#like the tenderness of it all.......... i love it

[euthymiya]

i adore you (can’t you see you’re meant for me?) — ft. sylus

sylus likes to sleep late in the mornings, and you like to admire him. the two are just a series of steps that bring you to where you are now: on top of him

— word count: 4.7k words — it’s literally all pure filth with no plot idk what to say atp

— before you read: female reader ; established relationship ; sleepy sylus ; banter and teasing ; reader rides his abs (do not look at me) ; praise kink (it goes both ways tbh) ; blow jobs ; cum eating ; reader has an obsession with his veins (it is her not me okay?) ; sylus wraps his hand around her throat (but no choking) ; body worship + one clit kiss ; nipple play ; morning sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; do not be fooled it is all pretty soft i promise

— comments: i am new to this game and i haven’t gotten too far go easy on me for this one :( i dedicate this to all my sylus loving nonnies in my inbox thanks for helping me figure out this game LOL. and kass. ily kass

Sylus sleeps more when the sun is out than when it’s not. You don’t mind it so much—not when the view is what it is.

(He’s pretty, and so is the sun. The two combined make for an even prettier picture. You think, if you weigh your options, there are certainly worse things out there than sitting beside your sleeping boyfriend and waiting for him to wake up.)

It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself, though. His hair is too tempting not to brush away from his face. And while your hand is right there, it’s a little impossible not to cup his cheek for a moment. And, well, if you’re already touching him, you might as well let your hand slide down to his chest and rub circles against the skin. He leans into your touch subconsciously anyway—it’s not hurting him. It’s helping.

(You like telling yourself plenty of things to justify your hand and his skin having an early morning rendezvous.)

“Bored, sweetie?” His voice is always deeper when laced with sleep than it usually tends to be. You stiffen, moving to pull your hand away, an apology already prepared on your lips for waking him when he catches your wrist, eyes still closed. “I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you huff, letting him guide your hand back to his bare chest. It rises and falls slowly, so warm and firm under your palm that it’s a little dizzying.

“Am I?” He cracks an eye open, “I was just enjoying a little tenderness. I wonder why I can’t ever seem to receive something so sweet when I’m awake.”

“Precisely this reason,” you say flatly. He raises a smug brow. Just to humor him, you add, “Your ego can’t handle it when you’re awake.”

“What, that you find me too irresistible not to touch?”

“Sylus, go back to sleep,” you grumble, shuffling away from him with a face that feels unbearably hot under his half-lidded gaze. “You’re easier to get along with that way.”

“I don’t know,” he all but purrs. In a swift motion—swift enough that you let out a shrill squeal—his hand tugs at your arm and pulls you close enough that he can hoist your body to sit on his lower belly. “We get along pretty well when we’re wide awake, don’t you think?”

His hand hikes up your (well, technically his) shirt and rests on your hip, nothing but the thin fabric of your panties separating you from him as you’re seated on top of him. You shiver lightly when his thumb caresses your hip bone, a satisfied hum pulling from his throat at the feeling of goosebumps rising against your skin. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, squirming over him—but you can’t say much else because you cut yourself off with a soft gasp when you hear the distinct sound of something tearing. 

Fabric. 

More specifically, your fabric. Your underwear—which was a rather nice pair too, you think woefully—is torn into two pieces, one held in Sylus’s hand like some form of victory, while the other falls against his belly with nothing holding it together around your hips. 

You blink. He gives you a large Cheshire grin.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he says, not so apologetically, “They were just in the way.”

“I liked those!” You hiss, glaring at him, “They were nice!”

“What, you don’t think I can buy you more? I could buy them faster than I could rip them, I’m sure.”

You have your doubts about that last part—but it’s still persuasive enough that you’re no longer as mad as you were just a moment ago. But you’re still petulant, pouting as you huff, “You ruin everything.”

“Mmh,” he hums, closing his eyes, voice still a low drawl from sleep as he says, “Are you sure? Because I can feel you dripping already, sweetheart.”

Shame floods your system quickly, but lust is faster. Stronger, too, perhaps—because you don’t have it in you to be ashamed for too long before you grow impatient. With a deeper pout, you press your hands against his chest, leaning lower until your mouth hovers over his. 

“Can you blame me?” You breathe against his lips. “Just look at you.”

He stiffens. Just barely, of course. Just enough that you can hardly even detect it, but you do. You do because you know him. And you know that when Sylus teases, it’s really just to deflect from his need to shift the attention to yours—like he doesn’t want you just as bad. Like he’s not just as hard as you are wet in his boxers. Like he doesn’t need to feel you just as badly as you need to feel him. 

But he likes to keep the upper hand. It starts with two hands on your hips, firmly squeezing them before slowly rocking them against his abs. Your bare cunt (courtesy of him destroying a perfectly good pair of panties) glides along the ridges and indents of his muscle. Very well-defined ridges and indents of muscle, too. You tense, letting out a shaky gasp as your clit rubs against his hard-planed physique. 

“If you like it so much, why stop at just a look?” He chuckles, “You’re more than welcome to feel, too, sweetheart.”

He’s so sickeningly proud of himself, you can’t help but think bitterly as soon as your hips start grinding against him of their own accord. He’s so pleased and amused and deeply content with the sight of you falling apart over him. His eyes are hungry, and they don’t stray away from you for a single second. They don’t miss a single twist in your expression, nor do they have the decency not to stare shamelessly at the image of where your pussy meets his midsection, where your slick pools and coats his skin and makes it glisten as you make a mess on him. 

He hums, large hands leaving your waist buried in their frames as they guide you at a slow, steady pace. “Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grins—and oh, he’s aggravatingly happy as he laughs breathlessly, “You look like you’re about to fall apart. Don’t worry, I’m right here. You can’t fall far.”

You would say something smart if you could. Maybe even reach back and palm over his crotch that’s rudely tight against his boxers. But you can’t. Not when your clit rubs against his warm, heated skin and leaves jolts along your spine. All you can manage is a pathetic, “S-Sylus, please—”

“Oh? Please what? Please more?” He coos.

Something of a dull ache builds into this deep, throbbing need to feel your walls hug around something. To constrict around and latch onto something warm and big and full—something like him. Something like the way he fucks you into the mattress and makes you feel like he’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat. 

That’s what you want—but of course, you’re naive if you think that’s what he’ll give. For now, at least. For now, he’ll tease, and tease, and tease until he can watch you crumble just the way he wants to witness. And you’re close to that, too—you know it, and so does he. He can tell by the way your wetness drips onto him in a messy pool, making your cunt drag against him easier, smoother. He can tell because he can all but feel the quiver of your walls clenching around nothing, empty and desperate for some sort of building friction. And he can especially tell because of your face—that devastating look on your face when you’re so close to the edge you can just practically cling to it with the tips of your fingers as it dangles teasingly in front of you. 

“More,” you plead, “Want you. Want to feel you.”

“Oh, but you’re almost there,” he says in faux sympathy, soothing you with a sleepy, smug little grin. “Surely, you can take it just like this, can’t you? You’re better than that—I know you are.”

His words take you to the edge. You plummet off of it, in fact, practically collapsing against his chest as he holds you upright with a firm, strong grip and guides you through your orgasm. You gush around nothing, making a wet, sticky mess on his skin as you cum against him, grinding your clit as much as you can along every indent along his hard, built muscle. 

“Sylus,” you whimper, “oh—f-fuck.” Your body quivers for a few more moments before you slump against him, burying your nose into his neck. “You’re despicable,” you bite the skin lightly.

He laughs. It’s low from the sleep that’s still clinging to his voice but boyish enough that your heart skips a beat. “Am I? You seemed to enjoy it.”

You shuffle to curl into him more, but your leg brushes against the bulge in his underwear—a small, barely-there sound pulls from his throat. Something caught between a gasp and a moan that makes you pause before you grin against the crook of his neck.

“Guess I should pay you back, hm?” 

He watches, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded as you pull away and kiss from his collarbone to his pecs. A rise of goosebumps litters his skin, too—just like they did on your skin earlier. You silently revel in that victory, making your way lower, lower, lower. But it’s painfully, obnoxiously, ridiculously slow. 

“Don’t be a tease, sweetie,” he hisses, grunting as you kiss down his torso, the well-defined muscle of his abs flexing under every touch of your lips. 

“Who, me?” You blink, batting your lashes sweetly, “Oh, I’d never, baby.”

Your lips graze over the skin that’s still marked with your essence as you kiss and suck along his torso, a trail of marks left in your wake and declaring him yours. You can taste yourself from just a few moments ago—the moments when you rocked your hips into him and fell apart, when he held you through it with a sleepy smirk. The image of his smug face makes you glance up at him with a flustered look, and almost as if he already knows, his gaze is on you. Waiting. Smug here in person just as much as he was in your memories.

“What a naughty thing,” he drawls, teasing glint in his eyes. “Did you get a taste of yourself? I’m sure now you have an idea of why I find it so…addictive, don’t you?”

He’s filthy. Cocky, too. And more often than not, he’s absurdly prepared with smart comments. Just to even the playing field a little, you decide he could use a little relentless teasing of his own. 

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two just as addictive,” you smile innocently—and just like that, you lean in to kiss against a pale, blue line across his porcelain skin, pulling away to admire the veins that mark his body. Something in you aches for him all over again—something that you don’t like to admit happens from just the sight of something like his veins. But you pay careful attention to them anyway, leaning down and pressing soft, feather-like kisses against his lower belly, feeling him stiffen tightly underneath you as his breath gets labored and slightly erratic.

He’s impatient. You glance down at him, cock hard and strained against his boxers, the beginnings of a wet patch dampening the skin from pre cum dribbling from his tip. You almost feel bad. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of your games?” He grits, involuntarily twitching his hips to chase some friction. 

“I could ask you the same question,” you snort. 

“Yet, it seems I’m always the one spoiling you,” he retorts. 

There’s some bit of merit to that, you suppose. So you give in, humming as you kiss along his v-line, one finger looping under his waistband while giving a small tug downwards. He lifts his hips instantly, letting you pull off the offensive piece of clothing that separates him from your touch. 

It’s flushed, his cock. Swollen, flushed with a pretty rosy shade at the tip, and glistening with leaking pre cum. You lean and give the thick vein along the underside a series of kisses tracing upwards before pressing a delicate one to his tip. He groans, and his cock twitches at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed as he bites his lip. 

“Pretty,” you observe, smiling softly at the sight of him. 

He scoffs, lips almost a pout as they curl into a frown. “Then do something about it,” he insists. 

You think you’ve sufficiently teased him enough, so you do—you take him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, as your tongue and the wet heat of your mouth envelop him and make him tense for a moment before his body goes slack. A deep, throaty groan rings through the room, the sound making something do a flip in your lower belly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing heavily. “You…you’re so good at this.”

The praise does something to you that you’re not proud of. Some flash of an ache deep in your core that you don’t want to focus on, so you pay closer attention to him instead. Your tongue swirls over his tip as your head bobs up, tracing down that pretty vein of his as you take him down your throat once more. What you can’t fit in your mouth—because there is enough of him that you can’t fit in your mouth—you pump with your fist, wrapped around the base of his shaft. 

Sylus has a lot of veins. You admire them long enough to know them all by heart. The ones along his hands that you love to trace when you hold them in yours. The ones along his arm that you love to eye when he’s working out. The ones along his abdomen that you trace every once in a while with the tip of your finger when you have him to yourself in private. And the long, pretty one along this inner thigh—the one you see only when you’re like this: between his spread-out legs with your mouth around his cock. 

Your free hand moves to lay over this thigh, gently rubbing into the skin as if to anchor him as he throws his head back and groans. Your eyes are trained on him, staring up at the twists of pleasure in his expression and the crinkles in his eyes as he closes them tightly and moans. But you don’t have to look at your hand to know your thumb is tracing along that vein. You know it better than you know yourself, you think—his body is so easy to memorize. So easy to get to know and keep ingrained in your brain forever. 

His thigh flexes under your touch, and you hum around him, the vibrations around his length making his breath hitch as he curses under his breath. 

You pull away with nothing but a string of saliva connecting you to him, his eyes glancing down at you sharply for the interruption. But you smile, equal parts soft and equal parts smug. Gently, you press a wet kiss to his thigh, right over the same pale blue line you traced just moments ago, as you murmur, “You’re so pretty. You know that?”

“I’m flattered,” he says tightly, warily staring down at you with hungry, desperate eyes. “I’m sure you can save the flattery for later, though, can’t you?”

“But what if you think I’m just using you for your body?” You gasp dramatically, “Can’t have that, you know. I have to appreciate you more.”

“Teasing can easily be reciprocated, you know, sweetheart,” he grits, “Or have you forgotten that so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m aware. I’ll take my chances.” Your lips trail up his thigh until it reaches the base of his cock. You press another kiss against it, murmuring a quiet, “I love you.”

His cock twitches—it’s like it responds to every soft word of affection and every littlest bit of praise. For all the denying and for all the impatience, too, Sylus loves the attention. Thrives under it, even—it does something to his ego that you know you probably shouldn’t help stroke, but you can’t help it. 

You press one more kiss to his swollen tip before murmuring, “Mine,” and then you take him down your throat once more—faster this time. Your head bobs up and down his length, lips wrapped around him as you swallow every now and then. 

His hand flies to his hair, tugging at the soft, silvery strands as he groans deeply, hips pushing up to meet your pace and thrust deeper into your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, “Just like that, sweetheart—shit.”

He spills down your throat not too long after. Warm, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth with every twitch of his cock, filling you enough that some spills from the corner of your mouth, dripping along your face and collecting at your chin. You swallow what you can, working him through his orgasm, listening to the sweet, lust-hazed sounds he makes as pleasure burns through every nerve of his body. 

He slumps back when he’s finished, panting with an arm over his eyes while you wipe your chin and swallow before climbing up his body and slumping on top of him. He wraps an arm around your waist instantly, humming lowly as his large, warm hand rubs into your lower back. 

“Had your fun?” He raises a brow. 

You grin cheekily, kissing his jaw as you murmur, “I think you had more fun than me, but what do I know?”

He chuckles. It’s low, and the sound vibrates through his chest so that you can feel it under you. There’s a small bead of sweat along his temple, and his face is flushed a soft shade of scarlet that you admire—it brings out the deep crimson of his eyes even more from here. 

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper. 

“How many times will you remind me of that?” He asks, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your face up, and inspecting you carefully. “You’re making me feel bad. I haven’t reminded you how stunning you are nearly enough times.”

“You could always start now,” you wink, “It’s never too late.” He laughs again. Deep, genuine, soft. Sylus is a lot of things. You think your favorite is in love. 

“Do I really have to remind you?” He whispers, voice husky as he slowly shifts your body to lay under his, flipping you over as he hovers over you. “You don’t already know how beautiful you are—how you drive me insane?”

“A reminder wouldn’t hurt,” you blink innocently. “What if you’re secretly getting tired of me?”

His eyes flash with something dangerous at that. You only meant it as a joke, of course—he loves deeply. So deeply, you don’t think you’d escape him even if you wanted to. (Not that you do, of course. You’re quite happy knowing your place is beside him.) You know he’s never tired of you—quite the opposite, in fact. 

But you like teasing him. Getting under his skin enough that his hand moves to your throat and wraps around it firmly—not quite tight enough to block your air flow, but enough to serve as a light warning. 

“You think I would get tired of you?” He challenges. Offended. In disbelief. “Tired of this?”

Just like that, the familiar sound of fabric tearing rings through your ears again. It’s a sound you seem to be getting more and more used to the longer you date Sylus. And yet, every time, it pulls the same sound of disbelief from your throat as you gasp at his audacity. But before you can speak, before you can scold him for ripping your (his) favorite shirt straight off of your body, his hands curve around your tits, molding against them perfectly as if they were made to cup them. His thumbs roll over your nipples, humming in approval as you whine softly at the feeling. 

“Sylus,” you pant. (Regretfully, you think that’s the only collection of syllables you can manage anymore on this fine morning.) “W-wait—”

“Wait?” He pretends to gasp in shock, “But we’re just getting started. I was just about to show you all my favorite parts of you—they never get old. Would you like to see?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans down, latching his lips around one pebbled nipple, sucking and nipping lightly at it as his thumb rolls over and pinches the other one. Your back arches into his touch, a soft moan spilling from your lips as he grins against your chest. 

“Here’s a favorite, for starters,” he murmurs. “And here—” he kisses along your belly and makes his way to your hip bone, biting lightly at the flesh and making your breath hitch, “—this is certainly a memorable place too, isn’t it? Can’t keep my hands off of it.”

Finally, his hands slowly pull your legs apart, exposing the wet, dripping mess that is your cunt, folds puffy and waiting for him. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your clit, smiling at the small whimper you let out from the sensitive touch before he says through a low, breathy whisper, “This, however…this has to be my favorite part of all.”

“Okay,” you whine, pulling at his arms with a plea, “I get it, okay? I need it, please.”

“Well then,” he huffs out a soft laugh, “Who am I to deny?”

He’s level with you before you can blink—mouth on yours with a heavy, heated kiss that sends your brain into a fogged state as you kiss back. All you can register is soft flesh, pressure against your mouth, the taste of his tongue on yours, and hot and heavy breath seeping into your lungs while he inhales yours. It’s slow, the way he kisses you—but still undeniably needy. He chases after your mouth as soon as you pull away to breathe, a soft gasp pushing past his throat at the loss of contact. As if it might kill him. As if he might die without your breath down his throat, keeping him alive. 

“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He breathes erratically, “Because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“I want it,” you practically beg, “I want you.”

He’s hard again—stiff between his legs and throbbing at your words enough that his cock does a little jerk on its own, like it’s responding to you itself. He drags it along your entrance, rolling slow circles against your folds and coating his tip in your slick, earning a sharp inhale from you as he groans at the teasing friction against the head of his cock.

“I always want you,” he breathes. 

He pushes past your folds as he speaks the words against your mouth, letting you swallow up the low moan he lets out as your walls wrap around him little by little. It’s painstakingly slow. Inch after inch after inch until the blunt head of his length presses deep into you, nudging against a soft, sensitive spot in your walls that makes your whole body react with a quiver. He curves into you perfectly, thick and deep and so, so full. 

“Ready?” He smiles tenderly, gripping the fat of your thighs and hooking them around his waist, leaning to kiss one of your knees as you melt into the mattress and nod. 

“Please,” you whine, “Need it—need you.”

There’s a sharp thrust of his hips at that—he pulls out until he’s almost completely left your warm cunt before slamming back in past your folds, pressing mercilessly against your sensitive spot. It’s partly because he has your body memorized but mainly because his body is practically made to mold into you. It’s like he fits you perfectly, curves into the shape of your body like the shape of his was hand-made to pair with yours. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you see past his exterior the most. When his eyes hold the most emotion, staring at you like he can’t believe you’re his. When his hands shake for once because he doesn’t know if he deserves the weight of you in his hold. When his breath is the most labored and uncontrolled because you steal every breath from his lungs, and selflessly, he gives up air for you. When sweat coats his skin and makes his hair cling to his forehead because when he loves you is when his body is most responsive, most affected. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you love yourself most. Because how could you not when he pays such close attention to you? Thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles just the way he knows drives you crazy, watching your face closely for every reaction? How could you not when close is not nearly close enough, when he presses his chest against yours and buries his face into your neck to all but melt under your skin? It makes you feel desirable. Beautiful. Lovable. 

So easy to want.

So easy to lose control to.

So easy to need. 

“You feel that, don’t you?” He mumbles, panting harshly as he grunts when you squeeze around him at the sound of his labored voice. “Feel me? How badly I need you? How crazy you drive me? Feel how hard I am for you? Don’t tell me you think I’d ever get tired of that.”

“I know,” you whine, “I know, I know, baby—I promise.”

You let out a small squeal when he angles your leg higher, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pressing harshly where you need him most with his tip in a dizzyingly punishing pace and a harshly rough deepness that makes your vision blur. Almost go blank, even.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands.

“I love you!”

“Tell me you need me,” he adds, so selfish and needy for your approval. To know you’re nothing without him like he’s nothing without you. 

“N-need…fuck, I need you,” you stumble over your words as your orgasm comes closer and closer, creeping up on you enough that you can’t catch your breath fast enough to keep up with him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” This time, it comes out as almost a plea.

“Yours,” you sob, body on the precipice of breaking all over again, “Yours, yours, yours.”

You cum as soon as you say it. Harder than maybe ever—it’s like being reminded that you’re his makes your body react tenfold. You fall apart with a shrill cry of his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss as your nails press indents into his skin. 

He groans in pleasure at the slight pain, melting against your lips, an open-mouthed, wet kiss working him up to his own orgasm. His first one was a slow build-up—but this one happens quickly, coming out of nowhere and hitting him full force, his hips stuttering for a moment and losing rhythm as he sloppily thrusts into you. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Your voice rings in his ears, aiding him through his pleasure as he fucks his thick, sticky release deep into your folds, sharp thrusts that match the harsh twitching of his cock. 

“Ngh,” he grunts, “Sh-shit, sweetheart.”

Finally, when you’re both done, breaths frenzied and harsh as you try to make up for the lost air in your lungs, he slumps over your body and hides his face into the crook of your neck, practically purring as your shaky hand buries into his sweaty locks and strokes the soft, silvery strands. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of your breathing eventually shifting from heavy to slowed as you finally catch it, the quivering of your body dissipating, too. Your fingers journey their way from his scalp to the back of his neck, lightly making a feather-soft trail along his bare back as he shivers from the touch.

“Don’t fall asleep after I showed you a good time,” you pout, “It’s rude.”

“You were the one that woke me for a good time,” he mumbles, amused. “That’s equally as rude.”

“I did not,” you huff, “You were the one who escalated it. I just wanted a peaceful morning.”

“I don’t know,” he grins against your skin, pressing a chaste, warm peck where it's closest to his lips, “I’m feeling pretty at peace, wouldn’t you agree?”

so uh..........basically i got the card where u measured him for clothes and i saw a vein in his abs and lost my mind. so. here is the product of that. i REFUSE to be told this is not a completely totally normal reaction. thank you!

[finelinevogue]

start again

summary - you and azriel are going through the mating frenzy [ 18+ WARNING ]

word count - ~1k

🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇

“I-I can’t.” You whimpered as Azriel pulled you up and onto his lap, his cock still snug inside of you.

“You can and you will.”

Azriel tried to sound demanding and strong, but in reality he was falling to pieces no thanks to the mating bond that was alight between you and him.

You panted heavily as your arms wrapped around his neck, scrunching at the wisps of hair on the back of his neck to exert some of the tension your body was feeling.

Azriel’s arms sat tight around your waist, keeping you firmly where he wanted you - together.

“Fuck.”

His forehead dropped to your chest and you felt him breathe in heavily, drinking in the scent of you and the bond. It was utterly overwhelming and completely intoxicating.

Neither of you could get enough of each other - not even for a quick drink or rest.

If you and Azriel died because you couldn’t stop consummating the mating bond then it would be a lovely way to go.

You kissed his forehead as he shifted his hips up slightly. Your mouth dropped open at the feeling of him pushing further into you. This angle was neither new to you nor your favourite, but it felt all too consuming in that moment that you never wanted it to end.

Azriel pushed his hips up again and you started to understand the rhythm and pace he wanted, so you helped him by moving your body in tandem with his.

Your chest glided against his - bodies sticky and hot after being with each other for hours and hours now.

One of Azriel’s hands travelled down to your hip, pushing your body down with force as he moved down.

It was so overwhelming. You felt like you’d lost your mind.

Azrie untucked his head from your chest and nudged your face down to meet his. Your teeth clashed together in a messy kiss, both of you fighting for dominance even though you both knew he’d win in the end.

The room became hotter than it already was, the glow of many a candle burning as hot as your skin.

Your pace increased. You moved up and down quicker whilst your kisses became more and more urgent.

You whimpered as Azriel kept hitting the spot you knew would eventually be your downfall. You didn’t need to say anything for Azriel to know that he was doing things just right and to keep going. He’d learnt everything about your body and continued to with every stroke.

“Mother above…” Azriel muttered, his lips moving away from yours messily and head moving backwards as he came close to his release.

The feeling of your breasts moving up and down his chest was so erotic that you couldn’t form a single coherent thought. It was just pure bliss.

“Az…”

“I know, I know.” He said softly.

Because Azriel knew you so well he knew you’d not be able to reach a climax in this position without a little bit of help - not that he minded at all.

One of his hands moved from your hip to your clit, thumbing over the right spot well enough to make your toes curl and your mouth drop open as you tried to catch a breath.

Azriel noticed how quick your breathing was, his own a very similar pace, and took the opportunity to dive his teeth against your neck to kiss the tender skin there.

He’d already marked a few spots on your neck - bruising them nicely - but there was always room for another. You weren’t present enough to stop him, even though you’d shout at him for it in the morning.

“I’m…”

“Yeah…”

“Please.. Az….”

“I’ve got you. So… good.”

You and Azriel came together.

It was a pleasure like no other. Your body so heightened you thought you might visit heaven.

Azriel was tucked so far inside you, you could feel him come inside of you and claim you once again. The grunting sound he made when he came was so animalistic it almost made you want to come again.

Your body quickly slumped into his as your high started to lessen. Your eyes - which went starry - started to focus on the room again and on him. Your mate.

His arms were still tucked around you, holding you close.

“Will it ever stop feeling so good?” You chuckled breathlessly into his neck, finding home there for now as you came back to life.

“Probably not.”

“You’re literally dripping inside me and I already feel like we need to go again.”

It was Azriel’s turn to chuckle this time, “Fine by me.”

He flipped you onto your back and started kissing down your body ready to - as you put it - start again.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | new years with your f1 boyfriend

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : it's new years with your f1 boyfriend, what're your plans?

୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : tws : kissing & skinship ୨ৎ : word count : 3992

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy new years to everyone i hope you all love this !! 🎉

ʚ・max verstappen

the crisp winter air kissed your cheeks as you and max walked hand in hand toward the crowded park. the distant crackle of fireworks already hinted at the dazzling display to come. you tightened your scarf around your neck, your gloved fingers clasping a steaming cup of hot chocolate. max carried his own, his free hand tucked snugly in the pocket of his coat.

“are you sure this is worth braving the cold for?” max asked, though the faint smile playing on his lips betrayed his teasing.

you nudged him gently with your shoulder. “oh, come on, max. fireworks, hot chocolate, and you? sounds like the perfect way to start a new year.”

his soft chuckle sent a flutter through your chest. he squeezed your hand as you reached the open field. people had already gathered, their breath visible in the frosty air as they chatted and waited for the midnight display.

you found a quiet spot away from the main crowd, settling on a blanket you’d brought. the city skyline sparkled in the background, the atmosphere humming with anticipation. you handed max a small tin box you'd been hiding in your bag.

“what’s this?” he asked, raising a curious brow as he turned it over in his hands.

“a time capsule,” you said, grinning at his surprised expression. “i thought we could write letters to our future selves, add a few photos and little memories from this year, and open it together next new year’s eve.”

he gave you a look, a mix of incredulity and affection. “that’s… very cheesy.”

“hey!” you protested, though his smirk softened your mock indignation.

“but,” he continued, his blue eyes twinkling under the soft glow of streetlights, “i kind of love it.”

you beamed, pulling out pens and papers. the two of you sat close, jotting down thoughts and hopes for the coming year. you shared quiet laughter over your favorite moments from the past season, max even adding a bottle cap from a celebratory post-race drink to the capsule.

when the fireworks began, painting the night sky in vibrant bursts of color, max wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him.

“this is nice,” he murmured, his voice almost lost in the distant pops and crackles.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “happy new year, max.”

“happy new year, love,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

as the final fireworks faded, leaving trails of smoke against the dark canvas of the sky, you sealed the time capsule, knowing that this moment, like everything else you’d placed inside, would be a memory to cherish.

and though he might not admit it outright, the soft smile lingering on max’s face told you he wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate the new year any other way.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the energy in times square was electric, a swirling mix of excitement, cold winter air, and the endless buzz of millions of people. the iconic new york city lights shone even brighter than usual, reflecting off the surrounding buildings. it was your first time here, and you couldn’t believe you were standing in the middle of it all, hand-in-hand with lewis hamilton.

“i still can’t believe you flew me out here,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the scarf wrapped around your neck.

lewis turned to you, his warm brown eyes crinkling with a smile. “you’ve been talking about wanting to see the ball drop for ages. how could i not?”

your cheeks warmed—not just from the cold, but from the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with a tenderness that made your heart race.

the crowd around you erupted in cheers as the countdown clock approached its final minutes. despite the chaos, lewis made sure to keep you close, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. you leaned into him, his warmth seeping through his coat as the two of you watched the dazzling lights of times square.

“this is unreal,” you whispered, gazing up at the massive ball perched atop the pole. “thank you, lewis.”

he turned you slightly, his face now inches from yours. “you don’t have to thank me, love. i just want to see you happy.”

your breath hitched, and before you could respond, the crowd roared louder. the final minute of the year had begun.

“sixty seconds,” lewis said with a grin, glancing at the clock and then back at you. “ready to start the new year together?”

“always,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the deafening countdown.

the seconds seemed to both drag and race by as the crowd chanted in unison. “ten… nine… eight…”

lewis shifted, standing in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. the world around you felt like it slowed down as his thumb brushed your cheek.

“three… two… one… happy new year!”

as the ball dropped and confetti rained down in a dazzling cascade of colors, lewis leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that made everything else fade away. the cold disappeared, the noise blurred, and all you could feel was the warmth of his lips and the steady, grounding presence of his arms around you.

when you finally pulled back, the sparkle in his eyes rivaled the confetti falling around you. he rested his forehead against yours, his voice soft and full of emotion. “i wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else. not tonight, not ever.”

your heart swelled, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, either.”

he laughed softly, brushing a stray piece of confetti from your hair. “here’s to us, love. to the new year, and everything it’ll bring.”

with the city celebrating around you, you held onto him tightly, knowing that as long as you had lewis by your side, this year—and every year to come—would be unforgettable.

ʚ・george russell

the soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the living room as you curled up on the couch, your legs draped over george’s lap. a bowl of popcorn sat precariously between you, and an old new year’s eve movie played on the tv. outside, the winter wind howled faintly, but inside, it was warm and cozy—the perfect way to ring in the new year.

george stretched his arm behind you, looking down at your mismatched fuzzy socks with a playful smirk. “i’ve been meaning to ask—do you intentionally pick socks that clash, or is this some kind of fashion statement i’m not aware of?”

you threw a piece of popcorn at him, laughing as it bounced off his forehead. “they’re cozy! and besides, you’re one to talk. didn’t i catch you wearing socks with holes in them last week?”

he gasped, feigning offense. “excuse me, those were my lucky socks. there’s a difference.”

“lucky how? do they help you win races or just charm your way out of arguments?”

george grinned, leaning closer with a twinkle in his eye. “a bit of both, actually.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. as the minutes ticked closer to midnight, george shifted, pulling you closer until your head rested on his shoulder. his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, the once-playful energy softening into something more intimate.

“alright,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “what’s your new year’s resolution? and don’t say something boring like ‘drink more water.’”

you tilted your head to look at him, a teasing smile on your face. “fine. my resolution is to make sure you wear socks without holes in public.”

he groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “that’s not a resolution—that’s bullying.”

“someone’s got to keep you in check,” you quipped.

he chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “alright, smartypants, my turn. my resolution is…” he paused for effect, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “to beat you at mario kart at least once this year.”

you gasped, sitting up. “you’ll never win, and you know it. i’m untouchable on rainbow road.”

“don’t get cocky, love. i’ve been practicing.”

the playful banter dissolved into laughter, and before you knew it, the countdown began on the tv. george grabbed the remote, turning the volume up slightly as the two of you leaned forward, watching the seconds tick away.

“ten… nine… eight…”

george turned to you, his expression softening as the excitement built.

“five… four…”

his hand cupped your cheek, and you felt your heart flutter at the way his blue eyes sparkled under the warm light.

“three… two…”

and just as the clock struck midnight, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was somehow both tender and exhilarating. his hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the faint sound of cheers and fireworks filled the room.

when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a crooked smile on his lips. “happy new year, love. here’s to more mario kart losses and mismatched socks.”

you laughed, your arms wrapping around his neck. “and here’s to you admitting defeat gracefully—for once.”

“never,” he teased, pulling you in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment eclipsing everything else.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the kitchen was alive with the warm, comforting smells of garlic, tomatoes, and freshly baked bread. you stood at the counter, carefully chopping vegetables while carlos manned the stove, his sleeves rolled up and his brow furrowed in concentration. the soft hum of music played in the background, occasionally drowned out by the laughter and chatter of his family from the living room.

“you’re going to burn that if you keep stirring it like that,” you teased, glancing over at carlos, who was fiercely focused on the pot of sauce in front of him.

“¡por favor! i know what i’m doing,” he retorted, though the way he immediately lowered the heat betrayed his confidence.

you couldn’t help but laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before stepping over to him. “move over, chef sainz. let me save your sauce before it turns into soup.”

carlos shot you a playful glare but stepped aside, crossing his arms as he watched you with a mock pout. “this was supposed to be my moment of glory.”

“you can have your moment when you’re not about to ruin dinner for your family,” you said, giving him a sly grin.

he leaned against the counter, his eyes following your every move. “you’re lucky you’re cute when you boss me around.”

“and you’re lucky i’m here to stop you from poisoning your parents,” you quipped, shooting him a wink.

by the time dinner was ready, the two of you had settled into a seamless rhythm, laughing and bickering as you plated the food together. when you brought everything to the table, his family erupted into applause, making carlos puff out his chest dramatically.

“see? they love it,” he said, nudging you with his elbow as you sat beside him.

“they love us,” you corrected. “big difference.”

carlos’s father raised his glass, giving you both an approving nod. “to carlos and y/n—the dream team of the kitchen. ¡feliz año nuevo!”

after the lively meal and several rounds of stories, games, and champagne toasts, the countdown to midnight began. everyone gathered in the living room, and carlos tugged you closer to his side, his arm draped comfortably around your waist.

as the clock ticked down, carlos leaned in close, his voice low in your ear. “you know, i think we make a pretty good team.”

“only when you let me take charge,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful smirk.

“or maybe it’s because i keep you on your toes,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“three… two…”

the room exploded into cheers, hugs, and clinking glasses, but carlos only had eyes for you.

“happy new year, cariño,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of warmth as he leaned in to kiss you.

the world seemed to melt away as his lips met yours, the kiss tender yet filled with the kind of unspoken promise that made your heart race. when you pulled back, his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“this year,” he said with a soft smile, “i just want more moments like this—with you.”

your cheeks warmed as you grinned back at him. “good thing we’ve got a whole year to make that happen.”

and with his family cheering and laughter ringing around you, you knew it was the perfect start to a year you’d always remember.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the cool mediterranean breeze swept across the balcony, carrying the faint sounds of celebration from the harbor below. monaco was alive—its lights sparkling like stars on earth, music drifting up from the yachts, and the occasional burst of fireworks lighting up the night sky.

you leaned against the railing, sipping champagne and admiring the view. “monaco really knows how to do new year’s, huh?”

charles stood beside you, swirling his glass of champagne with an effortless charm. “it’s all for you, of course,” he teased, the corners of his lips tugging into a playful smirk.

“oh, really?” you laughed, raising a brow. “they planned all this just because i’m here?”

“absolutely. i told them you were coming, and voilà.” he gestured dramatically toward the city below, then broke into a grin. “they went all out this year.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “sure they did, leclerc.”

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you’re completely at ease with someone. charles set his glass down on the table behind him, turning to lean his hip against the railing. his gaze lingered on you, soft and unguarded.

“you know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “this feels… different.”

you glanced at him, tilting your head. “different how?”

he shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “i’ve spent so many new year’s eves here—on the yachts, at loud parties, with people everywhere. but none of them ever felt like this.”

you smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “is this the part where you tell me i’m better company than pierre?”

charles groaned, rolling his eyes. “please don’t make me compare. if he hears about this, i’ll never live it down.”

“oh, come on,” you teased. “you can admit it—i’m way more fun than pierre.”

charles tried to keep a straight face but eventually broke into a laugh. “alright, fine. you’re more fun. but don’t tell him i said that. he’ll sulk for weeks.”

you laughed, and he shook his head, muttering something in french under his breath about how dramatic pierre could be. but his smile quickly softened as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “but seriously… you are better company. this—” he gestured between you two, “—this makes it all feel special. because you’re here with me.”

your playful smile faltered, replaced by something warmer. “charles…”

the countdown started below, a chorus of voices rising from the streets. “ten… nine…”

charles’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. “i mean it,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “you make everything better—except maybe your taste in music. that’s still questionable.”

you gasped, swatting his arm. “excuse me? my playlists are amazing!”

“sure they are,” he teased, his grin widening. “but maybe leave the djing to me next time.”

“five… four…”

“oh, you’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling out of you.

“three… two…”

“and yet, you love me,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing all at once.

“unfortunately,” you quipped, but your heart betrayed you with the way it fluttered as he leaned in.

“happy new year,” he whispered, right before his lips met yours.

the kiss was sweet and lingering, the distant fireworks and cheers fading into the background. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin unmistakably smug.

“bonne année, mon amour,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. “and don’t worry—there’s still hope for your playlists in the new year.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing as you swatted at him again. “keep talking like that, and you’re not getting any more kisses.”

he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “cruel! and here i was planning to share my champagne with you.”

“you already gave me my own glass,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“well, fine then,” he said with a mock pout, pulling you close again. “but i’m keeping all the kisses for myself this year.”

and as the next round of fireworks lit up the monaco sky, you couldn’t help but laugh and pull him in for another kiss, knowing you’d never get tired of his humor—or his love.

ʚ・lando norris

the living room was a cozy mess—pillows scattered on the couch, empty snack bowls on the coffee table, and a giant blanket fort you’d both built earlier in the evening. it had been the perfect new year’s eve: takeout, laughter, and lounging. that is, until lando got distracted by the game.

“lando, it’s eleven fifty-eight,” you said, standing by the tv with your hands on your hips, trying to look stern but failing miserably.

“two more minutes!” he replied, his voice laced with concentration as his fingers flew over the controller. his headset was perched haphazardly around his neck, and his tongue stuck out slightly in that signature "lando is focused" way.

“two more minutes, and you’ll miss the new year!” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he glanced at you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “relax, love. i’ve got time. this is the last round.”

you crossed your arms, raising a brow. “that’s what you said the last three rounds.”

“yeah, but this time i mean it!” he insisted, dodging imaginary bullets with his whole body as he mashed the buttons.

the clock on your phone read 11:59, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. “you are not starting the new year yelling at a bunch of strangers in a game lobby.”

“i’m not yelling!” lando protested, right as he shouted, “no! don’t steal my loot, you donkey!” into the microphone.

grabbing a throw pillow, you lobbed it at him, hitting him square in the face. he yelped and dropped the controller.

“hey!” he exclaimed, laughing as he dramatically fell back onto the couch. “that was an attack on a defenseless man!”

“you’ve got sixty seconds to get over here,” you warned, pointing to the spot next to you on the couch. “or i’m starting 2025 single.”

“such violent tendencies,” he teased, tossing the pillow back at you as he scrambled to his feet.

“thirty seconds, babe!”

with a dramatic sigh, lando yanked off his headset and dropped onto the couch beside you. “fine, fine. i’m here. happy?”

“ecstatic,” you deadpanned, grabbing the remote and switching the tv back to the countdown.

“ten… nine…”

lando grinned, slipping his arm around your shoulders. “see? plenty of time to spare. you stress too much, love.”

you gave him a look. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“four… three…”

he leaned closer, his nose brushing yours. “and you’re lucky i’m absolutely obsessed with you.”

the words caught you off guard, and your heart flipped as he closed the distance just as the countdown hit zero.

“happy new year,” he murmured against your lips, his kiss soft but filled with that playful energy you loved so much about him.

when he pulled back, his grin was smug. “bet you’re glad i finished my game now, yeah?”

“don’t push your luck, norris,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

he laughed, pulling you closer into his side. “alright, alright. but admit it—it’s a pretty great start to the year, isn’t it?”

you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand finding his. “yeah, it is. but next year? no gaming past eleven.”

“we’ll see,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “but if i’m gaming, i promise you’ll still get your kiss—pillow attacks or not.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

“so… how many times are you going to rewind that scene?” you asked, glancing up at oscar, who was focused on the screen.

he gave you an exaggerated pout. “it’s a crucial moment in the movie!” he said, pressing the rewind button again. “you don’t get it. this is the best part.”

you snorted, resting your head against his chest. “you’ve already watched it three times in the past ten minutes.”

oscar smiled sheepishly, letting out a small laugh. “what can i say? it’s a masterpiece.”

you rolled your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “you’re such a dork. and you’re going to miss midnight if you keep watching this masterpiece.”

oscar glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at the screen. “you know what? you’re right.” he paused the movie, throwing the remote on the couch before adjusting the blanket around you both. “we should probably focus on the important stuff.”

“like… me?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

he shot you a grin. “obviously.”

you snorted, then turned your attention to the window. outside, the city lights twinkled, and you could hear the distant sound of fireworks and people celebrating. the air felt warm despite the cool night, the kind of warmth that wrapped around you like a hug.

“three minutes,” you said, glancing at your phone. “if you’re gonna kiss me at midnight, you better start thinking of something romantic, piastri.”

oscar raised an eyebrow at you. “oh, don’t worry, i’ve got it all planned out. it’ll be so romantic, you’ll be swooning.”

“uh-huh. sure. i’m waiting.”

he grinned, leaning back into the couch and pulling you closer into his side. “honestly, though, i’m just happy to be here. no fireworks, no fancy parties. just you, me, and… this movie that i’ll probably rewatch a hundred more times.”

you chuckled, resting your head against his shoulder. “you really are the definition of a homebody.”

“i’m not complaining,” he said, squeezing you gently. “this is the best way to spend new year’s. plus, you’re here with me. that’s the important part.”

“flatterer,” you said, but your heart was melting just a little.

the countdown to midnight started in the background—someone’s phone ringing out in the distance, fireworks popping in the air. the quiet excitement was a nice contrast to the usual loud, chaotic celebrations, and you couldn’t help but feel content.

“ten… nine…”

oscar looked down at you, his expression soft. “you know, i’m really glad we’re doing this,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “like, this is honestly the best way to start the year.”

you grinned up at him. “well, i’m glad you’re here with me. this is way better than any party.”

“two… one…”

oscar leaned in closer, his lips brushing your forehead as the seconds ticked down. “happy new year, love,” he murmured, just before the fireworks went off outside, signaling the start of another year.

you turned your face up to meet his, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours—soft and sweet, with the warmth of his kiss making everything feel just right. you kissed him back, smiling into the moment, not caring about anything else in the world.

when you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, grinning like you’d just won a prize. “okay, that was a solid kiss. i’m impressed.”

oscar laughed, his thumb gently tracing your hand. “told you i could be romantic when i try.”

and as the night drifted on, the two of you stayed in that cozy little world of yours—no big parties, no grand fireworks—just the comfort of each other’s presence, the perfect way to welcome in the new year.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[httpscameron]

aftercare with simon riley

simon is obviously a rough man and a big one, he knows youre gonna be feeling sore. he runs you a bath with all the expensive bath salts you had brought over the years and a nice glug of bubble bath. simon riley will carry you to a bathtub not to prove anything but youre tender so why waste your energy on walking when he can carry you.

a bath is one of those things he consistently does for aftercare he finds it important. its a little moment to relax and let yourself have a moment.

he gets you a bottle of water and a drink of whatever youre fancying, he of course gets you some food too. sex with him is an entire workout.

he doesnt get in the bath with you because he will have a shower later but he sits on the floor next to you, even if you guys sit in silence he likes to sit there and basically confirm that youre okay. it soothes him alot, knowing youre safe and fine.

afterwards he gets you rested in bed your tv show on and whatever you need before he takes his own shower. washing away the sweat and fluids and allowing himself to relax himself.

aftercare is so so important for the both of you and you find that time when you just chill without each other for a little bit more beneficial but afterwards there is of course cuddles and kisses and a nap.

a/n - i just remembered i love ghost so , also aftercare extremely important 🙏

masterlist

[gtgbabie0]

i’m obsessed with your domestic wifey fic, the idea of vi being a mom is so cute. you should totally do another one where the reader is pregnant and vi is all sweet and protective. i would respectfully pass away

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Vi x Pregnant!Reader

Synopsis: {Vi gets protective over you during your pregnancy, especially when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too much} AN: thank you sm! Hope you like it lovely <3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

“Baby, will you please go and sit down?” Vi sighs, completely exasperated, concern swimming through those pretty blue eyes of hers. You loved her, really you did, but this constant hovering around you was slowly starting to drive you up the wall.

You had both returned from food shopping, now waddling your way around the kitchen to put away the groceries— hand resting over the swell of your stomach as you reach up to the cupboards and bend down to grab bags much to Vi’s dismay.

“I’m fine, it’s just—” you tell her with a tight-lipped smile, about to turn around to put the cans of soup into the cupboard when she huffs, taking the cans from you before putting them away herself, her brows knitted together tightly.

You want to scream but then her hands are resting over your hips, smoothing across your baby bump with such a gentle expression, her face softening and that small smile splays across her heart-shaped lips and you melt completely— shoulders dropping.

“Go sit down before I superglue your gorgeous ass to the couch.” Then the baby kicks beneath Vi’s palm, traitor, and her smile turns into a cocky smirk. “See peanut agrees with me… she wants her momma to go and relax.” her eyes glistened with complete adoration at the feeling, she’d never get bored of it, it was why she had her hands over your belly constantly.

You huff, pursing your lips out in a disapproving pout because every single hormone in your body wants to be stubborn and tell her that she’s being ridiculous and that you can handle putting away a few bags of groceries but—

“You’ve been on your feet all day, bet your back is killing.” Your wife continues, of course, she does. You hate how right she is, because god your back is killing from waking around that store for a good half an hour, it’s really done you in.

Then just to prove her point she trails one of her hands across your waist, her fingers pushing against the small of your back in tiny circles and you couldn't stop the groan that escapes your lips even if you wanted to— “You’re being so mean.”

“Oh I know, I’m the meanest…” she coos back pressing a kiss to the side of your head, then another, smirking against your hairline. “Go sit down, I’ll finish up here then I’ll give you a nice back rub, yeah?”

“Mm, fine… fine.” You concede, letting her tilt your head to look at her so she can peck your pouty lips— mumbling a small “Love you,” into the kiss.

Vi had one leg propped up on the sofa, bent at the knee and the other stretched out on the floor with you sitting in between her thighs whilst her hands massaged over your back— enjoying every little noise that escaped you.

“How’s that huh?” She asks, thumbs pressing slow circles into the small of your back. You nod your head in approval, “Yeah, right there.” that ache was the centre of all your problems right now— and telling from the way you lean back against her chest with a satisfied hum she knows she’s doing a pretty damn good job at soothing it. “There you go, s’that better?”

Vi hooks her chin over your shoulder, her hands smoothing across your waist to rub the curve of your tummy with a tender kiss against your jaw— “Much better.”

The feeling of her humming reverberates through your back and you relax further against her chest, enjoying the way she nuzzles her nose against your warm cheek— her hands still resting over your stomach that was peaking beneath your shirt.

“You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful.” She whispers, words muffled against your warm skin as she presses her face further into the crook of your neck— peppering you with soft kisses, against your fluttering pulse point and the pair of you share a gasp when you feel the baby kick once more, hearts so full of love.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

[secondhandhandyhaversack]

This is some low level amateur writer's addition to this post, but half the reason it feels so sincere is because you never have to leave the setting of Middle Earth while you are reading the book. Every word, phrase, paragraph, whatever, in that book is written so that it keeps you directly in the setting. Ursula K. LeGuin called it something like the language of fantasy, where word choice and the way something is written keeps you in a world separate from your own, and never forces you to jump between your own world and the world of the fiction. Tolkien rarely, if ever, relied on modernisms, even in narration, which creates a feeling of weight and dignity to the writing, and helps the flow of the story. He also had a firm understanding of rhythm, and the rhythm of the prose changes several times in the story to showcase that. All of these things add up so that when there are moments of tenderness, moments of intrigue, moments of anxiety, moments of fear, moments of triumph, you not only understand them academically as you read the words, but you feel them more viscerally. The books are as powerful as they are because writing is art, and writers who understand how to make the art, create impact.

In addition, Tolkien wrote his novels in a time when fantasy was considered unworthy of the craft of writing. It was fantasy, stories for children, secondclass to more "pure" fiction that showcased reality. He wrote it because he loved it, and because he had a story to tell. If he did hope to make money from its publishing, it probably was not much. Fantasy as a popular genre is a relatively new development. In essence, the fact that he cared about it is precisely the reason it was written.

I would also like to add, not as any form of argument or counter to the post, but rather as a supporting argument, that there are many books and many authors who have similar impact, and similar or even more artistry in their writing, if you are willing to seek them out.

the lord of the rings is so honest. so raw. so sincere. so unabashedly from the heart. no snide fourth wall jokes, no attempts to alleviate the heaviness. it is is wholeheartedly earnest in its dedication to portraying hope and love and faith and loyalty and courage, and that is what makes it feel like home to so many of us. it’s true to itself. it doesn’t pretend to be cool and care less. it cares, a lot, and that is a rare, beautiful thing. it warms our hearts to care for a piece of fiction that was made to care about and be cared about

[hyunsuloves]

can we get more myung gi/ player 333 oneshots/hcs plsss (if u can)💕💕

boyfriend myung-gi in the games.

warnings … there may be some typos, i apologize

lovely notes … ask & you shall receive ml 🙂‍↕️

꩜ [ 600 words ]

boyfriend myung-gi who cherishes the small moments with you. the moments after games, moments right before lights out, and even the minuscule moments like when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the room.

boyfriend myung-gi who lets you get in line before him because you’re his top priority, always.

boyfriend myung-gi who always gives you a share of his food. he doesn’t care about you saying you “don’t want it”, he insists that you stay more fed than him. he’ll put your well-being before his every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who is wary of all the other contestants, even more with you in the games with him. he doesn’t trust them, nor does he want you to blindly trust them.

boyfriend myung-gi who makes a silent vow to himself to protect you at the start of every game. he puts your welfare before his every time, so he will defend you with his entire life.

boyfriend myung-gi who always has a vice grip on your hand. whether you’re in a game, waiting to vote, or doing something so mundane such as sitting next to one another. he likes to feel you at all times, it anchors him in a way

boyfriend myung-gi who squeezes your hand just a bit tighter when thanos or nam-gyu walks by. they’re the last people he wants to get near either of you, so of course he feels a need to protect you.

boyfriend myung-gi who always moves your head to rest on his shoulder when sitting next to one another. or he places his head to rest on your lap. he just wants to be near you, is all.

boyfriend myung-gi who always wakes up before you. you sleep in his bed, and he can’t help himself but wake up a few hours before you. he enjoys the mere moments when he can have you in his arms without any concerns.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s the first to acknowledge you when you walk into a room. his eyes immediately shift to you when he’s in the same vicinity as you. it was like a magnetic force pulled his eyes to you every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who covers your eyes when other participants die. if possible, he’s going to shield you from the horror that is the reality of the death game you’re in. the last thing he wants you to see is lifeless bodies dropping left and right.

boyfriend myung-gi who randomly says “i love you”. he wants to remind you of his unwavering love all the time, of course.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s only level-minded around you. you’re the only one who can ground him because god knows how unbalanced he’d get without you.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s constantly near you during every game. red light, green light? you’re behind him. six-legged pentathlon? you’re obviously on the same team as him. mingle? you’re in every single group with him. other participants may see it as clinginess, but both of you see it as myung-gi protecting you with his everything.

boyfriend myung-gi who would quite literally fall to his knees if you got injured. he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got wounded under his observation.

boyfriend myung-gi who has the most extravagant plans for when the both of you get out of the games. he has dozens of date plans just for when you make it out.

boyfriend myung-gi who sometimes feels like he doesn’t deserve you. you’re the only constant in the cruelty that you both found yourselves in. and he feels so undeserving of you and your tenderness so often.

[lyvhie]

hi!! I read your nct dream x reader who's shy during sex and as a haechan bias UGH. I busted. /j but fr, I need to see more on meanie haechan x shy reader, any thoughts?? :3

on my terms | lee donghyuck

lee haechan x fem!reader (18+ mdni) ꒰ summary ꒱ haechan likes to have fun with you. ꒰ a/n ꒱ HIIIII ANON!! ok, so, um, i'm also totally in love (obsessed) with haechan and, haha, this was supposed to be super short, but i kinda got a little carried away oops! BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! ꒰ cw ꒱ smut, fingering, mirror sex, praise, edging, pet names (baby, pretty girl, love, good girl).

haechan would have the time of his life with a shy girlfriend, teasing you would be his favorite pastime. a simple kiss, whether in public or private, would be enough to make you crumble, burying your face in his chest as if that could somehow make you invisible, sex wouldn't be any different.

what he enjoyed most, though, was the process of getting you there. he'd spend the entire day building anticipation, teasing you at every opportunity. his kisses would linger just a little longer, his tongue brushing against yours with a tenderness that felt almost deliberate, as though he were savoring you. his hands would explore your body in the same slow, calculated way, teasing the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath it to let his fingertips graze your warm skin, sending shivers through you. then, they'd trail down your thighs, lingering close enough to your core to drive you wild, but soon withdrawing it.

just that, and he already had you in the palm of his hand. it wouldn't take long before you found yourself subtly grinding against his thigh while cuddling, trying to play it off as innocent but failing miserably. you wanted him to notice your desires, yet you were far too embarrassed to openly admit it. of course, he was fully aware of what you were doing, he always was. after all, he'd orchestrated the entire situation. but he loved to pretend he was engrossed in the boring movie playing on the screen, just to see how long you'd last before finally breaking and telling him what you wanted.

occasionally, he'd shift his leg ever so slightly, pretending it was just to get comfortable, but it would send a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. he'd smirk to himself, knowing exactly what he was doing.

finally, when you couldn't stand it anymore, you'd whisper his name, your voice shaky and almost inaudible. "hyuck...” he'd hum in response, his gaze still fixed on the screen as though he hadn't noticed the way your hands gripped his shirt or the way your breath grew uneven. "what is it, baby?" his tone was casual, teasing, as if he didn't have you squirming in his lap.

you'd hesitate, biting your lip, unsure of how to put your thoughts into words. he'd shift his attention to you, finally locking eyes with you. "do you need something, pretty?" his voice low and dripping with amusement as his hands rested lightly on your hips, fingers teasingly brushing your skin. "or were you just planning to keep using my thigh like that?"

his words would make you freeze, your face now fully buried in his chest to hide yourself. his hand would tilt your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “c'mon," he'd coax, his lips brushing yours in the softest tease. "you've been so bold all night... don't get shy on me now.”

you knew he wouldn't give you what you wanted unless you said it out loud, but the thought of voicing your need felt impossible. still, a small part of you hoped he'd have mercy this time and let you off the hook. "fine, baby," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his tone mockingly sweet. "since you won't tell me, you can keep using me like you were. but don't expect me to help."

his words sent a jolt through you, and you instinctively clutched at his shirt, your grip tight as you leaned closer. "n-no, hyuck, please!" you blurted out, your voice trembling.

“oh? are you this desperate, my love?” he murmured, his voice dripping with the same mock affection as his hand cupped your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. you felt a pang of embarrassment at the way he worded it. “just tell me what you want, and i’ll give it to you, hm?” he coaxed, his tone soft, almost soothing, yet laced with that familiar teasing edge that always left you reeling.

his proximity, his touch, his voice—it was all too much, and yet not enough. a small pout curled on your lips as you looked at him with wide, pleading eyes, but it did nothing to unsettle him, despite the way it made his heart race.

you parted your trembling lips, finally gathering the courage to voice your need. "i... i want you," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as the words left your mouth. they weren't explicit, nor were they clear, but they were the most you could manage in that moment.

donghyuck couldn't help but grin at the sight. god, you were so adorable. "see? was that so hard?" he teased, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. the simple gesture did wonders to ease your nerves, reassuring you that he was pleased with your request and didn't expect more. his hands moved to your thighs, gently tracing the inner side until his fingers brushed against your clothed center, causing you to gasp. "if my babe wants me so badly, who am i to say no?”

and just when you thought things would turn tender, that he might finally give you what you craved, you were met with a cruel twist, exactly as haechan liked.

"look at this," he cooed into your ear, his tone dripping with mockery. "you're such a mess, love."

he wasn't wrong. your reflection in the mirror said it all—disheveled hair, tear-streaked cheeks, and trembling body laid bare in his control. behind you, his chest pressed firmly against your back as his fingers slid torturously slow along the slick, swollen slit of your cunt. his hand glistened with your arousal, a damning evidence of how much you wanted him, even as your weak moans turned into frustrated whimpers.

his fingers teased your entrance but never dipped inside, never gave you the satisfaction you so desperately craved. your legs shook from the strain of being spread so widely, the position leaving you completely exposed to both him and the mirror. every movement, every reaction, was laid bare for his hungry eyes. and still, all he did was edge you, over and over again, driving you to the brink before cruelly pulling back.

your head fell back against his shoulder, seeking some reprieve, but his hand quickly found your chin, gripping it firmly and guiding your gaze back to the mirror. "eyes here," he commanded, his voice low and sharp as his dark eyes met yours in the reflection. "you keep looking away, that's why i can't make you feel good, princess," a shiver ran through you as his lips brushed against your neck, nibbling softly before soothing the spot with a tender kiss. "if you keep your eyes here," he murmured, his voice almost sweet, "i promise i'll let you finish, hm? do we have a deal?”

you nodded desperately, your eyes wide and pleading as they stayed locked on the mirror, his grin widened, his satisfaction evident. it was almost humiliating-there you were, utterly bare before him, your body trembling with need, while he remained fully clothed, looking effortlessly composed. you felt so exposed, so vulnerable, more than you ever thought possible.

"that's it, baby," he cooed, his voice dripping with approval as his hand trailed down your body. his fingers found your folds, parting them slowly, deliberately, to showcase your dripping, swollen cunt in the reflection. "look at this," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “so beautiful, and all of it just for me, my love."

he kept you spread open, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as a single finger traced up your slick slit, gathering your arousal. the soft glide sent a tremor through your body, a broken moan falling from your lips.

"you see that?" he teased, his gaze flickering between your reflection and the mess between your legs. "this perfect little pussy is calling for me, listen to these lewd sounds,” he hummed in approval.

you might've wanted to crawl out of your skin from the vulnerability of it all if it weren't for the intoxicating pleasure he was finally granting you. after craving him the entire day, every small touch he gave your core felt like salvation. haechan's satisfied smile deepened when you kept your gaze fixed on the mirror, obediently following his instructions. it seemed you'd earned a reward.

“mhm, keep looking, love," he murmured, his teeth grazing your earlobe before he slid a single finger inside you. the intrusion, after being deprived for so long, made you gasp sharply, a loud, unrestrained moan escaping your lips. his brows lifted slightly in surprise at the sound, and then his grin turned wicked. "oh, would you look at that," he teased, his tone dripping with delight. "what a beautiful sound you just made, pretty girl.”

his lips pressed to your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin as he felt his cock stir in his pants. usually, it took him more effort to coax you out of your shy reluctance to let your moans escape freely. despite always telling you how much he loved hearing you, how lovely and utterly sinful those sounds were, it still took time. but right now? right now, you couldn't hold back if you tried.

he groaned softly as he felt the tight grip of your walls clench around his finger, proof of just how much you'd been aching for him. "so eager," he cooed, easing a second finger inside. the stretch had your back arching slightly, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself as he began to pump in and out of you with a steady, deliberate pace.

the slick sounds of your arousal filled the room, mixing with your soft cries of pleasure, and the sight in the mirror was almost too much to handle. his fingers worked you expertly, the angle perfect, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the way he used your body.

"there you go," he praised, his voice low and husky. "see how good you look taking me? keep watching, princess," and to your own surprise, you found yourself liking it, relishing the way he made you feel both vulnerable and desired, the heat between you building into something unbearable and addictive.

his free hand slid upward, cupping your breast with a firm grip. he kneaded the soft flesh, his fingers finding your hardened nipple and pinching it sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and your head fell back onto his shoulder, baring your neck to him. it was an open invitation, one he didn't hesitate to accept, pressing hot kisses and gentle bites against your exposed skin, leaving faint marks.

he could feel how your breathing hitched, hear the soft whimpers that grew louder with each passing second, and notice the slight tremble in your thighs as you grew more desperate. your moans became high-pitched, barely restrained, and he knew you were close.

his thumb found your clit, rubbing it in tight, quick circles as his fingers plunged into you faster and deeper. the dual stimulation was too much, driving you to the edge you'd been teetering on for what felt like forever.

“you're gonna cum already, baby?" he purred, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. "y-yes," you mewled, your voice breathy and trembling. "f-feels so good, hyuck."

your head felt like it was floating in the clouds, every nerve in your body alight with sensation as his relentless pace pushed you closer and closer to release. his grip on you tightened, anchoring you to him as he guided you toward the inevitable.

"that's my girl," he praised, his tone dripping with approval. "come on, love. let go for me. i want to feel you."

it was so good, too good. the pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel the knot in your core tightening, ready to snap and finally give you the release you'd been chasing. Your body trembled, your breath caught, and just as the wave of ecstasy began to crest, he slowed. his fingers stilled, pulling back ever so slightly, leaving you teetering agonizingly on the edge.

a broken, frustrated cry escaped your lips, filling the room. he chuckled softly, the sound dark and full of amusement, as he nipped at your ear. "n-no, no, no, hyuck, please," you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. your hips bucked instinctively, seeking the friction he'd just stolen away, but he was quicker.

“ah, ah," he tsked, removing his hand just enough to deliver a sharp, teasing slap to your soaked cunt, the sting making you gasp. "don't be greedy," he scolded gently, though the smirk on his lips betrayed how much he enjoyed your reaction.

your thighs quivered as you tried to press them together, the lingering ache of denied pleasure making you feel helpless. his other hand gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes through the mirror. "you'll get what you want," he promised, his voice low and teasing. "but on my terms, love. be patient.”

tears of frustration pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you nodded weakly, your need for him overpowering any resistance. his fingers returned to your entrance, moving slower this time, deliberately building the tension back up. "good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “now, let's see if you can behave.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[chryso-poeia]

Lately i’ve felt that feeling good despite whatever’s going on really, is a matter of realizing that i am mortal, my time here is short lived, my breath and heart is sacred, because i exist. Then there’s the nurturing of the good in day to day life, as to me, a good life is a good day in repeat. Good habits, exercise, sunlight, open hearts, open seas, deep ancient forests, good food, good entertainment, new enviournments, new challenges, new men, good convos, good sex, good sleep, good knowledge, humour, my favourite music, the right words and mindsets.

Furthermore, to place my boundaries and the consequent feeling of empowerment and self-honoring. Of being authentic, totally. Of being myself as a tool to give others the ability to also do so. Because i exist as i am, if i didn’t, there’d be no need. But i do… i exist.

Of feeling loved, of being compassionate with myself out of understanding all my parts, of acting out of love. Of knowing that i’ve got my own back. Not according to ideas of toxic positivity, no, instead: feeling whatever’s needs expression and then engaging in that gradual moment to moment shift into wellbeing, non-forced, more on a suggestive basis.

A careful orchestration, the smaller things actively creating and refining the personal universe. Like a quiet inner revolution of creation, over and over until i am lighter, until i am as i am, because i am. Audacious, radiant and unapologetic. With a heart that beats in alignment with my tender inner wilderness and fiery passions. Riding the waves…. Riding the waves…

[thef1diary]

What if you surprised dirtbag!carlos with your own pierced 🍒? And he insists on using his mouth to help with the soreness

— I love this, nonnie! Dirtbag!carlos au is just basically both of you getting piercings loll but hey imagine his tongue piercing clashing with your nipple piercing 👀 18+ content below

The second Carlos steps through the door, you can’t keep it in anymore. It’s been over a week since you’ve seen him, and the anticipation has been eating you alive. He barely has time to drop his keys on the counter before you lift your shirt, baring your chest to him with a sly grin.

“Missed me?” you tease, pressing your tits together to make them look even fuller, the new piercings gleaming under the light.

Carlos stops in his tracks, his dark eyes locking onto you like a predator spotting prey. His tongue runs across his bottom lip, the silver ball of his tongue piercing catching the light as he does. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he mutters, stepping closer, his gaze glued to your chest.

You bite your lip, tilting your head playfully as you gauge his reaction. “Got them pierced for you,” you say, your voice coy but laced with intent. “Wanted to surprise you. They’re still a little sore, though.”

Carlos groans, low and guttural, as if the words physically hit him. “You’re gonna be the death of me, nena,” he growls, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His hands grab your hips, his grip rough as he pulls you flush against him.

He ducks his head, brushing his nose against one of the bars. “Still tender, huh?” he murmurs, his lips barely grazing your skin. “Let me help you break them in.”

The first flick of his tongue is both a shock and a relief. The cool metal of his piercing meets yours, a sharp jolt of almost-painful pleasure shooting through you. You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders as he starts working his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes over your nipple, teasing the sensitive skin around the bar.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you whimper, the sensation so intense it leaves you trembling.

“That feel good?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but dripping with smug satisfaction. He switches to the other nipple, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “Bet it does. Waited a whole week for me, hm? To take care of these for you.”

“Carlos,” you whine, your voice shaky as he sucks harder, his hand cupping your other tit, his thumb circling over the piercing there.

“Shh, nena,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and soothing, but the wicked smirk curling his lips betrays him. “Let me take care of you. You went through all this trouble just for me, didn’t you?”

Your answer is lost in the breathy sounds spilling from your lips as his tongue works over the piercing in slow, deliberate strokes. The press of his own piercing adds a delicious friction, the combination of pain and pleasure sending sparks through your body.

He doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands everywhere, pulling reactions from you that are completely beyond your control. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth is calculated, relentless, designed to push you closer to the edge of sanity. Your back arches, your fingers threading into his hair as if holding him there will somehow ground you.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, and his eyes are gleaming with something feral.

“Gonna need a lot more time with these,” he says, his voice rough, thick with desire as his dark eyes lock onto yours. His thumbs stroke the sides of your tits, his touch almost reverent despite the hunger written all over his face.

You nod, unable to do anything else under the weight of his gaze. His lips curve into a dangerous grin, his teeth catching the edge of his bottom lip as he studies you.

“When they’re fully healed, princesa,” he purrs, his tone equal parts promise and threat, “I’ll spoil you with all kinds of jewelry—delicate chains, maybe some clamps. Ones that attach to these pretty little bars. Think you can handle that?”

A shiver runs through you at the thought, a needy whimper escaping your lips, and his smirk deepens. “You’d look so fucking good,” he adds, his voice dropping to a growl. “All dressed up, just for me.”

want more dirtbag!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[buck-star]

I met them, and now I’m their princess

You met them, and now you’re more than just their good friend. You’re their princess, the bikers princess.

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader x Biker!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 1.631 Words

Warnings/Tags: tiny bit of angst, fluff, love confession, more fluff

Authors Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hope you all had a nice start into the year and have a lot of happiness and whatever you wish this year! So here’s a little “Drabble” with our beloved Super soldiers for the start of the year. Divider made by me.

It’s a collaboration with @mercurial-chuckles. We thought it could be a cute idea to have a similar title and use the same prompt to start in the new year. Her work: I met them, and now I’m their queen.

Events: Stucky community prompt-list [Confession before the new year starts to get it off their chest], Marvel OC Hub [SB6010 | Row Three-One | Do you trust me? | @marvel-oc-hub], Stucky Bingo [N5 | Friends to lovers | @stuckybingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

You're sitting on the sill of your window in your small apartment. Your eyes are searching the sky for the fireworks that light up the dark night. They follow every little sparkle until they disappear in the night sky, each one following a soft sigh that escapes your lips.

Your eyes are filled with longing — a longing for warmth and the love you feel whenever you're around two people. Two bikers to be exact. Unfortunately, those two people are happy with one another, while you're just their good friend.

If someone watches those big, muscular bikers looking at one another with that sweet, soft expression, affection written all over their face, they wouldn't believe those two are real. They look like the perfect gay couple out of a romance, maybe even the perfect movie.

You didn't mind any of it at all. They are sweet with you, friendly and polite like the perfect gentlemen. But at some point — where the sweetness warmed your heart more than it should, and their smile caused butterflies to go wild in your stomach — you feel slowly but deeply for these two bikers.

While others would admire them for their muscles, their perfect figure, or them just being bikers, for you, it's the soft smile that mostly matches the one they share with one another. Their ocean-blue eyes, which have that adorable sparkle in them when they are happy or excited — especially when they look at you. It's the way the sound of their rough, low voices sounds like honey when they talk to you and the softness and tenderness they always have around you. There is never a hint of fear or embarrassment, no matter what they do; as long as it's the three of you, there is only happiness and laughter being shared.

They even invited you to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them. While your heart was racing and you smiled brighter than ever, you told them you would be busy, trying to find an — any — excuse to not celebrate with them. As much as your heart was screaming at you to say yes, to spend the night with your favorite bikers, you just couldn't. Your mind told you not to, to not bother them while they share that evening with one another; you didn't want to disturb their special moment, and so you prefer when they have New Year's Eve just for themselves — that's at least what you try to tell yourself.

A sudden, loud noise makes you flinch, and your eyes focus on what's happening on the street outside your apartment. You blink. Once. Twice. Only when the two familiar bikes and the broad men on them are still there do you believe that this isn't a dream or any kind of hallucination. They are really there; Bucky and Steve are standing in front of your apartment, talking about something you don't understand while they park their bikes.

Bucky’s the first who takes off his helmet, shaking his head and causing his long, brown hair to fly in the cold wind of the night before they settle down perfectly. He’s always doing it, knowing how much you love when he does that, just as much as you love to run your fingers through his thick hair; it always makes your heart flutter.

Except you and Steve, there's no one who's allowed to touch Bucky's hair. He loves it too much and doesn't like it being a mess, but if you or Steve touch it, he doesn't care how he looks after. He would even laugh with his hair standing in all directions and him only looking hilarious; he would love that if it makes you happy.

Steve laughs softly, his blue eyes brighter when he watches his boyfriend and his little hair show. The blond-haired man runs his fingers through his short hair when he places his helmet on the bike and says something to Bucky once again. He then makes his way to your door; your eyes widen while you notice Steve walking in your direction and Bucky opening the bag he placed next to his bike on the ground.

You watch the scene through your window for a moment. Your eyes moving from Bucky to Steve and back to the brown-haired man. Before you see what Bucky pulls out of his bag, it knocks loudly at your door. You know it’s Steve, but you're too curious to see what Bucky has in his bag, so you remain where you are.

“I know you're there, princess,” Steve says, knocking once again. You huff softly but get up to open the door for Steve. The blond-haired man leans against the wall, a smirk plastered over his face, and he holds his hand out for you. “There you are. May we get your attention for a few minutes, princess? Trust me, you will love it.”

You nod, slightly confused about whatever they have planned. You thought they would celebrate it at their house together or maybe at the bar where they have their biker club meetings often. But it looks like they decided to celebrate in front of your apartment.

So you take your jacket from beside you and slide easily into your shoes before you take Steve's calloused hand. His soft smile is still on his face the whole time while his eyes roam over your body. “Thought you were busy. Busy watching the fireworks all alone from the window of your apartment?”

You blush softly, nodding your head. Bucky's low chuckle gets your attention when Steve nods toward him. It's like they had a bet on what you're planning to do when you said you would be busy. They know you too well, reading you like a book and knowing your overthinking well enough to know that you haven't planned anything but just didn't want to annoy them — which you never could.

Steve leads you further outside, stopping a few feet away from Bucky, who places some boxes on the ground, and you notice that those are fireworks. Bucky takes a few steps toward you, a wide grin on his face as he leans down to press his soft lips against your forehead. You immediately feel tingles in your stomach, and a shaky breath escapes your lips. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, almost purring when he notices it.

“Doll, I know— we know you said no to the invite, and you told us you're busy. But we—” Bucky says, interrupting himself for a moment. He looks at Steve, whose big hands are on your waist, pulling you tightly against his firm chest. Steve's strong arms wrap tightly around your waist. He lowers his head, his nose nudging against your neck. “We know you don't have plans, but… so we accept that you said no to the invite, but—”

“We couldn't start the new year knowing you would sit at home, all alone, longing for something you don't dare to ask for. And… we can’t start the new year without you around us, in our arms, princess,” Steve says, and your eyes widen slightly. Do they know? Did they find out about your feelings for them?

“We know about the feelings, babydoll. We know, and we... we waited for the perfect opportunity,” Bucky confesses. The confusion visible on your face. It feels like he can read your mind, but he can't, can he? Bucky walks back to the little boxes on the ground while Steve pulls you backwards. His lips trailing down your neck, he smirks against your skin when he notices the goosebumps he's causing.

After a moment, where Steve's closeness makes your heart race and your mind spin, you notice Bucky walking closer to the two of you again. He stays next to you, taking your smaller hand in his calloused one while he leans himself against Steve. The blond-haired lets one hand go and sneaks it around Bucky's waist, pulling him closer against the two of you. You're all looking at the sky, waiting for the fireworks to light up the dark night.

“We wanted to wait for this moment. Just before the fireworks will light up the night. We wanted to wait to make it special because you're the most precious and special thing to us. And we love you, princess,” Steve says, just when the fireworks start, your mouth drops open. Not just because of the amazing colors of the fireworks but also because of Steve's words.

“We are longing for you just like you do for us. We love you, not just like a friend. If you want, we would love to be with you. You, Stevie, and me,” Bucky mumbles and kisses your cheek softly. It's so familiar to you that you feel his soft lips against your skin, but it still makes you shiver slightly. You nod, a soft whimper escaping your lips when his lips keep lingering against your cheek and you can feel them turning upwards into that cute smile of his. You mumble a soft yes, agreeing to their idea to be their princess, to them being your bikers.

More fireworks light up the sky when you nod your head. Steve's strong arms pull you and Bucky tighter against him, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of them. Your eyes widen when you notice that there are hearts in different colors visible in the sky. They made personal fireworks just for that moment — they wanted it to be perfect, and they managed to make it perfect. Not just because of the fireworks but because you’re so close and being held so lovely by the two men you love more than anything. That was what you were looking for, the love you found in your favorite two bikers.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @blackhawkfanatic @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic [You can add yourself here.]

[ikkyfics]

may i req a remus fic? maybe smtg angsty? like hes dating the r for a bet? i lovee u anyways, I'll devour whatever remus fics u decided to write my love

Sweet Lies

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: Remus had come closer to you. He had said the right words, held your hand, kissed you with a tenderness that felt so real. But it was all a lie. All part of a stupid bet.

Warnings: angst

A/N:honey, I hope you like it and you are so sweet, saying these things that make my heart race - thank you so much <333333 I really hope this doesn't just sound like a stupid cliché

Masterlist

Remus Lupin entered your life like a comet: unexpected, bright, and impossible to ignore. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when you stopped seeing him as just another quiet student from your house and began to notice the quiet strength he carried. There was something in the way he seemed to notice the details that everyone else missed—a book you liked to carry with you, the slightly frustrated tone in his voice when someone interrupted you during a heated discussion about spells. He didn’t just see you, but seemed to understand the parts of you that no one else bothered to unravel.

You had always been calmer, more reserved. In a castle full of extravagant personalities and voices echoing down stone corridors, you were the type of person who preferred to observe. But Remus changed that. Not in a grand or obvious way, but with small gestures that slowly began to dismantle the walls you had built around yourself.

“You’re always so focused here,” he commented once, sitting beside you in a quiet corner of the library. His brown eyes shone with something that seemed like genuine admiration. “It’s like the world could end outside, and you wouldn’t even notice.”

You had laughed, trying to look away, but he didn’t give you room to escape. “Maybe because the world is calmer in here,” you replied, closing the book you were reading. “There aren’t as many distractions.”

“Is that so?” His tone was curious, almost challenging. “And me? Am I a distraction?”

He was. From the first moment he pulled a chair next to you, from the first time he asked if you needed help with that complicated spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts. His presence was a constant distraction—and one you didn’t want to escape.

Now, as you both walked across the school grounds, the night air bringing with it a chill that made the sky look even more starry, Remus held your hand gently. His fingers were long and slender, marked with scars he never fully explained, but which you had learned to recognize as an essential part of him.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, stopping in the middle of the path to look at you. The moonlight danced on his brown hair, tousled by the wind.

“Not really,” you lied, not wanting to break the moment.

Remus raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smile you knew was reserved for when he was about to challenge you. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

Before you could answer, he took off the scarf he was wearing and carefully wrapped it around your neck. The touch of his fingers brushing your skin made a pleasant warmth rise on your cheeks.

“All set,” he said, adjusting the scarf as if it were the most important thing in the world. “Now, no cold can get to you.”

You didn’t respond, simply pulling him by the collar of his robe, making him lean closer. Your lips met in a slow, peaceful kiss, a perfect reflection of how Remus made you feel. He was everything you didn’t know you needed: secure, warm, and a little broken, but somehow whole when he was by your side.

When you pulled away, his eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “If I could, I’d stay here forever,” he whispered, his voice deep but soft. “Just the two of us. Nothing else matters.”

"Remus," you called, hesitantly.

He turned his head toward you, his brown eyes shining with that familiar mix of curiosity and patience. "Hm?"

"Do you think people can really change? I mean... not just change on the outside, but on the inside too?" Your question slipped out before you could stop it, and for a moment, you almost regretted saying something so vulnerable.

Remus furrowed his brow, a subtle gesture you had learned to recognize as a sign that he was thinking deeply. "I think so," he replied carefully. "But it’s not easy. Changing means facing parts of yourself you’d rather ignore. And not everyone is willing to do that."

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight seemed to soften the lines of his face, making him almost ethereal. There was something comforting in the way he spoke, as if he understood things that no one else could.

"I’m asking because..." You paused, the hesitation tightening around your throat. Part of you wanted to pull back, keep what you were about to say hidden, like you always had. But his presence had a way of making you feel safe, as if nothing could hurt you while he was by your side. "Because sometimes, I feel like I’m... not enough. Like I’ll never be good enough for anyone."

His eyes met hers with an intensity that was almost unbearable. "Why do you think that?"

You shrugged, trying to keep a light tone that contradicted the pain in your words. "I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never been the one people choose. I’m... comfortable, but not memorable."

The silence that followed your words wasn’t empty. It was heavy, filled with something you couldn’t name. Remus squeezed your hand, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried an emotion you hadn’t expected.

"That’s not true," he said, almost in a whisper. "You’re so much more than you think you are. And if other people can’t see that, the problem is theirs, not yours."

The warmth in his words warmed something inside you, something that had long seemed dormant. You looked at him, searching for a clue in his brown eyes that always seemed to be full of secrets. He knew how to say the right things, but there was something in that response—a hesitation, a slight tremor in his voice—as if he carried an invisible weight.

"Do you really think that?" you asked, your voice filled with a vulnerability that was hard to admit.

Remus hesitated, just for a moment. It was such a small gesture that, if you weren’t paying attention, it could’ve gone unnoticed. But you did. The pause was brief, but enough for something inside you, something very small, to stir.

"I do," he finally replied, his voice firm now, as if he wanted to bury any doubt that might have arisen. "You’re incredible. And I want you to know that."

You believed him. There was no way to doubt him when he said things in that deep, conviction-filled tone. So, you let the moment pass, preferring the security of the present to questioning what might have caused his hesitation.

When he leaned in toward you again, pressing his lips to yours, you allowed yourself to believe that this was all that mattered. The kiss was calm, unhurried, but filled with something you couldn’t name. Maybe a silent promise.

The next few days passed like a dream for you. Everything seemed to align in almost a magical way. Remus was always around, with that soft smile and the eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul. He had a way of making even the simplest moments—like studying in the library or walking through the halls of Hogwarts—feel special.

You couldn’t help the smile that appeared whenever you thought of him. He made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered, like everything around you could fall apart, and yet you’d be safe as long as you were with him.

That afternoon, you were leaving the charms classroom when you heard familiar voices coming from a nearby corridor. The sound of laughter was the first thing that caught your attention, followed by the unmistakable tone of Sirius Black.

"You have to admit, Moony, it was brilliant," Sirius was saying, his voice full of amusement.

"I don’t know if brilliant is the right word," Remus replied, but there was a light tone to his voice, as if he was trying to hide something.

Curious and with a smile on your face, you made your way toward the voices. It was always nice to see Remus with his friends. He seemed so at ease with them, so different from the introspective Remus you knew. And you liked Sirius—he had that easy charm that made you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

But when you got close enough to see them, you stopped. They were facing away from you, meaning they hadn’t noticed your presence. Remus was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, while Sirius gestured animatedly.

"I still can’t believe you pulled it off," Sirius continued, laughing. "You know, of all of us, I thought you’d be the last to take a bet like that."

The smile on your face froze.

Remus sighed, looking uncomfortable. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Sirius."

"But it was, and it worked," Sirius insisted. "Thanks to you, Prongs finally got what he wanted. Lily agreed to go out with him. All because you got our friend here to think you were interested."

You couldn’t move. It was as if the ground had disappeared beneath your feet.

"I..." Remus hesitated, and for the first time, his voice sounded heavy. "It’s not that simple, Sirius. She... she trusts me. I didn’t want it to be like this."

"But it was," Sirius repeated, now with less enthusiasm. "And don’t tell me you didn’t know from the start that this was a bet. You agreed, Remus. And now... well, you know it’s not going to last forever."

You wanted to say something. You wanted to shout, cry, demand an explanation. But the words were stuck in your throat. Everything around you seemed to spin. The air was cold, but it felt like you were suffocating.

Remus had come closer to you. He had said the right words, held your hand, kissed you with a tenderness that felt so real. But it was all a lie. All part of a stupid bet.

Without realizing it, you took a step back, and the sound of your movement echoed down the corridor. They both turned immediately, and the expression on Remus’s face when he saw you was enough to break your heart.

"You heard," he whispered, his voice full of something that seemed like regret.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust your own voice. All you could do was look at him, your eyes filled with tears you refused to shed there, in front of them. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, and the pain in your chest was so intense it felt impossible to stay there for another second. So, you turned away, without saying a word, and began to walk, your steps quick and awkward, desperately trying to put distance between you.

"Wait!" Remus’s voice echoed down the corridor, full of urgency.

You didn’t stop. Not for a second. The tears burned in your eyes, threatening to fall, but you blinked furiously, determined not to let him see how much he had hurt you.

"Please, just... listen to me!" Remus insisted, now closer. You could hear the sound of his footsteps, hurried, as he tried to catch up with you.

"Leave me alone, Remus!" Your voice came out louder than you intended, broken by the knot in your throat. But you didn’t care. All you wanted was to disappear, to flee from that nightmare that seemed to be sucking the air from your lungs.

But he didn’t give up. Before you could take another step, you felt his hand grabbing your arm. The touch was firm, but not aggressive, as if he were afraid of hurting you even more.

"Please, listen to me," he pleaded, his voice low now, almost begging.

You turned toward him with a sharp movement, pulling your arm from his touch. "Listen to me?!" Your voice trembled, filled with hurt and disbelief. "What else can you say, Remus? That it was all a bet? That I was just a joke to you and your friends?!"

He shook his head so forcefully that his brown hair fell over his eyes. "It’s not like that, I swear! It wasn’t supposed to be like this..."

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this?!" You took a step back, as if his proximity was too much to bear. "Then tell me, how exactly was it supposed to be, Remus?!"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His silence was like a direct blow to your chest. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the pain, the guilt... but also the truth.

"It was real," he finally said, his voice hoarse, almost inaudible. "What I feel for you... it’s real. I know I messed everything up, but I need you to know that."

You laughed, but the sound was empty, almost cruel. "Real? You think that matters now? After everything? You got close to me to help James get a date with Lily, Remus. You used me. How... how can you say that’s real?"

He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. "I know it seems unforgivable, but please, believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I... I don’t even know when I started feeling this for you. But I do. I feel it so much it hurts."

"Well, congratulations," you shot back, your voice heavy with sarcasm and pain. "At least we’re on the same page. Because it hurts, Remus. It hurts so much that I can barely breathe. And you’re the reason for it."

The words came out before you could think, but they were true. He looked at you as if every syllable had been a blade. "I just wanted a chance to explain..."

"There’s nothing to explain," you interrupted, your voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "You’ve already said everything you needed. And I... I was foolish enough to believe in you."

You didn’t wait to see his reaction. Turning, you ran, ignoring his calls behind you. The tears finally fell, a cascade of pain you couldn’t contain any longer. And as you ran, you realized that no matter how fast your feet moved, there was no escaping the feeling of having entrusted your heart to someone who shattered it.

The following days were a blur of pain and emptiness. You felt like you were moving through life as a shadow of yourself, desperately trying to rebuild the walls you had torn down for him. Every brick you laid felt too heavy, as if the hurt and betrayal had drained all your strength.

Avoiding Remus was harder than you’d like. Hogwarts suddenly felt too small, with hallways that always seemed to lead him to you. But you refused to look into his eyes, to give any sign that he still had power over you. It was always the same: turn into another hallway, enter an empty room, or simply lower your head and keep walking.

You felt his gaze on you sometimes. Not insistently, but present. Like a shadow. He didn’t confront you directly, didn’t call your name out loud, but you knew he was there, at a distance, trying to find a moment when you weren’t so broken.

But you weren’t ready. Maybe you never would be.

Remus, on the other hand, seemed more worn out with each passing day. He clung to the routine like a man adrift, trying not to drown in the sea of guilt that consumed him. He knew he had no right to approach you, not after what he had done. But he also knew he couldn’t just leave things as they were.

He tried a few times, hesitantly, to approach you in the hallways. "Please, just a minute..." he had started on one occasion, but the way you ignored him, as if he didn’t exist, was worse than any response.

Other times, he simply watched from afar, waiting for a sign, anything that might indicate that you were willing to listen to him. But nothing came.

He threw himself into his studies, trying to find a distraction, but even that was useless. The words in the books seemed to dance, and he couldn’t focus for more than a few minutes. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of how it all started haunted him, cruel and relentless.

James had presented the idea casually, almost as a joke. "If you get close to her, Remus, I swear Lily will go out with me. She said she’d only agree when our grumpy friend finally had a boyfriend."

Remus remembered Sirius laughing when he heard the plan, how he had crossed his arms and commented on how impossible it would be to win you over. "She’s not the type to fall for tricks, Prongs."

But James, with that confident smile and unshakable determination, insisted. And Remus, for reasons he didn’t even fully understand at the time, agreed. Maybe it was James’s persistence, or the need to help his friend get what he wanted so badly. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe, deep down, he already knew there was something about you that intrigued him.

At first, that was all it was. A simple, almost harmless plan. He would get closer, gain your trust, and then James would have his chance with Lily. But nothing went as he expected.

You were different. From the very beginning, Remus realized there was something about you he couldn’t ignore. The way you spoke, with a calm tone but filled with passion for what mattered to you. The way you laughed, a sound that seemed to light up any room, even though it was rare. The way you looked at him, as if you saw beyond the scars and the calm facade he tried to maintain.

He started with small gestures: sitting next to you in class, starting casual conversations in the hallways. And every time you smiled at him, something inside him melted. He liked being the cause of that smile. He liked hearing you laugh, seeing your face soften when he made some silly comment to ease the tension.

And then came the kiss.

Remus would never forget that moment. He didn’t know exactly how it happened—maybe it was the way you looked at him that afternoon, the sun setting and bathing your face in golden tones, or maybe it was the way your soft laugh filled the silence between you. But he knew he couldn’t resist anymore.

When your lips met his, it was as if the world had stopped. There was no bet, no guilt, nothing but you. He felt his hand tremble slightly as it touched your face, but when you returned the kiss, when your fingers found their way into his hair, Remus knew that was the best moment of his life.

And that was why he couldn’t confess.

Every time he thought about telling you the truth, the fear paralyzed him. He knew he had started it all for the wrong reasons, that he had lied to you, but now... now you were the most important thing to him. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

But the weight of the guilt was unbearable. Every smile you gave him, he felt the knot tightening in his throat. Every intimate moment, he hated himself a little more. He wanted to believe that what you had was strong enough to survive the truth, but a part of him knew that the revelation would destroy everything.

And now, as he walked through the empty hallways of Hogwarts, trying not to think about the sound of your broken voice, Remus knew he had made the wrong choice. He should have been honest. He should have told you everything before it was too late.

But he didn’t. And now, he didn’t know how to fix what he had broken.

The reunion happened days later, at the end of a quiet hallway near the library. You had gone there to find a moment of peace, away from curious glances and whispers that seemed to follow you wherever you went. But, as if the universe insisted on testing your strength, he was there.

Remus was leaning against the wall, his face marked by exhaustion, his brown eyes fixed on the floor as if carrying the weight of the world. When he heard your footsteps, he lifted his gaze, and the air seemed to vanish from the space.

"I... I didn't know if I should be here," he started, his voice rough, as if he had rehearsed those words a million times and still didn’t know how to say them. "But I needed to see you."

"Why?" Your voice was cold, distant, but inside, everything was in ruins. "What more could you possibly say, Remus? What’s left to explain?"

He took a step towards you, but stopped when he saw the way you instinctively stepped back. The pain on his face was almost tangible, but it was nothing compared to what you felt.

"I know I messed everything up," he said, his voice breaking. "And I know it's selfish of me to want to talk to you after everything. But I can’t... I can’t just let you go without trying, without telling you how much you mean to me."

"Mean to you?" You repeated, laughing without humor. "Remus, I was a bet. I was just a means to an end. And now you want to tell me I mean something?"

He shook his head, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t like that... it’s not like that. Yes, in the beginning, it was because of James. But from the moment I truly got to know you, everything changed. You changed everything. I know this doesn’t erase what I did, but... I love you."

"Don’t say that," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t make this harder than it already is."

"But it’s true!" He took another step, and this time you didn’t back away, even though you wanted to. "I love you. I loved you from the moment I realized you were different from anyone I’ve ever met. From the moment you let me into your life, even when I didn’t deserve it."

You stared at him, your heart racing, and the pain you had tried to suppress overflowed. "And that’s what makes it worse, Remus. Because, despite everything, despite the lie, despite the betrayal..." Your voice faltered, but you gathered all the courage you still had to say the words you feared the most. "I still love you."

The silence that followed was deafening. Remus seemed to freeze, his eyes wide as he absorbed your words.

"You have no idea how much this hurts," you continued, your voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Remus. And that’s what’s destroying me, because I know I can’t trust you. I know that every time I look at you, I’ll remember that it all started with a lie. And I don’t know how to deal with that."

"I didn’t want to hurt you," he said, his voice filled with desperation. "If I could go back in time, if I could change anything, it would be this. I never would have been part of that bet. I would have gotten to know you for you, not because of James’s stupid plan."

You laughed, but it was an empty sound, devoid of joy. "That doesn’t change anything. You made a choice, Remus. And now we both have to live with the consequences."

He approached slowly, as if every step was a silent plea. "Then tell me what I can do. How can I fix this? Because I can’t imagine my life without you."

"There’s no fixing it." Your voice was firm, even as your heart seemed to shatter. "Some things, Remus, can’t be repaired. Some things just break, and all we can do is accept it."

For a moment, you stood in silence, the world around you fading as you looked at him, trying to memorize that moment. Because you knew it would be the last.

"I wish things were different," you finally said, your voice so low you could barely hear it. "But they’re not. Please, just... go away."

His gaze shattered, and for a moment, he looked as if he was about to say something more. But then he simply nodded, the heavy silence settling between you before he turned away, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.

You waited until he disappeared before letting the first sob escape, as painful as the feeling inside you.

[coopers-kitchen]

Saunas are a surprisingly good place to find longpigs. In fact, a lot of saunas now advertise them as being the perfect taster session. If you're a chef who wants to convince a pig or a pig who wants to feel something similar to being cooked - albeit less painful - a sauna is a great way to do it. If I'm travelling, I always make a point of checking out the local saunas, especially if they're advertising taster sessions.

This pig was what we call pork-curious. He's spent long enough hearing guys tell him how much they want to eat him that that he can't help but consider it. After all, longpork wouldn't be as popular as it is if it didn't taste delicious, and he's eaten more than enough himself. A few of his friends have taken the plunge, and seeing his bestie look so peaceful as he was cooked alive in an oven definitely got him interested.

Well, I could tell all this pig needed was a little push. I got into a conversation with him, talked about my credentials, how a pig like him needed to be treated to bring out their best flavours - treatment that I, luckily, can provide. In fact, I had plans to steam some pork, and with how satisfying he seemed to find the sauna I was sure he'd love the full ride.

A couple of weeks as my housepig and this hog was ready for his big day in my pressure cooker. Once he was stuffed with a cherry pineapple and longpork stuffing it was a simple matter of binding his arms and legs and sealing him in. A few hours later we had a delicious, tender porkboy cooked to perfection. I could almost lick the meat off the bone, and given the smile on his face it's safe to say he was more than happy to have satisfied his curiosity.

[jjenthusee]

Enthusiasm

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the most intimidating can be the most tender.

A/N: HAPPYYY NEW YEAR i give u soft Jason 😌 i’ve been on and off (so sorry about that) but im excited to see what stories will be posted to this account this upcoming year :D so much has happened to end December, but i powered through and i wanted to finish something that was sitting in my drafts. so please ENJOY :) comment if you’re comfortable, reblog if you like the story, and have some flowers 💐

Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, i just wanna kiss his beautiful face fr, reader and jason are in competition of who can out fluff the other

Word Count: 2.5k

previous work linked here

The smell was strong.

Gunpowder and soaked clothes. Jason felt like a wet dog coming home with his tail between his legs. Holding onto the door frames, trying to not bump into the walls.

He had hoped the rain would have washed away most of the blood and burnt smell that radiated from his skin, but no matter how much he tried to rub it off, it was still there. Lingering after his every step, after every breath he took.

Each step into your apartment felt like he was contaminating more of the air, that he was diminishing the warmth you exuded so effortlessly.

His fingertips burned as he tried to grab a dry shirt and some sweats to change into, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

His mind raced and raced as he couldn’t focus enough to grab a single hanger in the closet. He already felt like he was standing underneath a beacon of light from the single bulb illuminating the entire closet and he couldn’t afford to wake you up now, you might smell him and you would find him disgusting until he would beg and beg that he could strip all the smell away.

Jason felt dizzy at the thought of you leaving. He had imagined many scenarios, all kinds of ways you would be gone. Tortured, kidnapped, or you simply walking out the door as he watched because you didn’t want to love him anymore.

It sickened him. A kind of bile that stuck to his throat when he tortured himself with the thought of you leaving him. He rubbed his face, feeling his calloused hands scratch against his skin as he tried to rub more of the smell away.

He could imagine the sound of your voice, screaming his name in fear or even quietly fading as you faded from his arms.

Sometimes the hallucinations felt so real, like you actually left until he found you at home. Living your life, perfectly fine.

“—on. Jason.”

He instinctively grabbed the knife from his utility belt, so quickly and efficiently that it felt like breathing for Jason.

He was still dizzy, but parts of your face were slowly focusing through his lashes, readjusting until your entire face was clear in his vision. He saw your wide eyes, opened because of the suddenness of him aiming a knife to your neck, but what made him feel even more sick to his stomach was the worried look on your face despite the survival instinct overpowering his brain.

It screamed how much you cared about him. The same man that pointed a blade at you.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jason, it’s me. I’m right here.” You stood still. Watching the intense adrenaline rush from Jason. It had been a while since you’ve seen him escalate this badly.

“No, no. I‘m—you’re not real.” He pleaded, talking more to himself than at you.

“You’re home. You’re back home.” You tried to reach out with your words, giving him something to metaphorically grab onto.

“Please go away.”

Your heart pinched at his broken words.

“Everything is okay. I’m okay. I am right here.” You repeated.

As adamant as Jason was about stopping his hallucination, he couldn’t raise his voice. He was quietly whispering his pleas as you stood at arms length, confusing his reality and mental images. You didn’t waver to call out to him because he felt more wary of you than you did of him.

The blade he held to you was something he hadn’t done before and as frightened as you were in that moment, you stayed calm. Not for yourself, but from how much he shook and his disheveled appearance, Jason was just scared.

You continued to speak to him, giving him tender reassurances, explaining and truthfully telling him how safe he was and how he could relax from the anxiety plaguing him.

Jason’s eyes were relaxing as he listened to your voice, his muscles were loosening his grip from the blade the more in tune he felt with reality, and he suddenly felt all the exhaustion weigh on him. His knife felt so heavy. Every second he was growing more tired as he realized he was safe enough to finally let it go, so he threw it to the side.

The blade bounced to the floor, reflecting and shining the light from the closet back into the dark bedroom.

You took a deep breath watching the blade leave Jason’s hand, then you looked back to him, seeing his soaked hair stick to his face. His armor caked with dirt and blood blending into the fabric.

As much as you wanted to call Alfred, Jason was in no condition to see another person right now.

As you analyzed him, you saw, physically, how much the night had roughed him up. Jason’s hands were limp at his side, his head hung to your feet as you stepped closer to him, testing how close he was willing to let you get.

“Jay? You’re still in your armor, we need to get you out of your soaked clothes.” You gently spoke.

He said nothing to you, focusing on pacing his breaths in a way that didn’t cause him more anxiety. He kept his eyes closed.

“Do you need my help? I can help, but if you want to do it yourself—“

He grabbed one of your fingers, his frozen hand stinging your warm one that absorbed the heat from your blankets not too long ago. His large hand held onto your singular finger, feeling your smooth skin, trying to sink into the soothing feeling of physical touch.

You patiently waited, letting him go at his own pace to grasp that he was safe enough to ask for this much from you.

“I’m glad you made it home.” You spoke. Feeling Jason’s skin trace your knuckles and veins in your hand like he was memorizing and analyzing the living being he cared so much for.

As he continued his small rubs, he eased his touch to a feather light hover over your arm. Feeling up to press his thumb underneath the fabric of your shirt sleeve, mentally talking to himself about the feel of the fabric and its color.

You let him ground himself, taking note of how still you kept your body. All control was in Jason’s hands like a puppeteer over your entire self. He wanted to scream out to himself that he was selfishly touching you, but he was walking a very thin line of losing his mind any second and the feel of you was keeping him focused on something other than his racing head.

He was so tired that he grasp his hand onto your shoulder to gently pull you toward him, resting his head into your hair, smelling how familiar you were.

He thought you smelt so much better than the gunpowder and burning flesh from his body.

He rested his hand behind your back, slowly feeling up to cusp behind your neck, letting his fingers settle onto your pulse. Counting the thumps and feeling the repeated rhythm he memorized numerous times to fall asleep to.

Jason brought you in closer, matching his breaths to yours because if he felt like passing out, he reasoned to himself that it should be completely because he wanted to be one with you.

You settled your forehead onto his neck, taking a deep breath into his skin.

Jason flinched, feeling his skin tingle to your warm breath exhaling to his hair. He hummed before he was about to pull away from you, remembering his stench.

“I’m sorry, I…stink.” Jason apologized, fighting against himself to release you, but also grip you harder.

You pulled him back to you by his neck and arm, leaning his damp hair onto your head.

“You don’t need to apologize. Besides, I love your smell. I think I stink ‘cause I haven’t showered ever since I got back from work.” You lazily smiled up at Jason, appreciating that he was talking to you.

“You don’t smell.” He emphasized, whispering his sincerity into the small space between your bodies.

“I was sweating a lot today, so we can be stinky together if that’s what you’re worried about.” You comforted him, reaching up to cusp his cheeks. Soothing the redness on his face from his harsh rubs. “We can wash up together if you want to. It’s also okay if you want to do it by yourself. I’m always open to what you tell me, no matter what I’ll be right here until you let me know.”

Jason felt the ease in his shoulders, the voice in his head calming. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was a little quieter when you were speaking so gently to him.

“Can we wash up together?” He asked into your palm, rubbing his nose into your warm hand.

“Of course we can. I can get the water ready while you get out of your gear.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed into your touch.

“I won’t make the water too hot. I also got a new shampoo yesterday and I haven’t used it yet, so we can smell like eucalyptus together.” You could feel Jason’s frozen nose on your hands. “Hon, you’re freezing.”

Your worries were unanswered, leaving you to only furrow your brow at the man in front of you. Jason could only look up from your hands, clearly having nothing to say, but patiently waiting for you to give in to his tender gaze.

He knew you would give in, you always did and he wanted to use it to his advantage to not speak about his night.

He removed his gloves and you heard the slightly damp fabric being pulled from his fingers. With free hands, Jason reached out to rub off the furrowed look on your face, in attempt to cover his tired appearance.

“You’re lucky I’m going to be nice about this. I was about one call away to summoning Alfred or I would’ve drove your motorcycle all the way there if I had to.”

Jason chuckled as he kept kneading the line between your eyebrows. Listening to your stubborn worries that felt like music to his ears as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Threatening me now?” Jason asked. Amused, but willing to listen to your voice continuously. The way his voice teased you made your heart tingle, enough to distract you for a moment to look at the way his hair fell onto his face. His features were carved by wavy hair, elegantly placed hair strands that made you waver between frustrated and enamored, but unable to stop your heartfelt lecture.

“Maybe you can distract me, but Alfred is too experienced to even consider hesitating with you.” You tried to go move your eyebrows in defiance against Jason’s thumb, not backing down just yet. “I was about to haul you on my shoulders and dump you onto the back of your motorcycle. I didn’t go through all those lessons with you to not use it against you.“

“I knew it, you were always too excited to take it out for a drive. Can’t believe my own student was actually plotting against me all along.” Jason held onto your face, shaking his head as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

“It’s called “enthusiasm,” Jason.” You started to feel for the zippers of his jacket, moving your fingers against the leather as you slowly took it off his shoulders, carefully watching his body language to ensure you weren’t making him uncomfortable.

“Enthusiasm.” Jason repeated. In the same tone you always swooned at, hearing the familiar low roughness in his voice that was only reserved for you. A dangerous combo as he touched your face so affectionately, you could feel your face heat in the dim closet light. “I know all about enthusiasm.”

He leaned in to slightly peck your bottom lip, feeling his own lips barely touch yours. He felt how dry his lips were, but yours were soft enough to drown out his other worries and insecurities. Enough to feel the intimacy, but not enough to solidify something more.

You smiled, clearly won over by Jason’s charm. In one swoop you pulled the jacket off Jason, leaving him in his usual patrol skintight top with his emblem reflecting what little light was in the room.

You couldn’t imagine the fear that red bat symbol brought to the bad people lingering at night, realizing the bad shit they brought on themselves because that emblem was the last thing they would remember.

But you always liked what was beneath it, what it tried to protect. The part of Jason that he relentlessly tried to hide and you had the patience to slowly unveil every bit of it.

“Save that enthusiasm because we might not be able to wash up if you kiss me one more time.” You rubbed your hands into the back of his neck, feeling the tense muscles and wanting to help him relax for a bit with some warm water and rubbing some shampoo into his hair to hopefully allow him to sleep a little tonight. “Clean your gear in the morning, I wanna warm up with a shower and you can help me dry my hair.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed as he kept rubbing your lips with his thumb. You felt accomplished as you felt his hands slowly warming from your physical touch.

“I’ll get us some fresh towels. Grab the new shampoo after you remove your gear.” You released yourself from Jason and made your way to the bathroom. “It should be in the bag by the bed. I forgot to take it out.”

With some soreness, Jason removed his utility belt and picked up the thrown knife to safely secure it back in its place. He felt the weight in his eyelids as he made his way to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on.

When he pushed the door open silently, he watched the way you moved. Adjusting the heat of the water, placing freshly dried towels on the counter, and the way you were so perfectly domestic.

Jason didn’t want to disturb you, soothing himself to the sight of you after he exhausted himself from the repeated torture his mind put himself through.

When you looked back, the look you gave him almost made him melt to the tile floor. That it was unreal he was allowed this.

You pulled him into the bathroom, much like the other ways you introduced him to various simplicities he started to enjoy in his life.

He didn’t want to admit it to you, in case you would be offended, but he cherished how mundane you were. That he could feel as close to ordinary next to you. That the scars that littered him weren’t going to drive you away.

Piece by piece, clothing were removed from the two of you. It was comfortable to bare yourself, to share this intimate experience of bathing together. Washing and holding each other under warm water. Massaging and lathering soap.

The steam was filling the bathroom, slight humidity relaxing your skin and your shared scent radiating off each other.

The night was turning into dawn, but you dried each others hair. You gently laid into the bed to slowly rub at Jason’s head, easing him and yourself into another slumber.

[brooklynnbbg]

Elle my queen please write what it would be like for Lu to take your virginity. Would he be gentle? Imagine this man holding back the urge to absolutely obliterate your coochie but he knows it’ll be about two more times before he can do all that, (I have a feeling he’d tell you about it too) “amore mío, you have no idea how much I wanna pound into right now” I need a visual of the faces and sounds he would make while all of this goes down 😩😩

♡ WARNINGS - Smut! unprotected p in v

♡ A/N -  Guys i actually need him so bad writing this made me want to cry!! Anon ily for this request <3

The room was bathed in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, a soft warmth that did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach. Luigi knelt beside you on the bed, his eyes soft and full of adoration as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “We’ll go slow, amore mio,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the racing of your heart.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss so gentle it made your chest ache. His hand found yours, threading his fingers through yours as he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay? We stop whenever you want.”

You nodded, trusting him completely as his lips began a trail down your neck, his hands skimming over your sides to remove the thin tank top that separated you. He took his time, kissing every newly exposed inch of skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his brown eyes dark and filled with reverence. “You’re perfect, tesoro.”

When you were bare beneath him, he paused, taking in the sight of you. His fingers brushed over your stomach, your hips, as though committing every curve to memory. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, his lips curling into a tender smile.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, as he guided you onto your back. His hands roamed your body, gentle and deliberate, coaxing you to relax. When he slipped a hand between your thighs, his fingers gliding through your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

“Shh, I know,” he soothed, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your throat. “Just like that, bella. Let me take care of you.” His fingers worked you slowly, coaxing soft moans from your lips as he watched you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn.

When he finally lined himself up with your entrance, his cock hard and glistening with your arousal, he paused. His free hand found yours again, holding it tightly as he looked into your eyes. “This might hurt, amore mio. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nodded, trusting him completely, and he began to push in, his movements painstakingly slow. The stretch burned, your body adjusting to the intrusion, and Lu's jaw clenched as he held himself back. “Breathe, tesoro,” he urged, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His voice was a lifeline, grounding you as he inched deeper. His breathing was ragged, his forehead damp with sweat as he fought to keep his movements gentle. His lips parted, a deep groan slipping out as he moved into you, his hips flush against yours.

“love, you feel so good,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he looked back at you, his gaze heavy with desire and restraint. “you have no idea how much I want to pound into you right now.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into his back. He stilled, giving you time to adjust, his lips peppering kisses across your face. “Talk to me, bella,” he murmured. “How does it feel?”

“Full, but good” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Luigi smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “That’s my girl,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

As the discomfort faded, you nodded, and he began to move more. His thrusts were slow and shallow at first, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched for any sign of pain. When your soft moans turned to cries of pleasure, his movements deepened, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. “You’re taking me so well, amore mio. So fucking good for me.”

His free hand slid down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drove into you, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The sounds he made—the low groans, the breathless moans, the way he whispered your name like a prayer—only heightened your arousal. He buried his face in your neck, repeating “I love you, I love you.”  His jaw tightened as he bit down on his bottom lip, the muscles in his neck straining as he held himself back, his breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.

When your walls clenched around him, his movements faltered, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. “I’m close, bella,” he warned, his voice strained. “But I need you to come for me first. Can you do that, amore mio?”

You nodded, your body already trembling as the coil in your stomach tightened. His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your nails raking down his back as your orgasm washed over you, and Luigi followed moments later, his hips jerking as he spilled inside you with a guttural moan.

His face contorted in pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips parted as his breath hitched, a deep groan spilling from his chest. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You’re incredible, bella. So perfect for me.”

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed kisses to your temple. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of awe. “My perfect girl.”

As you lay tangled together, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the moment, he whispered against your skin, “Next time, amore mio mio, I won’t hold back. But for now, rest. You’re mine, and I’ll take care of you.”

Tags: @nicholaschavezslut69, @ddlydevotion, @italianbabydaddy, @rckerbell, @slavicdolls4mangione, @perfumeaddicted @yeeterang @days12 @v1rtualsalvat10n @bricapellan16 @sleeepytimebear @preiyers @hdh-57jcidm-blog

[lh44girl]

“Glowing with Love”

The sunlight filtering through the curtains woke Lewis, but it wasn’t just the warmth of the room or the soft hum of the morning that held his attention—it was you. You lay beside him, tangled in the sheets, your skin glowing like molten gold in the light. His eyes traveled over you, lingering on the subtle fullness of your chest, the gentle curve of your body that seemed softer, rounder somehow

You stirred slightly, your cheeks already flushed, though not from embarrassment. Lately, you’d been running warmer, your skin always radiating heat against his. Lewis reached out, his fingertips tracing the line of your shoulder before trailing down your arm, his touch soft but deliberate.

“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and husky from sleep.

You stretched lazily, your tank top riding not hiding anything for the imagination just enough for him to catch a view of your glowing skin,& your full breasts . His eyes darkened as he shifted closer, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you against him. You didn’t protest—if anything, you leaned into his touch, your lips curving into a sleepy smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your voice soft and playful, though a little self-conscious under his intense gaze.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek, then your jawline. “You look different lately. More beautiful. And…” His hand slid higher, resting just below your breast, his thumb brushing the soft swell through the fabric of your top. “Your body feels different.”

A small gasp escaped you as his lips found yours, lingering this time, deeper and slower than usual. His tongue swept against yours, his kiss igniting something primal and all-consuming. His hand moved to your chest, cupping you gently, and his touch sent a ripple of heat coursing through you.

“Lew…” you whispered breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, his lips moving with a hunger that matched the fire simmering in your core.

He pulled back just enough to study you, his dark eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “You’ve been different, baby,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your nipple, feeling how sensitive you were. “Your body, your moods, the way you can’t seem to get enough of me lately…” His voice trailed off, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You blinked, your heart racing. You laughed softly, your mood flipping from sleepy to playful in an instant. “I-I don’t know feel fine, just… different, I guess,” you admitted, running your fingers through your hair. “Maybe I’m just tired or ..hor-hormonal or ..something.”you stammered, your shyness creeping in even as his touch set you alight.

He smiled against your lips, his hand moving down to caress your waist before resting protectively over your belly. “I don’t need a test to know,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet certainty. “I can feel it. You’re glowing, love. And if I’m right…” His kisses deepened, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. “You’re carrying my baby.”

Tears pricked your eyes at the overwhelming tenderness in his voice, but before you could respond, he kissed you again—harder this time, as though he was claiming you all over again. His hands roamed your body reverently, memorizing every curve, every change.

“I don’t care what happens,” he murmured between kisses, his forehead resting against yours. “All I care about is you. You’re mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you the happiest woman alive.”

His hand lingered over your belly again, his thumb tracing gentle circles as if he were already connecting with the life you might be carrying. “We’ll take the test today,” he said softly, “but I already know…you are making me the happiest man in the world and you will be the greatest mother ever .”

And as he kissed you again, slow and intoxicating, you knew too. Whatever came next, it would be beautiful, just like the love you shared with him.