reader but its the casual kind of sexuality they all share in the movie, yanno? Please let me know what you think, i LOve feedback!

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy

----

You can't quite remember a time where your world didn't revolve around Felix Catton. He's rather like that; magnetic. His very aura is intoxicating, suffocating, until they're breathless and all but gasping his praises. You've seen it happen countless times since you'd first met him all those years ago.

Felix is affectionate and tactile, always yearning for contact with those around him like he has no idea how it looks from the outside. His hand around your shoulders, your waist, a kiss on your cheek, offering you a bump of coke from the back of his hand - you'd been too young when it has started for anything to seem too far when you're older. It felt only natural that you'd learned in due course the sensation of his mouth and hands on every inch of your body, just as you could name every part of him from the touch of your lips alone. Or Farleigh. Or Venetia. It was one of the many things that seemed far too normal growing up in such an insular, secluded environment. But everyone knew you were Felix's, even if he decided to share you on occasion.

Summers by the lake and Winters by the fire, Saltburn was where you found yourself when you found Felix to be your home. Months long sleepovers, and of all one hundred and seventy nine rooms, you share a bed with Felix most nights. Innocent children huddled for comfort, sharing dreams and laughter and hope for the future; adolescents turn to teenagers, and though the bed sharing continues, it does not remain so innocent.

And you are the only one to taste his hesitation the first time he ever kisses you, the only one to hear him breathless with surprised delight the first time you take his cock in your mouth since he's bored and wonders what everyone's going on about.

"What if I'm shit at it?"

"Do you want practice?"

The script is more of a formality when you're a few years into high school and both expecting to start screwing around.

Nervous, inexperienced touches easily became familiar, intimate gestures.

Its not something you talk about at school or in public, the people in your lives know you're close, but couldn't reasonably gauge the full extent beyond some schoolyard rumours... Which are technically true. But you both downplay it to most of the world. Perhaps it's about keeping up the appearance of availability; less chances to hook up with other people if they all assume you're taken.

A lot of your school life is about keeping up appearances, but that comes with the territory of being a well-to-do child of a wealthy family. At least you don't have to weather it alone.

With the amount of money your families are throwing at the schools you attend, of course you've forgotten more love showings of Shakespeare's comedies and dramas and tragedies than most students around the nation have even heard of, good only for how Felix's friend group - and you always amongst them - make fun of some of the truly awful lines.

Still, there are moments when the pretense drops. You catch each other holding reverence for the way the world speaks about love -

"You do impeach your modesty too much -" Felix is ahead of you in the maze, looking for a break from his family after Elspeth had insisted upon you all taking a trip to see A Midsummer Night's Dream in the city.

"What?" You laughed; it was getting dark, the solar fairy lights were beginning to glow amongst the imposing walls of leaves. Felix grins over his shoulder at you.

"Like in the play, remember? Near the start, Demetrius and one of the girls; you do impeach your modesty too much to leave the city and commit yourself into the hands of one that loves you not."

"Yeah but you love me, though," you laugh, and quicken your pace to catch his hand. You find yourself remembering the scene with a smile, but as the maze opens up ahead to the centre clearing, Felix slows. Pulling you close, he walks you to the wall of the maze, the strong branches and glossy leaves against your back.

"To trust the opportunity of the night, and the- the," his expression is playfully annoyed as he searches for the line.

"Something about it being deserted?" You supplied with little more than a murmur, thrill running down your spine as his body is warm, pressed against yours.

"Fuck, thanks, yeah," he breaks character for a moment with a huff of laughter, warm affection in his eyes, before that hungry, wanting look passes over him again, "to trust the opportunity of the night, and the ill counsel of a desert place with the rich worth of your virginity."

"The rich worth of my virginity?" You can't help but giggle, and Felix again breaks, if only to roll his eyes. As he pulls back, however, you wrap an arm around him, softly apologising, promising to play along. Again, he feeds you the line, and this time you lean into it, into the moment, into the intensity in his eyes. There's so much barely concealed want in his gaze, it overwhelms you, all you can think to do is kiss him.

"Your virtue is my privilege," you gasp amidst frantic kisses, wrapping your arms around him, trying desperately to remember the rest of the lines you know that you'd also been taken with in the theatre. Pulling back for just a second, you see him grinning when you take his face in your hands, "it is not night when I do see your face, therefore - something something - not night." The two of you erupt back into laughter before his mouth finds yours again, and the two of you are wrapped up in each other, blindly stumbling towards the solid statue you both know is there.

"Nor doth this wood," you find your voice again when Felix is leaning against the statue and you're making quick work of his undoing belt, "lack worlds of company, for you -" and with his belt undone, the two of you pause, taking stock of the moment. Both breathing heavily, you lean in and give him a languid kiss, your fingers looped into the waistband of his nice trousers, "for you," you murmur with a grin, lips inches from his, "in my respect, are all the world."

These are the lines that you knew without hesitation, the lines burned into your heart as you'd heard them uttered, and felt them resonate even back in the theatre. You grin, wondering if he'd wanted to hear them more than you'd longed to say them. As you kiss down his jaw, lips on his throat with intent to leave a bruising hickey, you free his cock, working your hand up and down his length.

"The how can it be said that I am alone," you kiss the hickey as it begins to bloom dark against his perfect throat, and sink to your knees before him, heart practically bursting to see the way he looks at you in this moment, all love and lust and appreciation for what you're about to do, "when all the world is here to look upon me?"

You watch others come and go from his life, watch him fuck around with other pretty elites, and had your fair share of flings too. The two of you gossip and brag to one another about your conquests, tease each other about terrible lays, or who the other has their eyes on next. There's never jealousy; as long as the other is happy, neither of you is concerned. After all, in the end, you always come back to one another.

Naturally Felix who you come out to first, the two of you sharing a smoke while playing cards by the window of his high school dorm room. Its after midnight, you should definitely be back in your own room, but the two of you have never really adhered to those rules, and the heads of your respective dorms stopped caring years ago. At the time you don't exactly have the right words to explain, but you ask him -

"Hey, you know you're a guy, right?"

He doesn't frown, but his nose gives this little scrunch as he's considering your words and his cards.

"Haven't put much thought into it, but yeah," he rearranges his cards for a moment before looking up at you with those gorgeous, brown eyes full of curiosity, "why?"

"I dunno," you shrugged briefly, as if you hadn't been struggling with for what's felt like months, "remember all those bars in France last summer?"

"Flashes of it," Felix smirks momentarily, "I'm still not sure if I believe Farleigh that he won our bet, but I suppose I'll have to trust him."

"With the amount of free drinks he was getting I'm surprised he even remembers properly," you can't help but laugh, though the moment is short-lived.

"What about it?" Felix finally prompts. For a long moment you're quiet, and the two of you finish up the round of cards.

"You know how we kept going to those underground gay bars because they didn't ask us for ID?"

"Again, vaguely."

"Some of them had these pictures on the walls of like, gays, and lesbians, and ladies with cocks, and men with tits, or big scars on their chests and bushes, and they all... They all looked really happy in those photos," as you spoke, unable to look at him, only watching his hands as he shuffled the deck. You know he's frowning, trying to follow along, but he's also not interrupting you, giving you space in what feels like an important moment, "I think I'm kind of like that."

A moment passes between you two.

"I know," Felix finally says, and you look up, surprised.

"You know?"

"We're all like that, aren't we? You, me, Farleigh, Venetia - mum keeps reminding us that she was a lesbian whenever it's even slightly relevant -" he begins to smile fondly but your surprise turns back to concern as you begin to shake your head.

"No, not like that, Fi," you sigh, and reach for the cigarette box as he begins to deal, "I don't think I fit the boy-girl thing." Once again the quiet lapses out as the lighter sparks to life. You inhale a lung full of smoke, looking out of the window to the star-filled sky, "I'm not a guy with a bush or a girl with a dick, I'm not..." You shrugged, looking at him, "I dunno what I am."

Once the cards are dealt, he finally looks at you, tips his head in that way he does when he's trying to figure something out.

"You're my best mate." He says it so simply, the faintest smile beginning to grace his lips, "you don't have to be anything if you don't want to be."

You don't realise how anxious you were about this moment until your breath comes out as a stuttering exhalation.

"Yeah?" You swallow hard, voice surprisingly weak and hopeful in the same moment, "you don't mind?"

"Kind of seems like a shit thing for me to have any strong feelings about."

"But you've known me as I am for so long -"

"Exactly; I love you, guy-girl or anything, doesn't change you," this is the moment, you realise, that you'd do absolutely anything for the boy in front of you.

"I love you too, Fi."

As he reaches across the small space for the cigarette, you lean in and kiss him before you hand it over; he's grinning as he kisses you.

It only takes a week for you to tell him about the name you'd settled on.

"I think I'm going to start going by Y/N," in the library, you, Felix, and Farleigh are getting very little work done when you bring it up.

"Changing your name?" Farleigh asks, eyebrows raised as he looks up from the same page of Heart of Darkness that he'd been reading for half an hour. You glance to Felix briefly, but he simply gives an encouraging nod to his cousin, and you, once more with your heartbeat racing, explain your relatively new identity change.

"So do we use he-she when we talk about you now?" Farleigh asks, voice genuinely confused rather than malicious. At this you give pause, you hadn't much thought about it; of course people gossiped about you, but you hadn't realised that if you were to be going forth with your new identity, you'd have to ask people to change the very language they used about you.

"I don't think so; I'm not he or she, and he-she is a bit much," you ponder, "I guess just them?"

"Hey did you hear about Y/N?" Felix stage-whispered to Farleigh, grinning. His cousin leaned in, keeping up with the bit and testing out your new name and pronouns seamlessly.

"No, what did they do?" He gasped. All you could do was chuckle, ducking your head to hide how wide you were smiling at how right it all sounded, how right it all felt to hear about yourself. With a firm nod, Farleigh sits back up, "okay, yeah, I can get with it. Y/N," he says decisively.

"Y/N does rather suit you," Felix agreed.

As you begin to come out to the rest of your friends and the school as a whole, you're surprised at how smoothly the transition occurs. You expected more resistance, more name calling, more bullying of any kind; of course there's the occasional bit of harrassment, and several people in the halls turn an unkind eye upon you, but it's been far easier than you'd expected.

Its only when you find Farleigh with a black eye that you learn that he and Felix have been getting into fights with people who've been talking shit behind your back. Of course you beg them to stop, insist they shouldn't be getting hurt on your behalf, least of all about this, but Felix smiles with a split lip.

"As if I'm going to let them get away with it."

Historically, Felix's girlfriends never seem to like you at first. Which they definitely shouldn't; it took him a few girls to remember that he shouldn't let them see him touching you so casually the way he does, more intimate with you without even thinking about it than he often was with them. It moves on, he gives them a warm smile and a teasing tone as he tells them not to be jealous-

"They're not -" a threat, you wonder as he gestures to you with a wide, open hand and smile to match, and proceeds to surprise you both, "a girl." The girl on his arm seems shocked for a minute, but everything about her eases. Your best friend, despite what people may think, is neither a liar nor an idiot. He knows what people think of him, what people assume about him and about you when they assume things one way or there other about him. The girls who he traditionally picked up liked to put him in little pigeon hole of heterosexuality, and though it wasn't true, the to correct them in instances such as that would probably harm the poor, pretty girls. Or at the very least, do nothing to quell their pretty rightful paranoia.

Because when the girl leaves his dorm before curfew that night, you slink up to his door and lean against it with the most pleased and endeared smile. As you always do.

"What?" Every time he's bashful, as if he has no idea what he's doing.

"Just love you is all, man," you tell him, grinning from ear to ear as you close the door behind you.

"Love you too, you know that," he tries to play it off, but is obviously hiding his ever-growing smile.

As you descend upon him, sitting cross legged on the bed - "I love you, I love you, I love you, Fi," peppering his face with kisses as he actually giggles and laughs and pulls you close - you wonder if you shouldn't be doing this since he has a new girlfriend. Except if he wanted you to stop, you knew he had no qualms asking you to.

He's always been the best about your identity, so you're not sure why it always hits you with a rush of euphoria when you hear him talk about you like that. Maybe it's the way confirms exactly what you're not to the world, while knowing that everything you are to him is a secret he holds precious and close to his heart.

When you get to Saltburn for the Winter, as you had for any major breaks from school as your parents were thrilled to be seeing as little of you as necessary, Duncan greets you at the door as he always does -

"Captain Y/N."

And Felix comes bounding down the red stairs, having overheard, and asking if Captain was alright, while you were overwhelmed with love at the gesture. Apparently Duncan's only reservation about the title was that it was usually reserved for military personnel, and he was something of a stickler for the rules. Still, when you thank him for referring to you as such, he grants you one of his rare smiles.

Everyone has accepted the change before you'd even arrived, and though his mother and father did occasionally slip up, they caught themselves before even yourself or Felix had a chance to correct them. Elspeth always made a show of apologising and correcting herself. After one such instance, all of you wine-drunk after dinner and squashed on several sofas together to watch some rom-com, Venetia whispers to you where she's in your lap that Felix had spent several phone calls over the past semester explaining the situation to the family, even making sure to remind everyone in the days before you'd arrives.

"He really does love you," she murmurs, "doesn't he?" The glow of the television haloed her recently bleached hair in light as her face hovered inches for yours. Out of the corner of your eye you see Felix wearing an amused smile and pointedly not looking at you. When Venetia leans in, giggling with her pupils blown wide, you kiss her back, and feel Felix put a hand on your thigh.

"Not during the movie," Elspeth says briskly. Farleigh snorts with amusement from her other side and Venetia breaks the kiss with a sharp little laugh. Still, she curls up against you now, with your arm around her, and Felix rubs circles against your thigh, hand not moving for the remainder of the film.

At Saltburn, your room was often more of a formality; the one attached to Felix's, divided only by a bathroom. Most nights were shared in another's bed, even if nothing sexual happened. Venetia especially liked these sleepover, liked how you'd be at her door if she merely implied she wanted your company. She'd invite you into her bathroom to simply talk while she bathed, neither of you bothered by the casual nudity. She'd put on a CD and sometimes a robe, and you'd brush and braid her hair; she'd talk and you'd listen, until she fell asleep in your arms. Venetia craved connection, and like with Felix, you were happy to oblige her.

"You're a good dog," she'd once murmured, your head between her thighs, "that's why he lets you fuck me." When you look up at her through your lashes, mouth still on her cunt, tounge going still on her clit, she's looking back, devilish smile on her face, "do you think about him when you fuck me?"

You lean back just a little, and carefully slide two fingers into her; Venetia's head falls back as she sighs gently.

"He doesn't have a cunt, Ven," you tell her bluntly, which of course makes her laugh until she's moaning with your fingers curling inside of her.

"Good dog," she stutters out.

"He wants you to be happy, and I can do that."

"My brother doesn't like sharing his toys," she whimpers faintly.

"I'm not a toy."

"Suppose I'll just - ah~" your thumb finds her clit, and you gently bite at her thigh, "have to enjoy you while he lets me, then."

In these quiet, intimate moments, sexual or not, Farleigh and Venetia both take to calling you 'good dog' as a term of endearment. Anyone else would probably be put off by it, but it begins to warm something in your chest; loyal and loving, the kind of creature you keep around. Felix, however, scowls when he learns about it.

"It's mean."

"I think it's sweet," you tell him with a smile, curling up against him on a sofa on one of the many balconies. Felix had been reading while you'd been napping against him when Venetia had appeared and cooed at the sight.

"They think it's sweet!" Venetia echoed with a pleased grin, sitting on the lounge chair across from you both.

"They're not a dog, they're my friend -" Felix had tried to argue.

"Man's best friend," Venetia had nodded.

"Oh piss off, Ven," Felix had huffed. Venetia had obligingly swanned back into the house while you stifled your laughter against his chest. When it's just the two of you, his voice turns soft, "you know I don't think of you like that."

"It's nothing, Fi, everyone knows you're my favourite is all."

"But you're not a dog."

You look up at him in all his glory, golden in the sunset and looking like a dream. You want to smooth the concern, the righteous anger from his brow, kiss the faint downturned edge of his perfect lips, do everything in your power to make sure he never worries again. No matter who or what you are, you are his. His best friend, his confidant, his shoulder to cry on, his partner in crime, his right hand, his, his, his.

All you can give him in this moment is your gentle voice full of absolute love;

"What do you want me to be, Fi?"

[feyascorner]

So might have noticed i have read all your fics and I absolutely love them all!

If your open to taking this request for a fic, i would love like 4 times astarion was jealous and 1 time you were! (I dont know if your familiar with the prompt). Tav sleeping with someone before they get together (act 1) he’s catching feelings! After relationship is established: Act 2 Halsin showing his interest (whether its reciprocated is up to you!). Act3 Shar’s caress, the owner talking about Tav’s interest and drow twins!

Finally, Tav being jealous! Astarion fully enjoying it!

Or just anything with jealous astarion i would LIVE for! Love your work either way 😆

a/n. THEYRE SO CUTE IM IN TEARS I LOVE JEALOUS ASTARION/TAV

also this is not proofread unfortunately, and I'm not 100% if i did this right but we rock and roll!!!1

As much as Astarion boasts (and resents) his familiarity with seduction, you're an anomaly he's yet to understand despite his centuries of experience.

Never once in his courtship, even when he'd been alive, had he felt so tested that he was jealous, over someone. Not really, anyway. Sure there were bits of bitter feelings here and there, but most were trivial and about something involved in the relationship, not the person themselves.

He's counted four times since the two of you met, where he had to resort to his better judgment to avoid resorting to pettiness. The first one, was out of necessity--so much so that he didn't even realize what it was at first.

He had watched you snuggle up to Shadowheart of all people, just when he thought he'd finally manipulated enough to have you wrapped around his finger. Instead, he had to hear you laugh as you let the cleric lead you to a nearby lake, making him question if somehow, he'd gotten rusty. Especially when the rival in question was clearly too busy having a religious crisis to properly court you. Sure, you technically didn't belong to him, nor did he belong to you at the time, but he went to sleep feeling oddly irritated. He made sure to flirt with you even more, apparently, the next morning.

The second time, he had accepted the strange feeling in his chest whenever he saw you. And Gods he should have done it earlier. He made sure to show plenty of public affection, kissing your cheek or hand randomly as you and your companions explored the shadow-cursed lands. He got a mouthful from Lae'zel a few times, but he couldn't care less. And just when he believed he'd eliminated any potential rivals, the damned druid suggested that you had feelings for him. Here, he felt that same churning feeling he had weeks ago at camp, and found it was one that he didn't long for. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd considered it--especially since the two of you stopped being physically intimate after his confession. But he could deny how much he hated this feeling. Pretending he hadn't heard, waited for you to approach him that night. When you reassured him you'd said no, he could breathe again.

The last time was weeks later, at Sharess' Caress, where the two of you were approached by the drow twins. And when he'd confessed he wasn't ready to become intimate again, as much as it scared him, you only smiled at him and nodded. That cursed warmth he felt from such a simple act of kindness would follow him to the end of his days. But he hadn't had enough time to revel in it, because the drow twins assured you only you would be enough, even if he wasn't a part of it. The moment you refused, he was already dragging you out of the room, cursing the twins under his breath.

But for the first time, he thinks you're the one experiencing that dreadful feeling of insecurity.

"Your measurements are perfect for this new selection that just came in! Here, let me just check if the rest would fit."

He'd thought little of the harmless touches of the tailor, but as he notices your expression through the reflection of one of the mirrors, he thinks differently. Your lips are pursed, eyes following the tailor's movements like a hawk as you tighten the arms crossed over your chest. Astarion himself is no stranger to touch, especially to innocent ones like this, but if your body language means anything, the sentiments are not mutual.

The tailor reaches up to measure his arm span, inevitably bring their face a little to close to his neck. He just tilts away, nodding mindlessly at what the tailor is saying, but his attention is fully on you. You're fidgeting, and your anxiousness is impossibly obvious to him, but the more mischievous part of him stops him from doing anything about it. Instead, he revels in it.

"Did you get my inside leg?" he asks the tailor, grinning widely. "I think you might have to redo it. I was leaning a bit."

The tailor agrees though all he sees is a nod of a head and a voice in his ear going right through the other. He observes as your face falls, and just as the tailor crouches down and leans close, you're immediately across the room at record-speed, hand latching over the tailor's wrist.

Astarion barely manages to hold in his laugh. His smile, however, is another story.

"I'll do it," you mumble to the tailor. They look to you and back up to Astarion before seemingly realizing what's going on, nodding.

"Very well."

He never thought you could look even more alluring than he already finds you, but the way your jaw clenches and your brows furrow makes him think otherwise. You lean down and take the measurements as needed, stomping on his foot in the process.

He snorts.

Once the tailor leaves for the stock room, he finds you sighing. "You did that on purpose."

It's not a question. He laughs, and while he could just apologize, he takes your hand in his, tilting your head with the other so you'd look at him. He might even consider the glare you give him as cute.

"Jealous, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"I was starting to think you weren't capable of jealousy."

"Why not?" you say, feeling his thumb rubs the top of your hand. "I've been plenty jealous before."

At this, he raises a brow. "I'd surely remember that."

"When we first met," you recall. "You flirted with practically everyone in camp. Saying you wanted to drink from Wyll, or something like that."

"You must know that I was--"

"I know what it was," you roll your eyes. "Not at the time though, and I thought you'd lost interest in me."

His jaw falls agape. "You're jesting."

"Why do you think I started flirting with other people? I figured you didn't like me as much as I liked you, so I moved on. Tried, at least."

"Is that what your visits to Shadowheart were?"

You scrunch your nose. "Oh Gods, I forgot about that. I'd rather not remember sleeping with one of my closest friends, thanks."

He can't help the grin stretching on his lips, and you notice, feeling yourself smile with him. "You're enjoying this far too much, Astarion."

"Please, tell me the next time you're jealous, so I'll know to keep an eye on you."

"Don't ask such ridiculous things," you retort, feigning annoyance before lifting his palm to your cheek and pressing a kiss to it. He swears his undead heart might've felt it. And just like that, the tailor returns, and you drop your intertwined hands, and he sees you shoot him a warning glare.

Acknowledging he's had enough fun teasing you today, he shrugs, and when the tailor begins showing him an array of outfits, he's not listening. Instead, he toys with the ring behind his back, making sure to commit your expression to his memory.