#lou smut

[seokmattchuus]

VAV Masterlist

💜 - suggestive 🖤 - smut 🩵 - fluff 🩶 - angst 💚 - sad 🩷 - comedy

Reaction to you having a wet dream 💜

Reaction to you whining from them teasing 💜

[incognit0slut]

Champagne Kisses

A night involving champagne gives you the perfect excuse to end up naked after weeks of harmless flirting. Spencer thinks one night isn’t enough.

category: smut, fluff word count: around 8k content: softdom!spencer, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (but no creampie he’s testing his pull-out game), alcohol consumption, food play (more like drink play), and i wanna say spit kink but they’re using champagne instead so does that count? a/n: merry 2025 please tell me you remember me or else i might actually cry

You’re doing it again.

You’ve been clawing at his face for the past hour, stealing fleeting glances and looking away just as quickly, because every time you do, you find the same thing.

Brown eyes. Chocolate, marbled in hazel with tiny golden speckles. Pinning you in place. Dismantling you layer by layer. And somewhere in the quiet heat behind them, in the barely-there twitch of his jaw, you’re pretty sure he’s already mapping out the fastest way to get you out of your clothes.

It’s nerve-racking. Smart Spencer you can handle, awkward Spencer you can charm. But flirtatious Spencer? Flirtatious Spencer is dangerous.

Even more so when you’re squashed between Penelope and Luke at the overcrowded booth of O'Keefe's, who are mid-argument over something you can’t even muster the energy to care. Not when long legs stretch in front of you, and strips of neon lights slice across the table in a glow that crosses his form, curving around handsome features that make him look far too inviting.

Because that’s what your mind keeps drifting to. Taking him back to your place, where the only thing glowing would be the dim light of your bedroom.

Or maybe the pale light from the hallway.

Perhaps the soft flicker of the lamp in your living room.

Either way, your mind is already drawing images of him doing whatever it is he’s picturing in his own head. The location doesn’t matter.

“Don’t you agree?”

Your gaze fall over him once more before you force yourself to look away, catching Penelope staring at you expectantly. “Agree to what?”

“That margaritas are objectively the most fun drink and clearly better than boring beer.”

This is the argument they’ve been debating for the last five minutes?

Luke scoffs from your left. He doesn’t look angry though, his expression is more amused than irritated, lips formed in a cheeky smirk. “I can tolerate margaritas if we’re on a beach. But beers are solid all year round, pop a cap and you're good to go."

“You’re such a guy."

“I'm telling you, you don't need fancy ingredients or a blender. No little umbrellas."

“Literally proving my point. Beer has no personality.”

“Are you saying I have no personality?”

Bright pink-framed glasses shift as Penelope tips her head. “If the shoe fits.”

You’re at the point where you’re no longer surprised by their arguments. Loud and pointless, is how you'd describe them. You suspect Luke does it to get a reaction, and normally you’d add fuel to the fire, because Penelope is a pretty fire-cracker when her nostrils flare in absolute indignation. But your attention is elsewhere tonight.

Knees brushing yours under the table. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Deep set of eyes dragging over your face, your neck, the spot between your collarbone and shoulder where the pulse of your heartbeat seems to echo louder each second.

You slide with your back against the chair, thighs clamping shut. 

You feel him imprinted on you, heated gaze traveling beneath your skin. You wonder if he realizes what he’s doing, if he’s even aware of the effect all the time his eyes fall on you. Since the moment he walked in the room, since he took that seat directly across from you, and if you’re being completely honest, that glint in his eyes has been there probably for weeks now. The when of it all is a bit fuzzy.

Tonight feels adamantly different though, and you feel like you might just need a little extra something to quiet the nervous hum beneath your ribs.

But you’re not entirely sure whether it’s nerves or something far more indulgent that has your mind secretly leading you to a very unholy place. A place where you wonder if the rough, scruffy drag of his jaw feels the same below his navel.

You’re a hundred percent certain that it does.

“You know what’s a better drink?” your voice cracks, desperately needing that extra little something. “Champagne.”

Penelope’s head whips toward you. “Champagne? Here?”

You glance around the bar and raise a hand, trying to flag down the bartender.

The wood-paneled walls are covered with vintage beer advertisements, and the sticky floor is dotted with peanut shells from the complimentary bowls on every table. It’s the kind of place where the closest thing to champagne is probably prosecco poured into a plastic flute for a wedding after-party.

“What’s wrong with champagne? It’s a classic drink, great for celebration.” You order a bottle and four tall glasses before fixing her with a look. “It’s the New Year.”

She snorts. “We’re already halfway through January.”

“Penelope, we had to work on Christmas and New Year’s. We finally have this night to breathe, let me have this.”

There’s a beat of silence before she sighs dramatically. “Fine. But it still feels weird drinking champagne in a bar where the most sophisticated cocktail is a rum and coke.”

“Which is exactly why we’re elevating the night,” you reply, watching as the bartender sets the bottle down with (thank god) proper crystal flutes. You pour the first glass, the golden bubbles racing upward like tiny fireworks as you pass it to her.

Luke accepts the next glass without the same hesitation, but when you offer one to Spencer, the curly-haired man shakes his head.

“Right. I forgot you don’t really drink alcohol.”

The faintest smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t have anything against alcohol, just not in large amounts.” His gaze shifts to the bottle on the table. “I also happen not to like champagne.”

Penelope looks mildly offended. “Why not?”

“Because the carbonation overpowers the flavor. It’s hard to enjoy a drink when it’s constantly popping on your tongue.” You stifle a laugh before you can stop yourself. He looks at you. “What?”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” you reply with a grin. “Here, maybe this will change your mind.”

You pour him a glass and nudge it toward him. He simply looks from the glass to you.

“Come on,” you coax. “We’re celebrating the New Year.”

“Seventeen days late."

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"Do not ruin the fun. We’re still celebrating, and you can’t toast with water. That’s practically begging for bad luck.”

He exhales sharply, lips twitching in what might be defeat or mild amusement, before reaching across the table. Everyone raises their glasses. The instant the bubbles hit his tongue, his nose scrunches in subtle distaste, and the sound of your laughter flies through the small space.

“It’s not that bad,” you insist.

“I still don’t understand the appeal.”

Champagne isn’t exactly your first choice either. You’ve always been more of a wine person. A good wine. A rich Burgundy that makes you close your eyes on the first sip to taste the faint of autumn in a glass. But champagne feels right for the occasion.

This taste blooms on your tongue, crisp and bright with hints of green apple and citrus and that faint yeasty richness at back of your throat. They dance across your palate, leaving a lingering sweetness through your veins that doesn’t soothe your nerves so much as ignite something beneath them, something warmer, deeper, curling into your bloodstream.

It makes you very bold.

Bold enough to hold his gaze without flinching. Bold enough to let your tongue flick across your lips. Bold enough to let your foot glide slowly up the length of his long, long leg.

You’ll have him taste his own medicine.

You, too, can play with fire.

“Maybe you’re drinking it wrong,” you hum, feeling him tense for the briefest, tiniest moment before he relaxes. “There’s another way to make champagne better.”

He grips the stem of his glass. “Something tells me you have a suggestion.”

“I do.”

He tilts his head. The din of conversation around you slowly fades into a muffled hum, the clinking of glasses and Penelope’s laughter barely registering as you notice the curve of his smile, the question lingering in his eyes.

Will you show me?

And that’s how you find yourself naked between his thighs two hours later.

It started innocently enough—or at least that’s the lie you fed yourself when you watched Penelope and Luke stumble their way to the dance floor, giggling as they poured yet another round of sparkling wine. But the champagne didn’t keep your attention for long. A few more stolen glances later, you found your hand wrapping around his arm, the other clutching a half-full bottle of champagne like some reckless lifeline.

It is reckless. Even you can’t deny that. You’ve always been cautious when it comes to bringing a man home. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Spencer. Someone who already knows too many pieces of you, someone who doesn’t need to be deciphered or explained.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging him out of the bar.

The ride in the stuffy cab felt like an eternity and a blink at the same time that the moment your apartment door clicked shut behind you, his mouth was already on yours. You barely had time to process how surprisingly good he tasted before your clothes started to disappear.

It’s a dizzying rush of hands and heat, and you’re now standing over him, knees brushing his as he sinks into your couch.

Yes, your couch. The soft, slate-blue one you’ve spent countless evenings curled up on, legs tucked under a blanket, flipping through books or half-watching shows you never finish. But now it cradles a completely different weight—the heavy heat of him radiating with tension-laced curiosity and a barely contained lust that seems to bleed right into the fabric.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you,” he mutters dazedly, trailing his lips along your jaw with a hand resting on your naked back.

“I can’t believe you can unhook my bra that fast.”

He catches the sheer black fabric now hanging haphazardly over your lamp where he’d tossed it aside moments ago. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Should I be concerned about how much practice you’ve had?”

“Not really. I’m a fast learner.”

That, you believe. But you’re not entirely sure if it’s his innate skill or the way your body seems to respond to him so effortlessly that leaves your lungs feeling like they’ve forgotten how to work. Breathing is no longer instinctive now. It’s a function you have to remind yourself to do as his tongue dances along the curve of your breast, and by the time he takes the achingly hard tip into his mouth, your chest tightens.

You suck in a desperate need of oxygen while he sucks the last thread of composure from you.

“Sweet.”

“Huh?”

“You—” He pulls back just enough to let his teeth graze the delicate skin before soothing it with a slow drag of his tongue, “taste sweet.”

Your hand slides to the back of his neck with a sigh. “You’re exaggerating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bodies don’t taste like anything, it’s skin.”

Spencer shakes his head as he cups the weight of your other breast with the same care you’ve come to expect from him. Taut nipple rolls under his thumb. “How do you explain this then?”

You don’t respond. Not with words, anyway. Your body speaks first as you arch into his touch, chasing the warmth of his hands before you can form any thoughts.

“How do you explain,” he continues, his lips trailing down the slope of your stomach, “why I can’t get enough of how sweet you taste?”

Your mind finally catches up, and the words settle over you like honey itself.

“You think so?”

“It’s not a thought, it’s a fact.” He presses a kiss to the soft skin just below your navel. “I don’t know how you can taste better than this.”

Your laugh is breathless, barely steady enough to be called one. “You’re laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest.”

It’s cute how he says it with such conviction, like it’s the simplest truth in the world and not a line that’s turning your legs to liquid. Your knees threaten to buckle as you step away, reaching for the half-empty champagne bottle perched on the coffee table. The glass feels cool against your overheated skin as you twist the cork free.

“What are you doing?”

“Considering your words.” You hold up the bottle, the champagne fizzing invitingly at its neck. “What do you say we make this even sweeter?”

His eyes light up with interest. “Is this where you show me the right way to drink champagne?”

You nod and sink back between his thighs. “I know you’re not big on sharing food, but I think you’re gonna like this.”

“You do realize I’ll share anything with you.”

Your lips curl into a soft smile. You’ve already learned that kissing Spencer feels deliciously messy. It’s sloppy in the way passion tends to be when control is the last thing on either of your minds, with tongues and teeth colliding in an unpolished rhythm that’s as raw as it is consuming. Adding champagne to the equation doesn’t feel like much of a stretch.

You step forward at the same time his hands fall to your hips. “There’s a trick to drinking champagne.”

“I’m listening.”

The bottle’s rim grazes your lips as you take in his appearance. His shirt is wrinkled, hanging just a little more loosely around his chest with two buttons undone. He’s the very definition of disheveled that’s entirely your doing. He looks absolutely irresistible.

“You need to linger on the taste,” you start, your voice dipping into something softer as your eyes meet his again. “Be patient. Let it sit and overwhelm your senses before you swallow.”

“You mean marinate it in my mouth?”

A giggle burst out of you. “Exactly. The longer you let it linger, the more it softens, and the sweeter it gets.”

You tilt the bottle to your lips. The sweetness starts to bloom on your tongue, subtle at first, but then richer, fuller against the roof of your mouth. There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes when you pull him closer by the nape of his neck, the exact moment he realizes what you’re about to do.

Your lips meld seamlessly with his as the Champagne slips from your mouth.

His lashes flutter briefly. There’s a soft flush spreading across his pale cheeks, and you feel the faint hum of pleasure, vibrating against the delicate curve of his skin as a liquid thread drips down your chin.

And then you’re kissing him. Or he’s kissing you. It’s hard to tell who moved first, but it doesn’t matter. His lips part further, and you swear you can taste every nuance of the champagne in a way you've never experienced before. Sharp citrus, a whisper of honeyed sweetness, and beneath it all, something clean and cool that reminds you of first snowfalls.

His lips are swollen and wet and perfectly shiny when you finally pull back.

“What do you think?”

“I think we should drink champagne every day.”

Your hand drifts to the side of his neck with a smile, thumb brushing lightly against his pulse. “Even when we’re working?”

“Especially when we’re working,” he counters, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, tasting what’s left of you. His gaze flickers to the bottle in your hand. “Can I try it?”

You pass it to him, your eyes fixed on the way he tilts it to his mouth. You’re sure the bubbles in your system aren’t the reason your pulse races as he sets the bottle aside and rises to his feet. You’re also sure that no amount of champagne is responsible for the way your lips part eagerly when his hands cradle your cheeks.

There it is again—that sweetness. It hits you the moment his mouth captures yours, but it fully overwhelms you when he tilts his head and gently coaxes the champagne from his lips to yours.

You’re not surprised at how quickly he picks this up. It’s common knowledge that he’s a very diligent person, but it’s still a bit astonishing how he’s taken to playing with a drink he supposedly doesn’t even like. This is nothing like solving cases or flexing his impossibly sharp brain, nor the crosswords you’re used to seeing him hunched over at his desk at lunch.

This requires a different kind of finesse that involves his lips and tongue rather than a pen and paper.

It also seems like he might be enjoying this even more. He leans back just enough to let his tongue sweep across the seam of your lips, collecting the last trace of sweetness clinging to you.

A thumb swipes over the wet trail under chin. “I could get used to this.”

“Champagne or me?”

“Both.”

Satisfied with his answer, your fingers trail down to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. “Do you wanna try something else?”

He quirks an eyebrow as you push down the fabric down his shoulders. You don’t say anything all the while you start to unbuckle his belt, peeling every layer of his clothing until you’ve stripped him completely bare—and would you look at that? The faint trail of hair down his belly matches the scruff shadowing his jaw.

There’s a brief pause as your eyes travel down his body, lingering on his surprisingly impressive size, and a comment sits at the edge of your tongue. You decide to let your actions speak for you.

Your delicate fingers wrap around his delicious thickness. You swipe the first signs of precum glistening over his tip with your thumb, and a low sound of pleasure rumbles in his chest.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

He sounds like he’s in pain, and you shake your head with a playful smile curling at your lips. “Sit back on the couch.”

Spencer sinks into the cushion.

“This might get a little messy.”

His brow furrows slightly, and for a moment, he looks genuinely intrigued. What he doesn’t expect is the way you slowly pour the remaining liquid down your chest. His mouth parts in surprise, and then his gaze follows every single drop like it’s gravity itself pulling him in.

You’re mesmerizing. Always have been, actually. There is no doubt in Spencer’s mind that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met in his life. Your mind is brilliant. Your heart is kind. But watching the champagne mix with the sheen of sweat on your skin, you’re something else entirely. You look lethal. A different kind of captivating.

He’s already pulling you by the waist, and you’re a mass of giggles as you twist out of his grip to set the bottle safely aside. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Can you blame me?”

Honestly, you can’t. If the roles were reversed, you’d probably look at him the same way.

When his hands finally find your hips again, there’s no point in pretending you don’t want to be caught. You bend your knees and shift on the couch. He helps you swing your thigh over his own and deposits you in his lap.

Desperate is a good enough word to depict for him because as soon as you're close enough, he’s tasting you all over again. His tongue drags slow over the curve of your shoulder, across the hollow of your throat, and down to the soft swell of your breasts. Goosebumps ripple across your skin with every pass, every flick of his tongue, his touch leaving a trail of heat that you swear you can feel seeping into your bones.

You don’t even realize when you start to move until you feel the slow, unintentional rock of your hips into him. His cock fits snugly between your folds that you start grinding as the words fall from your lips without much thought, “What do you think of sex without a condom?”

His pupils dilated, lips parting, but no sound comes out right away.

"Spence?"

His gaze flickers to where your wet bodies are pressed together. Damp moisture from his tip smeared erotically between puffy lips, clear liquid coating his hard length.

“I think… it’s very intimate."

“Too intimate?”

"No." His fingers trail along your skin before his thumb settles just under your breast, in the delicate curve where your rib meets, and finally looks at you. "Is that what you want?"

You're bobbing your head up and down.

“Then I'd really, really like that.”

You shift your weight on your knees. “So you trust me?"

"More than anyone."

“I trust you too,” you say, your voice dipping low as your fingers wrap around his cock, guiding him to your entrance. “Can I request something, though?"

"Anything."

You pause just long enough for your words to land. “I don’t want you to come inside me.”

He exhales a soft laugh. “That can be arranged.”

His answer makes your lips twitch, but as you start to sink down, your body seems to have other ideas. There’s a resistance you didn’t expect, a sudden tautness that refuses to give.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

Oh my.

“What’s wrong?”

When you first wrapped your hand around him and took in the full reality of his size, you’d been impressed. Now you wonder if maybe you underestimated just how much he has to offer.

You bite the insides of your cheeks and try again.

“It’s been a while,” you confess quietly. You can’t even recall the last time you were this intimate with someone that the hesitation feels foreign, like a hiccup in a moment you’ve been eagerly anticipating.

And you are eager. Maybe a little too much. It feels almost ironic, considering how much you’ve thought about this, how your imagination has filled in the blanks a hundred times over. Now that it’s real, your body seems to be having second thoughts your mind absolutely isn’t entertaining.

You shift your hips, determination flaring as you take a slow breath. Left, right, up, down. But then a sharp sting shoots through you. Your face quickly twists into a grimace.

"Hey,” he calls gently, thumbs brushing gentle circles against your hip. “We can stop. You don’t have to push yourself.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You want him to push past whatever invisible barrier your body is putting up. The idea of stopping now feels more unbearable than the sting itself.

Your lips press into a stubborn frown. “No,” you say firmly. “We are not stopping.”

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm. I think my body's just being weird. I'm sorry."

His brows knits together almost immediately. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Frustration suddenly wells up in your chest, and this time your teeth sinks into your lip, unsure whether it’s the tension in the muscles between your legs or the ache of wanting him that feels stronger.

And you want him. So fucking bad.

“You need to relax,” he soothes, running his hands up your waist, past your ribs, across your back.

“I am relaxed,” you huff.

“I don’t think you’re relaxed enough.”

Before you can respond, he carefully lifts you from his lap and settles you back onto the couch. The cushions dips under your weight, and you barely have time to process the change before he gracefully drops to the floor.

“Should we move to your bed?”

He grips one of your ankles, his thumb brushing along the soft curve of your bone before he leans down, pressing warm lips to the skin above it.

“After this,” you reply, glancing at the sticky champagne trail still glistening faintly on your skin. “Don’t want my sheets getting sticky.”

There’s a flicker of amusement on his handsome face. “After this?”

“Did you think we’d be stopping after one round?”

His laughter vibrates against your calf. “How many times are we talking then?”

“Until I can’t feel my legs.”

The smile he gives you is slow and warm. It curves one corner of his mouth first, almost shy, before spreading fully, lighting up his face in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs.

“You’d let me have my way with you all night?”

“I’d probably let you have me anytime you want.”

His grin is almost blinding that you can’t help but give him a pleased smile of your own.

“Let’s focus on tonight first.” He moves to your other the leg. Delicate bone and tendon brushes against his lips. “I need to get you ready for me. Would you let me do that?"

Words fail you as his mouth moves closer, and the heat of his breath against your skin makes your entire body tense in anticipation. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"You're still tense."

Kiss. Kiss.

“Really need you to relax.”

You try, but then again, it's impossible when his lips are so close, yet still not where you need them the most.

His name slips in a desperate whisper.

"Hm?"

"Stop teasing."

His lips quirk in response, but he doesn't argue.

He dips his head and finally— finally! —drags his tongue along your achingly wet folds. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

"Better?"

The question is entirely rhetorical.

You don’t bother answering. Words seem sparse when his actions are spelling out everything you need to know in bold, underlined strokes. His touch is distinctly different from the playful, champagne-dampened kisses he had gifted your skin.

Now he’s utterly focused. He’s researching, and it appears his diligence isn’t confined to his academic when the same focus he applies to his studies is translated so flawlessly into reading your body like a favorite book. One he’s intent on memorizing every line of, delighting in every pause and whisper between the chapters of your sighs.

It’s this thought that tickles the back of your mind when he slips a finger in. He’s always been about comprehensive understanding, and well, you’re all about empirical evidence. Right now is proof of a hypothesis you’re too pleased to confirm that Spencer Reid might just be a genius in more ways than one.

Especially in how his steady thrust of his finger syncs perfectly with the hot, wet pull of his mouth, scratching such a carnal itch that it resonates deep in your brain. You sigh in pleasure when he adds another finger, and he lifts his head then, lips shiny and pink from his ministration.

"Do you think you can take a third?"

Your heart gives a few extra thuds in your chest cavity. “Please, please.”

Look at you, reducing yourself into begging, but really, how could you resist? Who could withstand the intensity of his gaze, the way his voice dips low like velvet wrapping around your senses?

Your head tips back against the couch, a soft whimper lashing out as he adds that third finger. The stretch is almost overwhelming but oh so good.

"Does it hurt?"

You let out a loud exhale. "No."

"Tell me if it hurts."

"Feels good." Your legs fall apart even further. "Don't stop."

He smiles, and then he's doing things to your body that have you questioning how you're even still breathing. The wet, sticky slosh of your arousal fills the room, a sound so explicit it should mortify you. But then three knuckles press deeper, stroking against that rougher patch of nerves and all rational thought dissolves.

A sound you didn't even know you could make escapes your throat. You're gasping, moaning, a little bit squealing as his free hand slides up your plush thigh before finding your puffy clit. And dear god, you’re choking on the breath that lodges in your throat. You're so close it's almost unbearable. A hand shoots out, and you’re gripping his forearm with a desperation you can't even pretend to hide.

You need him inside you.

“I'm ready," you gasp harshly, your lips parting in quick, desperate puffs. "I'm ready. I’m ready.”

He has the audacity to shake his head.

"I'll decide when you're ready."

Your breath stutters even more.

Why does that sound so hot? Why does that simple, infuriatingly calm statement make your thighs clench, your pulse race, and a fresh wave of heat roll through your body?

Before you know it, he’s coaxing your orgasm from you with just the right pressure, and every movement feels like it’s designed to bring you right to the edge. You’re not surprised by how wet you are, you’ve been dripping for what feels like hours. But what does surprise you is just how much your body can take. The intensity that doesn’t wane, that keeps pushing you higher, drawing out gasp after gasp until hot syrup gushes out of you in long, sticky droplets that pool on his fingers, down to the couch.

It’s endless, relentless, and you can’t even tell where one orgasm ends and the next begins. Your hand claw at his wrist.

“Spencer,” you whine, your voice breaking on the syllables. “Sensitive.”

He stops immediately, his fingers still inside you, his other hand slipping from your clit to rest on your thigh. “Too much?”

“A little,” you smile breathlessly. “C’mere.”

He crawls towards you as you lay on your back, relaxing your thighs.

His eyes trail over you, scanning your sweat-slicked skin, lingering on your perky breasts, moving down to where your legs are fallen apart, waiting for him. The sight is so overwhelmingly enticing that he finds himself wrapping a hand around his cock, muttering a low praise under his breath, “I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes flick downward, and a spark of confidence—or maybe pure desperation—pushes your reply out without hesitation.

“Tell me again while you fuck me.”

You’re so blunt and shameless that a part of you might have blushed if you weren’t so far gone. Spencer doesn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, his eyes flash with a knowing sparkle that only deepens as he presses his bulbous head right at the shy of your entrance.

“I think I’m going to enjoy telling you,” he muses.

And Spencer is one to keep his promises.

He thinks you’re devastatingly pretty when he’s sinking into you. There’s a dazed look in your glossy eyes, and the sweetest sound coming from your lips as he stretches you in a way that leaves no part of you untouched.

He sings praises under his breath when the heavy weight of him finally settles deep inside your body. He patiently waits as your walls flutter around him, all the while his lips brushes the delicate curve of your collarbone, between low, broken whispers of how perfect you are.

Although perfection might not even capture the essence of what he sees in you at this moment. You’re a breathtaking array of contradictions. Powerful and vulnerable, fierce yet tender. You’re nothing short of divine as he gives another smooth, long thrust that pulls a sound from your lips that he knows will echo in his mind long after.

The heat of you surrounds him completely, and he swears he feels every pulse of your body welcoming him deeper. You’re slathering his entire cock with your slippery slick, and the dampness imprinting against his pelvis only seems to spur him on. He moves in steady, languid strokes, and your toes curl at the sensation burning in your belly.

He’s hitting you so good your ankles find themselves running down his back.

“Spence,” your voice is raspy and wet. “Fuck me harder.”

His quiet groan harmonizes with the rhythm of your heart. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t—”

You stop, and he looks through the mist of bliss you've shrouded him in. Your face twists, eyes going wide, lips parted to take in sharp breaths. He panics for a moment.

“You’re in pain,” he decides, reading the way your brows knit together, the way your breath stutters in your chest. It seems the most logical conclusion—until he realizes how wrong he is.

Because you’re writhing under his weight when he pushes in deeper, and your mouth trembles, not with discomfort, but with something devastatingly good.

“Oh,” he exhales. His smile is uncharacteristically smug. “It’s not pain, is it?”

You shake your head.

“You want it rough.”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question, but you’re nodding vigorously.

His restraint snaps like a frayed thread.

The next thrust is sharper, it pounds into you with enough force to shift your body slightly back against the cushions. Your lips mouth around another shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

Still. Not. Enough.

“Harder,” you slur against his tongue.

What’s a hot-blooded man to do when asked so sweetly? He answers in the only way he can.

A hand curls around the back of your knee to pull you open just enough for him to drive deeper. The angle makes you feel impossibly full, how the folds of your vulva hugs around his shaft greedily, letting him claim all the space you didn’t even know existed. You can even feel the wet drag of his cock against your swollen clit with each hard thrust, a sensation so piercing it rips a gasp from your throat and a plethora of groans wailing from the couch.

“Like this?”

The relentless thwack-thwack-thwack of skins colliding is making you delirious.

“Yes,” you cry out. “Fuck—Yes. Yes.”

Your vision blurs as you blink, and—god, you think you might actually cry. And honestly, with how full you feel, with how every nerve is sparking to life under his loud rhythm, it wouldn’t even surprise you.

Your lashes feel wet as you squeeze your eyes shut, but you force them back open, unwilling to miss the way he looks above you. Jaw tight, sweat beading at his temples, eyes locked on you like nothing else exists.

Nothing probably does, not when he moves with a rhythm that feels both gentle and crude, like he’s savoring every second so sweetly while simultaneously chasing the most carnal kind of pleasure known to mankind.

Pleasure that has you melting, pleasure that has your body fully acclimating to his size. And now you’re teetering on the edge of another intense orgasm that begins its ascent from the tips of your toes and fingertips, spiraling a tingling rush up through your legs and arms, gathering force at the pit of your stomach, and exploding into the point where you’re intimately connected.

It happens all at once.

You’re trembling.

You’re shattering.

You’re pathetically whining.

Euphoria floods every inch of your body until you’re drowning in it. A liquid fire in your veins. Your cunt clenches around him, so tight you swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as keeps pressing you into the couch. Again and again and again, until you’re nothing but an incoherent mess, your words blabbered in a breathless rush of pleasure-induced nonsense.

One heartbeat stretches into two, then the muscles in his arms flexes as his pace falters. He’s shaking now, his pelvis moving in hurried, shallow thrusts as though he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach before the heat of him presses into you one last time.

He abruptly pulls out, his cock visibly pulsing in his hand and strokes himself with a stuttering groan as thick, pearly ropes splutters across your stomach. His fingers dig deeper into the back of your thigh while he continues to paint your skin in messy streaks, and you watch in fascination the moment his head tilts back in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him quite this beautiful.

His brows pinches in concentration for a few more seconds before his gaze slowly meets yours again, and a faint, blissful pink colors his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, looking a little out of breath. Devastatingly handsome and sweaty. Flustered in the best way.

You brush the damp hair sticking to his skin with a small, satisfied smile. “Are you kidding? That was extremely hot.”

His laughter fills every corner in the room. Then his hand drift down a comforting path down your thigh as he leans to capture the giggle tumbling from your lips with his own. It’s then you realize that kissing Spencer isn’t just enjoyable, it’s downright addictive.

You’re beginning to think he’s just as addicted to you too, because when he pulls away, it’s reluctant, his lips leaving yours with a faint, wet sound that lingers as sweetly as the kiss itself.

“Will you really let me have my way with you all night?” he asks gently, and you can’t help but wonder why he even feels the need to ask.

“Was I not obvious enough?”

You feel his smile before you see it. “Bedroom now?”

To tangle your naked limbs with his again sounds pretty close to heaven. Absolute, indulgent heaven, except for the distinct stickiness of champagne, sweat, and a cocktail of other body fluids clinging to your skin. The thought of sinking into cool clean sheets in this state makes your nose scrunch.

“We need to make a stop to the bathroom first,” you say, running a hand up his arm to squeeze his bicep. “Have you ever tried shower sex?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he admits truthfully.

You make a sound of disapproval.

“We definitely need to change that.”

-

Spencer realizes a lot of things can change in one night.

He also discovers how much he’s capable of learning in such a short period of time. Granted, he’s always been a quick study, but this is different. The hours between midnight and sunrise completely upend his understanding of things he’d only ever read about—sex, intimacy, the intricacies of how touch can feel as much like a language as words.

But beyond the newfound knowledge (and let’s face it, an entirely new appreciation for his muscles), there’s something else. Something that surprises him even more.

He likes waking up with another warm body beside him. More than likes it. There’s a strange kind of peace in the way your leg drapes over his, your hair a tousled mess against the pillow. Peace that makes him wonder if this, too, is something he could get used to.

Even if you’re hogging the blanket. He can feel the cool air on his back while you’re wrapped in most of the covers, leaving him to soak up whatever body heat he can steal by staying pressed against you. Not that he’s complaining. He’d happily stay like this for hours, but the sun is already creeping higher through your window, and your phone has been vibrating nonstop ever since he opened his eyes.

The sheets rustle as he shifts closer, mouth puffing warmly on your cheek with a breath of your name folding into your skin. You blink through heavy eyelids, and Spencer thinks you look adorable all wrapped up like a cocoon in the tangled linens.

“Hey," you croak, then clear your throat. “Morning.”

The soft rasp of your voice is even as endearing as the sight of you.

“I think we’ve already passed morning,” he says, slipping a hand under the covers, finding the goosebumps prickling on your upper arm.

“We slept in?”

“My guess is it’s almost noon.” There’s another buzz vibrating from the bedside table that stops him from pressing you against his chest. “Someone keeps calling you.”

He wonders if you can sense the slight annoyance in his voice. He wonders if he even has the right to be annoyed. It's Saturday. You clearly have plans—or at least someone thinks you do based on how persistent they've been.

If you catch the flicker of irritation in his voice, you don’t acknowledge it. You stretch lazily for your phone instead, and his attention is momentarily snagged by the way the sheet slips down your shoulder, revealing the constellation of freckles and moles he’s spent the entire night memorizing with his lips.

"Nobody’s calling.” Your thumb scrolls through the notifications. "Penelope just doesn't understand the concept of personal space when she texts."

Spencer feels the tightness in his shoulders ease, though he doesn't miss the way your eyes narrow into sleepy slits at the screen.

"Oh."

That one syllable is enough to set his mind buzzing.

"What?"

"Um."

It’s the subtle crack in your voice that hooks him. He’s never been good at sitting with unanswered questions, especially not when your expression shifts just enough to make him wonder what could possibly warrant that little noise.

He finally curls an arm around your waist, and the faint trace of your scent fills his lungs as he gently draws you back against his chest. A relentless stream of messages glares up at him over your shoulder.

Penelope [Sent 23:37]: Where are you?? Penelope [Sent 23:45]: Is reid with you? Penelope [Sent 00:05]: Did you leave? WITH HIM?? Penelope [Sent 00:17]: You did, didn't you? Penelope [Sent 00:33]: You can’t just vanish like this, you know I have questions!!!

Spencer barely registers the way his hand drifts down to rest against your stomach. He pulls you in unconsciously as his eyes scan over the flood of texts that started piling up this morning.

Penelope [Sent 09:19]: Good morning. Penelope [Sent 09:25]: Answer me. Penelope [Sent 10:24]: Seriously, are you alive? Penelope [Sent 10:39]: YOU OWE ME DETAILS. Penelope [Sent 10:48]: Last chance. Calling you in ten.

"I think she's onto us."

It’s not so much a matter of thought as it is a fact. Your words are less a theory and more a confirmation of reality, as undeniable as the relentless stream of texts lighting up your phone.

"What should I tell her?"

Spencer leans in closer. The soft scent of your shampoo drifts up, clean and faintly sweet, wrapping itself around him in a way that makes his chest ache, though he’s not sure why. He’s inhaling everything—your warmth, the curve of your shoulder brushing his chest, the way your voice carries an edge of hesitation that feels so out of place for someone like you.

And that’s what truly catches him off guard. Not the fact that Penelope is practically banging on a metaphorical door with her texts, but that you’re hesitating. You, who rarely second-guess yourself, now unsure about sharing the details of last night with one of closest people in your life.

Or maybe the surprise lies closer to home. How easily the words form in his own mind, bypassing the overthinking that usually rules him.

He has ten minutes to think before Penelope supposedly calls, but he doesn’t need ten minutes, or even ten seconds, because the answer is already there, so obvious it practically tumbles out of him.

"The truth," he hums against the crown of your hair. "You should tell her the truth."

You’re quiet for a while.

“Are you sure?"

For someone who invited him into your home, who let him press you into the couch cushions, spread you out on the cool tiles of the bathroom, and pull every sound he wanted from you on the soft give of your mattress—on your back, your front, even sideways—you seem awfully uncertain now. Very out of character.

So what’s changed this morning? Is it the stale morning breath he’s sure he hasn’t fixed yet? The mess of his curls sticking up in every direction from a night spent pressed into your pillows?

Or is it something much deeper that he hasn’t quite put his finger on?

The thought clings to him as his thumb brushes your stomach. "I’m sure," he says. "Are you?"

You hesitate for a beat too long, and that tiny pause lands heavy on his chest.

"This is going to change everything," you finally say, sounding somewhat like a warning.

He frowns. "Didn’t you want it to?"

"I did. I do." You pull in a breath that shakes on the way out. "Maybe we should discuss this before we say anything to anyone."

Your phone slips quietly onto the bed as you twist in his arms. Face to face.

"Do you like me?"

What kind of question is that?

"Did I seem not to like you last night?"

"No, Spencer, I need to hear it. Do you like me?"

He studies the delicate fold between your brows. He watches the quiver on your parted lips. And your eyes—watery and glossy and wide. Soft lashes framing the quiet expanse of irises that shimmer like glass.

He knows what you need. Spencer has spent most of his entire life reading people, pulling truths out of their silences and decoding what they can’t (or won’t) say. And even though he hates applying that skill to you, he knows this isn’t just about reassurance. You’re not only questioning what happened between you last night. You’re questioning what comes next.

The time glares from your phone over your shoulder: six minutes. That’s all he has to convince you that his feelings go far beyond fleeting lust or the heady haze of alcohol. Six minutes before Penelope inevitably interrupts.

But he’s not the greatest with words, is he?

Sure, he’s read more books than most people will touch in a lifetime. He can recite Edgar Allan Poe by heart and dissect layers of meaning in Dostoevsky’s prose like it’s second nature. But his own feelings don’t come wrapped in poetic declarations. That’s not who he is.

What he can do, though, is tell you the truth.

“You know how you told me I could have you anytime I want?”

A strand of hair brushes against your cheek as you nod.

“You’ve already had me from the very beginning.”

Your gaze softens, then you sigh sweetly, and he knows without a doubt that the truth is exactly what you need. “Before all the sex?”

“Before we even kissed.”

The distance between you slowly becomes nonexistent. You slot your knee between his thighs, a lick of smile curling at the corner of your lips.

“So… when I ran my foot up your leg?”

His lopsided smile is no different from yours. “No.”

“Last week when I wore your cardigan because the AC got too cold?”

“You looked really pretty in it, but no.”

“Last month?”

“Even before that.”

You click your tongue. “Give me a clue. A hint.”

But you don’t need clues. Clues are for puzzles, for cases that demand solving. This has never been a mystery. He’s known it for longer than he cares to admit, and he wonders if you’re asking because you genuinely don’t see it or because you just want to hear him say it.

Either way, he’ll happily say the truth as plainly as it exists in his mind.

“From the moment you joined the team.” You pause for just a heartbeat, and he reaches out to brush away the stray of hair slipping down into your eyes. “You probably didn't notice, but I couldn't stop staring at you.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse softly.

“I’m a terrible liar.”

He watches as you mull over his words. He knows you’re trying to decide whether to believe him, though he doesn’t think it’s really a question of if. You already know he’s telling the truth.

Your voice is awfully quiet that he has to perk his ears for it.

“What took you so long then?”

Because while he’s a terrible liar, he’s always been painfully good at keeping his heart to himself. Years of compartmentalizing, of burying emotions under layers of logic and detachment, have made it almost second nature. And maybe that’s why it took him so long.

That, and bad timing.

Countless abductions.

A never-ending chase after unsubs.

Death of a team mate.

And prison.

God, prison.

He wonders if these are valid reasons or just excuses. Had there ever been a perfect moment? Or had he let his fears and the chaotic nature of his job push his personal happiness to the sidelines too often?

The words knot in his throat, and in the end, all he can muster is an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

For waiting so long.

For not saying this sooner.

For only finding the courage to make a move under the guise of flirtation and champagne.

He’s selfish. He is. Because he's reaching for you based on his time, his terms, waiting until he was ready to fit you neatly into his schedule. But you simply shake your head. Because that's what you are, isn't it?

You’re selfless, and so profoundly lovely that you offered yourself to him last night without reservation. And now you’re even more radiant, wrapped in the soft light of vulnerability, tinged with doubt, yet always so giving. Pulling him closer to your chest with a hand on his back. Fingers splay across his skin, nails dragging idly along his spine.

“Don’t be,” you reply, feeling his body expand and deflate under your palm when he breathes. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

See? Selfless. The least he can do now is give you back the words you need to hear, the assurance you deserve to hear. Your foreheads press together, and he reverently lays his hand on your cheek, spreading lean fingers into your hair.

“If you must know, I do like you.”

But the word feels so inadequate for what he’s finally trying to tell you. Like doesn't even scratch the surface of how much space you take up in his mind.

"I more than like you,” he decides to add.

It doesn’t take long before you kiss him. Soft petals bloom warmly against his mouth, puffing humid breath he tastes on his tongue. A blissful moan he swallows greedily, lets it settle deep in his chest, his bones, his veins, filling every corner of him with the sweetest weight of you.

A flutter of lashes skims against his cheekbone when you tilt your head, pulling back by the barest inch. “You’ve made a huge mistake, by the way.”

The pad of his fingers presses gently on your scalp. “Why?”

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

His thumb moves against your hairline as he takes in your words. For a moment, all he can do is absorb them, replay them, savor them. Then his eyes soften, the corners crinkling with genuine delight, and he lets out a soft huff of laughter that melts right into the narrow space between you.

He scoots impossibly closer, hoping your skin will somehow mold with his. Because after all the surprisingly creative positions he discovered with you last night, it’s the only conclusion he can come to: you fit into him. Perfectly. Soft curves finding their place against the lines of his frame, every piece of you adhering like glue to his skin.

Chest to chest, nose to nose, and lips so maddeningly close to yours that he can still taste the warmth of your breath, sweet and intoxicating in its nearness. It’s enough to drive him a little insane, though he’d argue he’s always been slightly off-center where you’re concerned.

His fingers twitch, ready to close that infinitesimal gap when the sharp buzz of your phone suddenly slices through the moment.

Six minutes.

That’s all the time the universe has granted him, and it’s woefully too short.

"Might need to block her number," you mutter under your breath as you shift slightly to reach for your phone. He watches the way your fingers fly over the screen rapidly before placing the device back on the side table.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth." Then you drop on him like a dead weight, limbs tangling in the most inconvenient ways until your head is tucked in the crook of his neck. "Also sent her an eggplant and water emoji.”

A crease forms between his brows. “What does that mean?”

You fail to keep in your laughter. “You don’t want to know.”

He’s fairly certain he does want to know. In fact, he’s starting to realize he wants to know everything about you now that you’ve given him the chance. Beyond the pull of bodies and the way they slot together so seamlessly, beyond the electricity of skin against skin.

Though he can’t deny his curiosity at one precise moment, the way you’d slightly gasped when his fingers accidentally brush around the base of your throat. He wouldn’t mind knowing what that meant for you, and, surprisingly, what that even implied for himself.

But as intriguing as that is, it’s not what lingers the most. It’s the subtleties he wants to unravel, the pieces of you he hadn’t even realized he’d been aching to explore.

Your wit, your thoughts, your mind—that lovely, intricate thing he’s admired for so long. Full of nuances and depths he hadn’t even realized he’d only been skimming the surface of. He’s sure there’s something far greater than even his endless mind could have imagined that ties to the beautiful shape of you.

And you’re so beautiful. He’s known that for years, but mere hours ago, he learned it in an entirely new language. Even when he understands seven different ways the world chooses to communicate and speaks four fluently, yours is his favorite.

Yours doesn’t need words or perfect pronunciation. It’s instinctive and warm, written in every sigh, every glance, every unspoken verse that linger in the subtle shift of your body. In every nuance of your taste.

God, your taste.

He knows you’re right, skin can’t be sweet. The dichotomy isn’t lost in him. Yet it doesn’t matter, because not even the crisp, effervescent bite of champagne compares to the warmth of you. Not even sugar, and he basically lives on sugar. In chocolate-sprinkled donuts that he grabs on the way to work, in the endless cups of coffee that fuel his day.

You’re something else entirely, beyond comprehension.

And if one night was enough to saccharine his senses with you, he can only imagine what forever could do.

[achilles-rage]

"slut hours!!" i whisper to myself at 1am as i write smut for fictional characters alone in my room, severely touch starved

[veilofwinter]

#HOW SHE LOVES YOU

pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

tags: smut, fingering, MY BITCH

Her rough and calloused hands strumming her guitar strings with ease as she sings her song to you quietly. Her eyes, occasionally scanning over you to get an overview of your reaction to the lyrics.

"I just want to touch you all night long."

She looks at you as she says those last words, a smirk dawning her face. "What'd you think?" She sets the guitar aside, leaning back against the chair she was sat in.

"It was good, I enjoyed it." You chuckle. "The lyrics were a little erotic though, even for you."

Ellie laughs. "Erotic for me? You don't know who I am do you?" Ellie sits up, leaning forward against her knees. "I can get erotic." Those words cause your face to heat up, your skin getting small goosebumps. "I never said you couldn't, it's just that-" "That what? I'm too innocent or somethin? Not showing you correctly, cause I can show you."

She approaches you, standing over you. "Can I show you?" She says quietly.

Suddenly your spread out on her bed, your legs on her shoulders as she pumps her fingers in and out of your core. "Feel good yeah? Erotic enough for you?" She teases, curling her fingers to hit the one gummy spot within you that pulls a whine from your throat.

"Wait wait-!" You grip her hand, but she swats you away. "I'm tryna show you, you agreed to this remember?" She grins, plunging her fingers deeper into your walls. "Squeezing around my fingers like your enjoying this, so why are you tryna stop me?" She fake pouts, blowing softly against your clit. "E-ellie, m'close, gonna-" She curls her fingers once more, your head falling back against the bed. "Go ahead and cum for me pretty." She says softly in between your legs.

With one last groan of her name your juices flow onto her fingers, her pace slowing as she feels you tightening around her knuckles. "Did it feel good?" She laughs, causing you to sit up and close your legs.

"Was that erotic enough for you?"

an: I THINK IM IN LOVE WITH ELLIE GUYS....

[jakegyllenbaalz]

[worrynoodle]

Getting real frustrated with the demonization (excuse the pun) of sex in this fandom.

Sex is not dirty. It's not inherently disgusting, immoral, wrong, or somehow impure.

Aziraphale and Crowley are not lesser if they do it or have done it. And fans are not wrong or impure for wanting that for them.

I understand if you don't like it, I understand that some people are sex-repulsed, I get that, but no one owes you censorship because of that. Fic writers can write what they want and you can ignore it, no one is forcing you to read smut that's what tags and content warnings are for. Neil can write what he wants, and if that is intimate scenes between them, that's up to him. You can fast forward.

Your personal grievances with sex are not the entire fandoms responsibility to mitigate, its something you need to handle on your own. And we aren't somehow deviants if we read/write more or less of it in fics.

I'm saying this in the most loving, big sibling way I can: sex is not wrong. I have my own issues with it, I grew up in an Christian household where anything sexual was absolutely wrong, sex before marriage was wrong, any other type of sex other than basically procreation was wrong. And I've worked to undo that unhealthy mindset on my own. And I think some people have kind of redirected that same mindset into demonizing sex in other ways.

I'm rambling. Sex isn't wrong. And aziraphale and crowley can fuck all they want in any form of media whether it be art or fics or TV.

[repressedqueen]

Imagine, if you will. It is a hot summer day, but still early enough in the morning that the weather isn't insufferable...yet. Buck wakes up, makes his way down the loft stairs, and out to his balcony to see the best sight that has ever laid before him in his life.

Oh wow... I just woke up to this sight so I would say it's dreamy 😍😍🔥

Buck would grin, caress his back fondly, leave a soft kiss on his shoulder blade and then kick him back on the apartment for wild morning sex. 😅

and Tommy would think to himself mission accomplished...

(edit: there is a fic about this now!)

[charliehoennam]

angel part 3

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis takes his crush/neighbor out on their first date and gets a little carried away.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

It's another hot night in Los Angeles.

You step out of your bathroom wrapped in your towel, fresh out of the shower. Rummaging through the messy closet that you've yet to finish organizing due to the move, you try to mentally plan your outfit.

Thinking about what to wear, you push between the hangers and through your clothes for a better look. You find a nice, short, red dress that's both casual and elegant enough for a first date. You match it with a pair of cute ballet flats that accentuate your feet and legs.

Meanwhile, Lou secretly watches you set out your outfit on the bed. There’s a certain thrill that he enjoys about watching you.

He thinks it’s rather sweet how naïve you are, but he’s also aware that it could lead you to potential danger in the wrong hands. That’s why he’s taking it upon himself to protect you.

He’s seen and filmed plenty of horrible things happen to the young innocent girls of L.A who unknowingly put themselves in harm’s way. He doesn’t want that to happen to you. Better than anyone else, he knows what evil men can be capable of. Whether you know it or not, you need him.

His tongue grazes his bottom lip as he watches you take your towel off. Your hair and make-up are all ready. Now, you just have to get dressed.

Hanging your towel over your closet door to dry, you walk over to the side of your bed to grab your favorite lotion from your nightstand.

With concentrated wide eyes, Louis watches from afar as you squeeze the scented lotion onto your palm. Propping your foot on the mattress, you rub the creamy lotion onto your shin first and gradually work your way up to your thigh.

Louis admires you as if admiring a work of art. The way your breasts dangle as you bend over to rub your shin, the folds on your stomach that bunch together, the curve of your ass when you switch your attention to the other leg, the way your ass jiggles when you rub the lotion over your cheeks.

"That's a great ass," he thinks to himself. “Why there though? Does she expect me to touch her there tonight? That would be too forward, wouldn’t it? Is this a sign that you want me too? Oh, you naughty little angel.”

He smirks at the hope of getting to go to fourth base with you again, but with you actually conscious this time.

He stops himself from getting too excited when he sees you putting on your underwear. The way you cautiously select a matching lacy pair indicates, to him, that there’s a strong chance he might get to see it. Just actually on you instead of in your drawer.

Forcing himself away from the window, he takes one last look at himself in the mirror. Adjusting his brown suit jacket, he decides to undo the top button of his white shirt hoping that his subtle flaunting of his chest will give out the signals he’s looking for.

Noting a couple of strands by his ear, he takes his comb to smooth them back into place. He gently presses his palm against the area after spraying a quick mist of hairspray to keep them there.

After a quick spritz of cologne behind each ear, he adds the stolen watch he’d taken from a security guard long before his days as a rising entrepreneur. It sits a little loose on his wrist, but he doesn’t mind it enough to take it off.

Stepping into his bathroom, he stares at himself blankly before opening the medicine cabinet. He takes the sleeping pills he’d used on you before and opens the orange bottle to take a couple of doses. Once they’re placed in a small plastic baggie, he crushes them up with the use of the cup on his sink he usually uses when brushing his teeth. Satisfied with their powdered fineness, he tucks the baggie into his wallet and closes the cabinet.

You come out of your apartment and walk out of the building to find Louis waiting for you outside with his hands tucked into his pockets. He flashes a genuine smile at you as you approach.

“Wow, you look spectacular, Y/N.”

“Thanks. I didn’t wanna overdo it” you smile shyly, pressing your cheek against his to greet him with a friendly kiss. He doesn’t quite kiss you back, surprising by the act, but he’s very happy about it because it’s a positive sign that you’re getting comfortable with him. “You smell really good, by the way. Are you wearing cologne?”

“Yes, I am. I hope it’s not a bother? Special occasions call for special measures.”

“Is this a special occasion?” you smirk up at him.

“Of course, it is. It’s not every day that I get to take the most beautiful lady in the complex out to dinner.”

Your cheeks warm at his compliment.

“It’s not a bother at all. I really like the scent actually.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. May I call you sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. You don’t think anyone’s ever asked your permission to call you a pet name, but you kind of like it. His wardrobe might be a little plain and a touch outdated, but his manners nearly make you wet.

“I thought we could maybe go to this place called Cabanita. They have the best beef fajitas” he smiles leading you over to his dodge challenger.

The cherry red color makes it impossible to miss. You'd noticed it when Matt whistled upond seeing it in the parking lot. You had no idea it belonged to a guy like Louis.

It was a big contrast to his rather timid personality. You would have guessed it belonged to someone little more obnoxious.

"This is your ride?" You ask trying to not look surprised.

"Yeah. Is that alright? I promise I won't drive above the speed limit if that's your concern" he chuckes opening the passenger door.

"Yeah, it's completely fine. Just a really nice car" you smile walking closer to slide into the passenger seat.

He thanks you for the compliment and walks around the front to slide into the driver's seat.

"Seat belt on?" You nod as he clicks in his before starting up the car.

As he pulls out of his parking space, your eyes wander around the vehicle. It's spotlessly clean and neat without a single wrapper lying around. The faint scent of pinewood radiates from the scented pine tree hanging from the mirror.

"So have you been there before?"

You hum looking over at him as he pulls out of your thoughts.

"Cabanita? Have you been there before?" He asks he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"No, I haven't. I've heard about it though."

"Boy, are you in for a treat then. It's one of my favorite places. There's an excellent vegetarian empanada too, if you're not into meat."

"I suppose I'll have a hard time choosing what to eat then.”

"There's no rush anyway. The purpose of this is to get to know each other better after all, right?”

You nod in agreement.

"And they've got a great selection of drinks too. Of course, I won't be indulging too much. Alcohol and driving is never a safe combination."

You smile at him thinking about how your ex used to drink and drive. You like that he's responsible, not only with himself, but your presence too. He makes you feel safe.

"I really appreciate that. Maybe afterwards, we could have a night cap at my place? I mean, as long as you don't mind the mess. It's better than the last time you saw it, but there's still some things to organize."

He smiles widely at the thought of being in your apartment again.

"I would love that, sweetheart."

Upon arriving at the restaurant, you're led to a table for two by the polite hostess. Sitting in the rounded booth of your table, you look around the beautiful decoration of Mexican flair.

"This place is beautiful. I can't believe I've never been here before."

"Neither can I. Please don't  this the wrong way, but I would assume a woman as beautiful as yourself would be often taken out on dates?"

You don't know exactly how to respond.

"I just mean that any man would be happy to take you out for a wine and dine."

"I don't know about that" your cheeks warm. "I haven't been on a date in a while, to be honest."

"That's a little hard to believe. I'd imagine you have guys lining up for an opportunity like this."

"I wish" you chuckle smiling widely at his flirtation. "It is really nice to be here tonight though. I'm glad we did this."

"I am too" he smiles.

You spend the rest of the evening sharing bits and pieces of personal information about yourselves. You tell him how you moved to California, where you're from and the area you work in.

He shares that he's a native to L.A and that he's a business man, specializing in news report filming. He also shares that his parents are deceased and jokes about you not having to deal with troubling in-laws when you apologize for his loss. It happened a long time ago and he was raised by his grandmother who is too no longer around.

You love how Louis listens to you and questions you, making the conversation naturally effortless. It’s a very pleasant change from the men you’d met over tinder giving online dating a chance.

Learning more about your hobbies, interests and area of expertise, Louis is hopeful that you’d make a great match. He strongly believes you’re a potential candidate for him to settle down with, but only time can confirm that. There’s still so much more he needs to revie, but his investment in you is already rather hopeful.

Once you've enjoyed your dinner and dessert over endless talks about each other, you both agree to head back to your place for a night cap.

When he walks into your apartment, he tries to act like he's never been there before. Like everything is new and he doesn't already know all the books or CDs you have on your shelf. Or the shampoo and perfume you wear. Or what your favorite cereal is. Or where you store your undergarments.

No, he doesn't know any of that. He's seeing it all for the very first time.

With a wine glass in hand, you invite him to sit on the couch with you and continue your conversation about the lovely experience you had at the restaurant and how lovely the food and environment were.

It's obvious that there's a slight tension in the air when he sets his hand on your thigh. You're not quite sure why, but it feels a little fast.

You've only just met the man, gone on the first date just now. And given your history of relationships, you've had a pattern of rushing into the sex.

You don't want to give off the wrong impression about yourself and you actually like Lou. He's polite, thoughtful and didn't keep making sexual passes at you over dinner like the other guys.

It was actually really nice to finally be able to sit down and talk to someone who genuinely wanted to get to know you for who you are and not just your body.

There's still something that you can't quite explain that makes you uneasy about him, but the fact that you can't quite pinpoint it makes you believe that it might be just you projecting your fears onto him. It has been a while since you've dated; this was your first date in months.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and hope he won't pick up on your hesitance.

Louis knows something is making you uncomfortable. He doesn't know what. He knows he'll have to work harder and longer to gain your trust, to ensure that you feel completely safe with him before you can invite him into your bed. But that's ok, he doesn't mind the wait. He can be patient when he needs to.

When you come back to the small living room, he's stood adjusting his suit jacket.

"Are you leaving?"

"I hope you're not offended" he nods. "I just got a call from my employee. I have to go, but I was hoping we could maybe do this again sometime?"

"Yeah, a-alright. I'd love to" you nod masking your disappointment. You're almost sure you blew it. He's never going to actually come back.

"Thank you so much for tonight. I really enjoyed our talk and I look forward to getting to know you even better."

"So do I" you nod forcing a smile at him as you follow him to the door. "Stop by whenever. I'm home every day after 6."

As if he doesn't already know your schedule.

"Will do, sweetheart. I apologize again, but I promise I'll make for it. "

"There's no need. It's work."

"Yes, that's true. And I do love the service that I provide, but I think I've been begun to enjoy your company even more."

You smile surprised at him as you open the door. He leans down to mimic your very first act and presses his cheek against yours to kiss you goodbye.

You sigh as the door closes behind your back and shake your head. Part of you wishes you had caved in. Why shouldn't have you? You were flirting, he was into you. All the signs were there.

Regretfully taking your wine glass from the coffee table, you chug down its remaining content. There's a bitter taste to the wine. It just must've been out or opened for too long. It could be time to get a new bottle.

You take the glasses to the kitchen to give them rinse and set them on the drying. Then, you walk over to the closet to remove your dress and bra and change into your pajamas which consists of an oversized t-shirt and the cute lacy panties you’d picked out.

To be fair, Louis did actually have to work. Although the date had ended, his night was only getting started.

It’s only 2 a.m when he comes home from another adrenaline-filled night. Despite the rush of speeding from neighborhood to neighborhood, he isn’t all too tired. Not for you, at least.

Making his way to his window, he looks into your apartment to make sure you’re fast asleep. Content with the fact that you are, he takes his fun time kit and makes his way to your front door.

Quietly breaking into your apartment again, just as easy as before, he closes the door behind him and makes his way over to your bed. With his camcorder in hand, he stares down at you hungrily.

You're on your side with your back to him. Your shirt is just slightly hiked up from the position, revealing a bit of your stomach. You don’t even feel it when he traces his finger up your thigh and over the arch of your ass to test the effect of his dosage.

It’s the same amount as last time, so he’s confident you won’t wake up. But the issue is that he didn’t see you take the sedative this time. For all he knows, you could’ve tossed the wine out instead. It’s a risk he’ll willing to take as he palms the knife – his last resort – in his pocket.

Judging by the TV that’s still on, he believes you did take it. The more he's watched you over the past few days, the more he believes you were made for one another. You don't get out much. Friends aren't over all the time. It's mostly just you alone in your apartment doing chores or watching TV, and you never sleep with it on.

He smirks at the panties that perfectly accentuate your ass, making it look plump and rounder. They look so pretty on you; he doesn’t want to take them off even though he’s anxious to drill his cock into your pussy.

As he films, he slides his middle finger down the crack of your ass and slowly moves it towards your pussy. His eyes alter back and forth from your face to your ass. He wants to be sure you don’t wake up, but there’s no movement so far. Your breathing is just as steady as before.

Smirking to him with wide eyes, he quickly unbuckles his belt and pants and lets his cock spring from its confines. Feeling more confident than the last time, he sets the camera down on the bed in order to strip down and undress.

Once completely naked, he takes his camera in hand again and aims the focal point back to your ass. He lifts the fabric of your panties to tuck his dripping cock underneath it, pressing it against your cheeks. A faint quiet “fuck” escapes from his lips.

He toys with his cock, enjoying how your ass and the lace feels against his hardened shaft. You’re just so warm and begging to be fucked.

Propping one knee on the bed between your legs, he hooks your panties with his finger to lift them and glides his glistening tip down to your plush pussy folds and back to your ass. He could come from this alone, but he wants to enjoy it for as long as he can.

You might not even know, but your body reacts to the head of his dick massaging your clit. You don’t move, too unconscious to even notice, but he can feel your pussy slickening with every stroke between your lips.

Stilling his hips for a moment, the camera shifts upwards to catch him lifting your shirt up over your breast. With a smirk, he flips the screen of the camcorder and sets it down near the corner of your bed angling it to capture himself and you from the front.

Happy with his angle, he’s able to finally focus on only you. He slides your panties to the side and slowly pushes his cock into your wet hole. The pleasure is so good that he has to stop and lean his head back with eyes shut tightly to hold himself back.

Slowly pushing and pulling to wet his dick, he finally bottoms out with a low groan. The tightness of your walls has him struggling to contain himself.

He leans down as he cups your breast in his hand and latches his lips onto your hardened nipple. He sucks and flicks his tongue over it, kneading the flesh with his hand hoping the distraction is able to make him last longer.

Standing beside your bed, his hips begin their slow thrusts as he straightens up. He keeps a hand on your ass to keep your cheeks open for his cock. The other stays on your breast for the sheer satisfaction of how squishy it is.

“Fuck, angel. You feel so fucking heavenly” he whispers to himself. “Could fuck you forever.”

Watching where your bodies connect, he pants and watches your pussy swallowing his cock with such ease. His balls grazing against your thigh only heightens his ecstasy.

His hips quicken until they’re snapping against your ass cheeks. He quickly glances at the camera screen to make sure the angel is filming every inch.

Feeling his orgasm approaching, he squeezes your ass and hips as his eyes move up and down to watch your jiggling breast and your swollen pussy lips engulfing his dick. He hates that he can’t fucking cum inside you. You feel too good to pull out, but he does regardless and lets his ropes of white cum squirt in the crack of your ass instead.

It’s a win-win to him. He doesn’t cum inside you but he still gets to have your warm flesh milk him of every drop.

Stepping back to catch his breath, he holds your panties with one hand to film your ass painted white with his load. He zooms in as close as he can to capture his seed drip between your cheeks.

Stunned by the fact that you haven’t even budged, he sets the camera down. He carefully rolls you onto your front, lowers your panties to your ankles and parts your legs as wide as he can.

Taking the camera once more, he watches with wide eyes as his cum slowly trickles onto and between your pussy lips, making you look so juicy and creamy for him. He can’t help but set his camcorder aside and position himself on your bed to lower down and lick it up.

His tongue prods at your creamy cunt as his hands squeeze your ass, thumbs parting your sore lips open to lap at all the juices oozing from you. He circles your clit. His tongue licks at your folds over and over again to capture every drop of his salty load and sinks as far as it can into your pussy.

Moving upwards, he parts your cheeks to glide his tongue between them and licks up the mess, poking the puckered hole with his tongue. He can only imagine how good fucking your ass must feel. He doesn’t want to do that just yet, he wants you to be awake for it because he knows it could be painful. He’s not an animal, of course.

His cock does twitch and hardens at the thought of fucking your ass.

Spitting on your pussy, he rolls you back onto your side before lying down beside you. He takes the camera to film himself lying beside you, as if you’re a couple. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your conditioner. He smiles to himself as he kisses your neck and shoulder, admiring how cute you look together on the screen of the camcorder.

Positioning it on the bed, he aims the lenses of it up at your cunt and his cock for the perfect angle of his dick slipping back into you for another round.

Tonight, he plans to test his limit and see how much he can really get away with.  

His cock slips past your pussy lips again and fucks you harder this time, letting his balls slap against your clit and add to the delicious vulgar sounds that fill the room.

Once his orgasm builds up again, he holds your thigh tightly and pulls his cock out to simply glide between your drenched lips, cumming on them.

His load slickens your thighs, so he holds them closed and fucks them slowly to ease himself down from his high, altering from your supple thighs and wet cunt.

He swears he could fuck you like this all night, and he just might.

[bisexualbrainrots]

part 2 of the louliver fic inspired by this ask from cj's page and fuck, why was this so long I- anyways, enjoy y'all

“When you said you wanted to draw me I didn’t expected you to drag it out this long”

Lou looked up from his chair, and chuckled at the bored expression in Oliver’s face “It hasn’t been that long, c’mon”

Oliver arched an eyebrow and pointed at the clock “It’s been exactly an hour since you started… also, I’m kind of cold in here” he wiggled his hips on the couch, making Lou smile.

“Well, that’s what happens in nude modeling, Oliver”

Oliver scoffed but went back to his original pose, resting his head on his forearms, slightly flexing them, with one of his legs bent high enough to cover his crotch from Lou’s view. He wouldn’t admit it but he really liked it, he liked the way in which Lou studied him, his eyes focusing on different areas of his body at a time before going back to the page.

“If this isn’t going to be one of your best works then I’m sorry but you’ve wasted a good hour where you could’ve fucked me into oblivion”

Lou snorted a laugh, without taking his eyes away from the sketch “Perfection takes time, Oli ” he smirked, knowing the younger was watching him “Besides, you already came before I pulled the charcoal, it’s how I got you to agree to this”

Lou shifted in his seat, remembering the way the younger had come down his throat, leaning against the kitchen island.

Oliver laughed, his chest shaking a little “And it fucking worked, remind me not to listen to you after you’ve gotten me off Lou”

It was not really that surprising the amount of things both men could agree to after coming, given that sex between them was nothing less than extraordinary. They would end up dazed, no thoughts on their heads but the wave of pleasure that just washed over them, which in most cases tended to be intense.

Months of sex could do that to you, especially when it was as exploratory as theirs.

They had gotten to know each other’s bodies well enough to hit those spots that would make them see stars, that would make them lose themselves to ecstasy and not stop until they reached the finishing line.

Lou gave one last brush with his thumb to the paper, the finishing touches done and he hummed, pleased with the end result “Okay, I’m done, you can stop your whining and get dressed… or not ” he looked at him as he grabbed a cloth to clean his hands, carrying that playful smirk Oliver had gotten to know over the last months.

Oliver sighed with content “Finally” he sat on the couch, leaning towards the older “Can I get a peak then?, seeing as I’m probably the only one would get to watch this”

Lou rolled his eyes but gave him a small smile “Okay, get in here” he watched carefully as the younger approached the armrest, and before he could sit and watch he spoke “Look, I’m my worst critic, so I don’t think it’s perfect but… here it is”

He didn’t expect for Oliver to lose his breath as he took in the drawing, brushing it with his fingers, enchanted by it “This… this is really good Lou” he looked up at the older, biting his lower lip before speaking “Is-is this how you see me?”

Oliver did look good, really good. Lou captured everything, from the fluffy curls on his head to the definition in his muscles. The shading made it almost look like a filtered photograph, you could still tell it was a drawing but it was impressive how stuck to reality it was for the most part.

Oliver’s face in the sketch looked angelic, his eyes soft as they were looking at the front, it was a bit eerie since it looked like he was staring into you. He was gorgeous though, his lips looking plump and his birthmark adorning his face. Oliver couldn't believe it.

He looked perfect.

Lou cleared his throat suddenly nervous “Well, yeah I guess, I mean I tried to make this as realistically as possible, I don't usually get to practice this style that mu—” his rambling couldn't continue thanks to Oliver's lips on his, accompanied by his hand that was cupping his face. 

Lou closed his eyes and gave into the kiss. It was sweeter than most, it almost reminded him of their first kiss, when they rehearsed for their scene on the show.

When they stopped he was breathless, staring into the younger's eyes and almost moaning at the way his pupils had overpowered the blue.

“C’mere” he said, carefully placing the sketch on the coffee table before grabbing Oliver's hips, making him straddle his lap.

Oliver squeaked at the strength, giggling when he had Lou's hands all over him, and started trading kisses along the older's cheek and neck. He nipped at the earlobe, giving it a lick “I looked really fucking good, Jesus , how the fuck did you do that Lou?” he whispered in his ear.

Lou groaned when he felt Oliver grinding on him and kneaded his asscheeks, getting one his fingers closer to the rim “I just… I have a lot of practice, you know?”

Oliver shivered when he felt Lou's digit stimulating his entrance and demanded him to put it inside quickly. This got him a strong spank that made him whimper.

Lou took the finger out and brought it along with other two to Oliver's lower lip “Coat them well if you want me to fuck you, Oliver” the younger moaned and welcomed the digits immediately, licking and drooling onto them like they were Lou's actual cock. 

Lou cooed, complimenting the way in which the younger sucked off his fingers, his other hand playing with Oliver's curls. Oliver closed his eyes, putting on a little show for the older, whom he knew was going to be looking at him intensely. 

When Lou had decided it was enough he took them out and slid one finger into Oliver's hole, making the younger squirm and hold himself by the older's shoulders.

He slowly started to open him up, sliding in and out his finger until he could see the way Oliver was looking for more. A second digit was added and Oliver started moaning louder, hiding his face in the crook of Lou's neck. 

When it was time for the third finger the younger was sobbing, tears streaming down his face as pleasure overtook him. 

When Lou found Oliver's prostate the other jolted and cursed loudly, rolling his hips to get more of Lou's thick fingers “Yeah that's it, ride my fingers Oli , c'mon, fuck yourself with them” the older's voice reached a new low that surprised the younger and made him lean back enough so that their noses were brushing.

“Fuck, Lou… fuckin’ hell” he gasped against the older's lips, their hot breath mingling together. Oliver groaned and joined their foreheads “Fuck me, please Lou just fuck me now, ah ”

Lou took the younger's mouth and slid his tongue in, kissing him passionately as his fingers started to slow down, receiving a loud complaint from Oliver. He continued the kiss as he took hold of Oliver's ass and lifted both of them from the chair, leading them to the couch with him on top of the younger.

Lou held Oliver's wrists and lifted them over the younger's head, grinding against him. He separated from the kiss and started trading some along Oliver's neck, receiving sighs and encouragements from him. 

“Why am I the only one still clothed here, Lou? ah yeah, there , t-take those damn shorts off”

Lou chuckled against Oliver's neck and gave him a gentle bite, which made the younger squirm “I’m sorry, your royal highness, but I don't answer to mean”

“You like it when I'm mean”

Lou rolled his eyes and groaned, letting his hold on the younger's wrists go and allowing Oliver to undress him “I do, I also like it when you're needy which I recall you were when you begged me to fuck you” his impression of the younger got him a twist on his nipples and he laughed, letting all his clothes fall to the floor with the help of Oliver. 

When he was naked he looked between the cushions and cheered when he found the lube, receiving a mockery from the younger. 

“You’re such a dork Lou” 

“A dork that will pound you into the couch in the next minute or so, so we better get you ready” he chuckled as he poured some lube on his fingers and slid them inside Oliver, who squirmed at the feeling. 

It only took a couple of thrusts with his fingers to get Oliver ready, which both men secretly thanked as Lou took a cushion and placed it under the younger's hips.

Oliver got another cushion to rest his head in and locked eyes with Lou as he lined himself in his entrance. He gasped, breathless as the tip entered and closed his eyes shut the more inches slipped in “W-why did you have to be so big Lou?” he grabbed onto the older's biceps, sinking his nails in.

Lou chuckled “You ask yourself that and I'm still wondering how you are so tight after I opened you up” both men snorted a laugh at that and Oliver fluttered his eyes open. They gasped when Lou bottomed out, Oliver's mouth hanging open as a whimper escaped his throat. 

“Fuck… fuck ” Oliver was breathless, taking gulps of air as he felt Lou filling him up “M-move, please …”

Lou gave him a soft smile and slowly started to roll his hips, pulling soft moans from the younger's mouth. He leaned in, kissing his forehead and joining them as his pace picked up, thrusting deeply into Oliver. 

Oliver’s legs wrapped themselves around Lou's hips, and his moans filled the room as the older kept fucking him “Harder, fuck me harder Lou”

Lou did as such, letting out a groan as he leaned his head back, admiring the way the younger looked form that angle “Sometimes it’s really annoying how beautiful you are, Oliver” the younger looked at him and smiled faintly, his face and chest covered in a red blush “Makes me want to paint all over you”

Their bodies were sweaty now as they slammed into each other, skin to skin sounds that made both men sigh.

“We c-could, ah , you know there’s edible paint, right?”

Lou's eyes sparkled, thinking about all the things he could create on the younger's body, and how he could lick all of that off with his tongue, taking his time to ruin the other “You’re giving me ideas, Oli”

Oliver chuckled but then bit his lip, looking at the older with pleading eyes “Lou…” 

Lou looked at him confused, it was a different look from the ones he had been giving him up to the moment “W-what? Are you okay?” 

He cared about him, despite the way Oliver has hurt him before. Sometimes it made him sad, to know he had become so infatuated with a person who will never reciprocate those feelings.

“It’s just… fuck , Lou, lift my legs” the needy moan that escaped Oliver's mouth bounced around the older's head “I-I want you in deeper, please fucking lift my legs”

Lou smiled and gave him a small kiss before leaning back, taking Oliver by the ankles letting them rest on his shoulders. The change in angle made it easier to fuck into the younger deeper and faster, and suddenly, Oliver screamed. 

“Touch yourself Oli , c'mon, jerk yourself off” the softness in Lou's voice was a bit too much for Oliver, who teared up as his hand reached his aching cock, pumping it hard.

Lou’s hands caressed Oliver's legs, a soft touch that contrasted with the hard thrusts that drilled into the younger's ass “I’m obsessed with your legs, Oliver, they're so long it's ridiculous, fuck ”

Oliver’s laugh turned into a loud moan as the older kept hitting his prostate, and he just knew “Lou I-I’m gonna come, shit , Lou please come inside, I need, I need—”

“I know” Lou’s thumb stroked Oliver's lips and the younger sucked on it, never letting his eyes off the older “Shit, Oliver ”

The care in Lou's voice was enough to send Oliver over the edge, and he came hard. His cum reached up to his pecs, and his body shook so hard you'd think he was convulsing. 

It took a few more thrusts for Lou to reach ecstasy, screaming Oliver's name as he filled his hole, so much he knew he was overflowing it.

He carefully dropped Oliver's legs to his sides before collapsing on top of him, their chests sticking together as they got their breathing under control. 

“Fuck, that was…” 

“Amazing” Oliver finished, and both chuckled before kissing softly.

Lou pulled out, making the younger wince, and rested his head on Oliver's shoulder “I think I'll stay like this for a while Oli I can't… I don't think I can stand up just yet”

Oliver chuckled “ You can't stand up? Lou I can't feel my lower body… but I'm not complaining, that was a good fuck”

Lou smiled, and kissed his neck “Yeah, it was”

read on AO3.

[starrywilliams]

it shocks me that some people genuinely ship abby and owen. like that’s a LESBIAN

[bouncybongfairy]

That's My Thing

Lou Langston x Drunk!Fem Reader

Summary: You get jealous that Lou let Daisy light her Cig. Which leads the two of you to have make-up sex on her apartment.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @redactedbutch

TW: Drunk Sex, Fingering, Nipple Play

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting in the passenger seat of Lou’s pick up, tipsy and frustrated. She was sitting on a bar stool and you were standing between her legs. Back pressed against the bar, arms wrapped around her neck. You were giggling and flirting into her ear, she was getting increasingly touchy. When you turned around you were practically sitting in her lap while taking a shot; she ran her hands up and down your hips and sides. Squeezing the soft fat on your hips in her rough fingers.

Everything was going great until you came back from the bathroom and saw Daisy lighting Lou’s cigarette. That was your thing, whenever she needed a smoke Lou would put it in her mouth and wait for you. No matter how long you took or what you were doing, she always expected you to stop and give her a light. Even though it was such a little act of servitude, it meant a lot to you. Watching her eyebrows furrow, her face become illuminated by the glow of the fire.

Always taking a nice deep drag, muttering out a line of appreciation like ‘thanks baby’ or ‘what a good girl’ while exhaling smoke. Maybe it was just because you were drunkenly over thinking but it infuriated you that Daisy took any opportunity you had to please Lou. To serve her in the most basic ways because that’s exactly what she deserves for working so hard. Lou knew she was the one who’d drive home so she didn’t drink too much.

Knowing this, you drank enough for both of them. She wrapped her arm around your waist and helped you up the stairs and into the apartment. She knew there was something off, normally you were all over her when you’re drunk. Usually hiccupping and giggling while pulling at her belt. Lou sat on the couch kicking her shoes off just to watch you bend over and pick them up. She whistled which normally sent you into a fit of laughter; you didn’t even notice which concerned her.

She got up and pulled you onto her lap, your knees on the outside of her thighs. You melt onto her, resting your cheek on her shoulder. Closing your eyes and taking deep inhales of her scent, nearly forgetting that you were so jealous and sexually frustrated. You played and tugged on her carabiner that was hanging off the left side of her belt loop while she spoke.

“What’s wrong baby,” she asked while running her hand up and down your back.

“Why did you let Daisy light your cigarette?’ you mumble into the skin of her neck.

“That’s what this is about, you didn’t like that huh?” she asked while comforting you.

“No, that what -hiccup- I’m the one who lights your cigarettes,” you practically whine.

“Yeah? Why?” Lou knew why but she wanted to hear you say it.

“Because I like taking care of you and doing like… everything you need. I love you so much and I don’t want anyone else to do anything that pleases or -hiccup- satisfies your need,” you said.

“Aww I see, you just wanna eat up all my attention like you can’t get enough of it, hmmm?” Lou said, getting the half smoked Newport from behind her ear and putting it between her lips, “i’m waiting,” she said, smacking the bare skin on your ass which made you jump.

You reached down and grabbed the lighter from the coffee table. Lou wanted to bend you over right there and rail you with her fingers but knew she’d get more satisfaction out of teasing until you were a drippy, achy mess. She was overwhelmed with emotion while you brought the flame to her lips. Fog completely wrapped around her brain, all she could think about was you. She loved that you were so obsessed with her, always hanging off her arm.

Loving her so deep that she could feel it within her chest and bones. Normally Lou took on the caretaker role as the masc in the relationship but it was opposite in this case. You constantly wanted to take care of Lou, brushing her hair after the shower. Cutting her nails, making sure she had lunch packed and made for work. Never letting her come home to a dirty apartment and rubbing her back to sleep almost every night. All Lou wanted to do was please you, touching and groping you gave her so much satisfaction and release.

She’d never been treated like a princess before and you being so nurturing made her so deeply infatuated with you. No matter how rough and sadistically she was fucking into your sex you always remained so gentle. Like you were thanking her for pushing your body beyond its limits, bruising her cervix while whispering vile things into her ear. After talking things out, you were back to your bubbly self, nipping at Lou’s ear, eventually taking your shirt off which got her attention.

“Hold this for me and don’t let it ash on the couch, hear me?” She said, handing you the cig and focusing her attention on your chest.

She used her thumbs to flick over your hard and swollen nipples for a while. Your hips jerked while you moaned and whimpered into her ear. Body already so reactive to her hands, you gasped and cried out while she pinched and rolled your nipples between her fingers. Your state of inebriation made the sounds that came from you unfiltered. Throwing the stupid cig onto the ashtray. She moved one of her hands down and up into your skirt.

At first she was massaging your swollen clit with her finger but you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. Grabbing her wrist with both hands and grinding against your hand. Rubbing your wet folds against her fingers, occasionally slipping two in just to feel you squeeze your walls around the digits. Lou purposely keeping your legs apart, spreading your wetness all over your greedy sex. Your legs were beginning to shake, and your thrusts were becoming sporadic and wild.

She took one of your nipples into her mouth and began flicking her tongue; knowing it would send you over the edge. She almost came in her pants while watching you squirt onto her jeans. Biting onto her neck while riding out your orgasm. You collapsed onto her lap, still straddling her but letting your head rest on her shoulder. Panting and wiping the sweat off your face using Lou’s shirt. So worn out that you didn’t even notice that Lou was chuckling to herself, standing the two of you up from the couch.

“Awe, you think we're done babe? Holy shit you are adorable,” she said, grabbing your ass and spreading you while carrying you to the bedroom.

[incognit0slut]

🌸Lou’s Reading List🌸

To celebrate reaching a milestone of 6k (how did that happen??), I'm doing something different! I usually write something special for these occasions, but this time, I want to share some of my favorite fics. I've received so much love and support from so many of you, and I hope you'll give the same amount of love to these talented writers too.

Disclaimer; This list is just my personal preference of stories I’ve read recently or in the past. You can check each author’s masterlist for more of their amazing works!

ANGST

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend by @aliteralsemicolon To lean on you by @lavenderspence Post Mortem by @actually-safer-to-kiss Crossed off, Third by @mindfullycriminal Spencer grieves your death by @mandarinmoons Epiphany by @pathologicalreid Say don't go by @mrs-weasley-reid No second chances by @spencerreiddddd His sunshine by @rreids

(I don’t read much angst I’m so sorry)

FLUFF

Take my breath away by @atlabeth In every other life by @irndad You’re too sweet for me by @januaryembrs Reader admires Spencer, Spencer comforts reader by mandarinmoons Spencer makes you fluster by @avis-writeshq Where's my wife by @reiderwriter Slumber party by @nereidprinc3ss Hold you by @radioactiveinvisible In sickness and in health by pathologicalreid Love like the sea by @rynwritesreid 24 hours by @radiant-reid I'd wait for you by @unseededtoast Innate response by @reidsdaisies Candles by @icarryitin Cute, outrage genius by lavenderspence Wingwoman by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi Love drunk by @dr-spencer-reids-queen

SMUT (18+, MDNI)

Rumoured Nights by @fortheloveofwonderland Dailing up for trouble, Check your window by @reidmotif Trophy wife, Headache relief by @gubsbuubs Flashed by @sinfulspencer Bringing your work with you by pathologicalreid There are ways to visit heaven without dying by @faunalune Good luck by @luveline Elixir by @foxy-eva Vegas Redemption by @stairain Safe and sound by @little-miss-dilf-lover Malicious Compliance by aliteralsemicolon Love bites by @spencerreidenjoyer Light of the morning by nereidprinc3ss A little less conversation by @springtyme Lingerie, hot tub by @golden1u5t Feverish by @reidsdimples Wine or wine out by @reidrum Dirty impulses by @minswriting Two sides of the same coin by @reids-slut

And while you’re at it, please take the time to check this Palestine Masterpost🇵🇸 and share as much information as you can. Posting on what is occurring right now will not ruin your aesthetic. I promise.

If you can reblog a good story, you can definitely reblog about the genocide too.

[bunniehrtz]

EATING LOU OUT PLS PLS

kristen stewart world domination (dominate me next pleeeeease)

cw: cunnilingus (l!receiving), reader has hair that can be/is pulled (other features aren’t mentioned), kristen stewart is so sexy and i want her

“god, fuck,” lou sighs under a breathy whimper, subtly writhing around her messy comforter. her is grip tight on your shoulders and your tongue on her clit forces her back to stretch up. you groan against her, bringing a hand up to push her back down, an empty scoff and laugh leaving her lips. chants of your name hide under moans and whines, and she tugs on your jaw, pulling you in closer to her soaked cunt.

“good girl. that’s it, baby,” she whispers, her mouth hung open as she throws her head back slightly. her knees are propped up, spread widely with you slotted in the middle. her bottom lip is sucked between her teeth, almost drawing blood as she bites down. lou’s hands come up to claw and scratch at your scalp, fisting your hair in her hands as she encourages you.

“yeah, baby. just like that, come on,” she says breathily, her voice hitching as you feel her legs close around your head, only motivating you more. your tongue moves faster and your hands come up to knead and pinch at her thighs.

“dirty fuckin’ girl. ‘m so close, baby,” you can hear her smirk as she looks down at you. you blink up at her, your movements faster and harsher. her back arches up, pushing her hips into your face as you feel her gush around you, smirking into her messy cunt.

you pull away, laughing as you look up at her dark, sunken eyes. she beckons you up with a nod, her hand wrapped around your throat as she pulls you into a sloppy, visceral kiss. her other hand rested on your hip as she moves you to lay where she was previously. her smirk making you immediately roll your eyes as she begins to kiss down your naked abdomen. you were in for a looong night

[bl4nchetts-lvr]

Hello, can u please write Lydia Tar smut? I love the way u write, even if english is not your first language.

teacher's pet

lydia tar x fem!younger!reader (semi-SMUT)

summary: What will a student be willing to do for her teacher's approval?

PART 1

word count: TO BE ADDED

guide:

this font is lydia's words as thoughts in Y/N's head

this font is Y/N's thoughts

this font is just the dialogues!

"you are the worst";

"you will never get better";

"why do you even try? you are worthless";

"that's all you can do?"

this is what you have been hearing from lydia every lesson,every practice. you can't take it anymore. you are desperate for her validation.

she is your teacher,your conductor. she is the lydia tar. How could you dissapoint her so much?

"you are such a dissapointment."

you want her to praise you. you want to be the best,you hate seeing her praise other students who do better than you. you want to be as good as them,no,you want to be BETTER than them

"good girl"

you want her to call YOU a good girl. you want her to aknowledge your hard work..

19:37

the lesson had just ended,every student had left. You and her are alone in the hall.

she is fixing her hair which is up in a messy,loose ponytail. her shirt is slightly unbuttoned,tucked into her pants which where slightly baggy but still showed how small her waist was.

"what do you want now,y/n?" she asks with her raspy voice,perhaps from smoking so much,she looked at you with her pale blue eyes.

you couldn't talk,your throat went dry from anxiety. "Will she get mad? what if she will hate me even more now..?" you heard your thoughts.

"speak up." you heard her say.

you got closer to her,fidgeting with the end of your shirt. you took a deep breath,heart beating fast. "Why am i so nervous..?"

"I .." you bit your lip again. "i.. wanted to apologize for the .. the dissapointment that i've caused you." your voice broke. "i never wanted to be like this,i've been trying hard to please you and be the student you're proud of,miss Tar." your eyes were filling up with moist,she could see this and it made her chapped lips merge into a faint smirk.

"i will do everything to stay as your student,i will show you how .. how serious i take music,really,i will! i will do every-" you froze when you saw her get up and tower over you..she quite a tall woman,masculine appearance,no make up,her wrinlkles around her eyes make them even more alluring.

"Alright,alright .. i hear you." she looked down at you,pulling a strand of your hair behind your ear. "if you really want to show me how dedicated you are to music,how much you truly desire to be apart of my orchestra,how much you are willing to do to be my good little girl .. then i will let you."

her cold smirk got slightly more visible.

"i will see you at my apartment tonight,at 10PM. be on time and do not dissapoint me even more,got it?"

you couldn't say anything as your moist eyes dried up from shock and suddeness of this situation.

"my good little girl" is what echoed in your head. her good little girl..?

You will do everything for it,won't you?

all you could do is nod a little,while feeling her strong hands on your shoulders.

"i will do everything she desires. i will show you that i'm worth it." you thought,as your eyes filled up with determination.

----

21:57

you got to her apartment and saw all its glory: very big,luxurious,lydia's photos and awards were on display. her office door was open and you could see her desk,a piano,some other instruments you couldnt really make out because the lights were off in the room.

you got called to her living room.

your heart was beating faster than before,you were determined to not dissapoint her. not anymore.

for about 30 minutes you two were talking,and while doing so you could feel her glance full of lust on yourself.

at the end,lydia put her hand on your thigh. Her eyes were eerily cold,like that one of a psychopath,you could see her slight smirk that was making you feel quite uncomfortable and worried.

"You said you would do everything for me to keep you in my team,no?" she said with her raspy voice. "i want you to prove it."

she pulled her hands from your thigh to your waist,pulling you down on her lap. her hand slid down under your dress,as she felt your cold yet soft skin.

her face got closer to your neck,her nose faintly touching it. her warm breath was one of the many things you could feel at that moment. then,you felt her chapped lips making a contact with your neck,kissing it.

your breath hatched as you felt her lips. your eyes widened a little,looking down at the floor while your hands were pressing into the back of the couch to keep yourself steady. your heart is beating incredibly fast,you're scared .. nervous .. excited.

Yes,this is what you had dreamt of.. every lesson when you got to sit close to this incredible,yet creepy woman,you felt her masculine perfume .. you had seen her veiny hands that you wished were wrapped around your neck,which,in fact,is happening right now.

her cold and rough left hand is on your neck as she bites down on it. she smirks again,feeling the fast pulse of her student's.

you couldn't remember anything after that,but you were already on her soft,luxurious king sized bed with lydia in front of you,laying right at your legs and holding them open .. her chapped lips are kissing your left inner thigh,her blue eyes piercing into you ..

her teeth teasingly bit into your plush thigh,then pulling back and sitting up. her hands pulled you closer to her and she looked down at your most vulnerable parts covered by thin fabric. she smirked again,satisfied with what was happening.

The older woman's overly veiny hands grabbed your panties,slowly pulling them down to reveal your most vulnerable part. her twisted smirk widened as she licked her lips a little and looked into your eyes.

"Can't wait for it,hm?" she said with a dark chuckle.

she was right,you couldn't wait for it. You wanted to be her favourite,you wanted her to praise you,to aknowledge your hard work and for her to finally fuck you.

"Show me what you are willing to do,Y/N."

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

Part 1 is here <3

this little fic will have 2 parts and the 2nd one will be the smut. i promise,i'll post it soon! i'm sorry for being so inactive,i didn't feel like writting at all.

hope you liked it. Stay hydrated,eat well,take care of yourselves and i hope you all have a great day/night !!

[marasmadness]

Masterlist- MarasMadness

- Intro & Request post

~Jennifer Jareau~

* After Dark

* “When you look at me like that, my darling, what did you expect?”

* Push and Pull ft. Elle Greenaway

* What We Deserve ft. Emily Prentiss

* Five More

~Elle Greenaway~

* Push and Pull ft. Jennifer Jareau

* You Were Never Not Mine ft Emily Prentiss

~Emily Prentiss~

* Indulged Imprints

* What We Deserve ft. Jennifer Jareau

* Only Need You For The Oxytocin

* Normal Thing

* You Were Never Not Mine ft Elle Greenaway

~ Regina Mills ~

*Midnights With The Mayor

[mae-lou-ron]

For Granted

Summary: Your beloved Gregor returns from a weeks-long mission for the clone underground, and after a long night filled with debriefings, he can’t wait to show you just how much he missed you while he was gone.

Pairing: Captain Gregor x f!reader

Warnings: 🚨 NSFW - SMUT AHEAD 🚨, 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content and language, established relationship, mutual pining, cockwarming, unprotected PiV, edging, delayed orgasm, praise, soft!Dom Gregor, pleasure!dom Gregor?, oodles of fluff, Gregor can't keep his eyes (or hands) off you, color system safe words (only green used), aftercare, this is what I call a plot/smut/plot sandwich.

Word Count: 4,700

A/N: GOBBLE GOBBLE GREGOR GIRLIES. Happy to report I am posting this way earlier than I thought would be possible. (I finally did it @jetii, @captn-trex @lonewolflupe— again thank you for your constant inspiration and encouragement) This is the first smut I’ve ever posted and I guess decided to just go for it. I don’t know what to tell you, I just feel like Gregor would be such a soft and needy little pleasure dom. Okay, bone apple tea my fellow feral goblins. DO NOT PERCEIVE ME.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late—very late.

The away team shuttle had touched down hours ago, but before you could greet Gregor properly, Rex had swooped in and intercepted him before he even made it down the gangplank. Their mission to the ruins of Tipoca City had proven successful, and Rex wanted to know everything.

For nearly two weeks, they dove beneath the old cloning facility's wreckage, searching the depths for anything that survived the orbital bombardment—especially for anything that could help them better understand the inhibitor chips. As you observed him from across the holotable, you noted the exhaustion that marked your beloved's features. His bloodshot eyes had dark circles beneath them, and though he tried his best to stay alert and focused, the weariness was clearly setting in. Yet, despite his current state, Gregor's gaze kept finding its way back to you, his lips curving into a small smile whenever your eyes met.

You listened and updated the data banks while Rex thoroughly questioned Gregor and his team about their operation. When Rex was finally satisfied with what was recovered, the meeting adjourned. As you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Gregor, hoping this was finally the moment for your long-awaited reunion—but he remained deep in conversation with Rex, their heads bent together. You sighed inwardly but couldn't help glowing with admiration for him.

He was probably the most lighthearted of his brothers, but Gregor showed unwavering dedication to his work—particularly when it involved Rex. After all, Rex had orchestrated Gregor's rescue from the Empire by sending the Bad Batch to extract him, saving Gregor from the Empire's grim plans for clone troopers like himself.

Rex's relentless pursuit to understand and neutralize the inhibitor chips strengthened Gregor's dedication to the mission. For Gregor, helping Rex wasn't just about loyalty—it was about preventing other clones from enduring the same fate. This devotion extended to everyone Gregor held dear, including you. He had become not only your lover but your best friend and closest ally in the growing clone rebellion. You had become one of the few anchors in each other’s lives that had been plagued with uncertainty.

From your first meeting, you were irresistibly drawn to him—and he made no effort to hide his magnetic attraction to you. Even now, his keen eyes would seek you out first whenever he entered a room. True to form, Gregor's gaze shifted to you over Rex's shoulder again, silently expressing his longing to be near you after so many days apart. You caught his eye and flashed a playful smirk, pressing a fingertip to your lips before extending it toward him. He would always wink in return. Though your relationship was no longer a secret, you both treasured this little ritual—a wordless exchange of adoration between the two of you.

Back in your quarters, you changed into your sleep clothes and settled into bed. Propped against pillows with your data pad in hand, you intended to review the new data decryptions while waiting for Gregor's return, hoping he might have more enticing ways to keep you awake. But the warmth of your bed and the quiet hum of recycled air lulled you to sleep with surprising swiftness. Your eyes grew heavy, thoughts of him blurred behind your lids until you drifted off.

A short while later, you stirred from a light sleep when you felt the bed dip. With gentle hands, Gregor retrieved your fallen data pad and slid under the covers behind you. His strong arms enveloped you, drawing you against his chest.

"Stars, I've missed you, my darling," Gregor sighed into the space between you. Your eyes fluttered open as his lips pressed into the back of your shoulder, sending a thrill down your spine.

The familiar spicy scent of him filled your nose—he must have hit the fresher before coming to bed. You hummed contentedly and turned within his arms to face him, your lips curling into a sleepy smile. "Missed you too," you murmured.

Gregor's tired eyes were filled with warmth and adoration in the dim light. His hand gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "Sorry I'm late..."

"S'okay," you leaned into his touch. "You're here now, and at least I know you're not just another dream," you said into his chest as you yawned.

Gregor's heart thrummed at your words. The thought of you dreaming about him stoked the ever-present desire he seemed to hold for you. "How's the burn?" he asked instead, softly moving his hand down, fingertips skimming over the fresh scars on your hip.

"All healed now. Rex was right, of course," you grumbled. The former captain had benched you from field work due to the blaster fire that grazed you on your last mission. Though you'd insisted it was healed enough, Rex wouldn't budge. You knew he was right, but being sidelined grated your nerves— especially since it was your intel they were operating on.

"You really scared me for a minute there, you know," Gregor whispered, his voice lilted with emotion as his fingers traced the newly healed scar.

You kissed the tip of his nose and gave him a knowing smile. "You should know better than anyone, love. It takes more than that to keep someone down," you murmured, covering his hand with your fingertips. A pitchy chuckle escaped him as he pressed his forehead to yours, recognizing the echo of his own resilient spirit in your words. But his face fell incrementally as he found his next words.

"I still wish you could have been there, on Kamino," he confessed, his voice solemn. He didn’t have to say anything, but you knew how strange returning to Kamino was going to be for him. He had his brothers with him, but you’d hoped to be there for him too.

"You just wanted a chance to see me in my swimming gear," you quipped instead.

Gregor's eyes sparkled as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth with a quiet rumble. "Can you blame me? Thinking of you in any state of undress was all I had to keep me sane out there," his words and lips danced against your cheek.

You squirmed in his embrace as his hand trailed up and down your body, fingertips once again sweeping over the swell of your hip. "But I always love seeing my cyare like this…" he added, his warm hand giving you a playful squeeze, referring to the teeny tiny shorts you often wore around your shared quarters, just for him.

“Oh? And why is that?” You said with a raised eyebrow, feigning ignorance at how his eyes would habitually follow you around whenever you wore them. Not to mention the mischief he would promise when he saw you wearing any of his clothing, and tonight you had grabbed one of his shirts to sleep in.

“Because it’s what you’re comfortable in,” he sighed contentedly as his fingers slipped under the hem, grazing the soft skin at the small of your back.

Being under his focus with such reverence made your heart pound in your ears, his magnetic touch constantly drawing you in. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw. "Will you just kiss me, already?" you whispered, forgetting your teasing.

Gregor hummed as his lips met yours, sweet and gentle, his hands rediscovering every curve and contour. You melted into his radiating warmth, the steady rhythm of his heart. When you nibbled his bottom lip, it earned you a deep moan and a roll of his body against yours. Your fingers wove through his damp hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, his tongue moving softly against yours.

Your lips danced together in a sensual rhythm, exploring and tasting with unhurried devotion as his fingers threaded through your hair, cradling the back of your head. Each sweep of his tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, the kiss deepening with an intensity that made your toes curl and your heart race. Through every tender touch, he conveyed how deeply he'd missed you, and a familiar heat had bloomed between you fueled by days of delayed desire. The warmth of it coursed through your veins, spurring you on.

Eager to feel his skin against yours, you tugged off your shirt and pushed at his. Gregor chuckled softly and obliged, pulling off his shirt with deliberate slowness before tossing it aside. Under your fingertips, his body felt electric as you traced the familiar scars adorning his soft, golden skin. A shiver ran through him at your touch, and he groaned when your lips found his shoulder.

"Darling, I need you…" he purred, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts. His voice dropped lower, thick with desire. He paused, eyes intense and yearning as they locked with yours. "I've thought of you every night. Your kiss, your smile, the sounds you make for me." His fingers gripped your hips possessively, sure to leave marks. "Tell me, meshla," he breathed. "Did you think of me too?"

You let out a soft whine, your head falling against his chest as a breathy "Yes," escaped your swollen lips.

"Tell me..." he implored, his body rolling into yours once more. "Did I hear you say you dreamt of me?"

"Of course I did," you confessed softly, leaning close. Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear as intimate desires and details of your self-indulgent dreams tumbled from your lips. Gregor shivered, your warm breath tickling his skin. His fingers flexed as he strained to catch every hushed syllable. These whispered words were for him alone.

His chest rumbled with a deep, guttural sound. "Cyare," he whispered, the word dripping with honey.

You lifted your hips as he slid your shorts down your legs. Once free, he swooped in to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as his hands roamed your newly exposed skin. He swallowed the soft gasp that escaped your lips when his fingers dipped between your legs, growling appreciatively at how ready you were for him.

You whined at his touch, your fingertips curling around the base of his neck. Gregor sighed, his breath hot against your shoulder as he trailed kisses down to your collarbone. You heard him chuckling quietly as his fingers teased your sensitive flesh. "…and I’ve barely touched you yet,” he teased.

You huffed in response and started pushing his shorts over his hips, firmly grasping a handful of his taught backside in the process causing him to hoot and giggle softly. "I told you what I’ve been thinking about… come here…" you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Once free of his own clothing, you hooked your leg around his waist, drawing him to you. Gregor hissed at the contact, his hips instinctively rocking against yours. You felt the head of his length glide along your entrance and up to your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Gregor let out a deep hum, gathering his self control. "I can't say no to you," he grunted, slowly sliding his length back up and down a few times before notching at your entrance. His lips met your forehead as he eased into you. You bit your lip as your body welcomed him, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden fullness. Despite the delicious sting of him at first, you craved him—eager for more, for all of him. But Gregor picked up on your body’s signal and paused. His head came back to regard you, eyes filled with concern and love.

"Cyar'ika," he whispered tenderly. His thumb traced your cheek and trailed down to your lips. You smirked, drawing the digit into your mouth with a soft moan, swirling your tongue around it. Gregor's eyes locked onto yours, awestruck at the sensation. "That's it…good girl," he purred, the wolfish smile that followed his praise sent a shiver down your spine. He withdrew his thumb from your mouth with a quiet pop, and brought it between your bodies, using the wetness to circle your clit.

Your body quivered, soft moans and whimpers escaping your lips as he continued his feather light touches, sending more of that delicious heat coursing through you. Your walls fluttered with pleasure, silently urging him to fully sheath himself within you. As his hips finally met yours, you both exhaled deeply, savoring the intense connection of being completely joined together.

"Let’s stay like this for a little while, hm?," he murmured against your hairline between soft kisses. "I just want you close," he breathed, his hand trailing tenderly along your spine.

You hummed in confirmation, melting into his affection. "I love you," you sighed, fingers combing through his hair. Your bodies fit together perfectly, hearts beating as one, breaths mingling in gentle pants. Being with Gregor, it never felt like enough—you both craved an impossible closeness. These tender moments were precious, when he held you like this, driven by his pure need to feel you around him, to eliminate any space between you.

"And I love you." Gregor's kiss was so tender it made your head swim. His lips traced reverently across your skin, each caress a silent vow, his heart full at how perfectly you melded together. When the kisses and touches naturally grew more heated, you felt him stir within you as your bodies instinctively began to move. With gentle purpose, Gregor rolled you, pressing your back into the mattress and caging you in with his large frame. His lips found that spot on your neck as he began a slow, intense rhythm that drew a litany of soft moans and whimpers from you. Your nails trailed down Gregor's back as he pressed against that sweet spot deep inside you. He dragged his length almost completely out before thrusting back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Stars… cyar’ika, you…" he panted, his movements becoming more deliberate. You wrapped your legs around him fully, urging him deeper, whimpering in is ear to do it again. The tension between you reached its peak all too quickly, weeks of anticipation setting your every nerve ending on fire. Gregor murmured sweet praises against your skin, intent on bringing you there together. You teetered on the edge, your body trembling with each slow thrust. "Gregor," you breathed in a desperate plea. "I'm..."

“I know,” he grunted. “I’ve got you…” He gentled his movements to a pace he knew would send you over. He felt your entire body tense, arching into him as your climax struck you with a sudden intensity. A shuddering moan escaped you as your hand in his hair tightened, tugging at the strands. He couldn't hold back any longer—the way your walls fluttered around him, squeezing him so tightly, your grip in his hair, the sounds you were making—it was all too much, and he gladly fell over the edge with you.

His hips jerked as he moaned your name, pressing flush against yours as he found his release inside you. You held him close while you both trembled and panted through waves of pleasure. His hips rolled gently against yours through the aftershocks. As the hazy bliss settled over you both, Gregor began dotting your face and neck with tender kisses.

“Gregor…” you protested lazily, lips curling in a fond smile. He always melted into his softest self in the afterglow.

He chuckled quietly, nuzzling your neck. "What? You know I can’t ever get enough of you…" His lips brushed against your skin, making you tremble slightly. You were grinning ear to ear now, despite your half-hearted protest.

“That makes two of us,” you said huskily, floating down from your high.

You lay tangled together in peaceful silence, your breathing and heartbeats gradually returning to normal. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours created a soothing rhythm that made you feel completely at ease. A while later, when your combined arousal began to slip down your thigh, Gregor shifted, preparing to retrieve something to clean you both up.

“Don't you dare," you warned teasingly, tightening your entire body around him, making his breath hitch.

“Cyar’ika…” he said in a low, playful voice, twitching inside you. “Careful now…”

You smirked, loving the way his voice dropped an octave. "Or what?" you challenged, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

Gregor chuckled, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Oh, my darling," he chuckled lightly, his hand sliding down your body and gripping your ass, making you burst into giggles, "You love playing with fire, don’t you,"

"Mmm, I do when it encourages you to ravish me all night, love," you said with a dramatic flair, unable to hide the mirth from your voice, reminding you of the intimacy you’ve built with Gregor. It was fiery and magnetic, but always fun. You loved to push each other’s buttons to see how far you could go. After all, you cherished these quiet moments together when there was no need to rush.

Gregor groaned at your words, his grip on you intensifying. "Oh, you're in for it now," he rasped as he swiftly rolled onto his back, pulling you over with him to straddle his hips. He sat upright and curled his hand around the base of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. The sound that escaped you at this new angle was absolutely sinful, making him twitch inside you once again. He immediately began a gentle pace, guiding your hips into his shallow thrusts. You gripped his shoulders tightly, seeking an anchor amid the electricity firing deep within you. Your oversensitive bundle of nerves dragged against the base of his length, making you grind down on him more desperately.

Sensing your growing urgency, Gregor gently slowed your movements. His hands caressed your sides soothingly as he looked up at you with adoration. "Shhh cyar'ika, look at me…" he murmured, his voice low and tender. Your eyes fluttered open to gaze into his, dark and warm and focused on you. "I know, it feels so good." His voice strained, thumbs traced circles on your hips as he guided you back into that slower, more deliberate rhythm Gregor loved to torture you with. You whimpered at the change of pace, but soon found yourself melting into the languid, sensual motion. Gregor's eyes never left your face, enjoying watching you give in. "That's it, just feel," he whispered. "There’s no rush. I’ve got you…"

Gregor's movements periodically slowed to a halt, prolonging the intense pleasure building between you. Each time, he held you close, guiding you both toward that long-awaited peak. His arm snaked beneath you, holding you to him with effortless strength, preventing you from taking him completely. He knew exactly how much to give, bringing you to the edge over and over. He savored the sounds you made during the slow, frustrating dance, careful not to overstimulate as he kept you balanced on the edge of a knife.

Your body trembled, every nerve ending alive and hypersensitive, your breaths came in short, desperate moans. You clung to him, nails digging into his back and his scalp as you fought against the overwhelming urge to let go, somewhere between savoring every exquisite moment of him inside you and every cell in your body screaming for release. Gregor felt your body go rigid and quiver, he glanced down noticing how tightly your toes were curled, then up to your eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"Cyar'ika, what's your color?" he managed to say through the haze. He himself was hanging by a thread.

"Green," you groaned gently. "Please, I need..."

Gregor's eyes snapped open at your words, his grip on you stuttering. "Tell me what you need," he nearly growled. "I need to hear you say it, cyar'ika."

“Please...” you breathed. “I need to come."

With a low groan of approval, Gregor knew he’d pushed you to a new limit, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, slowly lowering you down fully onto his length once more. "Then come for me, my love, let go…" he murmured against your lips as he loosened his hold on you incrementally, encouraging you to writhe against him at your own pace. He swallowed the moans that escaped your throat as you did so, your fingers tangling in his hair again as you finally let yourself go.

He held you to him as your body shook, waves of ecstasy sweeping through you, your inner walls pulsing wildly around Gregor's length. He buried his face in your shoulder, his own climax following yours as he thrust himself deep inside with a low, guttural sound. You clung to each other, riding out the lingering tremors, your core gradually relaxing its grip on him. Hearts raced and chests heaved as you both savored the moment. With one more gentle rock of his hips, he pulled you down, creating a delicious pressure that sent one final, intense ripple of pleasure coursing through you, reducing whatever composure you had left and turning you into a whimpering mess.

“Thats it,” he soothed as you collapsed against him, head lolling forward as he secured you against his broad chest. You hummed contentedly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as your breathing slowly steadied. Gregor's fingers continued their gentle caress along your skin, calming your tense muscles and fluttering heart.

“You did so well,” he praised. “We haven’t gone that long before,” he grinned at you, giggling softly, a sheen of sweat on his skin.

You chuckled softly, feeling an ache in your hips and knees. "Mmm, I think we both needed that," you murmured, wincing slightly as you shifted your legs around his frame.

“Here, I’ve got you,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he helped you shift positions, knowing your joints sometimes didn’t love it as much as you did.

His strong arms cradled you as he maneuvered you off him, finally slipping out and eliciting a soft sigh from you. He bit his lip, barely suppressing a groan as he glanced at the evidence of your passion. Once you were settled, he quickly jumped out of bed and disappeared into the fresher, returning moments later with a warm cloth.

His fingertips trailed up the outside of your knee, reminding you he was still there. You smiled and opened up for him to gently clean you up. His touch was tender as he took care of both of you. Once finished, he tossed the towel aside and crawled back onto the bed and got to work on massaging the soreness from your legs.

You sighed contentedly as Gregor's skilled hands worked out the tension in your joints. "You're too good to me," you murmured sleepily. He responded with a soft chuckle, his touch gentle yet firm as he eased away any lingering discomfort. “Love, I know you’re exhausted, come here…”

He chuckled and planted tender kisses on each knee before settling beside you, drawing you close against his chest. You nestled into his warmth, savoring the lazy patterns he traced on your back with his fingertips.

You tilted your head up to press a gentle kiss beneath his chin, savoring the closeness. “I’m so happy you’re home…”

Gregor sighed contentedly. “Me too.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should bring up his time on Kamino. The topic always felt delicate, and you didn't want to stir up difficult memories. But his peaceful expression gave you courage.

“How was it being back there?" you asked softly.

“Well, the first few days were…strange, but not in the way I thought they would be,” he confessed quietly.

“How so?” You pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his neck, absentmindedly inhaling his scent.

“Some clones considered Kamino their home, but I’ve never really felt more at home than I do here. With the underground. With you.” His voice stuttered on the last few words.

You felt your heart swell, and you pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good, because I feel the same way…”

Gregor's arm tightened around you, and you felt him release another contented sigh against your hair. In this moment, everything felt exactly as it should be - no missions, no war, just the two of you finding solace in each other's arms. You held one another close, happy to be back in one another’s orbit.

"Darling..." Gregor's voice took on a somber tone as he tightened his arms around you. "I received new orders from Rex tonight." He paused as you tilted your head back to look at him, his expression serious. You felt your body tense, preparing for the worst. "And, well, it’s not just that," he continued, his lips curving into a frown.

“What is it?” your hand brushed his disheveled hair out of his eyes, your heart clenching at the thought of him being gone again so soon, without you. Rex had yet to clear you for your injury, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of being left behind on base again for another mission.

Gregor took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. "I know it's short notice, but... I told Rex you’d have no problem shipping out by midday tomorrow..." He gazed at you intently, his trademark mischievous smirk betraying his attempt at a somber expression. He was a terrible liar.

Your eyebrows shot up at the realization.

Now his face was in a full grin. "Mhm...you’re coming with." He quipped. “Though I’m sure Rex wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay behi—”

“No!” you trilled, propping yourself up onto your elbow. “I’m ready,” you insisted.

“You don’t even know what the mission is yet, love,” he chuckled, it was hard to resist mirroring your excitement.

“I don’t care,” you sighed. “I’ve been cooped up…it’s boring when everyone is gone,” you groaned.

“Don’t you mean it’s boring when I’m gone?” Gregor teased.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your smile. "Maybe," you admitted, snuggling back into him. "But don't let it go to your head." Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest as you soaked up the warmth of his presence, grateful to soon be back to doing what you do best.

Gregor laughed softly, his chest rumbling beneath your fingertips. "Have we met?," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. As you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, a sleepy silence settled over you both. The anticipation of being briefed for tomorrow's mission hummed just beneath the surface, but for now, you were content to simply exist in this moment.

“You’re a terrible liar, by the way…” you said as you curled into him. He just chuckled softly as you let your eyes close, feeling the tendrils of sleep start to curl around you.

Soon, the familiar weight of Gregor's body and gentle rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a peaceful state. His fingers continued their soothing caress along your back, growing slower and more languid as sleep began to claim him too. The last thing you remembered before surrendering was the gentle press of Gregor's lips against your forehead and his whispered "Ner cyare..." You mumbled a sleepy response, already half-lost to dreams of tomorrow's adventures.