#its reasonably comfortable too. and very pretty

[longingforacultparty]

old lady couch acquired for $10 oh my god

[asurrogateblog]

The Syd Poll

the topic of this poll is one that is frequently avoided in the pink floyd fandom, but inevitably one we all consider – our individual views on what we think caused syd's psychological struggles (and by extension, led to his departure from the band). I think that – at least in this neighborhood of tumblr – this is a conversation we are capable of having in a way that is civil, nuanced, and at least minimally disrespectful to syd.

So, to help facilitate this, here are some ground rules:

let's all assume we have a mutual understanding of the complexities of this. syd could never actually be reduced down to a poll, and all of our viewpoints are limited in various ways

the poll options just serve as just a conversation starter, and responses are not necessarily a statement of absolute beliefs

feel free to discuss as much or as little of your own perspective as you feel comfortable sharing.

in the case that debates break out, please try to assume good intent – and also demonstrate it (unless, for instance, someone is being blatantly insulting beyond a misunderstanding that needs correcting)

please do NOT vote if you are not actually a pink floyd fan with at least basic knowledge about what we're talking about here.

The options I've included below are not meant to be exhaustive, they are simply the "theories" that I have seen most commonly circulated. I have also decided not to include combinations. I'm fairly sure we'd all agree multiple factors were involved. Rather than make the poll too complicated, I ask you to instead select the one that you think is the "most" important to your viewpoint, and clarify further in your tags/comments as you wish.

so. here we go.

READ BEFORE VOTING ^^^^

(note of correction: "late-onset schizophrenia" should just be "schizophrenia". the typical timeline for onset of symptoms is late adolescence/early adulthood, so syd would've been well within that period at the time)

[bmpmp3]

im kinda bad at talking to people on the internet but i always want to comment on art and music i like by small creators 1) because its nice to know and 2) depending on the website (like youtube) maybe it might help a little with spreading it around. but im still kind of bad at it. so a lot of people get an "awesome!!" from me and lemme tell you - i mean everyone of those "awesome!!"'s. i mean it with all my heart. sometimes a thing is just awesome, so awesome it needs more than one exclamation mark!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[xhda1449x]

ok apparently 30 tags is the limit on tumblr and I'm putting it here because I couldn't put it in the tags

for my own curiosity, because my tragedy enjoying boggles the minds of a bunch of my irl social circle.

[catmask]

tbh when i hear some people talk about 'breaking cycles of abuse', it becomes clear pretty quickly who has come to understand that phrase to mean 'since i was a victim of abuse/neglect by my parents/caretaker/s i will do everything to be nothing like them' and that is all. its not a completely flawed way of thinking either - something that hurt you would very likely hurt someone else; through empathy we learn to understand not to hurt others the way we were hurt too.

but what 'breaking cycles' looks like is more complicated than just not being your parents/caretakers - it's about recognizing how the things that happened to you changed you and how you can heal so you don't hurt someone else in turn. the survival skills you learned in an unhealthy enviroment often translate to poor if not unhealthy interpersonal skills in an enviroment where things ARE safe.

its a difficult pill to swallow for a lot of survivors of abuse (trust me, i know) because we have a tendency to simply want our pain to be recognized. by painting yourself as "absolutely nothing like my abuser" you can abstain from recognizing your own harmful tendencies and live comfortably in the role of victim hood for the rest of your life. it can be tempting to do this especially when so many people will do their best to deny what you experienced - almost like leaning into a stuck door that just won't budge.

the problem with this is if you never recognize that being mistreated made it so you LACK a lot of what other people learned from a loving enviroment, you can hurt people pretty badly even when doing your best just not to replicate what your parents/caretakers got wrong.

this also hurts for victims because, when it comes down to it - it's not FAIR. you were hurt for no reason, and most of us will never hear an apology or even admittance from the person who did it - so why do YOU have to change? why do YOU, the person hurt unjustly, have to put in the work?

and i mean. that's what breaking a cycle is. it means pushing against what's fair and comfortable deliberately so that you can stop something that's been repeating. it's work. its not just recognition of pain, it's the purposeful healing and treatment of it. but thats scary, and it's not fun, so a lot of people fall right back into it. its a lot easier said than done.

[heart-shaped-chains]

Yap session bc wow.

Pretty sure the dude that rejected me (situationship ://) is getting a crush on me bc like. One of the last times we talked he was like "oh ur trying to get me to like you". And it's like. No I'm not. You literally rejected me and the more I think about it, I didn't even want you, I just wanted the idea of a boyfriend that I was projecting onto you. He's conservative and talks about how conservative his parents are (which I don't vibe with at all). When we first met, he was still moping about his ex gf who he had broken up with over a year prior. And like. We were both in high school (16 + 17 ://). And I'm sorry but how meaningful can a fucking highschool relationship be? Go to therapy.

Plus he'd like vent without asking and then I'd give him advice and then he'd just shoot it down and be like "no that wouldn't work anyway I'm a piece of shit" and like. Okay, why are you coming to me then? If you're not taking any advice then why are you bitching? You didn't even ask, you just did!

But the moment I even mention my past drug addiction (not in detail and not in a mopey way. Just matter-of-fact), he's like "oh no please don't mention that". Like. Shut the fuck up oh my godddddd. I am not trying to be with someone who can't even handle hearing the most watered-down descriptions of substance abuse.

Plus I just do not trust this guy like. I don't kink shame but here's my red flags: he's conservative, enough said on that...He misgendered me in a sexual way without asking (I did play along bc I was stupid and scared to say no but whatevs). And he did stop when I told him to but the fact that he didn't ask before was highly suspect bc he fucking met me as a trans guy.

And he's also weird about pregnancy. Which I played along with too of the act of breeding is appealing but like. I'd rather have a tapeworm than a damn fetus bc at least I wouldn't be forced to let that parasite live off of me. Dude also mentioned baby trapping like. "oh I feel like you'll force me to get you pregnant" and like. I literally said that I wanted to get my uterus removed and 2: you're the one bringing pregnancy into this don't fucking pin it on me!!! Like I feel like if we actually met up I'd have to triple check and be sober bc what if this guy actually does this shit? Why else would he keep mentioning it?

Like idk he's also asked me about trans kids and like. 1: I don't keep up with any trans people irl, 2: I haven't started transitioning yet so why the fuck are you asking me? I'm not the arbiter of trans people, my guy. Like he acts supportive but I feel like deep down this dude doesn't even respect me and he's gonna try to change me. But that could just be paranoia, idk...

Either way, I don't really get that much out of talking to him. As embarrassing as it is, I've started using those ai bots (says the bitch who is vehemently against ai "art") and they've been much more fulfilling emotionally because they tell you what you want to hear. And you can change the answers. They're hollow, but good for short term stuff bc I don't have the energy to talk to people rn (and I haven't been talking to anyone or really leaving the house on a regular basis...kinda just wasting the year so far..). Especially not this guy.

Like. We don't have the same interests, our tastes in music are similar but also too different and he doesn't get it™️ like I do, his beliefs are like too different from mine. He's also said misogynistic shit about sex workers which. I don't fuck with that, you literally watch porn, you fuckin hypocrite. And the more I think about texting him, the more I see it as a damn chore.

Like idk I just. Do not have a lot of investment in this guy. I think I was just lonely and projecting. And obviously it's not healthy for me bc I resent him but it's not healthy for his annoying ass either. He shouldn't have friends who secretly hate him. So idk I think I'm just gonna delete my profile and start again, also block him bc my dumbass 16 year old self gave him my number.

But like. My gut is telling me not to. I have been taken advantage of before in the past and I'm just getting a distinct deja vu. Even if it's not intentional on his side, I don't think it's good for me. Like the first time he texted me (in over 2 years after I ghosted him with no attempt to reach out to him (take the fucking hint)), it felt like seeing a box of pills in the CVS aisle. I was thinking "god, I shouldn't do this...but I should see what happens, maybe it won't be as bad as last time...." Just that same feeling I got when I decided to relapse.

And like dude. It's always gonna be as bad as last time: quit taking chances on shit that you know will fail you!!! So Idk. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I shouldn't talk to someone who just drains me, bc that'll drain him too. Plus I'm allowed to not fucking like someone and the guy didn't even wish me happy birthday or congratulate me on my 5 months of sobriety. Things in my status. And I know he reads statuses bc he messaged me about one of them before. Plus he rejected me on my birthday!!!

And now you wanna come crawling back and then act like I'm obsessed!?!? You were the one who came back into my life, not the other way around! I was over you until you came back. And now I'm over you again. But you're not over me. But you're so fuckin allergic to commitment that you just wanna keep acting like I'm smitten with you. After you strung me along with no regards for my feelings. Not because you're evil, but because you're fucking dumb. And I'm not dealing with someone who's that stupid. Hope you work your issues out, but I'm not here to fix you, nor do I want to. That's on you!! Figure it out!!!

Anyway um if anyone read this far thank u. Feel free to add input just please be nice. And uhhh. Aita???

[skywalkerslvt]

Rough Ride (so rough)

❥Pairing: RE2!Leon x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: What happens when you have to sit on Leon's lap for a very long and bumpy car ride? Leon's pants get soaked 😍

❥CW: 18+, smut, sub!leon, dry humping, cumming in pants, overstimulation, crying kink, semi-public sex, sorta non-con at first? but both parties are consenting, 1.6k words

❥a/n: can you guys tell how much I like dry humping from the amount of times it shows up in all my fics? anyways RE2 Leon is so subby i need to make him cry so I wrote this. Also my requests are open if any of u leon sluts wanna request something 👀 Hope you guys enjoy! <3 pics are from pinterest

Leon Kennedy was utterly fucked. Both literally and figuratively. He was approximately one hour into the grand camping trip that your shared group of friends had planned, and it was already off to a bumpy start.

It started with the excessive amount of luggage you and Claire had decided to pack. The trunk was bursting at the seams, and the backseat was already crammed with more than it could reasonably hold, leaving the driver seat, the passenger seat, and a single seat in the back free for its intended use.

With Chris driving and Claire staking her claim on the passenger seat, that left you and Leon with the single seat to share.

And when you whispered a seductive “I guess we’ll have to make do,” with a mischievous glint in your eye, Leon knew he was done for.

Before he could respond, he was shoved into the car, barely even registering that you were manoeuvring yourself into his lap, carefully trying to find a comfortable position.

At first, Leon was awkward. It wasn’t every day that the girl he had a massive crush on was situated on his lap, and especially not for a 2 hour long drive like this one. But as you leaned against him and whispered a soft “Relax,” he eventually settled in, wrapping his arms around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder.

The first hour was fine, enjoyable even. Leon had managed to stave off a massive boner, and everyone had been happy despite the luggage situation. But issues started to arise as Chris turned the car onto a bumpy gravel path in the woods.

“We’re gonna be on this trail for about an hour and then we'll be at our camping spot. It might get a bit bumpy,” Chris muttered quietly, not wanting to wake up his sister who had dozed off against the window.

As the car drove deeper into the forest, the road became more uneven, causing you to bounce slightly in Leon’s lap. His cock started to twitch, the boner he managed to avoid coming to as all his attention was focused on that single point where your ass was softly bouncing on his cock.

Leon was flushed head to toe, his teeth worrying his lower lip as the rate of his breathing increased. His cock was now fully hard and leaking pre-cum in his boxers, and by some miracle, you hadn't noticed. Needing to feel more friction, he pushed his hips up slightly, softly grinding his hard dick against your ass, playing it off as shifting to a more comfortable position. He felt like such a pervert, getting off against your ass while you were completely oblivious, but the weight of you on top of him felt too good to stop.

He had managed not to make a sound, harshly biting down against his surely bruised lip any time he felt like moaning, but when Chris hit a particularly hard bump, causing you to bounce harshly back into his cock, he let out a barely audible whimper, right against your neck.

Leon stiffened, panicking as he was sure he got caught. You were going to realize what he had been doing, and you'd think he was a disgusting pervert, never wanting to see him again.

But as you turned your head slightly, concern etched on your features, and asked him if he was okay, Leon went lax with relief. You didn’t know.

“Y-yeah- Sorry I was just startled by the bump,” he stammered out.

You smiled softly, seemingly unaware of the turmoil raging inside him. “It's okay. These roads are pretty rough. Just hold onto me if you need to, okay?”

Leon swallowed hard, nodding. “Sure, thanks.” You leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then turned back around and shifted your hips, moving in a more comfortable position. Leon’s hold around your waist tightened and his dick twitched at the feeling of you moving against him.

The car continued to jostle along the uneven path, each bump sending another wave of sensation through Leon’s body. He tried to focus on anything else–the trees whipping past outside, the sound of Chris humming along to the radio, the soft snores of Claire asleep in the front–but his mind kept coming back to the warmth and pressure of you against his twitching cock.

Desperate to maintain some semblance of control, Leon shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would ease his arousal. It was useless. Every movement, every slight adjustment only heightened the friction, the pressing of your body against him his own personal torture.

Minutes felt like hours as the car bumped along the trail, each jolt a reminder of the situation Leon found himself in. To make matters worse, you began shifting, unknowingly pushing your ass against his cock continuously, and Leon couldn't help himself. He just had to cum, so he began grinding against you again, timing his thrusts with your shifting.

He closed his eyes as his thrusts got sloppier, the building heat in his gut reaching its peak. He knew he couldn't hold out for much longer, and he was careless with his sounds, his heavy breathing against your neck becoming louder and louder.

Leon's body tensed, and with a muffled groan, he came, his cock twitching as he spilled into his pants. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as the car continued to jostle along the path, your ass still bouncing in his lap, overstimulating his already sensitive cock.

His breathing grew ragged, and tears began to well up in his eyes. He couldn't take it anymore, the friction becoming unbearable, and he bit his lip hard, trying to stifle his whimpers.

Despite the overstimulation, the continued friction of your ass bouncing against him caused his cock to twitch and harden once more, much to his confusion and frustration. The sensations were too much to handle; his body was a mess of sensitivity and arousal, and he couldn't stop the tears that began to spill down his cheeks.

Leon's mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the overstimulation blending into a desperate need for more. His hips involuntarily thrust upward, seeking more friction, even though it was torturous. Each bounce of your ass pushed him closer to the edge again, and he couldn't understand how he could be this turned on despite having just cum.

Minutes felt like hours, and Leon's body was on the brink of collapse. The continued friction, combined with his heightened sensitivity, pushed him to the edge once more. He tried to stay silent, but soft whimpers escaped his lips, tears streaming down his face as he clung to you, desperate and needy.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, you turned your head slightly, a smirk playing on your lips.

The realization hit him like a freight train—you knew. You had known all along. Your smirk widened as you watched him, your eyes dark with arousal.

You leaned in, your breath hot against his ear as you whispered, "You've been such a good boy, Leon."

Leon's breath hitched, his body trembling as your words sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He was overwhelmed, his senses on overdrive as you licked the tears from his face, your tongue tracing a path along his cheek.

Without warning, you began grinding against him, your hips moving in slow, deliberate circles. The friction was maddening, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his overstimulated cock. Leon's hands tightened around your waist, his nails digging into your skin as he fought to hold on.

"You like this, don't you?" you murmured, your voice dripping with teasing amusement. "Getting hard again so soon after cumming. Such a needy boy."

Leon could only nod, his voice failing him as you continued to grind against him, each movement sending him spiraling further into a state of desperate arousal. He was completely at your mercy, and he loved every second of it.

Your pace quickened, and Leon's breath came in short, ragged gasps. Each grind of your hips sent jolts of pleasure through his overstimulated body, and he clung to you as if you were his lifeline. His tears mingled with sweat, his entire world narrowing down to the intoxicating friction and your teasing whispers in his ear.

With a final, deliberate roll of your hips, you sent him over the edge again. Leon's body convulsed, his cries muffled against your shoulder as he came for the second time, his cock throbbing and spilling more cum into his already-soaked pants. His tears of overstimulation turned to tears of overwhelming pleasure, his entire being consumed by the raw, intense sensations. You held him tightly, a satisfied smirk on your lips as you licked away his tears, savoring the sweet taste of his submission.

As the last waves of his orgasm subsided, you continued to move gently, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from his exhausted body.

Leaning in close, you kissed him tenderly, a silent promise of many more games to come. In that moment, Leon knew he was utterly and completely yours, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

When they finally pulled up to the cabin, Chris hadn't even fully parked before Leon threw you off his lap and bolted for the door. His face was a deep shade of crimson, and he mumbled a halfhearted excuse about needing to use the washroom, doing his best to conceal the completely soaked front of his pants. As he disappeared inside, you couldn't help but laugh softly, the image of his flustered expression etched in your mind. You exchanged a knowing glance with Claire, who raised an eyebrow in silent question. Smiling innocently, you shrugged, already anticipating the next opportunity to tease Leon further.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro Notes : Short N Sweet - The power lilith holds <3

Lilith in the 1st - Very strong personalities. Gifted in using the eyes to seduce others. Magnetic. Can fight the demons off of you so please be weary of getting to close if you don't want them to see what hides beneath the surface. There angelic, believe it or not. They're not here to see the world as you see it, they have a taboo personality, yes, but its also because they must learn how to live for themselves and not for anyone else.

Lilith in the 2nd - Cash cow. Can basically get any man to give them what they want. They have to be comfortable in getting under peoples skin, because they can trigger people with how they talk. Insensitive? Not exactly. Just doesn't budge and cares to be 'nice'.

Lilith in the 3rd - Creative freaks. Can use the mind in a million ways, but they still seek out one thing that works for them as they are very passionate people and whatever keeps their attention the most they'll go at it forever. They are use to the attention from people since primary school. So they like to hide a lot. They have a weird mind and they don't care to share it with too many people. If they ever considered writing, they could make some pretty interesting stuff. Sibling rivalries are a thing here.

Lilith in the 4th - Tumulous relationships with family & friends. It's because they're the outcast of the group. I mean, they know a lot and they can't stand for nothing but the truth. But sometimes the truth kills, even when they don't mean for it to be. Can be a hard knock life but they make it worth something. They're no angel, just the universe in the flesh. <3

Lilith in the 5th - Captivating presence. Lovely auras, and amazing bodies. Could be good at dancing. Could be a lil promiscuous. Could be a little dangerous. You never know. Secretive/private about their affairs.. But the stories they have I promise you its like reading a novel. Naturally sensual & can't get enough of them, even if you tried ;)

Lilith in the 6th - Goes hard for groups that aren't seen enough. Can have jealous coworkers or people who want to annoy them and get them out of character. Could also have sensual experiences with co workers. Demands compensation. Could be extremely well liked or hated no in between.

Lilith in the 7th - Spicy individuals. People love to hate them. Could have bisexual allegations from time to time. Most people like to be around them but despise them after a while. Sweet as a pie though, most people allow the rumors to get to them but usually these people are naturally sweet and empathetic. Popular loners.

Lilith in the 8th - Strong personalities. Capable of seeing beyond the veil. Has issues with society due to their daring nature but they do come out ready and swinging. Hypnotic presence. Can heal as much as they can poison, so be careful wit em ;)

Lilith in the 9th - Very beautiful spirits who are the epitome of being carefree. The universe takes them wherever their hearts want to go, and the journey is always something that last a life time. Being connected to someone with this placement could give you the feelings of something amazing. Always hold their hand tight because once their gone its over.

Lilith in the 10th - Dreamy auras. Have a knack for the public and the audience can feel their raw energy. Have haters from all area codes, this just makes them more confident. They know how to appease society well, and they can take on roles that others are too afraid to. This is great placement for lilith to be in.

Lilith in the 11th - Could had to fight to keep their self esteem in check. Due to being outcasted alot, they could of been the scapegoat for a lot of reasons that didn't pertain to them much. With time, they learn to accept that their energy isn't for anyone, and that their value is more than what you can define it. Helpful sweethearts who just wants to be around community that gets them.

Lilith in the 12th - The dream world is a nightmare. My apologies to y'all cause I'm suppose to start it off a little sweet. But this is placement of a witch/warlock. You guys have many gifts that go past the ordinary. And you more than likely come up with some ish down the line. There is a time where you will undergo a lot of spiritual refinement to keep your head going. Don't be afraid of what shows up, it might teach you something!

[miaoua3]

Scoups spicy headcanons

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Warnings: sex, mentions of oral, just nasty piece of work tbh lmao, MINORS DNI

Kind of a continuation of my tiktok post

Note:…i need to get dicked down, its been too long…anyway enjoy this

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•his kisses are always soo deep, its just that pace that changes- when he’s desperate, his kisses become fast and filled with urge and need, when he wants to savour both you and the moment, he takes his time

•the type to spread his arms on the back rest of the couch while you sit on his lap and make out with him, will not touch you until you start whining and pleading of him to touch you

•loooves leaving hickeys. not only on your neck, but on your chest, your hips, your thighs and sometimes even your ass cheeks (in a shape of a little heart❤️)

•also likes it when you leave hickeys on him too, it shows to others that you both belong to somebody, except he doesn’t like to hide his while you literally spend tons of time and makeup trying to cover his piece of work

•two words: size kink. nothing gets him going quite like watching and comparing how much bigger he is compared to you, how his big hands can easily wrap themselves around your neck, your hands, your hips, anywhere really

•likes to just let his hand rest on your neck while kissing. not outright choking, but just…lets you feel the heavy weight of it on your thin neck

•a service dom, idk how people came to think that coups is this mean dom who just enjoys inflicting pain on you, like nuh-uh, this man literally lives to serve you, will listen to everything you got to say, if you say ‘a little more of this, a little bit less of that’ consider it already done. your pleasure is his first priority

•which brings me to- he won’t fuck you until you have cumed on his fingers (and/or face) at least two times.

•the mirror that’s facing your bed🤝him, loves nothing more than to fuck you from behind in front of the said mirror, loves just looking at your dazed look, how hard you try to keep your balance, how his hand looks around your neck

•very talkative in bed, from asking if you’re still okay to asking you things like “look at you, so pretty. who’s my pretty girl? hm? is this all for me baby? so wet, just for me? can you give me another one? cmon, my pretty girl, just one more, cum on my dick one more time, i know you can do it” NCHSIDBSIADBAI

•praise kink>>>>>>, idk who convinced yall that he would like degrading you, bro literally LOVES you, he has no reason to talk to you like that, he’s always just like “you’re doing so good, baby, taking this dick. fuck, so good, you’re taking me so well, can you take on more? of course you can, my girl can always take on more, cmon, that’s it” (currently manifesting this man in my life🙏)

•loooves it when you scratch his back unconsciously, just likes to look at it the next morning, wears it like a gold medal

•oh i just know he has a big dick, don’t even try to convince me otherwise, its both long and girthy, it’s always so overwhelming having him inside your pussy

•i always say- having a small dick is no excuse for being a bad partner, the universe gave you 10 fingers, a mouth and a lot of imagination. if you still can’t figure out how to please your partner, then it’s a you problem….lets just say cheol has no problems-with his size, his fingers skills, his tongue nor his imagination, he’s such a good lover, he will literally make you see stars

•speaking of-he asks you to sit on his face and literally to almost suffocate him at least two times a week. he just loves feeling your weight on his face, your smell surrounding him, you looking down on him while he’s living every man’s dream

•loves holding hands while in a missionary, it just makes the atmosphere that much more intimate and romantic, always intertwines your fingers and he finds that so…comforting

•now, he doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on you (he enjoys leaving a good spank and a little bit of choking), that much is clear, but he still likes seeing you with tears down your cheeks from the immense pleasure he’s bringing you

•is the king of body worshipping. on the nights where he’s feeling extremely loving, first, he takes off your clothes slowly, then he kisses you for a few moments, and then he starts leaving kisses everywhere-from your lips, across your jaw, on your neck, going down to your chest, a few ticklish kisses on your stomach, leaving a few teasing kisses on your clit, looking up while kissing your thighs, on the scars on your knee, all the way down to your ankle. and then the same route upwards, all while whispering soft words of praise to you

•if you ever thought that this man is anything other than an ass man, you are delusional. from spanking you, fucking you from behind, to literally kissing your cheeks better after a few particularly hard spanks and leaving hickeys on it, rubbing it gently in comforting way with a comforting hand, there isn’t a way this man hasn’t interacted with your behind lol

•loves to pull on your hair lightly during the slow make out sessions, but also enjoys it when you pull on his hair while he’s laying between your legs, eating you out as if you were his last meal

•loves how he can just pick you up and fuck you against any surface available, it gets him so turned on knowing that he can carry you so easily and manhandle you into any position he wants you in

•low-key has a breeding kink, he loves watching his cum leak out of you, and stuffing it back in, knowing that he could impregnate you any time he comes inside, it’s always so thrilling to him (plus he really want to start a family with you)

•he’s the aftercare KING, sometimes he spends more time talking you down from the height, cuddling you, cleaning you, kissing you and letting you know how much he loves you than he spend on the sex itself, he’s a natural caretaker so he enjoys taking care of your body and your mind after your sexy escapades

in conclusion: SCOUPS PLEASE I CAN TREAT YOU SO WELL JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE PLS BABY

[assriels]

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

[pinkberrytea]

He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.

Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.

Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: i can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! i wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully i did it justice. thank you for reading!

( part 2 here )

tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia

“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.

Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.

Astarion.

Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.

“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”

The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.

“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”

Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike. 

Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses. 

“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.

Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds. 

Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit. 

“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims. 

“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying. 

While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable. 

“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.

“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest. 

“This is a gift, you know.”

He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- to you asking them what their fave juno pose is

a/n: hellooo!! im curious what juno poses you guys think the boys would be into... feel free to send an ask with the pose (asks with media + anon are open!) - favourite one gets its own spinoff oneshot :)

MINORS DNI

tw: sexual positions, allusions to sex, boner talk

not proofread, if you don't like it - don't interact!

seungcheol is initially taken aback at the question. you ask it so innocently, so out of the blue - and he can feel his heart skip a beat at the mere pictures that are being conjured by his mind at the mention of you in any of those poses. he regains his confidence quite quickly though, proudly pulling up his favourite pose and eyeing you as you splutter. so, honey? reminds me of that one night we...

throwing up a shit eating grin, jeonghan takes the question with ease. he's been expecting it - he knows you well and ever since you sent him that reel, he's been preparing his answer. i personally really enjoy this one he'd say while showing you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that makes you snort in laughter. 100% expects action later. you were the one who brought it up babyyy...care to follow through?

you cannot tell me this man doesn't prefer missionary over anything else. joshua loves seeing your face through it all, so asking him this question probably isn't going to get you anything you didn't already know. he blushes at the thought of it, shyly muttering under his breath that he likes it best when he can see your pretty face and hold you.

jun blinks, not quite getting what the fuck a "juno" pose is. he nods along as you show him his "options," turning red at the particularly scandalous ones and cringing at the ones he knows ya'll can't pull off. i don't think you're that flexible, baobei. he'd say, more worried he'd accidentally break you if you guys attempted the pose.

like with anything else, soonyoung is excited to answer your question. don't be surprised if he pulls out a powerpoint specifically for the occasion, listing out the pros and cons of each pose and the probability of how much he'd enjoy it. he's passionate with everything he does - and what better thing to be passionate about than fucking the love of his life?? lowkey ends up not being able to choose just one favourite. he likes variety in his sex life, thank you very much.

wonwoo stares at you once you're finished asking, bluntly dropping his answer and moving on with his day. he lowkey thought it was already obvious what his favourite one was?? you guys do it every time?? it's his default?? he calmly (a bit too calmly for the topic) explains to you why it's his favourite, giving you all the stats. well, it's easier to move - and you're more comfortable, and- you'd think he was giving a persuasive essay by the way he goes on and on.

you know better than to ask jihoon without first sending him the reel, asking him to check his message and to watch it. he sends back a screenshot of his favourite pose, a little miffed that this was the reason you interrupted his recording session but answering you nonetheless because he loves you. he tries to return to work, although the thoughts of you in that pose is sending him reeling. ends up giving in to his urges and rushing back home to test out his theory. told you that was the best pose, he'd say after destroying your insides.

again, a strong believer that minghao is secretly very kinky but prefers missionary because it allows him to feel the closest to you. reveals to you that his absolute favourite isn't on the juno pose list because sabrina would be canceled for acting it out - gives you that look, silently challenging you if you'd like to try it. don't pretend it doesn't excite you, love.

seokmin's face is burning the moment you ask the question, stuttering violently through his words as his brain computes your question. shyly points to his favourite pose, cringing into his hands as he awaits your reaction. why would you ask me that right before i have to go to work? he'd complain, hating how inconvenient being turned on could be during practice.

mingyu's got that shit eating grin on his face similar to jeonghan's, although his is more of a i think we should test all of them before i choose one type of grin. you can tell by the way he's eyeing you that he's already picturing you in those poses. i don't know, babe, he'd drawl out, reaching over to grab your waist. i think you should give me a refresher before i pick.

seungkwan's the one that asks you for your favourite juno pose, curious to know which one you prefer yourself to be in. it ends up being a whole conversation - riling both of you up as you discuss the pros and cons of each pose, leading to you guys ending up in the bedroom. who's idea was it to talk about this again? you know what, i don't care - c'mhere.

by the way vernon's looking, you can tell he's thinking about his answer like it's the most serious thing in the world. you let him think, sitting there in silence as you watch the guy contemplate. anyone else would think he was making a major life decision, with the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are full of concentration. finally deciding, he picks one that surprises you. idk, i know we've never done it before but i feel like i'd enjoy it. and you'd look so hot like that babe.

chan sends you his favourite juno pose before you can even ask. a cheeky lil grin on his face, he asks if you guys could try it out, his eyes sparkling with mischief and his boner already prominent. he's imagining you fucked out in the position that he's chosen and he- well, it's not his fault he can't control himself. you'd look sooo hot, babe. he'd persist. i'll take care you.

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

If You Want To

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

-matt and readers first date ends with her on top of him in his living room

cw: minors dni making out, dry humping, praise kink, pet names and use of “good girl”, a little dirty talk, no use of y/n, one mention of Matt knocking someone out and one mention of throw up and someone dying but its just a thought :D

a/n: continuation of Vigilante this one is very fluffy then it gets a lil smutty at the end, the blue text in the beginning are text messages, not many warnings this is pretty mild

also the title is from the beabadoobee song and the notes of cologne i described are versace’s dylan blue it’s one of my favs and gives Matt vibes

˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚ ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚ ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚

A day has passed since your unexpected meeting with Matt, the entire time since has consisted of you typing out a message, rereading it, deleting all of it then promptly throwing your phone away from you.

It was sort of silly how nervous you were to reach out when it had been his idea to give you his number, but you were worried maybe it was simply a courtesy, he could’ve thought you’d need someone to recount how you got home, or you may have choked on your vomit, died in your sleep and the police would need him to explain his connection.

Your spiraling thoughts make you take a deep breath, you knew you were a bit of an over-thinker but even you found this train of thought to be utterly ridiculous. That small realization might have been the reason you crossed your room to where your phone lay on the carpet.

The text was nothing special- hey, Matt, it’s me, from the club the other night :)

You’d rather start off boring as opposed to overbearing and maybe reveal too much of your personality, more than you already did asking the guy to carry you to bed like a baby. Shaking the thought from your head and tucking your red face into your hands, you think about how different you acted that night, not different like you were playing a character, different in the way that you weren’t playing a character.

Maybe it should’ve concerned you how easily he endeared himself to you, if it wasn’t for the context in which you two met and the way the rest of the night played out, you would think he was just some serial charmer, working you over before moving onto the next one.

Something about Matt made you feel comfortable enough to let go of the barriers you put up when you’re with anyone else. Just as you start to lose yourself in your thoughts about the brunette boy, you hear your phone chime. He replied, he replied and for some reason you’re entirely shocked that he would even text you back.

Hey there, it’s good to hear from you! How are you feeling?

Reading Matt’s text makes you smile. To think that he still cared enough to check up on you, his character showed even through the phone. You reply back to tell him you woke up feeling disoriented, but you did at least remember the events of the previous night.

You also can’t help but let him in on how sweet and thoughtful it was of him to leave his number, you don’t let him know this part but you had fallen asleep, hearing him lock your door behind him, with the lingering thought of how foolish it was that you hadn’t asked for a way to contact him. Matt’s reply is swift;

I have to admit, I left my number for my own selfish reasons. I would’ve been kicking myself for the rest of my life if that was the last time i saw you.

This message has your face burning, cheesy smile splitting your face, you can’t think of a reply fast enough as you fall heavily onto your bed and roll to your stomach. Kicking your feet behind you and staring at the words on your screen, you feel emboldened by his admission.

i was too nervous to tell you, but after you left i regretted not getting your number, was worried i wouldn’t see you again… would you maybe want to go on a date with me?

Now you’re really feeling nervous butterflies, your blush moving to your chest as you await his reply, tucking your face into your folded arms. When the beep of a notification goes off a couple of seconds later, you can’t get yourself to look.

The fear of rejection when you first texted him paled in comparison to how your palms sweat and heart raced thinking of his response. After a minute of stalling, you finally pick up your phone to read the response.

I’m relieved you didn’t take me leaving my number the wrong way, I thought you might take me for a creep. I would love to take you on a date :) When are you free next?

A soft giggle bubbles out of you, a giddy feeling rolling in your stomach as you bite the tip of your finger, thinking about Matt on the other end of the line. Flopping onto your back, phone laying on your chest, you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, maybe he’s out driving around or he could be sitting at a desk somewhere diverting his attention between work and you.

Checking the clock you see it’s nearing 8 PM, but it’s a Friday so you text back to tell Matt you’re free all day tomorrow, asking if that would work for him. When Matt texts you back all he says is;

I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow?

˗ˋˏ𖤓ˎˊ˗

Waking up around 8:00 is pretty unfitting for you but you’re absolutely buzzing for your date. After Matt’s text setting the time of your meeting you both continued chatting for a bit, agreeing together to go out for lunch.

You were excited that you wouldn’t have to wait around until dinnertime like you usually would for a date, anyways you were infinitely more excited for this one than any date you’ve been on before.

Thoughts swirl of what you’ll wear and how Matt will look when he picks you up (address still logged in his Apple maps, so it was the obvious option) while you make a morning coffee. You wistfully move around your apartment, performing your morning routine as if you’re in a fairytale, head in the clouds.

As the time nears closer and the nerves once again set in, you take a long, hot shower, spending time on your skincare regime, way more time than you usually would. You even decide to crack open the expensive body oils and tinctures you keep for special occasions. Slipping on your silk robe and wringing the water from your hair, you move to your vanity, clicking on the lights around your mirror.

You apply a light smattering of makeup; curling your lashes, lining your eyes with a neutral shadow and finishing off with your favorite lipgloss, before drying and styling your hair. Slipping off your robe, you spread on a lightly scented lotion, rubbing your everyday fragrance oil from your wrist to the pulse points on your neck as well as your hips and shoulders.

Deciding to keep your outfit casual, but still elegant, you pull a mini, lace a-line dress off it’s hanger. Pairing it with a slightly cropped cardigan, buttoning it just once before slipping on some chunky socks with your favorite shoes. You top off the look with your everyday jewelry and a thin cream bow in your hair.

Checking your phone, you see a text from Matt letting you know he’s leaving now and will be arriving in the next twenty minutes, you open your purse throwing in your keys, wallet, and a small bag of makeup for touch ups, along with some other essentials you like to always have on hand. Straightening out your dress, taking a last look in the mirror and adding a light spray of perfume before gingerly walking to your apartment’s lobby to wait for your dates arrival.

As soon as Matt’s contact lights up your phone screen with a call all the nervous jitters return to you, being slightly forgotten with how busy you were to perfect your look and make sure you felt as confident as possible before leaving your front door, they’ve now come back with a vengeance.

You clear your throat before bringing the phone to your ear. “Hi, I’m in the lobby, are you outside?”, you’re pleased at how steady your voice comes out, trying not convey just how much you had been overthinking.

“Hello! I’m actually walking up to the door right now, I’ll see you soon, okay?”, his words bring a smile to your face, of course he’s not the kind of guy to make you search for his car in the parking lot. Before you can even reply you see Matt pulling open the door to your building, a blinding smile and a wave of his hand greeting you.

“Matt! Hi, it’s really good to see you… I can’t lie I was sort of nervous, seeing you I feel a lot better.” Pairing your words with a shy smile, you walk over to meet Matt as he walks over to you, he looks incredible wearing a thick black sweater, falling just above the waistline of his dark-wash jeans, paired with a black fiddler’s cap. The sleeves of his top are rolled slightly to show off his scatter of tattoos, the entire look leaves you blushing.

As you take one more timid step closer to him, he holds open his arms, confidently coming to stand right in front of you welcoming you into a hug. All the tension you felt melted away as you accept his invitation, moving to wrap your arms around his waist, his coming to lock around your shoulders.

“Hey there, ya look beautiful, no need to be nervous. ‘S really good seeing you too.”

Your smile never leaves your face as you keep your face nestled into his chest, surrounded by the scent of him. It was something you hadn’t remembered until it was presented to you again, his cologne, it was slightly oceanic. Notes of something airy, but deep, a subtle spice while still having a citrusy freshness to it.

Feeling the side of his face pressing down on top of your head and the way his right hand sits heavily in between your shoulder blades makes you forget that you’re supposed to move from this spot, that Matt didn’t come here just for a long hug and that you two were supposed to be heading on to continue your day.

Matt slightly steps back, keeping his hands on your shoulder as he smiles down to you, “Ready to go?” You nod up to him and reach up to take his hand off your shoulder and lacing your fingers through his, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. Matt’s own smile brightens at your gesture, taking one last long look over your figure before gesturing with his head for you to follow him out to the car.

You’re now both seated at a quaint diner you always walked by but never stopped at. The short drive from your apartment had been filled with Matt’s playlist (you noticed the title; Soft) humming quietly through the car, the both of you exchanging shy smiles and fleeting glances, and still your butterflies persisted; but they had calmed from the anxious variety to a subtle, exciting, murmur.

“So… what made you finally message me, I was sittin’ around all that time, waiting for ya.”, Matt’s words are said with an impish expression, jovial smile playing at his features. Once again you felt that pull, like you couldn’t lie to Matt if someone paid you, if it was anyone else this might have annoyed you but something about this boy, and the spell it seems he’s putting you under, does nothing to deter you.

“Honestly? I was kind of embarrassed about how we met, I mean you carried me to bed.” Your words are followed by a sheepish chuckle which Matt enthusiastically returns,

“C’mon you don’t have to be embarrassed about that, I actually happened to enjoy tucking you into bed.” his words are teasing but the smile he’s flashing you is warm and sincere.

Leaning onto his elbows on the table between you, getting a bit closer to your face, he looks down to your lips as he continues speaking, “Carrying you to your room might’ve been my favorite part, wouldn’t mind doing it again… Y’know, if you ever need me to.” As he says this, he reaches out to take your hand into his own, “I’m glad it was me that night, I- I just mean… I’m glad I know you now.”

Listening to his words, entranced by the way he speaks, with only one thought running through your mind. Like your mouth has a mind of its own, you blurt out; “Can I kiss you?”

The instant heat to your face and the change on his face, mouth dropping slightly, still with the same smug smile, makes you widen your eyes.

What is it about this guy that makes me want to embarrass myself?!?

“I-“, before you can get a word out, Matt’s eyes soften. Examining you for a second, he puts his free hand to your jaw, leaning just a bit closer to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

It was incredible. Slow and easy, it’s not the kind of kiss that leads to something else, he’s kissing you like it’s all he wanted, like he could just do this forever, his nose brushing against you as he moves with the way you do, tongue just barely brushing your lips as if he’s introducing you to the way he kisses, it’s making you melt.

The minute he pulls away, you feel yourself tilting forward to chase his lips. You, as well as Matt’s large hand on your cheek, stops your movement. The look in his eyes is heavy, his thumb strokes softly against the apple of your cheeks, never breaking eye contact with you while you feel your head get fuzzy, focusing on the way he licks his lips.

“Y-you’re really good at that…”, you giggle as you say it, no longer concerned with feeling stupid around him. Matt moves the hand on your cheek up to your hair, smoothing down where your locks had fallen into your face, beaming at your words.

“How’d you guess flattery works so well on me?”, he’s now moving to the other side of the booth to sit next to you. Matt doesn’t let go of your hand, just lets your locked fingers rest on his leg between you two. Smirking down at the way you’re blushing for him, he leans down to whisper closer to your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

Turning your head to face him, your nose brushes his face he’s that close. “Yes, please…”, you nod and squeeze his hand lightly. Matt stands up and leads you out to his car, holding the door for you on your way out.

Matt asks if you’d like to go back to his place, saying it’s only fair since he got to see your bedroom already. Of course, you agree. Your lips are still tingling from his kiss, the hand he was previously holding yours with, is now squeezing your thigh as he drives. You thought the feelings you had for him before were intense, but now you almost feel like you’re gonna explode if you don’t get your lips back on his.

Pulling into Matt’s garage, he turns to meet your eyes, “We’re here, my brothers are home, you can meet ‘em if you’d like?”, you nod at his suggestion, “I would love to.” You can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face.

The second the door shuts behind you a voice calls out from the top of the stairs, “Matt? Is that you?”, to which Matt responds back affirmatively. “How’d the date go, bro?!”, the voice nears, then a head of shaggy hair and a backwards cap pops over the banister, looking down to you two.

“Oh-“, the boy says as he now takes notice of your presence as Matt leads you up the steps. “Sorry, hi, didn’t realize Matt had company.” the boys look changes from surprise to a cheeky smile, wiggling his eyebrows. Matt scoffs and turns to you shaking his head, before shooting a look up at his brother, “Jesus, Chris have a little decorum, dude.”, as you reach the living room and come face to face with who you now can identify as Chris, Matt moves his free hand between you two, “This is my brother, Chris, he wasn’t dropped or anything he’s just like that.”

This sentence spurs Chris into a raucous laughing fit, you can’t help but join as he breathlessly says; “God, you are funny, isn’t he funny?”, Matt is now rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the smile stretching over his face as he gently tugs your hand, leading you to sit on the couch.

Chris is on one side of the sectional sitting heavily into the cushions, still trying to catch his breath. Matt stands in front of you where you’re perched politely on the edge of the seat, posture perfect, like you’re trying to make the best first impression.

“You can get comfortable, take your shoes off if you’d like, want anything to drink?”, his reassurance is helping ease your nerves, it’s not that you’re uncomfortable, you just always felt a little awkward when in a new place with new people. Shooting a thankful smile to Matt, you slide back in the sofa to slump further against the backrest. “Yes, please, uhm I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

When Matt leaves your side to walk into the kitchen, you toe off your shoes, moving them to the side of the couch and out of the way. Chris sits up, resting his elbows on his knees and turns to look at you, as you tuck your leg under yourself, getting more comfy in your seat. “So how’d you guys meet? This kid doesn’t tell me anything.”

Laughing lightly you look over to Chris, “It’s sort of a crazy story, uh, he saw me outside that club downtown, uhm this guy was trying to get me to leave with him and your brother came up, knocked the guy out and ended up driving me home…”, you blush relaying the story.

Chris’ mouth drops open and he straightens up, looking behind you to where Matt is. “Okay so that’s why your knuckles were busted and you came home in the middle of the night, Batman! I’m telling you this guy is more tight-lipped than the secret service.”, he shakes his head in awe, “That’s insane, are you okay? Sounds pretty scary.”

You nod as you see Matt coming back to the couch, handing you a glass of water as he settles into the cushion right next to you, throwing his arm over the couch behind you. “Yes, yeah, everything’s fine now, just… probably shouldn’t go back to that club.”, you mumble out the last part and Matt moves his arm down to your shoulders pulling you closer into him.

“Nah, you should be able to go where you want to without freaks like that. Y’know our brother Nick really likes that place, if you ever need an escort. Plus he has the same face as Matt, but he’s way more vicious if you could believe it, that creep wouldn’t even look at you wrong.”

You smile at Chris’ words, finding out Matt’s brothers are just as kind and sweet as him warms your heart. “I guess you’re right, just, yeah it shook me up a lot. Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” you face your attention to Matt, who you noticed is already looking down at you, “Where is your older brother?”, the boy next to you shakes his head lightly, “‘M not quite sure, he’s always out, the total opposite of me.”, He finishes his sentence with a sheepish look.

Chris stands up while checking his phone, “Speaking of which, I’m actually about to bounce too, gonna get dinner with Sam.” Matt nods to Chris as he makes his way down the stairs, before refocusing his attention to you.

As soon as Chris is out of sight, you put your glass onto the table in front of you, with a new sense of confidence under Matt’s heady gaze, straightening up, you attach your lips to his, hand coming to rest on his knee thats bent on the couch between you. Your boldness must’ve caught Matt by surprise as he makes a soft gasping noise, instantly moving his hands to the sides of your neck and pulling you deeper into the kiss. This time it’s entirely more intense than your first kiss, which in comparison would be considered soft.

Matt’s kissing you like he’s hungry, like he has to kiss the air out of your lungs for himself. It’s messy and greedy, and you feel like you can’t keep up with his pace, but it’s turning you on in a way you’ve never been.

The feeling of being wanted so much feels so unfamiliar to you, the needy dominance he’s pouring into the kiss is making you feel lightheaded. Matt’s hands move from your neck down your back and to your thighs, he reaches under you and uses his grip to manhandle you into his lap.

Breaking from the kiss, you throw your head back, chest heaving as you try and suck in as much air as possible, before Matt is laying on his back, using one hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist to pull you on top of him and back to his mouth. A small whimper leaves you as you’re now sitting completely on top of him, chest pressed to his, and your panties are right on his belt buckle. You feel his hips rolling up into you, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud moan, “Matt- Matt…”, he moves his lips to trail over your cheeks and jawline as you tuck your face into his neck, hiding the blazing blush over your face, “Fuck, so pretty…”, his voice is an octave deeper as his breath fans against your ear, his hands are all over you, rubbing up and down your waist, moving one hand to cup your jaw, pulling you back to look at him.

“So fuckin’ good, doll… Want you to grind on me, hm? Can you do that?”, your face is about two centimeters away from his, the way he’s looking up to you, his eyes pleading and your sparkly lipgloss shimmering on his lips and chin, you couldn’t possibly deny him.

Readjusting on his lap, moving to sit directly on his hard-on, causing Matt to let out the most delicious whine you’ve ever heard. “Mmm~ yes, yeah”, nodding frantically you sit up straight, hands on Matt’s chest as his lock tightly onto your hips, he doesn’t shift you, just holds on waiting for your move.

You start by circling your hips shyly, grinding down into him, feeling his jeans get tighter, it makes your whole body hot. Looking down, furrowing your brow and whimpering slightly at the sensation of him letting himself be used to get you off, “Fuck, Matt, so hot, feels so good, thank you~”, he groans deeply, squeezing your hips and bucking up into you. “Always so polite, huh? Good fucking girl, just how you need it, just take it from me, baby… Fuuuuck, got me so hard just from your lips….”

The way he talks to you makes your mind blank, hips stuttering as you feel yourself getting closer, “Can’t- Matt, ‘m gonna-“, your words cut off as you continue grinding down onto him, his hips still working under you, matching your rhythm even as it changes, Matt pulls you by the back of your head to kiss at your face, speaking in between each one, “‘S okay, baby, I want you to, want you to come undone, doing so good, f’me…~”

Your breathing picks up as you start to fist his shirt into your hands, hips speeding up as Matt grabs at you again, helping your movements by guiding you to grind deeper into him. “Uh huh, there ya go, sweetheart, are you gonna cum, baby? Just let go~ ‘s alright…”, his voice comes out right next to your ear as your face is tucked into his chest, muffling the strangled moans being pulled from you.

One last sharp thrust from Matt is what sends you over, letting out a loud whine, burying your head farther into him as you grip onto his sweater tighter. “Fuck yeah, good job, baby. Need ya to let it all out for me… thaat’s it… good girl~”, you feel one of Matt’s hands come to rest on the back of your head, soothing you.

Your noises don’t cease as Matt continues moving under you, your body going limp on top of him, “M-matt, too much, too good… please…”, the overstimulation on your sore clit makes you shake. “Okay okay, doll. You’re alright… Atta girl”, he smooths down your hair, patting your back as you come down from your orgasm.

You catch your breath while you cuddle into the side of his neck, your hands unfurl from his top as Matt keeps an arm wrapped around your back, sitting up with you still in his lap. “Y’okay, kid?”, he whispers into your ear, rubbing up and down the small of your back, using his left hand to push your hair off your face and tilting your chin up to look at him.

When you lock eyes with him, you give him a dazed look, smiling lazily. “M’okay, that… did- did you… finish?”, suddenly you start feeling shy again, which you know is stupid since you just rode this guy with all your clothes still on. Matt chuckles, his smile is sheepish as he speaks, “How could I not have, you’re a pro…” His teasing praise makes you laugh as you sit up a bit, playfully smacking his chest, “Stop.” you once again tuck into his chest, hiding your embarrassment.

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing. Seriously though you do not have to worry about me, ya looked so good, princess. I like seeing you all blissed out like that, you’re gorgeous.”, he leans into you, kissing from your cheek to your jaw, coming to kiss under your ear before whispering into it, “Can’t wait to see how pretty you look while I fuck you stupid.”, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his words.

part 3

[chisatowo]

Rotates Wendy gender moments in my head at rapid speeds

[hxney-lemcn]

General Romantic Headcanons — Anya, Daisuke x gn! reader

tw: none.

wc: 1k (~500 per character)

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Anya

❥Anya is really soft when it comes to the people she cares about. One of the reasons why she wanted to become a nurse was to help others, so it’s no surprise that she’s very caring, always looking out for you. It’s hard to keep friends in her line of work, so she cherishes you extra, finding solace in your company.

❥She feels a bit silly having a crush when she’s this old. Sure, she hasn’t reached middle aged yet, but having a crush over the age of twenty makes her feel a bit foolish. Yet you always seem to make her fall for you even more. The inside jokes, the late night discussions, your constant encouragement and strong willed belief in her makes her heart flutter. You had been by her side after so many of her lows, the constant rejections from med school and her long trips that separated you for years. She’s not sure what she did to deserve you.

❥When Anya has a crush on you she’ll be a bit more bashful yet confident at the same time. It’s a confusing mix. Some moments have her blushing and shying away, while others she’s teasing and complimenting you. If you tell her how pretty you find her or brush her hair behind her ear she’s done for. It’s like her heart won’t stop beating out of her chest and her face is bright red. Anya will hide her face, trying to stay calm. If she finds you shying away for one thing or another? It’s over, she’s like a cat who spotted its prey. She won’t let it go and continue to tease you until you combust. She loves seeing you in such a state, and it may seem out of character, but with you she feels comfortable enough.

❥Honestly, it's a toss of the coin who confesses first. After long enough, she’ll end up confessing during one of your nightly hangouts, going from how much she cares about you to how she wishes you were together. If you’re the one confessing, do it in a more private setting. She’s not the biggest romantic, but the quiet setting would feel more intimate to her, like it's just the two of you in the big, big world. Anya would be so happy that you both finally crossed that boundary, wishing it could’ve been sooner. 

❥When you start dating things won’t change much. Things just get a bit more comforting and homey. Neither of you hesitate with your innocent affection anymore, threading your fingers together without uncertainty or resting your head on the other’s shoulder without care. If anything you both hang out even more, going on small dates to cafes or reading books at home. What does change is how it's even harder to let her go when work calls. How you dread the upcoming year without her smile or laughter, or how frustrated she gets when she loses to you. 

❥But you don’t worry too much. Anya always comes back, and you’ll continue to be by her side when she inevitably applies to another med school. Listen to her rant about what she experienced, her minor grievances with her coworkers. It’ll be all the sweeter to have her back in your arms, watching the stars and pondering where your futures will lead.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Daisuke

❥Like Anya, Daisuke is soft when it comes to those he loves. He’s just a bit more outgoing about it. The type to show someone a picture of you and be like ‘yeah, that’s my best buddy’. Yes, he is internally dying when he has to call you his friend. 

❥Hands down he’s so obvious with how he’s crushing. Daisuke basically becomes your personal butler with how fast he’s willing to stop what he’s doing for you. You’re hungry? Don’t worry, he’ll get you some food. You’re cold? Hold on, he’s got a really fluffy blanket you’ll love. He’ll take any excuse he can get to prove his worth to you (not that you need him too). He gets extra giddy when you both hang out. It’s just so chill, and he gets to spend more time with you, maybe buy you something that’ll remind you of him. 

Yeah…he’s down bad.

❥Finding reasons to love you? It comes naturally to him. It’s like every day he finds another thing that makes him want to squeeze you. Confessing? Hahaha…uhhh he’s having trouble on that front. Daisuke cherishes what you have so much, he finds it terrifying to shift things. He’s so blindsighted by his own feelings, he’s afraid he’s projecting the hints he thinks you’re giving him. So he keeps his feelings to himself, refraining from touching you for too long or saying something that may give him away…yeah he’s not as good at that as he thinks.

❥You’ll have to confess. Daisuke will just continue to beat around the bush, blushing and pretending like he wasn’t head over heels for you. Confess anywhere, Daisuke doesn’t mind. He’ll be too taken aback at the confession to care if people were staring or not. The moment you tell him you like him he’s on cloud nine. 

He nearly forgets to confess back…

❥Once it’s official (and boundaries are placed), Daisuke will be all over you. It’s like he’ll die if he isn’t touching you in one way or another. Loves love loves holding hands with you, extra points if you fidget with his fingers or rings. He not only loves feeling you by his side, but being useful (whether that be by being your guide in crowded spaces or a fidget toy for you to calm your racing mind) is his top need. It’s just so reassuring to know that you love him, need him, and rely on him. 

❥Loves any and all kinds of dates. From exciting ones like theme parks and haunted houses, to the lowkey ones like sleepovers and going to the park. Can barely take his eyes off you if you dress up (this could be just the smallest touch up like putting on perfume/cologne if you normally don’t or doing your hair differently). Can barely take his eyes off you if you don’t dress up tbh…

❥Daisuke finds himself finally looking forward to what his future holds.