#that place where his collarbone makes a bump along his beautiful shoulder line

[link-sans-specs]

GMMore1954

What's the Worst Mother's Day Gift?

[arvinsescape]

for a request could i get mob!tom being soft for reader only like he has a rough day but reader makes it better then like soft!dom!tom smut at the end?

A/N: I love this, mob!Tom being soft is just 🥺🥰 I hope you enjoy and thank you for your patience, didn’t really add the Dom! element in, hope you don’t mind💕

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (minors do not interact).

“Fucking idiots.” Tom shouted at the men in front of him, the weight of the day feeling heavy against his shoulders. “Get out.” He instructed and watched as the men scrambled from his office.

He sighed as he sat down in his office chair, breathing out through his nose as he attempted to calm down. Money had gone missing, he’d tried hard to get his men to find it, no such luck. He practically slammed his office door shut and locked it when he was done with his paperwork, he needed to seek out his girl.

It wasn’t long before he found you, the weight on his shoulders feeling as though it was instantly lifted as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. You were laid on your shared bed, blue fluffy bed socks adorning your feet, you had one of his old shirts on and presumably some underwear. You looked hot and adorable at the same time, so effortlessly beautiful to him.

“You’re staring is bordering on creepy.” He heard your light giggle fill his ears and all of his stress started to leave him as fast as it had brewed.

“You know me, I like to appreciate pretty things.” He shrugged as he made his way over to the bed, your laugh having filled the room and he couldn’t be more grateful to hear it.

He placed himself next you, head finding your chest as he nuzzled into your warmth, moving to place a kiss to your collarbone.

“Rough day?” You asked as ran a hand through his hair and he hummed in response. “Wanna talk about it?” You asked as his hand found your thigh and he rubbed it comfortingly.

“Not really, can’t do anything about stupid.” He laughed and you placed a kiss into his hair, your scent filling him as you laid together. “I missed you today.” He mumbled out.

“You’re such a softy.” You hummed and he nodded softly against your skin as he revelled in the feeling of your collarbones against his cheek. “I can’t believe how soft you are, you were such a bad guy when I met you.” You teased and Tom pulled back to look at you, playful glint in his eye.

“I can be less soft if you want?” He offered with a knowing smile.

“No, I like you being soft for me, makes me feel special.” You smirked and Tom laughed as he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“You are special.” He said easily and you chuckled.

“Cheesy.” You snorted and Tom let out a breathy laugh.

“Only for you.”

“Where’d you steal that line from?”

“Does it matter if I mean it?” He asked playfully and you placed a kiss to his cheek as he repositioned himself on top of you. Your legs coming up to wrap around his waist as he planted his forearms next to your head. “So pretty.”

“You’re pretty too.” You hummed and Tom laughed.

“I’m not pretty, more like handsome and ripped.” He teased.

“You forgot humble.” You teased back and he smirked. “But you are, lovely and ripped.”

Tom couldn’t stop himself as he captured your lips in his own, it was a sweet kiss, a kiss of reunion after such a long day of not being near one another. Your hand staying in his hair as your other wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer.

“So so pretty.” Tom hummed as he pulled back and placed another kiss to your cheek before recapturing your lips. This kiss was more heated, more force behind it as you hummed into it, leg hitching higher up his waist. Tom ran his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you granted, the kiss becoming more heated as your tongues danced together.

Tom ground his crotch against your own and caught your gasp in his mouth. His lips moving to kiss your neck, hand cupping your cheek as he did so. It wasn’t long before Tom moved his hands to the hem of his shirt, removing it with ease as he sat back on his calves. He hooked his fingers into underwear and looked up at you with a teasing smile.

“These are different.” He commented on your lack of thong, it wasn’t often you wore any other sort of underwear.

“Can’t look good for you all the time Tom.” You fired back with a wink. “Like them? These are my grandma knickers.” You laughed and Tom bit his lip.

“You still look mind blowingly fucking hot.” He commented as he took them off and discarded of them. It wasn’t long before your socks and his clothes were removed as he moved back on top of you and between your legs.

He entered you slowly as he entwined your hands and placed them above your head. You both moaned as he slid into you easily, Tom stilling to allow you to adjust. He looked down at you, eyes connecting as you looked at each other, love filling both of your orbs.

“My beautiful girl.” Tom mumbled as he pressed his lips against yours and started to move, slowly rolling his hips against yours as your moans filled the bedroom. Music to his ears.

Tom continued at this pace, basking in one another as he whispered how beautiful you were and how much you meant to him in your ear. Your walls clenching around him as you grew nearer to your orgasm. He bumped his nose against your own, the worries of the day having finally left him. He could have been made bankrupt today and being wrapped up in you would make him not have a care in the world.

“Tom, I love you.” Your voice filled his ears and he returned the words. One of Toms hands let go of your own, moving to stroke a finger down your face.

“My princess.” He mumbled, arm coming down next to your head as he picked up his thrusts slightly. 

“Ow.” You laughed and Tom stilled looking down at you.

“What?” He panicked slightly, had he hurt you?

“My hair.” You giggled and Tom realised his arm was trapping your hair and he instantly released it with an apology as you both giggled. “Way to ruin the moment Tom.” You teased.

“Sorry baby.” He laughed back and he listened as your response became a moan, him picking up where he’d left off. It wasn’t long before you both reached your highs, hands grasping at each other as you held one another through your aftershocks.

When you were both cleaned up and in bed Tom rested his head on your chest as you ran a hand through his now messy hair. You held him as you told him about your own day, Tom getting lost in the way you spoke. No matter how many bad days he had, you were always there to make it better. He loved you and would do anything for you.

[mandoalorian]

Hot Springs [Din Djarin x Reader] SMUT

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2, EPISODE 2. [CHAPTER 10].

Summary: when The Mandalorian crashes his ship into a barely habitable and unfamiliar ice cold planet, he has to spend time on repairs. Little does he know, his bounty (you), has sauntered off into the depths of the crystallic cave, finding a hot spring to lounge in. When he discovers you pleasuring yourself amongst the thermal blue waters, he just can’t keep his hands of you. 

Warnings: SMUT (duh...) m receiving oral, p in v, lots of touching and affection.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only

Authors Note: The devil works hard but I work harder. Chapter 10 was literally released three hours ago and I’ve already knocked this up. The scene with the hot springs gave me ~thoughts~ and well, I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

The Mandalorian was just about finished the repairs on his ship when the cooing of his child interrupted him. He put down the soldering iron, and turned to face the little green bean who was knee deep in fluffy white snow. After a few beats of silence, the child let out an incoherent garble and Din sighed. "Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to make yourself useful?" he quizzed, gesturing towards the Razor Crest. The child blinked momentarily and Din let out another huff of annoyance before returning back to solder together some pieces of wire

The child's next garble came only a few moments later and when Din turned around, he noticed that his son was gone. Din dropped the iron once more and raised to his feet, walking around the perimeter of the Crest until he saw the child again. The child turned to his father, babbling and pointing his finger. When Din followed the directions of the child's small claw, he realised that his son had been trying to alert him of something. Din flicked the tracking switch on his visor which highlighted the footprints through the snow.

"She's gone?" he questioned himself out loud. "Wait here." he told the Child, who slumped down in the snow and began to roll snowballs with his small hands.

Din followed your footprints through the depths of the ice cold caves until finally he found you. There you were, lounging naked in what could only be described as a pool of steaming tranquil water. It was a vibrant blue colour, comparable to the beautiful lakes of Naboo or rivers of Alderaan.

"I told you to wait by the ship." The Mandalorian's voice was low and dark through his modulator. There was something sultry about it. If you weren't engulfed in warm water, you might have sworn his voice alone could do things to you that no other man has ever. 

You took in his broad stature. Tall, wide shoulders, and covered in the most pristine Beskar armour. And he was just standing there, watching you.

"Just about all ice planets have hot springs," you informed the Mandalorian, dodging his statement only slightly. "They're almost always in crystalline caves, just like this one. They're heated by underground volcanic activity. I know what you're thinking— volcanoes on an ice planet? But trust me. Legends says they have healing powers and well, I believe them. The natural oils that these thermal waters possess make my skin so smooth." you drew out, kicking your leg out the water and rubbing your hand along your calf and up your thigh, humming in delight at the touch.

"Stars." Din gritted out as he watched you touch yourself. You noticed upon his entrance to the springs, he had completely stiffened up, not moving an inch. His eyes were locked on you. But you didn't mind. In fact, you kind of liked the attention from a Mandalorian. "So you knew about the hot springs here?"

"I knew there'd be hot springs, sure," you shrugged, continuing to drag the warm thick blue water over your skin. The oils in it made it slippery but all the more appealing to the Mandalorian. He shuffled in his boots slightly, dragging them across the thick snow beneath him. "I got bored waiting on the ship. Not much to do for entertainment."

The Mandalorian scoffed, but he couldn't exactly argue with you. "You could've put yourself in danger." he muttered, looking around. Your eyes followed his.

"Do you see anything?" you prompted him. "No? Exactly. It's safe here, I promise." After a long beat of silence, you took a deep breath and inhaled the fragranced air around you. "Join me." you murmured.

The Mandalorian was taken aback, but your offer became harder to refuse by the second. Maker, his cock was throbbing now, constricted and feeling tight under his pants and armour. He tilted his head slightly and watched as you let your hands grace your body and squeeze your own breasts. You knew exactly how to lure him in. You gently closed your eyes at the sensation, a sweet moan escaping your lips.

Of course, the opaqueness of the turquoise water left very little visible to the Mandalorian's eye but judging from the way you were positioned and the slight slushing sound of the water, he knew you were touching himself. 

The Mandalorian wanted to hear that moan again. If that sound was the noise you made when you touched yourself, then he wanted to hear the noises you could make when he touched you.

You were utterly a sight to behold. He wanted to engrain the image of you, lounging in the hot springs, for the rest of his life. 

The thought of you pleasuring yourself in front of him created a fire in his stomach. He felt his already hard cock twitching at the sight of you. Your hair wasn't completely wet, but damp from the condensation in the air, sticking slightly to your skin. Pearls of sweat beaded across your hairline and as he trailed his vision down, he noticed the way it glossed over your collarbones— defining them.

"If I join you," the Mandalorian gulped. "I might not be able to control myself." he warned, a strong level of sterness in his voice.

You bit your lip and extended your arms, propping yourself up in the tub so he could see the way you spread yourself out for him. "Consider this an invitation." you gazed up towards him, fluttering your eyelashes which framed your doe-like eyes.

The Mandalorian discarded his armour one by one, the Beskar of his chest plate and knee pads clanking as he dropped them to the rocky ground beneath him. As he undressed himself, he didn't take his eyes from you, and so, you decided to give him a little show to watch.

You hopped up on to the side of the tub, exposing your naked body. You even heard Din's breathing hitch when he took sight of you. You crossed your legs over, not wanting to show him too much yet, but dropped your head back and your breasts together. The sudden coldness in the air hardened your nipples and made them sensitive as you ran the pad of your thumb over the little bud, pinching it now and again. You dipped your hands back in the water and gently let the warm, oily water drip down your body. Din watched, completely enthralled as droplets dripped down the curve of your breasts and pooled in your belly button. He wanted to spread you out— take you now. Fuck you fast and hard in the snow if he could.

But there was something so delicate about the way you performed for him. The way you gently touched yourself and your whimpers which echoed throughout the crystallised caves. It struck something inside of him. He wanted to take it slow, touch every part of you like it had never been touched before. Grace his finger along every edge and dip of your body.

It wasn't long until the Mandalorian had stripped completely down, his clothing pooled on the floor amongst yourd. You let out a small gasp as you took in his manhood which was hard and pressed against his tummy. Dark brown hair trailed from his belly button down to his crotch and you swallowed a lump in your throat that you didn't realise you were holding. You knew he couldn't take his helmet off, but seeing the colour of his hair on another part of his body awakened a primal feeling inside of you.

He stood there, awkwardly, almost like he was awaiting your instruction. His hand dropped to his cock and he began to rub his length slowly, up and down. It was in that moment you got an eyeful of the precum that was beading at the dark pink tip. Oh Maker…. he was desperate for you.

"Come here." you gestured with a finger that beckoned him to walk around the steaming hot tub. Still jerking himself, he walked to the edge of the tub where you were sitting and you continued to swirl your feet into the water.

When he stood before you, you took his hand and gently removed it from his cock. The loss of Din's grip made his cock bounce forward. You looked down at it, taking in the sight of all the bumps and veins and licked your lips at the thought of how he would feel inside of you. He was big, you knew he'd stretch you out, but you had hope in the oils from the springs that maybe they'd lubricate you before that time came. "I want to taste you, is that alright?" you asked, dipping your hand into the warm water and taking it back out before rubbing his length.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, jerking his hips deeper into your first. You tutted and slowly shook your head at his lack of patience. The oils from the thermal water had made your hands slick and wet.

You rolled your hand to the bottom of his girth and cupped his balls before skillfully swirling your tongue over his pink tip, earning a groan from him. Your lips curved into a smirk as you continued with the kitten licks, savouring every drop of precum that he had created. You wanted to be vocal for him, making sure you moaned when his salty seed hit your tongue. Licking your lips, making sure you could devour every last drop. "Tastes so good," you cooed before taking his full length in your mouth and bopping your head.

On impulse, Din grabbed a fist full of your hair, holding your head in place as you took him as far as you could. With his remaining length, you lifted your hand and began to pump him. You slowly drew back from his cock, a line of your saliva mixer with his precum drawn from the tip of his cock to your swollen lips.

"What are you doing?" Din growled, pushing your head back on his cock. 

"Cmon, I know you want to fuck my mouth. I see the way you jerk your hips. And I want it too. Fuck my mouth, Mando," you commanded, reaching up and pressing a hand along his v-line.

You parted your lips only slightly, but enough for the Mandalorian to push his length inside of you. You immediately found yourself hollowing your cheeks as he began to fuck your mouth, illicitng curses in what you could only assume to be Mando’a. You grabbed onto his hips, fingernails pinching into his ass as he thrusted inside of you. "S-such a good mouth for me," he praised. "Good girl. Take me so well." It wasn't long before you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you drew back, not wanting him to cum just yet.

"Join me in the water," you pleaded, hopping back into the tub and letting the wetness engulf you. The Mandalorian sat on the edge of the tub and carefully slipped in, the water rising to his chest. He shuddered at the heat and you couldn't help but smile. "You like it?" you asked him, and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, haven't felt anything this nice since- since-" The Mandalorian couldn't finish his sentence because you were already dragging him through the water and on top of you.

Once again, you leaned against the side of the tub and brought the Mandalorian warrior in between your legs. You hooked your legs around his waist and the water pushed his cock against your wet folds, a soft moan escaping your lips. Liking what he could hear, the Mandalorian teasingly rolled his cock over your clit, and your fingers dug into his back.

You didn't think it was possible, but somehow you managed to get closer to him. You pressed your breasts up against his chest and rested your chin the crook of his neck. He pushed the hair out of your face, revelling in your beauty.

In one swift motion, he pushed himself inside of you, desperate for some kind of release. You screamed, fingers digging into his tan skin. His back was strong and muscular and he held himself there, inside of you, warming his cock. You traced his back, enthralled in the way he was using his upper body strength to hold you up against the side of the tub.

"Move." you begged, pressing your lips into his shoulder blade. The Mandalorian groaned at your soft kisses. He hadn't felt such affection from anyone before. His hips moved slightly but his cock still filled inside of you, throbbing as your walls contracted around him. You bit down on his skin at the sensation. You loved how long and thick he was. You loved the way he filled you up. "Move." you repeated, but this time it was a cry of desperation.

The Mandalorian obeyed your order, slowly and somehow pushing himself deeper inside you. His cock curved and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. Fuck, he was good. You whined, rolling your hips and meeting his every thrust. 

"Stars, you're so tight," he cursed and you clenched around him once more. He was certain you'd milk him from his seed shortly.

"Mando, you don't have to be gentle. I need you to fuck me hard and fuck me fast." You whispered, your breath tingling his skin. He wasn't going to say no to that.

The Mandalorian increased his speed, and his thrusts became more erratic. As the oils of the thermal waters seeped into your cunt his actions became sloppier and he had to clutch onto you like he was afraid you'd break beneath him. The waters of the hot springs rolled over the edges of the tub and splashing noises, as well as your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the caves.

"I'm close," he warned. "Fuck. Your cunt is so soft. Ngh- feels so good around me."

"Mando," you wailed, your hands wrapped around his helmet for support as he continued to messily thrust into you. He lowered one hand under the water and found the bud of your clit, rubbing at it as he continued to fuck you. "Shit, don't stop that. I'm gonna cum."

"Yes baby," The Mandalorian growled. "Cum for me like a good girl."

The words spurred you off and you dropped your head back, your entire body shaking as he fucked you through your climax. Your walls clenched around his cock and he started twitching inside you. "Fuck!" he cried out, holding you by the shoulders.

"I'm safe," you gasped, as he continued to thrust deeper into you. "Please cum inside of me. Please."

"You take my cock so fucking good." He praised, his modulated voice echoing through the cave as his hips snapped into yours. His hands drop as he holds your lower back and the pressure feels sharp. He's rough, he's hard just like you had requested of him. You could feel every edge and vein of him as he slammed inside of you, groaning out your name with each savage thrust.

Before long, Din spills inside of you. And he was containing a load. You feel his sticky heat rope your and coat your walls as you yelp in pleasure. He stays inside of you, letting the cum bury deep within you before he softens and gently pulls out. You whine at the loss of his fullness, your eyes fluttering shut as he doubles back.

Both of you are a heaving panting mess, standing before each other in the hot springs. Your legs felt shaky, like he just fucked every last beam of life out of you. You grabbed onto the edge of the tub and pulled yourself up, letting the cool air dry your body.

The Mandalorian took another good look of your body and he felt himself get hard again. Fuck, no credits could amount to that experience. There was no way he could return you now. You were his to keep.

Permanent taglist:

@goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria

[deja-you]

Starlight

m. de lafayette x reader

chapter four | champagne and sunsets

summary: it was never your intent to be anything more than a common thief, but fate—and a rather attractive general—have other plans for you.

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | previous | next

The expression the receptionist makes when she hands over the key to the honeymoon suite is a little too suggestive, but other than that, you find that Ambros is a rather lovely planet. The high ceilings and gilded artwork on the walls of the hotel you were staying at were a mere microcosms for the glistening planet itself, rich off tourists and natural minerals. You had a brief amount of time to read up on the history of the planet from a pamphlet at the front desk while Lafayette was checking in.

The elevator ride to the twelfth floor is quick, and you and Lafayette carry your luggage to room 1215. With the slide of the key, the door swings open and you take in the sight before you. The room is spacious with large windows and a balcony facing out over the rose-colored sea. There's a large king-sized bed that takes up most of the space, rose petals strewn over the sheets. Romantic.

A golden bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket calling out to you. You drop your bags to the floor and make your way to the champagne where you find a small note from the hotel congratulating you and Lafayette on your wedding. You stifle a laugh and brandish the bottle for Lafayette to see.

"Free champagne," you grin.

Lafayette raises an eyebrow. "Starlight, we're working. This isn't a vacation."

You roll your eyes. "I'm aware, but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun. Congress is paying for the room, we really shouldn't let that money go to waste, right?"

He gives you a pointed look. "Your logic is flawed."

You sigh and put the bottle back down into the bucket; maybe you'll revisit the idea of opening the bottle of alcohol if he is going to be so uptight for the entire mission.

"I'm going to go scout the area," you mutter to him, coming up with an excuse to leave your shared living area. It's probably a good idea to memorize the layout anyway. You barely register Lafayette's response as you begin to explore the resort.

There are two entire floors dedicated just to the casino, and you make a note to yourself to check them out before you leave. A few restaurants: fine dining on the lower levels, small cafes toward the middle of the building, and a bar on one of the top observation decks. There are many attractions your hotel offers, and you decide to check out the conservatory on the twenty-ninth floor.

It's rather busy around this time of day, but the conservatory is expansive enough that you can walk around freely without bumping elbows with anyone. Walking from section to section, you slyly listen to bits and pieces of conversation hoping to pick up a lead on your target. Some time passes and realizing that you've examined a starfire flower one too many times, you decide it's time to search somewhere else.

In the elevator, you catch sight of the label "pool" on the highest level and don't think twice before pushing the button. Moments later, the elevator has shot into the sky, and with a ding, the doors roll open to reveal the light purple of the twilight sky. The weather is just right when you step out onto the roof, the warm climate of the planet combatted nicely with the early evening breeze.

Most guests are attending dinner at this time or going to see a show in one of the many theaters, so the pool deck is all yours for the taking. It's been a long day for you, so you think you deserve a little bit of self-indulgence. Removing your shoes, you sit down by the pool that seems to stretch on forever, reflecting the sky on its calm surface, and you dip your feet into the tranquil waters. Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to soak in the peace of the moment.

It feels like an eternity, but when you open your eyes and see that the sun has hardly moved from its low place in the sky, you know you haven't been up here too long. You hear the sound of the elevator doors opening and immediately you tense up in annoyance that someone would come to bother your solitude. You're about to pull your legs out of the water when the intruder speaks.

"I had a feeling I'd find you up here."

You turn your head slightly to see Lafayette walking toward you. You relax a bit. Once he approaches your side, he sits down next to you, and to your surprise, he rolls up his pant legs and dips his feet into the water beside you.

"Found any leads yet?" He asks.

You hum a response and shake your head. "No. You?"

"Nothing on out target, but I'm pretty sure there's a young cardshark in the casino that's been conning wealthy guests out of their money," he says.

This makes you smile a little. "Good for them. I used to do similar work."

"I'm just going to assume you mean working in a casino and not being a con-artist."

“What? We met because I decided to con you; are you not a fan of the business?” You lightly nudge his shoulder with your own as you tease him.

“Starlight, it’s illegal,” he points out.

“Only if you get caught.”

“But you did get caught.”

You purse your lips. “Yes, because I saved your life. You wouldn’t have ever found me if I didn’t have that one moral lapse of judgement.”

“Moral lapse of judgement?”

“Mm, yes,” you hum, “I was quite successful looking out for myself and making a living. It’s a shame I suddenly felt a sense of conviction and decided to save your life.”

Lafayette snorts at this. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you had a change of heart.”

You study his face in the dying light, pushing down the butterflies in your stomach that inevitably appear when he gives you that sideways smile. In this quiet moment, you take the time to admire the golden lines that run from his ears up the side of his forehead, intricately linking and marking him as Franco nobility. You want to memorize them and draw the patterns on your own skin; they’re beautiful. Before he can see that you’ve been staring, you look away, eyes falling to the reflections in the pool. You’re happy to be here now with him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad, too.”

When the last of the daylight finally leaves the sky, Lafayette stands to his feet and offers you a hand. You accept, pulling yourself up to your full height. It's too cold to stay on the rooftop any longer, so the two of you step into the elevator and press the button for your room number.

The elevator ride is uneventful, and when you get to your floor, the cool evening air greets you once again. The wide halls of your floor have open walls, large columns are wedged between the floor and the ceiling. You and Lafayette lazily walk down the hall, not in a rush to be anywhere. There are a few other guests meandering about in the open air, and that's when you spot the group of New Britannia soldiers making their way down the hall.

Ambros is such a lovely planet, you nearly forget it's currently New Britannia territory in a bordering system. Troops of soldiers police the planet, checking credentials and arresting anyone they suspect have ties to the United Planets of Amerigo.

The troops are making their way down the hall, speaking with guests occasionally and checking their papers. Your heart begins to thrash against the walls of your ribcage as they get nearer. Lafayette bares the markings of Franco nobility, and Francosia has been known to sympathize with Amerigo.

In a split second, you've made up your mind.

Taking Lafayette's hand in yours, you pull him over to a column, adjusting the both of you to where you are placed with your back to the pillar and Lafayette in front of you. You guide his hands to your waist, and while he looks a bit bewildered, he allows your movements. Your hands reach up to cup either side of his face, your fingers deliberately covering up the golden markings on his face. You pull him closer so you are standing cheek to cheek as you hear the soldiers’ footsteps get closer.

“Just go along with it until they’re gone,” you whisper into his ear, smiling against his skin as if you’re saying something scandalous.

His eyes flicker to the soldiers with a look of realization before looking back to you. You press your lips against his cheek, and Lafayette seems to get the message, because the next thing you know, he’s wraps his arms around your waist and pushes you roughly against the stone behind you. Lafayette buries his face in the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses over your shoulder and along your collarbone.

His lips find a sweet spot, and he begins sucking a hickey into your skin, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. With one hand shielding his face from the passing soldiers, your other hand finds its place at the back of his neck. You can’t help but wonder when the Amerigo Army had time to teach its generals this technique.

The soldiers pass you with no problems, muttering something about “lovebirds” under their breath. Lafayette seems to have forgotten all about them, his lips moving up your neck to your cheek. He’s placing a kiss on the corner of your lips when you come back to your senses and lightly tug on the lapels of his suit.

“Love,” you say, and the both of you are both hyper-aware of how desperate and breathy your voice sounds. “Maybe we should take this back to the bedroom.”

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to understand the meaning behind your words. To your surprise, Lafayette picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the room. Once inside, he kicks shut the door behind the two of you and sets you down gently on the bed. Now that it’s just the two of you, Lafayette takes a step back from you. Tension lingers in the air.

“I… I’m sorry about that.” Lafayette’s eyes trail to the ground, obviously embarrassed.

You clear your throat, skin still warm from the moment before. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It was all just part of the cover.”

There is an awkward moment of silence between the two of you. Finally, he nods and moves toward the bathroom.

“Well, we have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, we should probably get ready for bed then,” you agree.

Lafayette spares you one last look, attempts a smile, and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the shower being turned on seconds later and take that as your cue to change into your nightgown. You slip into the cool covers of the bed, propping yourself up on the pillows until you find a comfortable place for yourself. While you wait for Lafayette to finish showering, you pull out your tablet and begin reading up on Ambrosian customs; you can never be too informed.

You have no idea of how long it has been, but eventually the shower shuts off. A few moments later the door swings open, and Lafayette steps out.

"About time," you tease. "Thought I'd never get a chance to brush my teeth."

"Next time you can join me. I hate to think you've been sitting out here bored," he responds.

You'd like to take a moment to think about how incredibly flirtatious his comment is, but your mind goes blank when you look up at him. He's fresh out of the shower, hair still wet. Lafayette wears a pair of dark sweatpants that hang too low on his waist. He's not wearing a shirt, and you can't help but stare at his toned skin. His stomach and arms are well-defined, and you catch the golden glint of the small medallion he wears around his neck.

He shrugs on a white t-shirt, and you can tell his body is still wet from the shower by the way the shirt clings to his torso. Never before have you wanted to be a t-shirt so badly in your life. You feel your face heat up, and you are in the process of pulling your gaze away from him, when he looks up and meets your eyes. The way his lips curved up into a smirk left you with a visceral feeling.

“S’there something I can help you with, starlight?” His tone is light and playful.

Your throat is dry, but you manage to get out, “I can think of a few things.”

Lafayette throws his head back and laughs quietly at your response, and you despise the way your heart crashes against its cage at his actions. You slide out of bed and move past him into the bathroom, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush and then shoving the toothbrush into your mouth before you say or do anything more that you’ll regret. Lafayette doesn’t notice the way you are aggressively brushing your teeth, and you don’t notice the way his eyes linger on the neckline of your nightgown and the hem that ends at your upper thigh.

When you finish brushing your teeth, Lafayette is taking a pillow off the bed and moving it to the floor.

“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing perfectly well what his intentions are.

He looks at you bewildered. “I just thought it would be—”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the ground.”

“You’re not making me do anything.”

“Am I really that deplorable to be around?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Lafayette sort of resembles a deer in headlights at this moment. He shakes his head. “Starlight, we shouldn’t. It’s just that…”

“What? What is it?” Your hands have found their place on your hips and you quirk an eyebrow up at him, waiting for a response.

The answer is on the tip of his tongue. He knows why he shouldn’t share the bed with you, but truth is something he can’t say out loud. Lafayette sighs in defeat, picking up the pillow from the ground and tossing it back to the head of the bed.

Content with your victory, you climb under the covers on your side of the bed. Lafayette is still hesitant, but eventually he climbs into bed as well, keeping an absurd amount of distance from you. You consider making a comment about this, but you’ve already argued with him enough about the bed itself, so you bite your tongue. The light beside your bed is the only thing keeping the room from darkness; you turn it off and settle into bed.

“Goodnight.” You say this quietly, the darkness imbuing the room with a sense of peace that you are all too afraid to mess up.

Lafayette must feel this, too, because his response is a whisper as well. “Goodnight, starlight.”

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1-800-𝓘-𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔-𝓤

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || waiting for you and your beau’s dinner reservation later on tonight you and he spend valentines day together through the devotion of your dial rotary telephone

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 || fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 || steve rogers × [black//woc]!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 4.6K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || 18+ nsfw, introduction to phone sex but i don’t go any bit further, body worship, captain kink, one bibical mention, reader gets spoiled to the t!, but still this is not suitable for anyone that isn’t 18+

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 ||  move over darling by doris day ♡ all of me by billie holiday ♡ unforgettable by nat king cole ♡ dream a little dream of me by ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || this is my gift for the divine @denisemarieangelina! for @chrissquares​ + @drabblewithfrannybarnes + @amythedvdhoarder Hoelentine’s Day Challenge! ♡ i’m very anxious to share this because i did this simpler version of writing then what i’m usually used to but I hope you enjoy this lovely and happy valentines day! muah! ♡ please tell me if you don’t like this because i can always add onto this if you want more! ♡ anyways i hope you cherubs enjoy this to! ♡♡♡

     BABY PINK ENVELOPES FILL THE SPACE IN YOUR HANDS

     humming along to the musing record that spins on the turntable the kitchen is alive with the sentimental lyrics of Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday you sway your leg over your knee as you read the bush colored letters. the quaint apartment complex fills with blissful warmth, for the maiden in the kitchen enjoys her breakfast yearning for her partner to return as quickly as he promised. analyzing the intricate curves and dips of Steven’s handwriting, it pulls you into a hypnotizing trance as your mind fills with nothing but his deep voice as you read along. 

     cordial elements wrapping the visible areas of skin your Valentine’s sweethearts button down doesn’t cover. it is a relaying fact that the crisp expansive piece makes your body seem petite but because of its obscene size the fabric falls past your shoulders in a graceful fashion. clumsily buttoning up the blazer wrongly that early morning, it only adds onto the carefree nature that exhibits and adds onto your soft sways and musical hums. 

     reaching for your steaming pink mug of milk chocolate cappuccino that lays near more open letters and more envelopes free from their wax sealings. you plan on opening all of them throughout the day, holding onto the handle you bring it up to your soft lips. attentive fingertips trace the cursive black ink of Steven’s handwriting in a lovesick gaze. the accidental ink splotches and small charcoal sketches of floral anatomy make the pace of your heart slow in a tender beat. 

     despite your devoted attention being on your beau’s love letters there are other envelopes that aren’t just from your Steven. although to make it easier to recognize the difference between the uninterested letter from past lovers and secret admirers Stevens envelopes are printed in your favorite shade of pink. 

     these darling letters that Steven is now confident to share with you are filled with small poems. being terrified of gifting you in the early phases of your relationship, your holding the multiple pages amongst pages of dazing sketches of your bodies beautiful features. paragraphs that outline his love letters to you which he kept hidden in a journal. reading and daydreaming as you take in each poetic sentence of your beau explain and sharing each love struck moment of his days that he adored spending with you. 

     the timeline of these letters go back from days, to weeks to whole years. it astounds you how you’ve never caught Steven in the act of writing poetry or making a love entrée yet you aren’t at all complaining. however the envelopes were a surprise to come across to when you looked over the mail. they weren’t in your daily sack delivered by the porter but laying in a huge pile on your kitchen island before he left that morning. 

     they went handsomely with his gifted bouquet of your favorite flowers that decorated each room of your apartment. a bud of them you found laying amongst the colorfully cream colored candles is now in your hair tucked behind your ear. Steven’s handwriting displayed on the front- 

     for my darling 

     they were just waiting for you to read and so here you are soaking in each vow hidden in his whimsical sonnets and ballads. 

      smelling both the sweet nectar of the flower and the divine cocoa of your cappuccino you continue reading from his letters. mirthful eyes dashing along each word of the little poem he wrote for you, the gleaming smile that frames your face doesn’t settle down one bit as you read and sing them not louder than a breathy whisper. giggling aloud and kicking your bare feet in the air when you read Steven’s beautifully crafted poetry centered and dedicated to you and only you. 

     the letters seem to distract you from the vast amounts of gifts, arranging from exquisitely wrapped small boxes to large gift bags bearing designer brands. Steven sent each gift along with the blush colored letters but they lie unattentively under your pedicured feet that bounce along with the turntable. singing along Billie Holidays lyrics of April in Paris as you continue to read and sip from your chocolatey cappuccino. the letters themselves are elegantly scattered onto the marble island where you bite into one of the buttery croissants that are bunched in a wooden basket you have prepared since the morning.  

     of course you weren’t supposed to eat alone, by all means this day of domestic and fairytale romance wasn’t suited to be spent alone. it of course isn’t suited for you in the slightest, not like you to bear this inconvenience. 

     in front of you -well behind the sketches your dreamily admiring- rests a large breakfast consisting of baked sweet and savory pastries, sunny yellow omelets and fresh ripe fruit. the early meal was suppose to be a little feast for both you and the public hero but of course your heroic beau had his urgent errands to run. a phone call rudely interrupted the session of your passionate lips and tongues destine to spiral you both on the cloud of desire. 

     the ringtone acting as nothing but an irritating background noise, it cause the blond to pull away to deal with it. walking away from you and out of your private bathroom suite and as obvious as this is going to sound- Steven didn’t decline the call. from your position as you sat on the marble and gold flecked kitchen sink, your hand rests on the golden swan at the faucet. 

     listening as you heard him hum along to whatever the dispatcher had to say before hanging up and heard his footsteps coming closer and there you say your lover. smiling to him as you pulled him towards you, lips gracing his he cut the devastating news to you of his unplanned errands. apologizing to you with a kiss but ending it with a promise for an intimate dinner reservation he did plan beforehand. 

     then with a change of clothes, he was out the door but you willed yourself to not be upset at him. your Steven always kept his promises and you were still swooning over the lovely events that happened last night that still show the results of it all on your skin and a delicious soreness in between your legs. ending passionately in wine soaking your thoughts and actions you both headed to your apartment and tangled in your sheets. you now are wearing his button up he wore to the dinner reservation that night, slightly wrinkled yet smelling of Stevens entrancing cologne.

     it brings you back to that night and you could still feel the searing butterfly traces of his lips along your collarbones, neck and breasts. dainty and vivid as the white sunshine that streams through the high white apertures of your apartment. 

     it’s all beautifully cinematic 

     the music playing on the record as you enjoy your breakfast while reading your lovers letters to you. chocolate spread used to smear over the flaky pastry in your hand smears the corners of your lips and you wish Steven is here to thumb it away. a sorrow filled sigh break through your lips, knowing these letters are all you have of him at the moment as he’s out busy at Stark Tower doing only god knows what and bumping heads with only god knows who. silence only greets those thoughts and you realize that the collection of records playing your favorite romance artists have stopped sounding out their hearty tunes. 

     frowning, you get up and replay the record before returning back to the kitchen and to your seat. hands go back to the letters and your heart warms up in a matter of blissful seconds, cheery contentment dawning your face in delightful charm. although a question still dances along the crowded ballroom of your mind-

     whatever will you do with the time you have alone on Valentine’s Day awaiting for your beau? 

     it is only eight in the morning, Stevens plans are set around nine tonight and you could do so much more than just doll yourself up. finishing your lavish breakfast you begin tidying up once you place another record on the sitting room turntable. the music flowing throughout the large and finely furnished apartment, it creates a heavenly picturesque glow that brightens the golden framed paintings and renaissance clawfoot furniture. 

      you feel like an old Hollywood actress staring in her romantic comedy, it makes you nothing but languorous glee. the beauty of your vivid imagination pulling your typewritten script and setting your scenes to hear the director yell action! manifesting the movie with each pirouetting step, you feel the timeless sensation of Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor gracing down on from the heavens. 

     singing along with the records, recited movie lines from Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Rear Window. romantically immortal films consisting of elegant tailored outfits of Chanel and Moschino that the leading actress would flirt with her on screen partner, long and lust filled stares between your lover and the epitome of transatlantic accents that would make an European swoon. 

     the craftsmanship of your fantasy aiding you by hiding away any untouched breakfast foods, biting into a jam filled puff pastry you keep the sweet confectionery in between your teeth as you organize Steven’s letters. filing them from the ones you have read, that you carefully fold back into their envelops- to the ones you plan on reading later. clearing them away safely on an ivory tabletom dancing along with the beat of the record. 

     pulling yourself back into the visionary scene of your beloved vintage films, a baby blue Dior headband frames your heads crown and keeps your untamed bed hair away from your temple as you start a kettle of tea. retrieving your personally cherished china set from your glassy cupboards, soaking your desired teabags, home grown herbs and honey dewdrops into the separate porcelain teapot. turning the nob on the stovetop off once the screeching kettle ready with boiling water becomes louder than the music, it quietly dies down and you hum as you place the boiling water into the small porcelain teapot.

     steam erupting, its soothing when the scorching water drenches in the tea ingredients that begin to linger a sweet smelling scent. peachy cheeks soft and dewy as the sweet sunshine bounces off them, you carefully unfold each divinely wrapped box covered with glossy ribbons and confetti gift bag covered in strawberry scented tissue paper. blowing and sipping from your tea cup, you tenderly bundle Stevens button up around you as you examine his gift. 

     each eye grabbing and more expansive with each one passing you look over the heavy offering of baby pink and cream tulle trimmed Agent Provocateur lingerie. the occasion of lacey babydolls and pink fury teddys holding cupid hearts coming once with every three bags you also discover the silver Tiffany charms in powdered pistachio blue boxes. pastel pink heart-shaped pastel boxes of Chardonnet et Walker pink marc de champagne truffles make your mouth tingle.

     mink coats and cashmere sweaters dedicated to wrap you nice and warm in the snowy weather. a starlight smile shines at the fact of Steven remembering you looking through a few catalogues days after New Years. princess cut Dior earrings that shine like dangling stars and heart-shaped Prada handbags that would make any winged cherub strike their golden arrows into. 

     Steven always went above and beyond with your Valentine gifts and you weren’t even halfway done with opening the boxes and bags but seemed fit to prepare yourself for the day ahead of you.

     curves swaying along with Louis Armstrong's flaunting trumpet and Ella Fitzgerald's sweetly divine vocals once you get from your criss-crossed position on the floor. passing the wrapping paper and ribbon bows scattered in a sprawled lovecore mess, you make your way to your bedroom. bare feet adding against the carpet, passing golden framed body length mirrors and vase upon vase of flowers and burning candles. a silver tray bearing the porcelain petunia painted tea kettle, china tea cup and Stevens letters in your hands. 

     entering your open bedroom filled with crisp sunshine, your eyes dash over to your mess of a bed. white sheets that once held two giggling and kissing lovers is now empty with the exception of your pet laying lazily on the wrinkled plush comforter. blowing a kiss to the sleeping fluffy beauty before opening the molded white door to your private suite. 

     dancing along the white marble of the floor you run your bathtub full of hot water. taking your time preparing your dress and the lingerie you’ll wear tonight, it wasn’t exactly easy. Steven took a great joy in gifting you all the luxuries of jewelery, lingerie and clothing you desired, took great joy in fucking you in them as well. but as you enter the bathroom and exit to go through your wardrobe in your closets you go through boxes upon boxes of lingerie. 

     rummaging the organized baby pink boxes that you took hours organizing, you did realize that some bralettes were missing their panties yet you remember your gentlemen liked keeping a pair or two in his office when he’s away. you settle with not wearing anything Steven bought you but what you ordered on a website that caught your attention, more so intrigued of the fabulous singer and actress who ran the brand. 

     the divine deep red Valentines Day pieces of Fenty Lingerie were expansive but so was your credit card as you ordered the whole collection. hiding the box away from Steven and his too curious grasps you now reveal the box and open it. taking out the desired heart bralettes and Gartier belted thigh highs that went along with the lewd sheer panties you let out a delightful squeal at the thought of Steven ripping off your silk slip dress to reveal this sinful number.

     sipping from your tea, you go through your jewelry boxes settled on seashell chests on your vanity. retrieving your dearest diamond accessories to go along with the slip dress you head back to the bathroom. the water rising to your favorable height you fill the marble crest with rose petals, rose oils, rose water and rose bubble bath. of course, with Steven’s relentless showing of gifts there were enough Italian imported red wines for you to bathe in but you settled for your rose bath set that was tucked in the corners of your towel closet. 

     burning Diptyque candles around the tub, you settle your delicate cup down on the tray. departing from your beaus button down, you sink your feet and body into the floral water glowing in pearly bubbles smelling just the tint of sea salt. dissolving your thoughts and worries in the soft pink-hued mist your hands reach for Steven’s letters. carefully undoing the crimson wax seal your fingers grasp the letter and polaroid photographs it holds. 

     giggling when you read that this specific letter is about you and Stevens first time. reading along the lines of his amusing embarrassment of him not knowing what he was doing exactly it still warms your heart when he stated in his own writing that he was grateful and happy to share that moment with you. 

     the letter going into detail of all the moments that break you into laughter- such as when you and Steven rolled off your bed unaware as you and him were to wrapped in the passion- to your face heating up when he went into erratic detail of his hand placements on your ‘Aphrodite like body encouraging the Aries affair to overturn gracefully, to repent in no favor but yours’. 

     not being ashamed to write down every moment of the midnight passion. from the way you tongues and lips were locked and didn’t dare separate for air, to how his hands ripped your clothes into shreds ‘to praise and worship the skin that sparkled and shone like buried treasures for my hands to caress’. a heavenly burn begins fluttering in between your bubble sud thighs when you look over the polaroid's. some you took and some he took but all in all they showed you and him doing, well- 

     your first time 

     a slow hand that doesn’t hold the scandalous polaroid's flows down to your bubble covered breast. pinching the nipple, the sensation only sends the pleasure down south to your hidden jewel. biting your bottom lip, you crave for Steven’s hands. crave his lips, crave his touch... 

     generally, his attention but you cannot go past your golden rule no matter how good the thought of your fingers stroking your folds sounds. knowing its best to not break the rule of touching yourself without his permission the thought of it sits pleasantly in your head. trying to distract yourself the growing sensation with his other letters and plucking one of the fifty fluffy macaroons that lie on the pretty Laudree packaging. 

     Steven gifted you all the luxuries that would substitute his absence, but all you ever wanted was him

     heart thumping in this truth you again attempt to distract yourself with his blush colored letter. cooing at Stevens cute sketches of you and reading poems dedicated to his first impression when meeting you- but you cannot think of anything or concentrate on anything but the first letter. giving cheating glances back to the polaroid's, your glance is captivated by Steven’s handsome and muscled physique in the contrasted filter. the faintly colored noir-film like pictures emphasizing on his golden skin rippling against the sheets caging you in with his arms. 

     the night replays with the jazz music in the ballroom of your mind, throwing your head back you feel yourself underneath him just as you were then. hands in his hair and his clenching the sheets besides your head when you kiss passionately as he rubbed his hard member against your forbidden fruit.   

    it didn’t help your case at all that you’re embellishing that night into your thoughts. it’s only making you desire your sweetheart more and more, needing him more and more as the minutes passed. 

     wanting- no, craving to hear the sweet music that is his voice    

     yearning to descry the divine tinge of his tongue clicking to his teeth when you says your name so sweetly. to imagine the movement of his tulip petal lips as he speaks his ‘I love you’s’ like a prayer and he’s on his knees for a goddess.

     oh you needed it just as much as his instructions on how to handle your distressing state. realizing the soft pink dial telephone that stood at the opposite side of the tub you bite your lip in thought. 

     should you call Steven?

     it makes you wonder, shifting against the water careful to not spill any over the edge. chewing on a raspberry macaroon at the thought, you pout not knowing exactly what you’d say. you and Steven have been in a relationship for years now, it should be simple to call your lover and talk to him about this yet a sparking idea light up like a shimmering star above your head. 

     you and Steven were both helpless for dirty talk, your words and underlying message would pull him out of whatever he was in to cater to help you with your problem.

     your thundering impatience and searing lust had shameless minds of their own as you pulled the cushioned ottomon closer to you and dialed Steven’s office number through the rotary disc. heart strumming along with the music continuing to play in the distance you do not exhale a breath as you hear the sound of the phone dialing. the powdered pink handset in your hands. chin resting on the rim of the porcelain tub as your lips brush against the mouthpiece in the shape of a heart. 

     when the dial ends with the sounds of him about to speak a gleaming smile radiates off your lips, pulling the handset closer to you to speak.

     “Steven!” your giggle that follows afterwards makes a dimpled smile pull at the blond’s lips and he lightly chuckles. 

     your presence melting away anything else that captured his attention away from you. fortunately you weren’t the only one craving the love and affection of your partner, Steven was in a busy meeting with Tony and the other avengers at the grey and stern table. argued his way through and pursuing a solution to the worldly crisis that was in their hands but with the progress he’s making he’s sure to help the team come to an agreement.

     “how are you doing, my love? did you enjoy your gifts? i’m counting down the hours till I pick you up for our reservation. treat you how you should be treated today,” Steven’s tender words breaks your dreamy state and your wispy babydoll lashes flutter at the sound of his voice. 

     “well right now i’m taking a bath. drinking some tea, reading your letters and i just so happened to cross on this one specific letter…” your teasing voice flowing through the mouthpiece and into Steven’s ears. 

     striking his brain, trying to comprehend what you're saying and trying to decipher whether your giggles are aimed towards him or onto something else. you made it known how much of a tease you were, from your suggestive dresses you’d torture him with when you’d attend gala’s to your shameless yet elegant class as you’d whisper all the dirty things you want him to do you once you two got home.

    indeed it worked like a charm, sometimes it left little self control as he’d take you in that backseat of the sleek vehicle. it’s definitely working now

     “alright what are going on about you little minx?” Steven states, a tint of his dominance in his voice but you continue to drift in your fit of giggles as you bend your knee to your chest in exuberance. 

     pulling Steven’s letters that rest besides the silver tray of macaroons and tea, you hug them to your chest as you reread his paragraphs upon paragraphs of his thunderous thoughts and detailed emotions ravaging you in sinful detail. 

     “oh, nothing Stevie... just couldn’t stop thinking about a little something, do wanna know about it?” 

     “absolutely darling. anything is better then being in that room with those blockheads,” Steven didn’t know he said that thought aloud but you don’t care. 

     you’re panning on relieving the throbbing pleasure pulsing at your slicked core and maybe undo some stress he’s under if he’s a fair distance away from wandering ears.

     “will do Captain, ‘the second our mouths collided was an ambrosial taken place. a supernova in labor between our bodies thriving to find our peak, creating a cosmos of divination as her walls wrapped around my cock. the indescribable pleasure as unforgettable as the dimple at the corner of your fiery lips and enchanting sparkle in her eyes. the moans that flowed from her mouth soft and encouraging-

     “‘-as I wrapped her thighs over my shoulder and thrusted my cock deeper and deeper into her forbidden fruit. her sweet, forbidden fruit so sweet I wouldn’t dare reject if a serpent offered so.’ I was hoping you’d read that special one, you need to understand how lovesick I was for you then. i’m still lovesick about you now but its gotten impossibly stronger now than before.”

     that statement makes you shift in the water, rubbing your thighs together as your fingers rest in between them. imagining its Steven’s large hand that’s pinned at the plushness, however you’re yearning for the warmth, security and skill they hold that your hands don’t nearly possess.

     “lovesick you say?” you purr, the sinful sound rolling off your tongue it makes roses blush on Stevens cheeks.

    an unknown tightness of his trousers making itself known, he grits his teeth at your tactic but he cannot help it. he gives in so easily for you, it impossible to repent and withold

     “yes doll, i’m lovesick. lovesick for you and only you. now answer your Captain, did you enjoy your gifts?” his voice growing and deepening, lust soaking his thoughts and hardening his member at the thoughts of you, you, you.

    holding the phone in between your ear and should as you pluck another macaroon from the assortment. a smirk plays on your lips knowing that your plan is working, you can here his little grits and groans as he locks his office door. 

     “I did enjoy your gifts Captain, and I love the fact that seventy percent of them all are tiny pretty things that barely cover my body. I love giving you a good show when you get home from work,” your voice smooth as the buttercream roses you decorate with your heart-shaped cakes.

     your free hand tweaks at your nipple, the remands of strawberry vanilla from your previous macaroon stick on your tongue but how how you want to taste the pre cum that leaks from Steven’s tip. the filthy thought has you abandoning your breast to give attention to your cunt, a whimper excluding your lips when it burns so good at just the touch.

     “mhm I knew you’d enjoy them doll. you always pull such good performances for me in them. so sweet and pretty, all for me to rip it off you,” you don’t mean to slip past a moan as your fingers rub your pearl but it’s too late to take it back when he hear Stevens stern exhale.

     “are you touching yourself sweetheart?” his voice isn’t smooth and suave no more but raspy and demanding, making your fingers stop their rubbing motion.

     “n-no,” you fib but all you want to do is sink in the bubbly warm water when you hear Steven darkly chuckle.

     “don’t lie to your Captain sweetheart. are you touching yourself? tell the truth,” you gulp at that, mouth shaking as you bring the sound piece of the handset closer to your lips. internally hoping and praying that Steven will give in to you, even when you’re breaking a golden rule. 

     “yes. yes I am Captain,” your breathy whisper holds all the euphoria and lust you're body is swimming in and it doesn’t help that you hear the metal clank of a belt unbuckling.

     “without my permission?” you can’t decipher his voice, whether or not he’s angry or disappointed your fingers stop tracing the bubbly surface of the pink tinted water.

     “y-yes, Captain- but I just couldn’t help it! you left me and my mess alone this morning. i’m so lonely here without you,” you mellow, your fingers once again tracing your lower lips. 

     not daring to plunge them deeper once you hear the light sound of Stevens heavy breath fanning into your ear. shivers sending up and down your spine deliciously, it’s like he’s here with you now even when he’s on the other side of the city.

     “mhm, you just couldn’t help it, sugar can’t you? you need me right now don’t you sweet girl? you need your Captain to help you?” nodding hysterically along with him.  

     coming to a realization that your lover can’t see you nod your head, your pretty lips you’d let him kiss and use any day pull into a pout. knowing you’re going to have to beg him to allow yourself to touch your pussy.

     well, his pussy

     “yes please! I-I need you Ste- Captain! please I need you!” your breathy voice begs and on the other end Steven has a smirk playing on his handsome face. 

     it’s hours until he’ll be done with his meeting and hours until he picks you up for your dinner reservation but he’s in your debt. you never know this but Steven was sprawled in your hand, whatever you desired and needed he’ll give you within the snap of his fingers. if you needed him when he’s away, he’ll make it seem he’s right near the tub. guiding your fingers in and out of your hole and leaving praises and affirmations into your ear.

     “how can I say no to you doll?”

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝓇𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑒'𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 || @cloudystevie ♡ @steebsbabygirl ♡ @lovelyblxckgirl ♡ @honeychicana ♡ @afriendlyblackhottie ♡ @bearbear0923​ ♡ you may comment down below or throw me an ask if you’d like to join my taglist!

𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓽 || @chrissquares​ ♡ go follow her account and check out her fics! ♡ she also has loads of cute dividers and other related things! ♡♡♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my storybook || aka my masterlist!

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Let Me Do The Work (Aaron Hotchner x Reader) Smut

Summary: Hotch has always been a workaholic. It takes a special someone a long time to convince him to take a break.

AN: This is my first gender neutral smut! Let me know how you found it <3 Thank you to @sunlight-moonrise, @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @winterscaptain​ for being my beautiful betas on this one

Smut warnings: Blowjob, reader bottoms from the top, Hotch goes down on the reader

It had been two hours since Hotch had read a bedtime story to Jack over the phone, saying goodnight and promising to be back home the following evening.

The jet was grounded. The team was staying in their motel for the fourth night in a row. Everyone had either gone out or vacated to their rooms for an early night – apart from Hotch. An hour was spent clearing up some of the paperwork mountain, then he made the fruitless effort of driving back to the motel in hopes that the change in scenery would spark motivation.

The lamp glowing over the desk flickered again, but Hotch didn’t have to restrain any frustrations. His pen scribbled away at the paper,

A light knocking drew a sliver of his attention away.

“It’s open,” Hotch spoke up.

The door opened, letting in the stale light of the hallway for the briefest of moments before a shadow crossed it and the door was closed once again. Soft steps padded across the carpet.

Warmth enveloped Hotch’s body as two arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him to lean back in the chair. A familiar smell swayed him with the embrace. It was not helping him focus on the paperwork, his eyes now drooping shut. As he felt his captor press a kiss against his temple, Hotch reached his free hand up to squeeze one of the forearms that locked him in a cuddle. His pen still scratched the files.

“I thought you were going out,” He said, his voice low in the darkness of the room.

“The team’s still out. But I didn’t feel like it,” Y/N replied. The words from their mouth tickled Hotch’s right ear as they were spoken. They released him slowly, but their hands dragged across his collarbones, up to his shoulders where they dug their thumbs into his shoulders. It drew a groan of relief from Hotch’s chest before he even recognised that he had made such a noise.

“I’ve still got paperwork.” Hotch tilted his head back and looked at Y/N upside down. They were wearing their pyjamas and a hoodie over their shirt.

“You’ve always got paperwork,” teased Y/N, bumping their nose against Hotch’s. He let out a sigh as Y/N pressed their mouth against his. Such a kiss had only been attempted one other time, in his office and with Jack outside the door bursting out that they were doing the Spiderman kiss. Y/N had jumped and knocked teeth with Hotch. Hence why they had not attempted another until now.

Y/N moved Hotch’s head back down to face his desk, running their fingers through his silky hair with one hand whilst returning the other to massage his left shoulder.

They hummed along with him, “Take the rest of the night off, it’s been a long one.”

Further supporting their point, they pushed Hotch back in his chair so they could sit on his desk. Before he could protest again, Y/N had undone the top button and loosened the tie

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

Y/N pouted playfully at him as their knees came against the chair between his spread legs. Hotch couldn’t help but kiss them, let his partner sweeten the deal in their attempt to convince him to stop working. Their lips bounced off each other in teasing pecks.

After losing count of those little kisses, Y/N offered, “I can help you with the paperwork if you want.”

They knew full well that neither of them wanted to do the paperwork. Hotch let out a short hum again but didn’t make any effort to stop kissing them.

“Come on, honey, come to bed.”

That was the turning point. Y/N felt Hotch’s heavy breath at the pet name, one saved for when they were alone together. It had been a long time since he had heard it. Stealing the advantage, Y/N slid his suit jacket off his shoulders. Hotch replaced his hands on their lower back. Two of his fingers lifted beneath their shirt, pressing into Y/N’s skin.

“I’m tired,” He mumbled against Y/N’s mouth, “Too tired.”

Y/N pulled away, “I know, you’ve been working hard as usual.” And they stroked over his cheeks with their thumbs, adoration in their eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Aaron, so grateful for all the work you do for this team.”

Hotch’s eyes drooped shut. There was a hint of a smile on his lips as Y/N kissed the corners of his mouth. Their hands closed around his collar, peeling it away so that they could kiss the side of his neck.

“Let me take care of you, Aaron.”

They pulled Hotch up by the collar, firm but gentle; those hands that carried him to his feet unbuttoned his shirt. Their fingertips ghosted over his skin before applying any kind of pressure. All those scars and hairs and moles were theirs to touch, and Hotch was rendered breathless at how in awe they were of him. He let them guide him towards the bed, their hands back on his shoulders so that, when they reached it, Y/N just had to press down gently, sinking Hotch onto the mattress.

Pulling their hoodie and sleep shirt over their head in one swoop, Y/N discarded it along with their underwear. All under Hotch’s gaze that dragged leisurely across their body. With his legs being moved together, Hotch ran his fingertips and down Y/N’s sides until they had him laying on his back, kneeling over his groin.

Y/N pushed away his hand as it attempted to find its own way between Y/N’s legs When Hotch went to protest, Y/N silenced him with a knowing smile.

“I’m taking care of you tonight, honey,” they reminded him.

And they stood by what they said.

Y/N was gentle as they finished undressing him, leaving Hotch bare and beautiful beneath them. The simplest brush between their skin and his sent goosebumps up his body. It was almost overwhelming as Y/N bent his legs, pushing them apart - presenting him for their pleasure as well as his. Their cheek tilted against Hotch’s left knee. Hotch waited and watched Y/N, blinking slowly and smiling away at him.

“You alright there?”

“Hmm.” Y/N looked so lovestruck that it was unsurprising that they were unaffected by his remark, “Just taking my time.”

Hotch felt his cheeks flush as Y/N kissed where their head had rested. He forgot any embarrassment on asking them to hurry up, but he held back regardless. Y/N said they were going to take care of him. He could be patient for a while longer.

At their own pace, Y/N continued forging a path of kisses up Hotch’s thigh. They listened to Hotch’s breathing blending with sighs and glanced up to watch his behaviour slip into dazed bliss. God, he just looked so beautiful when he let himself go. Rare, but just gorgeous. And Y/N wanted more of it. They masked their own impatience in their long and low exhale as they finally took Hotch’s cock into their mouth.

That flush on Hotch’s cheeks had spread to his neck. How the warmth of Y/N’s mouth, their tongue flat against his cock, held him in pleasure and yearning, it was delicious. Twisting the sheets brought no relief; he anchored a hand on the back of Y/N’s head instead.

As if to reply, Y/N fanned the fingers of their free hand across his chest and used the other hand to tease more delight from between their own legs. They were lavished in the taste of Hotch’s arousal, sweeter than his favourite pet name. Alternating between humming around the head and taking as much into their mouth as they could while sucking down hard proved the best method of extracting the response they were after.

Hotch was lost in his feelings. His eyes were on the ceiling, a particular crack that squiggled through the paint. A distant touch told him that Y/N was rolling the condom onto his cock, but he didn’t see them prep themselves, only a glimpse of them leaning close to whisper in his ear.

“Relax, honey.”

They reached beneath them and tugged his cock before they lined it against their sex. Hotch slapped his hands down on their thighs as they sank down upon him, gripping tight. A hushed “fuck” pushed out of his throat.

“Aaron Hotchner, wash your mouth out,” Y/N scolded playfully. Hotch let out a laugh in spite of himself. Sitting up, his hands covering the expanse of their back as they bottomed out on him. His smile pressed against Y/N’s as they combed through his hair, their nails scratching his scalp.

Rolling their body up against Hotch’s, Y/N began to grind on his cock. Hotch’s nails bit into Y/N’s thighs, pulling them down harder upon him in protest of the slow pace. Eyelids creased shut, unable to watch for long. Lips grazed over each other without attempting to coordinate a better kiss.

To hear Y/N moan, utter under their hot breath “yes” over and over, there was nothing sexier and it was no surprise that he was quick to orgasm with Y/N clenching around his cock.

Entirely spent, he fell back onto the bed and took Y/N with him. He cradled their head as he kissed the air beside their cheek.

“I’ve got to pee,” Y/N mumbled, eyes still closed as they eased off him. They shared a quick gasp at the motion.

Hotch heard their feet on the carpet, then on the vinyl of the bathroom before the door closed. Sitting up, he pulled off the condom, tied a knot in it and tossed it into the bin beside the desk. His arms began stretching with a grunt as he felt a click. They reached out to the sides once he had landed onto his back - definitely not reaching out in vain for Y/N.

A clinking of glass being placed on the bedside table told him to lift the covers up. Sure enough, Y/N dove underneath, pressing their cooling body up against his. They rested their nose against the curve of his neck, tickling as they breathed in his company.

“Honey, I can hear you doing paperwork in your head.”

“Sorry.”

“Go to sleep,” Y/N ran a finger in the groove of his collarbones, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A small quirk of his eyebrow, and Hotch’s eyes rolled back as he closed them. If the promise of waking up beside his significant other had been broached earlier, he wouldn’t have put up such a fight.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Hotch woke up first as usual. It was quarter past seven, forty-five minutes before they were due back at the station. He stretched himself again, linking his fingers together as he reached for the ceiling, flexing them as far as he could. The crack from last night was still there. Bubbles in his knuckles popped, disturbing Y/N who had curled up in most of the covers beside him.

“How’d you sleep?” They mumbled as they rolled over to see him. A soporific smile grew once they’d seen the state of Hotch’s hair – floppy from its time pressed in the pillow.

That smile broadened as Hotch lazily touched a curled finger to their lips, “Better than I have in a while.”

“You’re welcome.”

When Hotch pushed off the covers, Y/N clung to them as they waited for him to rise and ready himself for the day ahead. Thus began a minor wrestling match between the two as Hotch hid himself beneath the covers.

Y/N asked, although they knew the answer already as Hotch’s hands groped at their hips to lie them on their back, “Where’d you think you’re going, Mister?”

“Going to return the favour,” replied the bump under the bed sheets.

Y/N parted their legs to feel such gentle kisses on their thighs in the same spots they had chosen for Hotch the night before. His cheek, they could feel its patch of blunt stubble. Their hands wrung the tops of the covers against their sternum.

His attentive tongue found them, well versed in how to please. Y/N’s legs bent and they lost sight of Hotch’s lump. But they never lost how it felt to have his mouth, his hot and talented and giving mouth, loving on them or the deep rumble of his voice that purred in response to every other call of longing from the now wakeful Y/N.

But the haze of a morning fuck before even stepping out of bed soon lifted. Propped up on their elbows, Y/N went to unexpected mirth.

“I can see your feet poking out the duvet,” They giggled and dropped back against the pillows. Their heel slid down Hotch’s back, pushing the covers off so they could see his smirking disbelief. Hair sticking up, his cheeks pink, he shook his head at them fondly.

“All this so I won’t smell your morning breath,” Y/N said through a sigh, “Bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Not at all.” And he leant in to Y/N’s touch as they pushed a hand through his hair again.

“Honey, we’ve got work in less than an hour.”

“And I had work right in front of me, didn’t stop you then.”

“It wasn’t a favour, you know? You don’t have to.”

Hotch stopped for a moment, then he rested his chin on their stomach, his hands stroking in ticklish delight over their skin. He licked his lips before he echoed their words:

“Let me take care of you, Y/N.”

[plush-rabbit]

Home

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Sweet Home came out today and I’m screaming

He hears you singing. It's loud and a bit off a key, but you sound like you're having fun. You're singing at the top of your lungs, giving a full performance to no one and when he walks into the room, you're sitting on your office chair, holding an empty water bottle to your lips while you arch your back and hit the final note, a wide smile gracing your features as you take a bow in front of your screen. His eyes soften, and turn into a smile that grows wider when you open your eyes and jump as you notice him.

“Tomura!” You squeak, the bottle falling onto your lap. You scramble to pause the music, the next song already beginning the first few notes and his eyes widen, a knowing smile on his face as he catches you in the act. “When did you get here?”

It’s a pitiful attempt to change the conversation, to bulldoze past what he just saw and he wants to tease, to poke fun at the over-the-top performance and beg for another, to tease until you hid your face and beg for more, to hear the melody that was sung. But from the way your legs bounce and the strained smile, he offers you peace.

“Just a bit ago,” he rasps out, leaning against the doorframe. “Have you already watched the show?”

You shake your head. “Been waiting for you,” you smile at him, letting your laptop go to sleep. “Are you sure you want to watch it with me?”

He shrugs half heartedly and peels away from the doorframe, rolling his shoulders, fingers flexing and cracking as he moves them. “If I get to spend time with you-” he turns his head and there’s a faint dust of red that fills his cheeks- “I’m okay with watching what you want.”

He lets out a grunt when you hug him, face pressed against him, lips that flutter over his neck and his arms are quick to wrap around you, hands curling over your shirt and wrinkling it in the process, only to loosen and smooth it over.

“You’re the best, you know,” you mumble onto him, giving him a final kiss before you pull away. “Did you eat already?” He nods, hands slipping to hold you by the hips, feeling the soft fabric of your joggers, the wrinkled waistband bumping under his fingertips. “Okay, I ordered take out but there should be leftovers if you get hungry.” You give him a cute grin and pull away. His arms fall to his side for a brief moment before you grab onto a hand. You hold onto him without fear and he walks behind you, eyes focused to how your hand slips into his perfectly, your thumb sliding over his skin.

The trek to your living room is perfectly etched into his mind. He knows which floorboard squeaks, the corners that he has to avoid, the pictures that hang on the wall and past the dining table that holds a vase with plastic flowers- something he had given to you long ago as a gift- something that he still finds himself staring at whenever he enters your home, a gift that makes him think too hard about you and makes his chest ache with something familiar and unfamiliar. It’s a simple gift- something that he had put thought into because he felt that he owed you something. It was a gift that made you flap your hands and throw your arms around his neck and pepper his face with quick kisses. He promises himself to get you actual flowers one day.

You collapse onto the couch and he follows suit, already leaning against a cushion and resting his arm against an arm rest, the red blanket that he secretly adores is draped behind the couch and he tugs on it, letting it spill between the two of you as you crawl backwards until your back hits the armrest and your legs extend outward. He gives a questioning look and he’s only met with a smile.

You bounce excitedly as the series starts to play, the imagery flashing on the screen and you croon about how beautiful it looks, the differences made and characters that you can’t recall. You voice your wonders if it’s been that long since you read the comic or if the adaptation is going in a slightly different direction. You’re enamored with the series, a giddy smile as the main character appears, patting your thighs rapidly and he gives interest to the screen, often returning his eyes back to you, a quick glance to fuel himself. His glances take you in, watching the smile linger on your face, the winces at the gore only to shake your legs in excitement at what comes next.

He watches you. Eyes that trail down the curve of your face, follow at the lashes that extend and lips that part and move in silent words, lips that widen into a grin and he knows that you must sense his stares, that you can feel the way that his eyes linger on you and yet you remain quiet, watching the screen flash colors and illuminate you in a dim yellow to a dark blue and for now, he’s home. For now, as he turns his attention to the screen, he’s home and he’s watching an adaptation with you and he knows that when your eyes are too heavy to continue, mind that has grown foggy with sleep, you’re still going to talk about the comic, you’ll lay your head on his shoulder, intertwine your hands with his and you’ll mumble spoilers, yawning as you talk about the growth of characters and he’ll feel your hand tense when you mention death and he’ll lull you to sleep with a kiss to your temple. But for now, his eyes stay glued to the screen, deep in thought and paying half attention as his mind lingers on the eventual outcome of date night.

You clear your throat. “Hey-” you nudge at his thigh with your foot, the blanket stretching and lowering past your chest- “Tomura.”

“Hm?” He hums, sparing you a glance before returning his attention back to the screen.

“I-uh," you laugh nervously and look away from him, bringing up your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around, “I uh, can- can I kiss you?"

His eyes widen, and he turns his attention away from the show, the colors illuminating his face in a soft glow that flashes into different colors. “You can always kiss me, dumbass-” the corner of his lip twitches and his gaze hardens for a quick second before softening, “we're dating.”

“No, no,” you pause trying to find your words, “like I- fuck. Okay-” you shake your hands and take a deep breath. Your eyes meet his and he can sense a waver in how your breath shakes. "I want to kiss you- like all over your face, like just a ton of kisses.” You swallow and your brows furrow, a line pulled tight at your lips and heat starts to pool in your back. You stiffen and your hands curl and scratch at the blanket. “Is that weird?”

Red eyes blink and a calloused hand brushes hair out of his fair, tugging it behind an ear, a few of the shorter strands falling and curving around his face. “Why?”

Your face flushes and your mouth grows dry, your tongue peeks out to wet at your lips. “I don't know,” you whisper harshly, scratching your neck, a habit that you’ve now picked up from him. “I just- I saw how pretty you looked all focused and I just want to kiss you and stuff,” you chuckle nervously, a tight grip around your chest.

“Stuff?” He asks with a lilt, smile curving into something amorous, tone heavy with want and he turns to face you, fingers drumming along the armrest.

He takes delight at watching you squirm, your legs shaking and a nervous smile straining against your face. “Like,” you sigh, a short puff of air breathing past your lips, “hold hands and hug you a lot and ah,” you sigh, “is it getting hot in here or is it just me?" You give a breathless laugh and pull on the collar of your shirt, tossing the blanket off of your lower body.

"Just you,” he says flatly, only to roll his eyes when you frown.

“Well, it feels hot,” you mumble in a pout, pursing your lips together. You look away from him and stare at the screen that has continued to play, watching as the character barely manages to dodge an attack.

“Only because you’re embarrassed,” he says cooly, turning to lay his back against the armrest, legs stretched out in front of him, his feet kicking at your ankles.

“Because of you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. Your eyes dart to where his legs jut out from the blanket, the soft fabric curving and lumping above him.

“You’re being dumb,” he sighs and returns his attention back to the screen.

“And you’re avoiding the question,” you retort, placing your hand on his leg. You smile softly, the smile lasting only for a few moments before it disappears. “So-” you squeeze your hand around his leg- “can I?”

“I thought you wanted to watch the series? You said you’ve been looking forward to it.” You start to groan out his name, a whine laced around his name only to be cut off. “I’m just stating the truth. No need to throw a fit.” He makes a choking noise and rubs at his neck, fingers curling over old scars. “You really want to?”

“Just kisses,” you say, already crawling over to him, your hands careful around his sides, as your nose brushes along his collarbone, a feather light kiss above him where your lips glide and purse for a moment. “That’s all I’m asking for,” you whisper against his exposed neck, a hand on his chest, feeling how he stutters underneath you, your other hand holding you up, until you come to lay down beside him, forcing himself to make room for you. “Am I allowed to?”

You see how his apple bobs, a harsh swallow as he tries to keep himself controlled under you. “Remind me again why you want to do this?” His voice holds pleading, entangled with his words, curiously nothing but a simple bse as he tries to understand what you gain from this- what your end goal is with your request.

“Tomura,” you whine, pressing yourself further against him and he can feel the warmth you emit from your face and onto his neck. “I just- I don’t know. I like you- like a lot and I just want to kiss you.” You straddle him, a hand entangled in his hair, lips already against his cheek, soft and lightly chapped, against his scarred skin. “Am I allowed to?” Your voice cracks, the hand in his hair tightening softly and there’s a whine in your voice, something that goes beyond you just wanting to be a brat, it holds a whimper to it, a soft begging where you press yourself close against him and breathe heavily against him.

“Yes.” He replies, his hands coming to hold onto your waist and there's a brief moment, where it’s still, the screams fading into nothing but white nose, the silence interrupted by the harsh pulsing of his neck and then your lips are peppering his face.

You press your lips against his cheek, soft and fleeting, nothing more than a brush until you reach the side of his face. Your lips are soft, a few dry creases that do nothing more than brush against him and with each and every kiss that you press against his skin, gentle and a simple brush, they turn harsher, feverish and lovesick as they press down his skin and graze his scars. He lets out a shuddering breath, hands reaching upwards and curving around your body, palms flat and fingers digging into your soft skin until you whine and brush your nose above him in a bunny kiss, mumbling his name under your breath until you pepper kisses on his face. Lips following the scars that adorn him, bunny kisses on his brow bone, followed by soft pecks that curve around and end on the space between. Your hands curve around his head, pulling on his soft strands, breathing heavily above him, your chest shaking and whining with every moment that your lips meet his skin.

Your trail of love loses form and you’re left kissing every inch of his face but his lips. You kiss at the corners, you kiss above and below the scar, you kiss the sweet, little mole but never at his lips, even when you purse and breath above yours. You move to kiss up the bridge of his nose, flutter the tip of your nose against him and the hand knitted in his hair loosens and moves to cradle his neck and he whines at the touch, hands pressing deeper into you and he’s cooing, begging in silent breaths to kiss him- to stop the teasing and to just kiss him. Your lisp trail down the sides of his face and finally, you speak, after minutes of torture, you speak to him in a soft voice, somehting below a whisper and he’s grateful that you’re near his ear, lips brushing against his lobe and curving up the shell as you speak to him.

“Tomura,” you voice wavers and he whines, unable to speak, “I love you,” you mutter against him and when you hide your face in the crook of his neck, lips that purse and kiss at his skin, he can feel tears. “I love you, Tomura.” You kiss and he wonders if you can feel how quick his pulse is, how the blood pumps underneath his skin, how much affect you have on him.

You move around his neck, tears leaving him wet and sliding down to disappear into his chest or onto the couch. You sigh and press kisses onto him, quick and soft to longingly and deep where he can feel you never wanting to part. You press above his apple and he suffocates under your love, whining and begging you to continue. And you’re grateful to continue- to continue your quest to kiss at him where he is exposed, to mark him with your love, to leave his skin peppered with kisses and even if you say nothing, your actions speak for yourself.

His eyes water and bites his bottom lip and wills himself not to cry. He can’t. Not with you here. He won’t allow himself to shed tears. You mean so much to him- the one thing life had offered to him that as a saving grace. You love him. You whispered and showed him that you do. You kiss at every marking that he or life had carved onto his skin and you don’t shy away. You want to touch him. You want him close to you and he does his best to keep the tears on his eyes, to not let them slide and wash away the feeling of your lips on his skin.

Your ceiling is blurry, specks meshed together and your hands are on him and he can still feel your tears on him. He can feel every press of your lips above him and then you cradle his face with a hand as you rise above him. You must notice the tears. You must by the way your head tilts and your smile softens, the tears that catch and shimmer on your lashes and with shaky hands, he wipes away the stray tears. He opens his mouth and all that leaves is a pitiful whine, and then you dip your head down.

You capture him in a soft kiss, pressing yourself close against him until teeth meet and clash against each other, a moan slipping between and you’re hunched above him, a smile gracing your lips as you kiss him and you mouth the words “I love you” before returning to kiss him, kissing him until you pull away for breath and return to meet his eyes.

His eyes have watered and he swallows tightly, bottom lip trembling and he has to confess to you. He has to repeat the words. He does. He loves you. Of course, he does. There’s no doubt in his mind that he has eyes for you and only you. The world could be damned, but as long as he has you by his side, then he’s fine. He’s more than fine. He’s everything good. You gave him everything good.

A croak passes through his cracked lips and his face burns. He loves you. More than you could ever know. He swallows and breathes onto your lips when you kiss him again. Hungrily this time, like the first wasn’t enough, that you could never be satiated with him.

“I-” the words are difficult to say as he whispers, voice small and hesitant- “I-”

You nod. “I know,” you say in a confident whisper. “I love you too.”You peck at his nose and smile sweetly at him. “Thank you,” you tell him as you kiss at his nose and rest your head on his chest, his arms holding you against him until you grab at a hand and pull it up to your lips. He can feel the warmth of your breath fan against his knuckles. “Thank you for being here with me, Tomura.” You kiss at his knuckles, lips dragging and pressing over him, in sweet, love-filled kisses. “Thank you for coming home tonight.” You kiss at his fingertips, smiling into his palm and cradling your face with his hand.

“Always,” he murmurs, blinking rapidly as he presses his lips against the crown of your head. The arm around you tightens and his fingers press into the cotton of your shirt. “I’ll always come back to you.”

[bugsandchatons]

when you weren’t mine to lose (7)

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It’s been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they’ll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she’ll cross to save him.

A/N: So sorry this took an extra week to get out! I wanted to make it as good as I could get it, since it’s all the Talking and Hugging and that good stuff. Thank you to @emsylcatac for looking over it!!

[[AO3]] {from the beginning}

****

 [seven: will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful]

As abruptly as it started, the battle ends, leaving pure chaos behind.

There’s ice in her veins. It’s crystallizing under her skin, freezing her to where she stands.

Ladybug drags air into her lungs and tries to find it within herself to take a step - the movement is slow, sluggish, and forced. It’s not until the distinct sound of an animal in pain reaches her ears that she can process the scene before her and move. 

Her partner is on his knees, hands flying over a person on the ground, but never once making contact. Chat’s nearly hyperventilating as the girl before him is consumed, so slowly by the black, unforgiving touch of his Cataclysm.

Ladybug blinks. Just beyond them is Félix, one hand raised to his temple. A purple butterfly struggles free from the speared face of his watch, several feet away.

She stumbles over to Chat and rubs a hand on his back, sliding it up his spine to squeeze his shoulder, the touch as grounding for her as she hopes it is for him. He glances up at her, something uncomprehending in his gaze before his attention snaps back to the girl before him.

Ladybug’s still not sure where she came from. One minute it was just her, Chat, and Mirror Image on the rooftop. Then, between seconds, it wasn’t.

Something more is happening here, she’s sure. She bends down, mind racing, grappling for an explanation.

When the stranger’s glazed blue eyes meet Ladybug’s, they sharpen. She reaches out with a surprisingly strong hand, grabs Ladybug by the shoulder, and jerks her in close. 

“Don’t wait,” she gasps. “Don’t throw it away.”

“What?” Ladybug asks, startled. The girl’s eyes flick to the hand on Ladybug’s shoulder, and she drops her own gaze to follow. There, dangling from her wrist is an unactivated Black Cat Miraculous and a shadowed version of the charm she’d last seen in her purse. That paralyzing ice is back, spreading through her blood until all she feels is cold. “You-”

The black rot of Chat’s magic spreads up her arm. An Akuma peels out of the charm as it crumbles to dust and, between blinks, the girl dying on the ground changes. Her hood falls away, and what’s still visible of her suit morphs from black to red. It’s unmistakably her. 

Ladybug.

“Cast our cure,” she whispers, and closes her eyes.

Chat makes a horrible broken sound and rears back, falling on his splayed hands. His eyes dart rapidly between the two of them, something manic in his expression, and it spurs her into motion. Ladybug grabs for her yoyo and snaps it out to catch the two fluttering Akumas before reaching for her Lucky Charm. In the red and black spotted mirror, she meets her own eyes in the reflection for just a second before tossing it high and calling for her Miraculous cure.

“Don’t cry, mon rêve,” the other Ladybug whispers. Her voice is lost in a ragged sound as the black tide climbs her throat. Chat lets out a low whine and as the Miraculous magic flows over them, the Ladybug that lies prone on the rooftop vanishes.

Ladybug blinks and the world flashes white.

 ******

When she opens her eyes her vision swims, and she gasps for air. Chat kneels in front of her, calling her name. He has tear tracks on his cheeks and soot on his hands, but he’s alive. 

Her heart skips a beat before picking back up, double time. Something broken inside knits back together.

“Chat,” she gasps. Her fingers grope for his wrist and find the racing pulse there before she presses her palm flat over his beating heart. She breathes when he does, and it’s the lightest she’s ever felt. “Chaton,” her trembling hand finally finds his cheek as tears stream down her own. “You’re okay.”

She lifts her gaze to his and realizes he’s not, not entirely. His gaze darts frantically from her face to the spot where she’d lain as Ouroboros, and there’s something very fragile on the verge of breaking in his expression.

“Okay,” she says softly as she takes his chin in her hands and coaxes him to look at her, only at her. “Stay with me, Kitty.” 

He blinks rapidly, but nods. She nods back. Her earrings beep, nearly in perfect time with his ring. With a herculean effort, she looks away from Chat and turns to glance at Félix. “Are you injured?”

He looks pale but otherwise unscathed. “I - no, Ladybug.”

She rises to her feet and, reluctant to pull her hands from Chat, simply tugs him up with her and keeps her fingers twined with his. She crosses the rooftop to the fire escape. “You can get down from here,” she says to Félix, before scanning the crowd. “Alya,” she shouts when she finds the face she’s looking for, “will you make sure Félix gets back to the Agrestes?” 

The girl in question makes her way to the front of the crowd, her cell phone gripped tight in hand, and nods. “Of course.”

With that, Ladybug turns her full attention back to Chat. She lifts both of his hands in hers and holds them to her cheeks until he meets her eyes. “Come with me?”

Both Miraculous beep a second warning. Chat’s eyes widen as her meaning lands, but he nods, his hands trembling against her skin.

Ladybug offers a weary smile before wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him in close, and swinging them both away.

 *****

When her feet touch down onto the rooftop of Master Fu’s old apartment, Ladybug lets go of Chat only long enough to drop her arm from his waist and take his hand instead. She slides her fingers into the gaps between his and presses their palms together, leading him down the fire escape and into the vacant rooms through the window. He follows along in her silent footsteps, as pliant as a newborn kitten.

The dusty apartment has been undisturbed for at least a year and empty even longer. Dust clothes drape over the few pieces of furniture that were left behind when their owner fled. Cobwebs gather in the corners. Ladybug wrinkles her nose. All things considered, it’s been forgotten, and forgotten places make the best spots to hide.

Her earrings beep a loud warning and she turns to face Chat Noir, her mouth going dry. There are so many things she has to tell him, and she can’t imagine where to start.

He isn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze roams the dim room, perhaps noting the same things she has or nothing at all. Only one way to find out.

“Hey,” she says, barely more than a whisper. Slowly, he tilts his head in her direction, before his gaze slowly follows. He meets her eyes, searches hers, and then his stoic expression crumbles.

“Oh, Kitty, no,” Ladybug hurries to soothe. Her hands find his shoulders and tug him into a tight hug. She feels his gasp more than she hears it when their chests bump together, and then he’s clinging - his hands grip her hips with the slightest bite of claws before sliding around to her back to clutch her in an embrace that might have crushed bones, were it not for her suit.

“I hurt you,” he chokes on the words, his body trembling in her arms. A sob rips through him and tears out of his throat in a tattered breath. “I killed you, my lady, how -”

“No, you-” she stops and holds him tighter. She’d known, hadn’t she? She knew what stopping his Cataclysm would do to both of them, and she’d been the one to make him do it. Lying about it would do nothing to benefit either of them now. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m okay.” She presses her cheek to his, murmuring beside his ear. “I’m right here. I’ll explain everything, but I need you to breathe with me first, okay?”

Chat tucks his face into her neck. She can feel the dampness on his cheeks against her skin and the way his heart pounds in time with hers, frantic but alive.

Alive, alive, alive.

The relief brings with it the release of every bitter, horrible thing they’ve been through, the stress of two terrible days forced into one. It floods through her and knocks her to her knees, and he goes down with her. She tangles her fingers in his hair and presses her face into his collarbone until it hurts, until she can chase away the burnt scent of ashes and soot with his sunshine and leather, until all she can smell is something like home. 

“It’s okay, mon chaton, everything will be okay,” she whispers the promise into his skin and feels the slightest bit of tension slide away.

He shakes his head against hers but doesn’t draw back. “We’re about to-”

The final, wild beeping in her ear drowns out the rest of his warning. “I know,” Ladybug says softly, pulling away just enough to see his face. She plants one of her hands flat against his chest, wanting to hold on to the feeling of his heartbeats. With her other, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and guides his hand to where he can count hers. “We’re okay.” She lets her forehead come to rest against his. “I’m right here, and so are you. Breathe with me, Chat.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath, and she does the same.

Her transformation wears off in a bright pink flash that mingles with the green light of his. It illuminates the room briefly before fading away. There’s soft cotton under her touch instead of worn leather and his racing heart is even more apparent, pounding into her bare hand as though it’d like to break free and make a home there.

She opens her eyes and sees Tikki barrel into a surprised Plagg with a squeak before the kwamis disappear into the shadows. She looks at Chat’s unmasked face to find his eyes screwed shut. Her lips curve into a soft smile and she whispers, “You can open your eyes, Adrien.”

Either the sound of his name or the invitation startles him into obeying. She sees wide green eyes before he leans back, only far enough to see her. 

“Marinette,” he breathes, and finally, he breaks into a small smile.

The sight of it takes a massive weight off her shoulders. She holds fast to his hand like a lifeline for fear she might float away. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

His gaze darts over her face with something endlessly soft in his expression that warms her from the inside out. “I’m not. Of course it’s you,” he says, the way one might announce the rising sun - a sure, indisputable thing. He lifts his free hand to her face and traces her cheek with his thumb, following the curve of where her mask usually rests. “My Everyday Ladybug.”

The admission steals her breath and her face flushes with heat. Just as quickly as it’d come, his smile fades. “I cataclysmed you,” he murmurs. 

He draws his hand back, but Marinette reaches out to catch it. “No, listen,” she starts. “You did, and you didn’t. But - it was my fault?”

He blinks and tilts his head. “You’re not making much sense, my lady.”

Tikki phases through Marinette’s purse with a pink macaroon in hand. She settles onto Marinette’s shoulder, suggesting, “Start at the beginning.”

“If only I knew what that was,” Marinette says, watching as Adrien pulls a piece of cheese out of his shirt pocket and automatically offers it into Plagg’s waiting paws. The sight would make her laugh, were it not for the concerned furrow of his brow and the weight of his unwavering attention. She swallows her nerves and straightens her spine. “Okay. So, you remember Timebreaker, right?”

“Yeah. There were two Ladybugs,” Adrien says immediately.

Marinette’s mouth twitches up into a smirk. “That is what you’d remember best, isn’t it, minou?” 

The small smile he offers is all Chat Noir, unabashed and mischievous. Reconciling her partner with Adrien is somehow as implausible as it is simple - a paradox she can only hope will grow easier with time. She continues on. “Well, this story is a little like that one. I’ve lived today twice, and the first time-” her fingers tighten reflexively around his, and he squeezes back. “The first time we fought Mirror Image, it went horribly wrong.”

Adrien frowns. “Did he hurt you? Did he get your Miraculous?” he fires off questions concerned only for her, and something bitter rises in Marinette’s throat.

“No, Adrien, he killed you,” Marinette murmurs, watching as the tight line of his shoulders relaxed. She feels the perplexing urge to punch him for it. “He reflected your Cataclysm and you died right in front of me.”

“Oh,” he says, dropping his gaze to their tangled fingers. “Well, I mean. I’ve died before. You always bring me back though, right?”

She can hear what he means but doesn’t put words to. Why does it matter now?

Marinette lets out a slow breath, blinking back the burning tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t this time. My Lucky Charm didn’t work and you were gone.” He opens his mouth, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t want to give him a chance to chime in with a protest that might break her heart. “So I went home, got the Snake Miraculous, and went back in time.”

He raises his eyebrows. “How-” he blinks, and she sees it when the horrifying revelation hits him. “You were akumatized,” he whispers. “On the roof, that was the akumatized Ladybug.” Adrien looks up with anguish in his eyes. “You got akumatized because of me?” 

She wants to shake him. “Adrien,” Marinette starts, her heart aching. “The only reason I had time to come up with a plan and run home instead of being akumatized immediately is that Hawkmoth was too distracted to try it right away. You’re my partner, Chaton, mon coeur, of course losing you was enough to akumatize me.” 

He looks devastated by the prospect. “But you...you shouldn’t have-”

“I let him,” Marinette says fiercely. “I knew what I was doing. I knew an Akuma would make the Miraculous limitless, I knew I could restart the day, and don’t you dare say I shouldn’t have done everything I could to save you, because I refuse to hear it.” 

Adrien snaps his mouth shut, meeting her glare for a moment before glancing away, his free hand rising to the back of his neck. In the silence that follows, Tikki nudges Marinette’s cheek. “Tell him everything, Marinette. There’s no point in keeping secrets now.”

She hesitates, but slowly meets Adrien’s eye when he looks back up. “It gets worse. I know who Hawkmoth is.”

“Why would that be worse?” he perks up for just a moment before he picks up on the heaviness of her words, the solemnity of her expression. He deflates, then takes a deep breath. “Tell me.”

She bites down on her lower lip. “Not long after the battle, I was still with you. He...Hawkmoth came. He said he’d suspected Chat Noir might be his son before -” at that, Plagg gasps. Adrien goes rigid and shuts his eyes. Marinette holds tight to his hand. “But Adrien disappearing the same night that Chat died seemed to confirm it for him.”

For several minutes, Adrien sits perfectly still and stays silent but for the whistle of his ragged breathing, in and out of his nose. Then, he lets go of her hand, stands up, and crosses to the window. His fingers curl into fists. He pounds them into the window sill with one loud thud, before tapping his knuckles to the glass, careful and controlled once more, even while turmoil crackles through him like a livewire. When he turns around, he doesn’t look at her. “I suppose you’ll be wanting my ring back, then.”

Plagg drifts close to him, his ears pressed flat to his head. “Adrien?”

Adrien doesn’t look at him, either. He keeps his gaze resolute on the wall somewhere over her head.

Marinette blinks once, twice. When she finds her voice, it’s strained. “Excuse me?”

His face is blank, but she can see the way his fists tremble. She wonders if he’s ever once been able to let go, or if everything he keeps locked inside is just going to keep rising until it hits a boiling point. “My Miraculous. You’ll want a new Chat Noir, one who’s not the son of a supervillain, of a terrorist.” His voice starts to shake. “One who couldn’t possibly have missed what goes on inside his own house, and-”

Marinette crosses the room and grabs onto his shoulders. He flinches, his expression twisting. “Chat,” she begs, “Stop.” 

“He hurt you!” Finally, his mask breaks, and a tear streaks down his cheek, followed by another, then a stream. “Over and over. He’s hurt so many people.” He shakes his head. “He’s a monster, and god, did he even care when I died?” Adrien’s voice cracks and Marinette pulls him in. One hand sifts through his hair and pulls his head down so he can hide his face in her neck, and the other fists in the back of his shirt.

“None of this is your fault,” she tells him, her voice thick with tears of her own. “Not one thing. You are my Chat Noir, no one else could take your place. We’re going to get you out of that house, and we’re going to figure this out together, okay? You and me.”

He crumbles into her, boneless in her arms, and she holds him steady through the storm. Tikki nestles into her hair while Plagg curls into Adrien’s collarbone.

When the rain passes and Adrien calms down to the soft rumble of Plagg’s purring and the murmur of Marinette’s soothing, he slumps back against the wall and sinks to the floor, bringing Marinette down with him. He sighs, his eyes red-rimmed. “Tell me the rest?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

She nods and tucks herself under his arm, lifting her hand to rest over his heart. “Okay. I restarted the day. I already had a clue you might be Chat, so I followed you -” at this, Adrien huffs a short laugh. “What?”

He shakes his head before leaning it on top of hers. “All day, I had the weirdest feeling I was being watched, but I never did see you, that’s all. Go on.”

Adrien stays silent through Marinette’s retelling, nodding along as she goes through the day. He stiffens when she tells him about Bunnyx and her ominous warning, but still, he doesn’t interrupt again. When Marinette reaches the battle, the parts he remembers, she glances up to find him frowning, his blond brows furrowed. 

“So I knew I had to be the one to catch your Cataclysm, or else it could have rebounded again, or you could’ve hurt Félix, and well, you were there for the rest. So you didn’t kill anyone, not really. I...I knew that once the other me got a real Lucky Charm, this time everything would be fixed,” she says, her own mouth curving down when his expression remains one of displeasure. Marinette folds her hands, tangling and untangling her fingers as nerves turn her stomach into knots. “So...that’s it.”

Adrien’s quiet for several moments, his severe demeanor unabating. When she squirms against his side, he finally says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You could try thank you,” Marinette says, aiming for lightness as she stretches her aching legs out in front of her.

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t…” he trails off and swipes a hand through his hair in one frustrated stroke before trying again. “The last thing I want is for you to risk your life for me - to die for me. Marinette, you can’t...you just can’t do that, okay?” 

Her stomach drops and her throat starts to burn. She pulls away from Adrien and fixes him with a glare that has him shifting in place. “I did what I had to do, and saying I can’t is a little ridiculous coming from you, don’t you think? You throw yourself in danger for me all the time for much less!”

“That’s different,” he says, his frown settling into a stubbornness she’s rarely seen on Chat and never on Adrien. He crosses his arms and lifts his chin. “Ladybug is more important.”

“That’s bullshit,” she cuts in, startling him. “You know it is. Sure, I’m the one who purifies the akumas and repairs the damage, so I have to make it to the end of the fight. But Chat, you take hits for me constantly, sometimes when it’s not necessary at all. You’re reckless.”

“So what? You can bring me back,” he insists.

But she hadn’t, not this time - she’d only fixed a failure with an extra Miraculous and a lot of Ladybug luck. That was the point, wasn’t it? Her partner believed her to be infallible and himself expendable; and while from a purely tactical standpoint, he might be technically correct, the thought made her sick. 

She’s always told herself that a great superhero only listened to her head, but it was messier, now; the heart that had shattered upon watching him turn to dust had only grown louder and louder. “You act like your life is just something to throw away.”

The minuscule shrug he offers is enough to have her eyes stinging. “LB, you know Paris doesn’t need me as much as they need you. It’s different. You just can’t die for me,” he says again, rising to his feet and brushing dust off his knees.

The cold logic in his voice, the finality, has Marinette pushing to her feet, suddenly more furious with him than she’s ever been. In seconds, she’s back in his space, nearly nose to nose with him. “Don’t you get it? I need you. There is no Ladybug without you!”

He shifts his gaze away from hers. “Don’t say that,” he argues, losing some of his steam. “You would be okay, my lady, you-”

“I wouldn’t be,” she snaps. She may be a hero, but if she’s learned anything at all from the past twenty-four hours, it’s that she’s only human. “I’ve lived it, and I was not okay! I would do exactly what I did today all over again if it meant saving you.”

Adrien lets out a breath that could have been a laugh, if it had any humor to it and none of the desperation. “Why?” 

“Because I love you!”

Marinette’s confession, loud and sudden as a thunderclap, seems to startle them both. It echoes through the empty room and leaves only silence to rain down upon them in its wake.

Adrien’s lips part as his mouth drops open, a disbelieving sort of fragility wiping away any remaining traces of the will to fight. “You-” he blinks. Something like hope tugs up the corner of his mouth, the beginnings of an incredulous smile. “You love me?”

She softens at his smile even as part of her still wants to cry. She lifts a hand to his cheek and he draws in a sharp breath, his eyes going wider still. “I didn’t really want to yell it at you, but yeah. I’ve wanted to tell you for ages. It’s what I’ve been so scared of, but when I lost you...I couldn’t just do nothing.” Her eyes tighten and her smile slips. “I would have given anything to have told you every single day, Kitty.” 

Adrien takes both of her hands in his and brings them to his face until he can press a kiss to each of her knuckles, his gaze on hers warm enough to make her melt. “This must be a dream,” he murmurs, sounding dazed.

Marinette’s knees threaten to give out, unwilling to hold her up much longer. Breathlessly, she asks, “If it were, what would happen next?” 

His eyes drop so quickly to her mouth she might have missed it, if she weren’t hanging on his every move. His chest hitches before his stare snaps back to hers, drowning her in green. He turns her hand over in his and brings her palm back to his mouth, then kisses the inside of her wrist. His throat works as he swallows, then, with his lips moving ever so slightly against the sensitive skin there, he says, “Something like this.” He kisses her wrist again before continuing, his voice low, “What do you dream of, my lady?”

She’s forgotten what oxygen is for, to say nothing of remembering what happens once she closes her eyes for the night. She’s lived through a nightmare, but this - this feels like sweet relief upon waking; of Chat Noir’s tender fingers brushing hair off her cheek, of sleepy smiles and muted sunlight in their eyes. Now, Marinette feels like her every nerve is wide awake.

Adrien waits, endlessly patient, and finally, she puts words to the truth. “You, Adrien. You.” 

His answering smile is radiant. His hands come up to cradle her cheeks and she meets him halfway in a kiss impossibly soft. Her fingers find their way into his hair and a small, helpless noise catches in his throat. Marinette sighs, thinking only of the dawn after night breaks, of the sun bursting through the clouds with daylight so strong not even time can put it out for long.

Adrien’s ragged breath plays across her cheek as he rests his forehead against hers. Marinette’s about to dive back in for more of him when a loud, dramatic sigh hits her ear. 

“Are you not done yet?” Plagg demands. Marinette feels the slight weight of him on the crown of her head, his little paws in her hair.

“Plagg!” Tikki scolds him, and the sound of Adrien’s laugh sinks into Marinette’s bones and floods her with peace.

Adrien rubs his cheek against hers, so much like a cat that her mouth quirks up in an unstoppable grin. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No, don’t,” Marinette coos, scooping the kwami into her hand and rubbing his ears with her finger while Adrien looks on with a pout. “We lost him too, you know.”

At that, Adrien pulls her back into a hug, squishing Plagg in between them while Tikki settles onto Adrien’s shoulder. He tucks his face into Marinette’s hair and asks, “What are we going to do now?”

For a moment, Marinette says nothing. Outside, the night waits - there’s a city on the verge of sleep that trusts their heroes to keep them safe, and a villain looming larger than ever as the shadows close in. She shuts her eyes, listens to the sound of them both still breathing, and leans into Adrien. “I’m not sure,” she says, “but we’ll figure something out together.”

[noonawriter]

Find Me In The Club

Word Count:2255

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Car Sex, No Protection (wrap it before you tap it)

Jongin was feeling himself.

Not literally mind you.  His outfit was on point. Black, tailored slacks, polished wingtips, and a white button down dress shirt rolled up mid-forearm was the latest of the goodies an up and coming designer had sent him. Several of his signature rings and his cologne had him walking taller for some reason. Tonight, he was going to scope out the new club across town. Mysterium was its name and if the hype was true, there would be a line down the block. He pulled up to the valet, tipping the young man a crisp fifty “Take care of her please” as he walked up to the velvet rope separating the line from the excitement inside. The bouncer almost sent him away. Almost. 

“Kai, is that you?” The bouncer squinted in his direction. He continued, “Dude. It’s great to see you man. When did you get back?”  

Kai chuckled, “Last night. How’ve you been?” 

The big man grinned,  “Just fine man. Thanks to your company, I’ve got the head position here. I just so happened to give the guy at the door a break. Come on in man.  It’s wild in there”. Kai shot him a smile, gave him a fist bump and pushed on through the crowd. He was met with a  heavy oak door. The title of the club engraved in the dark wood. It was smooth to the touch and he could almost feel the music from the otherside.

The pounding bass from the dance track could be felt deep within his soul. A sly smirk graced his face as he stared out at the dance floor. Packed with gorgeous people; the bodies moved in time to the beat.  

He saw all types. Barely legal to mid life crisis. Stick figured models dressed to kill all the way to big, beautiful ladies owning their outfits. He saw hands on hips, shoulders, asses and up in the air. Licking his lips, he took in the site before him with a pleased sigh. Tonight was going to be interesting. 

The bar was on the other side of the dance floor and he was thirsty so he began the trek through the writhing bodies.  He swayed with the beat as he worked his way through the sweaty crowd, pausing to dance occasionally. One woman in particular found her way in his path grinning sensually. 

“Hi handsome.”  He mouthed his greeting trying to get around her but she wouldn’t move. Her hands sneaking around his biceps and to his back to run down his shirt. She leaned in giving him a clear view of her cleavage; thighs exposed more than he preferred. “Dance with me” she said. It was clear she wasn’t going to leave until he played her game. He was more than willing to play along, to an extent. 

His hands grasped her hips, causing her to let out a wanton moan.  He pulled her close bringing his lips to the shell of her ear. “Nah.  I’m good”.  He spun her around and side stepped; leaving her behind with a chuckle playing on his lips. He heard the huff and sigh. The bar was now in his site so he focused on finding a good spot and what he wanted to drink.  

After finding a stool at the corner of the bar, he sat with his back to the wall, taking advantage of the prime spot to people-watch. The bartender came over to ask what he wanted but recognized him immediately. 

 “Back so soon, Kai?” He nodded and smiled brightly enjoying himself. When his drink got back to him, he sipped slowly and took a deep breath. Just because he was alone after being with his boys on tour didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun. He took in the view. The dance floor had cleared up slightly. And one woman in particular caught his eye. 

You wore a dark navy dress that hugged your body in all the right places.  Thin straps on your shoulders showed off your lithe upper body. The hem stopped mid thigh showcasing your long dancer legs. The back dipped dangerously low to the small of your back, hinting at the artwork carefully placed there.  The red bottom shoes you wore accentuated your ass.  Your hips swayed side to side to the beat; rolling gracefully. Your hair was pinned up messily on your head with a random piece here and there hanging down.

His eyes were drawn to you automatically. He was on the hunt and had just found his prey. Leaving his perch at the bar, he began to wind through the crowd looking for you. When you weren’t where he originally spotted you, his eyes darted around to find the beauty he’d spotted moments before.  

He heard a voice call out, “Just stop. Back off please.”  There was a slight panic behind the steel of your voice and it worried him. It sounded like you.  He followed his instincts and saw you and some random creep trying to dance sloppily with you.  His grubby hands on your hips, trying to pull you closer as your hands beat against his chest to push him off. His vision went red.  It was bad enough you were having to tell him to stop.  It was a completely different thing when he wouldn’t listen. 

He slipped in behind the unassuming male, placing his own hands on the guy’s hips and gripping tightly.  “What the…” the man called out.  He jerked around, eyes wider than saucers when he realized another man had his hands on him.  The stranger let go of you pushing back and turning in Kai’s grip.  

The stranger grabbed Kai’s hands and yanked them off, “Seriously dude?  What gives? That’s gross man.” 

“Yea it is.  Just like what you’re doing to her.”  Kai’s knowing look made the strange man huff and stalk away. He looked around to locate you.  You were standing to the side, eyeing him.  He plastered on his most charming smile and carefully approached. 

“Call it a long shot, but would you like to dance?”  You nod and take his hand as he led you to another section of the dance floor.  His hands made their way to your hips cautiously.  The EDM beats began to surge through the nearby speakers.  “Is this ok?  Tell me to stop and I will.” 

His words tickled your ear as he spoke, trying to be louder than the music.  You simply nodded enjoying his comforting aura.  Her body turned with a cat-like grace as you sank into his hold, swaying your hips to the music.  He timed his body with yours and together you both got lost in the trance inducing tunes.  

Your hands laced around his neck and latched into his hair, gently massaging his scalp.  His hands ran the length of your hips and thighs in random patterns; sometimes hard, sometimes soft.  You laid your head back on his shoulder allowing the milky expanse of your neck to open up to him.  Instinct drew him to the unblemished skin, tracing his lips on it from your collarbone to your ear lobe and everywhere in between; leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way.

A moan escaped your lips and he just happened to hear it.  He was already half hard and he was getting closer to full hardness with every move you made.  It made him grip you a little tighter.  You ground her hips against his faster and firmer, feeling his length through the dress pants he was wearing.  One or two songs turned into seven or eight as they lost themselves in the moment, dancing with each other.  

When he noticed the sweat on your brow, an idea formulated in his head.  His lips worked their way from your neck to the pulse point below your ear, taking his time to make purple petal shaped  marks.  His hands traveled dangerously low, playing with the hem of your dress. You shivered when his lips finally made contact with the shell of your ear. 

“Let’s get out of here, yea?”  A whine left your lips unashamedly as you thought of all the things you two could do.  You nodded a bit too enthusiastically and he chuckled at the site. He took your hand and led you outside.

Once the cool air hit you both, you took a deep, cleansing breath and surveyed him. The two of you had only danced together and still looked thoroughly fucked out.  Your hair was partially out of its hold, dress strap slightly off center and the hem of your skirt riding higher than it should be.  

His pupils were blown with lust, his shirt damp with sweat, pants bulging with his stiff length confined inside.  

The valet offered to get the car but Kai shook his head.  “No thanks,” Kai said. After taking his keys, he bent over and scooped you over his shoulder; taking off at a brisk pace to his car. You giggled, “Put me down. I can walk you know.”  Your words were intended to sound firm but you couldn’t help the laughter.  Something about this entire moment felt so right.  

His palm cupped your ass firmly to keep you from squirming about.  A moment later, you found yourself in the furthest portion of the parking lot as he punched the button on the remote.  A beep sounded and he stooped down to get you back on your feet.  He opened the door, making a show of it.  

“Ladies first.” He bowed deeply, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture.  

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You put one of your knees on the seat and crawled away from him while wiggling your ass to put on a show.  He growled, deep and rumbling.He wasted no time; jumping in behind you. Tossing the keys in the driver's seat, he yanked his button down from his pants and tossed his phone to the front seat. 

“If you value the dress you’re wearing, you might want to take it off before I take it off for you.”  His low growl made you yelp as you tugged and pulled it off your body, leaving her in nothing but a pair of grey lacy panties.  She began to pull them off but his hands reached out to stop her.  “Leave them. Those are fucking hot.”  

He paused for a moment to take in the sight before him.  You were on your knees, chest heaving with deep breaths.  His arms reached around behind you to pull the pins from your hair allowing it to cascade down around your shoulders.  The image of you biting your lip made his dick twitch.  

You scooted closer, running your hands down his bare torso, fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake.  You made quick work of his belt and pants, working them down his thighs to discover he’d forgone underwear.  His dick stood at attention; looking painfully hard, pre-cum leaking from the swollen tip.

You wrapped your hand around his throbbing length gently, teasing tugs bringing him to a level he’d never achieved before.  His large hand wrapped around your wrist pulling it away from his dick.  She looked at him confused.

He quickly adjusted their positions; him seated and you straddling his thighs.  His fingers pushing your underwear to the side.  “I need you now. I cannot wait until we get back to my place.” 

As he spoke, one hand gripped your hips as the other hand worked on your soaking folds; lewd noises telling him you were more than ready.  Her whimpers as you rocked your hips on the fingers knuckle deep in your sopping heat.  

“You’re so wet babe.  Just for me.  All for me.”  Your eyes screwed shut, tight grip on his shoulders.  He worked you a little bit more before withdrawing his hand, leaving you to clench around nothing.  A disappointed whine left your lips as you looked at him questioningly.  He smirked and eased the tip between your folds, allowing you to sink down slowly, savoring the feeling of his thick length.  

You both groaned simultaneously as he kept still; giving you time to adjust.

“You really need to move.” Kai said huskily.  

You nodded, capturing his lips. You experimented with the pace at first.  Agonizingly slow to start out, feeling every bump and vein along his shaft, you realized he fit you perfectly. His lips attacked yours, clashing in a fight for dominance as his hands tried to guide your hips to a quicker pace. Once his fingers found your clit again, you were putty in his arms.  He planted his feet and took over, thrusting into you hard and fast.  Your whines began to morph into screams as you were teetering on the edge of an orgasm.  

“Fuck, don’t stop.  I’m al..”  He pulled back from you to watch the orgasm take over your body.  Just the sight of you writhing in pleasure over him was enough to push him to that same precipice.  Your velvet walls sucking him in tightly with each pulse of your orgasm and your moans added fuel to the fire.  He came without warning, holding you tight.

You collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily.  “Damn Jongin. That was hot.  This role playing idea really worked.”  

He grinned cheekily, “I knew it would babe. Lets kinda clean up and get home for round two in the shower.”  His eyebrows wiggled as you laughed at him. 

“Love you babe.” 

“Love you more.”

[trvelyans-archive]

If anyone else – anyone, even Sally or Nick – asked you to go on a hike with them, it would be an immediate “no”.

With Gray, it’s an immediate “yes”. (Though, to be fair, he could ask you to spray paint the Chicago Bean with him before lighting it on fire, and even then, you’d only hesitate for a split second before Googling what store that sells spray paint is closest to your house). Sure, it helps that this is a walk instead of a hike, and it helps more that he drove you to the lakefront on his motorcycle, but still… Sally would get a ten-minute walk to the closest Burger King to your house and a ten-minute walk back at most, and even then, you’d probably complain a little anyway.

Though maybe you could be convinced on a night like this, considering how nice it is outside. You and Gray stopped to watch the sunset an hour ago, sitting on a bench close to the water and splitting a Diet Coke and a bag of fries (which, unfortunately, you were forced to eat without ketchup after the first half, though it helped that he fed some of them to you). Now that it’s getting dark out, the two of you have started walking back to his motorcycle to head to his place, and you occasional sneak a sideways glance at him when you can, just to admire how pretty he is with his hair all windswept.

Four years ago, on a night like this, you’d sit and watch the sunset through the kitchen window while sitting on the counter and eating a whole sleeve of stale crackers, and now you’re here strolling through a nice lakefront park, holding hands with the man you’ve been in love with for the same amount of time.

… Weird. Life can be really weird sometimes.

Gray glances over at you when he feels you looking, and you watch in real time as he starts to smile. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs eventually, once he’s smiling enough that you can see his adorably perfect dimple. “Did I say that already?”

“Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes. He even had the audacity to say it after he wiped a smear of ketchup off your cheek and then stared at you adoringly for ten seconds like that was something stare-worthy.

“Well, there’s no harm in reminding you.” He tightens his grip on you and tries to pull you a little closer to him on the sidewalk. “Because I love you.”

“You’ve also said that already.”

“I know,” he replies, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. “But it never hurts for you to hear it again.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and look away, trying to pretend that he can’t see and also isn’t smirking about how much you’re blushing.

It’s especially nice out because of how quiet the park is, you think. The couple times you’ve been here before with Nick or Sally or another one of your friends that quickly dumped you, it’s been packed bench-to-bench, but it’s practically empty tonight, save for a handful of other couples who are also wandering down the sidewalks or sitting on the grass and who very clearly do not want to leave.

(God, referring to you and Gray as a couple… also very weird.)

Eventually your path starts to curve away from the water and back towards the parking lot where there are much less people – much less light, too, with the trees on either side covering up the sky above you. You’re looking up and admiring the leaves when Gray tugs on your hand again. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You snort. “You don’t have to ask, Gray.”

“I know I don’t have to ask, but I want to.” He smiles. “It’s polite.”

That gets a smile out of you, too, and his grows a little wider when he sees it. “Just thinking,” you say, trying to go for the best enigmatic delivery you can manage.

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly willing to play along. Not that that’s a surprise – he’s usually willing to play along when you joke around with him like this, the same way you’d play along and arrange a getaway car in the event that you successfully burned down one of the most famous Chicago landmarks and weren’t immediately picked up by police. “Is there anything in particular you’re thinking about?”

Besides hypothetical arson? You turn around and look over your shoulder at the retreating backs of the elderly couple that just walked by you. They’re probably far enough away that they won’t hear you by now, unless they’re Ments with brain ranges like Nick’s (which is unlikely). “You,” you answer as you turn back around, satisfied that no one else can hear your conversation.

“Me?” Gray touches his free hand to his chest. “I’m honoured.”

“Oh, shush,” you say, shaking your head.

“I mean it,” he replies. He pulls you closer to him until you’re practically hip-to-hip and lowers his head to talk in your ear. “I like knowing you think about me, Mari.”

It’s hard to think when he’s so close to you, but you try not to let it get the best of you. “I’m thinking a lot of things about you right now,” you continue. He does dirty talk a lot better than you, but you’re working on it.

“Good things, I hope?”

He yelps when you elbow him. “Obviously.”

“Mmm. Like what?”

You glance over your shoulder again to double-check that the elderly couple is gone before giving Gray a wicked, albeit slightly self-conscious, smile. “Like how long we can make out in the park before people start yelling at us?” you answer.

He pulls you to a stop on the sidewalk, his eyes flickering to your lips a second before he leans in to kiss you – but not before you lean in to kiss him, first.

Kissing Gray is new, but it’s not weird. It’s the exact opposite of weird. He makes sure of that every time.

You shake his hand out from yours – which makes him grunt in protest, which makes you smile against his lips – and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer against you, so close that there’s barely a centimeter between your bodies. He places his hands on your waist as the kiss deepens and holds you tightly as he walks you backwards, off the path and into the trees, and you’re very glad that you came here tonight instead of some other time during the day, because not getting to do this would be a crime (and doing it then might, you know, actually be considered a crime). He grunts again as his back hits the trunk of a tree and you smile, moving your hands to cup his face, pulling him even closer to you until you can literally feel his belt buckle pressing against your stomach, so much that you’ll be shocked if it doesn’t leave an indent.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, moving away from your lips as his kisses start migrating down the line of your jaw and his hands move to the small of your back. “So perfect. So beautiful. Sometimes – you’re so beautiful – it hurts.” He stops kissing you to nip at your neck. “And you smell so good.”

“Okay, weird,” you say, as if you’re not secretly loving the praise.

“Mmm. Don’t think I didn’t see you smelling my pillows this morning.”

God - how many times has he seen you do that? “Only because –“

Whatever protest you were attempting to make dies on your lips when he kisses you again, a little more insistent and a lot more impatient than the last time.

You drag your hands down to the collar of his jacket and start walking backwards, walking until your back bumps up against a tree behind you, and Gray takes advantage of the situation by pressing the length of his body against you. “I love you,” he whispers, this time lining kisses down your other jaw as he slides his hands under your shirt. “I love feeling you against me. I love your body.”

“God, Gray…”

“What?” He pulls back from your neck, his face flushed and eyes sparkling. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Are you crazy?”

He grins and leans back in for another kiss. You don’t protest when he slides one of his hands underneath the band of your bra and thumbs at the hooks, and you especially don’t protest when he drags his other hand over your side and up your chest, cupping one of your tits in his hand and squeezing.

You moan, arching your hips against him, and he grins.

“I love the sounds you make when I touch you,” he whispers.

“I love when you touch me,” you reply, because you do.

He squeezes it again so you moan again, and then brushes his thumb over your nipple. “Good.”

This time, when he pulls away from your mouth, he starts kissing down the column of your throat, and you wind your arms around his neck to keep him steady. As you do, though, you catch sight of something behind him, and after a moment of deliberation, you tap his shoulder to try and get his attention – unfortunately for you, he’s very intensely kissing the line of your collarbone, and it takes you tugging on his hair to get him to look up.

“People are staring,” you mutter. Sure enough, the elderly couple you saw earlier is watching your make out session from the middle of the sidewalk, both of them smiling in amusement. Gray tears himself away from you to follow your eyes and then, once he spots them, goes completely still like a deer in the headlights.

He curses under his breath and then, a little louder, “uh, hello there! Don’t mind us, I’m –“

“He’s giving me CPR!”

“Yes, I’m just – what?” He whips around to look at you and stares until you eventually break down into a fit of giggles, at which point he starts laughing, too, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Ugh… I’m sorry, Mari,” he says, “I shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away.”

You shake your head, tilting your face to the ground to hide your blush as the elderly couple continues walking again. “It’s okay,” you reply. “Uh – kinda my fault, too.”

Gray sidles up close to you again, distracting himself by adjusting your shirt until it looks like you weren’t just furiously made out with. “I’m glad you stopped me,” he says once they’re out of sight. “I don’t know if I could’ve resisted you otherwise.”

You press your legs together and chew the inside of your cheek. “Uh, my pleasure,” you reply. “I mean, you’re welcome. I mean – thanks?”

He’s supposed to be the awkward one, you think miserably.

Gray laughs and leans in so he can kiss your forehead. “You’re the cutest,” he murmurs. “Also, Mari… I’ve been meaning to say thank you for coming out with me tonight. I know it’s probably not what you want to be doing on a night like this, but…”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, reaching for his hand again and twining your fingers together before you begrudgingly start to head back to the path. “Spending time with you is the only thing I wanted tonight. Well, I mean… I wish I had more ketchup for my fries, but…”

“Next time,” he promises, smiling until there are crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“Next time,” you repeat.

An easy silence settles over the two of you as you continue back to the parking lot, and you’re back to glancing at him out of the corner of your eye again, just to make sure he’s still smiling. Just to make sure he’s still happy. You could tease him like you do with Sally when you go to Burger King, pretend that he had to drag you out here and that your feet are killing you, but you’d know it’d be about as convincing of a lie as any of his (meaning not at all).

Plus, tonight was an eye-opener. If you could make out like that in a park like this, with elderly couples walking around like they own the place, imagine what would happen if you went on a real, actual hike in the middle of nowhere?

… Your feet might actually kill you, you think, so this is good enough for now.

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan, Chapter 8: Working Things Out (Henry Cavill x Reader Fan Fic)

You walk with Henry to his car and he puts you in the passenger’s seat. He bumps into the director, whom he has a short conversation with and he does a double take at seeing you in the car. You swallow hard. Was this a good idea? You sitting in the car like this is a neon sign, isn’t it? He wants to keep this quiet, doesn’t he?

You watch him walk back to the car. God, he looks like he’s about to take care of business.

                        You hope it’s the sun in his eyes. It’s just that you feel like you’ve seen that scowl earlier in the gym. The memory of it has had you a bit tense; even though he has smiling and carrying on all day, you note the glint of something you can’t put your finger on when his eyes lock with yours. Unfinished. Unsaid. Undone.

You are a bit quiet during the drive, unsure of what he may say when you are truly alone. He tells you about the nearby town and some things you should know.

Finally you reach Henry’s rental home. It’s your first time there. The place is somewhat of a cave. The colors are mostly dark, but rich, and the light does something to change the mood of the place; it feels warm then. It feels masculine and mysterious to you and you feel like you’ve entered a lair.

You see his gaming computer set up and running with a “Warcraft” screensaver and cannot believe the size of the screen. “How big is that?”

“Forty-three, I think,” he shrugs as Kal follows him. “Have a seat. I’ll just be a minute.” He disappears into the rest of the house, and you assume he is feeding Kal.

You look around and admire a chess set. It looks hand-painted and expensive, so you don’t touch it.

“You play?”

You feel a little ashamed, shaking your head. “No.”

“You look sad about it.”

“My sis was really good at it-learned fast, but I wasn’t, so Dad played with her.”

“I can teach you if you like.”

“Maybe,” you say, shrugging again. “It is a beautiful set. You painted it, didn’t you?”

He grins and nods. “Yes, thank you.”

He takes your hand, and sits in a chair. He pulls you down on him again, spreading your legs and you do so willingly. “Truth or dare, love.”

“Truth,” you say quickly, your heart skipping a beat.

“Do you know that Archer is into you?”

“Stella says he is.”

“You don’t believe it.”

“I don’t—”

“He—” He rakes your back. “is into you.

You tremble as his fingertips sensitize you and you arch to him as you did before. “Truth or Dare?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’d rather say ‘Dare,’ but I’ll do you a favor this round and say, ‘Truth.’”

“What about Gracie?”

He takes a deep breath, and you open your eyes to look at him. “She knows I have someone and she knows it isn’t her.” He pulls your face down for a kiss and holds the side of your neck, gingerly. “She knows I don’t want her.”

“Henry—”

“Dal,” He corrects. “I want you.”

The words don’t sound real. How many times have you heard that, said so directly, yet so softly and sensually? You look into his eyes and you’re lost.

“Don’t you want me?”

Now it’s surreal. “Yes, yes, I want you, but—”

“But—?”

“Can I have a little more time?” You beg in a squeaked voice. “More than three dates?”

He licks his lips. “I get it, I do, but—” He pulls you into his hips, making it known the point of his arousal. “I meant what I said, pet.”

You gasp at the hardness, the size of him and you feel your sex ache. “Ohhh.”

“Truth or Dare, love?” He asks, hands still on your hips.

You look at him. “Dare.”

A slow smile forms on his lips. “I dare you to tell Archer you’re taken tomorrow.”

You still. “He’ll want to know who.”

“Not my problem,” his voice is suddenly low-Geralt low-primal and almost harsh. “None of his businesss.”

“Truth or Dare?”

His chuckle is deep and extremely male, giving you goosebumps as his blue eyes spark at you and his canines show. “Dare.”

“I dare you to be a gentleman for the rest of the night.”

He frowns at that. “That’s not a dare.”

“Neither was yours.” You pause. “I saw you had a grill out there?” You need to do something other than thinking of your bodies intertwined. You begin to wonder what his bedroom looks like, and you haven’t asked-well not yet.

“Yes.”

“How about we grill kebabs?” you suggest softly. “Meat and veggie ones since you have to stay on that while filming, no complex carbs or anything.”

“That is the way to a man’s heart,” he says humorously. “But I prefer the other sometimes.”

You laugh together, still holding each other. This is the tango of tangos, you realize. You just want no losers in the end.

After supper, you go back inside and sit on the couch.

“I’ve been good,” Henry says softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “My hands haven’t strayed, my lips haven’t found yours. Don’t I get anything?”

“Yes, yes you do.” You tilt your head to the side and get up. “Lie down.” He obeys your request. You crawl over him and he breaks into a grin that could light the room. You straddle his hips, your favorite place these days,  and lean forward. You rake his scalp from front hair line to nape of neck, first at the top, then the sides. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxing, and you smile at that. He looks unreal, like a male Sleeping Beauty to you. You bring your thumbs together at the center of his forehead and glide down to his temples, using your thumbs there, but using other fingers to cradle and massage his scalp in circular motion.

“Mmmh.”

“Common point of tension, hon.” After doing that eight times. You start again at his forehead with your thumbs and bring them down his nose and out under his eyes along his eye sockets all the way out to his sideburns. You kiss his forehead gently and on the eighth glide massage his ears, front and back in circular motions, bringing your fingers down to where his jaw hinges.

“Ahhhh…”

“Lots of tension there, I knew it,” you whisper. “To be one so strong and in control, it only makes sense.”

You kiss his lips and his purposely clings to yours, lengthening the contact. You gently begin massaging his neck, gliding from under his ears to the point of his chin, and you easily pull your mouth away from his as he is lost in sensation again. You glide from the back of neck to his Adam’s apple in a downward motion, moving the tension. You do the whole neck glide again in reverse, looking at the relaxed expression on his face, feeling his hands resting on your hips. He was still being the gentleman, as he dared to do. You finally glide your hands from the base of his neck out over his traps none too gently, feeling the corded and hard muscles there, sweeping the tension out to his shoulders.

“Where is your tension?” Even with his eyes closed, his smile is a bit mischievous. His fingers begin to knead your hips gently, but his hips don’t move.

“Neck and traps,” you reply,. continuing your massage with a few glides over the space between above his collar bone and taking the tension out to his shoulders

“Poor darling,” he whispers. “Who does this for you?”

“No one.”

“You go to a spa.”

“No,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed. Truthfully, you can’t afford it. You add, “I have gone twice though.” You massage each shoulder and rotate it. “I can massage myself to an extent if I really need to.” You freeze. “Boy, that did not come out right.”

He laughs. “I know what you meant.”

You’re not sure where to stop. You decide to do his arms, gliding over his biceps, triceps and forearms, then ending by stroking the palm of each hand all the way to the fingertips. You kiss each one.

He opens his eyes and captures your wrists, kissing each hand. “The dare is done.”

“You are supposed to—”

“You kissed my fingers, your hips-” his eyes drop to where your bodies meet as he sits up halfway. “have been gently riding me the last few minutes, and that is not ladylike. So—to hell with being a gentleman!”

You gasp and give a small cry then laugh as he reverses your positions and begins kissing you-your forehead, your temples, the tip of your nose and finally, your lips. Your arms close around him and he nuzzles your neck, tickling you and making you instinctively arch to him and laugh outright.

His lips trace your collarbone. “You wouldn’t happen to know full body massage, would you?”

“Yes, and also with hot stones.”

His eyes lift to yours. “Darling, that is something worth looking forward to.”

Thanks for all the support, current tagmates! Drop me a note if you want to be tagged. I put pictures in because-well, it’s engaging for the viewer,and  can break up monotony of words (since I write at least 1500 words a chapter), giving the eyes a break. Wisdom and wellness to you!

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomniacbookgirl @jencanbeyouryengeralt​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @maryann84 @omgkatinka​ @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae​ @henryobsessed​ @summersong69​ @kinbhot4henners​ @sunshine96love​ @michelehansel​ @radofrivia @thelastsock​ @michelehansel @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks

[niphredil-14]

Homicidal Liu X Reader -- Stars

Hello again, darlings! I am writing another Creepypasta piece, and would love if you would send in some requests. As I am feeling very inspired for Creepypasta at the moment, CP related requests will take precedence. Please don’t send in anything other than platonic for Sally. I will not, under any circumstances, write pedophilia. 

WARNING: MANSION AU

Tagging: @creepy-babes

Homicidal Liu X Reader -- Stars

I have never been particularly good at sleeping. My nights have always consisted of me drifting in and out of consciousness, without ever really falling into a deep slumber. However, to further my dismay, on the few occasions that I do manage to fall asleep, I would be awoken by night terrors, which only prolonged my suffering through exhaustion. This caused not only a feeling of uneasiness and restlessness, but also newfound guilt after Slender had informed us that we were all to share a room with one other pasta, due to the fact that there were too many of us and not enough rooms. I felt bad that I might, even unintentionally, affect one of my friends. Not all of us get along very well, some of us are even out to kill one another, but for some odd reason, that didn’t prevent me from seeing the other residents as a family. An odd, mismatched, demented family, no doubt, but a family nonetheless.  My ceiling was looking particularly plain that night, and I had managed to time the drumming of my fingers on my stomach so that they each would have risen and fallen to tap my belly in-between each thrum of my heartbeat. My head lolled to the side, and my gaze fell across the room, landing on the figure soundly sleeping in the bed on the side of the room farthest from my own. Liu was always so kind to me, he was kind to everyone. All he ever wanted to do was help people, it was insane to me how he ended up how he did. With a soft sigh, my eyes fell closed for a mere moment before opening once more, and before I knew it, my feet were swinging over the edge of the bed and I was making my way towards the door. My journey, most likely to the kitchen or living room, was cut short as soon as I placed my hand upon the doorknob and heard a groggy voice call out my name. My body shifted to look behind me, where I found Liu gazing at me with half-closed eyes, propping himself up on one elbow, while his other arm was draped over his side. With the pale moonlight shining down on his tired face, it was easy to see just how perfectly and effortlessly his hair fell to frame his face, and how sharp his collarbone was when it was visible. The glow of the lights hanging in the dark sky above our window also revealed a beautifully soft, gentle dazzle in his emerald eyes; one that you wouldn’t expect from a killer. These observations, among many others, left me momentarily speechless; helpless to do anything but stare at the man before me. Liu gave me a small grin and asked, “Can’t sleep?” I exhaled quickly and shortly from my nose, a failed attempt at a chuckle, and slowly nodded.  “Yes, I rarely can.” The trace of a smile on the brunette’s face fell for a moment as he gazed at me in concern, before an ever brighter grin graced his stitched features. He threw the blanket off of him and stood up, joyfully telling me to, “Bundle up!” I tilted my head in confusion for a moment, watching as he pulled on pants atop his boxers, and began throwing on a shirt, before stopping to laugh in my direction. “Come on, hurry up!” He resumed getting dressed, sounding like a child who was going to sneak downstairs to wait for Santa Clause. Hesitantly, I followed his lead, pulling a sweatshirt over my head, and placing a light hat atop my head, successfully hiding my bedhead as well as warming myself. By the time I was putting my shoes on, Liu already had and was grabbing his monochromatic striped scarf from the post of his bed’s headboard. Once I stood up, he held a hand out to me. I looked at him quizzically, but found no trace of deception or trickery in his eyes, so hesitantly, I placed my hand in his, and though I may try to deny it, felt my face warm as his fingers laced with mine. The green-eyed man led me down the stairs, and past the kitchen, dining room, living room, and plenty of others as I was pulled through the foyer and outside of the manor.  “Liu?” I whispered into the crispy air. “Where are we going?” His pale face turned towards me, a glint in his eyes.  “You’ll see,” He whispered back. “It’s only a bit farther. We’re almost there.” His soothing voice provided me with as immeasurable an amount of reassurance as the warmth of his hand wrapped around my own.  The chirping of the cicadae mixed with the whispering of the wind against my reddened cheeks kept me alert despite the exhaustion that oppressed my body like weights. Even with the vulnerability of being out in the open, wild forest surrounding the manor, and the danger of whatever creatures may have been lurking in the darkness between the towering trees, I found myself unafraid. It puzzled me, my lack of fear, and as I was pulled along, I pondered it. Though I was unable to reach an answer before I felt myself bump into Liu’s back. I stumbled backwards, startled out of my thoughts, but was pulled back by Liu’s hand. “Careful,” he spoke softly, “There’s a root behind your foot.” Bashfully, I glanced back at my heel, only to realize that it was just barely touching a tree’s root, sprouting from the ground that would have easily tripped me in my daze. I let out a defeated hum and looked back at the man before me. His eyes captured mine for a moment before I looked over his shoulder to see that we had come to a clearing of trees on the arching side of a hill. The grass was tall, but not so much as to appear overgrown, and it was beautifully complimented by the flowers that sprouted throughout the field as well as the few tree stumps towards the edge, where the trees began to appear once more, almost like a wall. A beautiful, natural wall that encased a small slice of paradise. I had been unaware of the look of awe that graced my face at the gorgeous nighttime scene until Liu’s soft hand tapped the bottom of my chin and gently pushed upwards, closing my parted lips. “You’ll catch a fly if you keep gaping like that.” He said and pulled me along to the center of the field. Our footsteps slowed to a halt as we reached the middle of the glade. Liu lied down and beckoned for me to follow suit. I happily did, resting my body right beside his, mere centimeters of grass dividing us. I reached over and intertwined his fingers with my own. “It’s beautiful, Liu; thank you.” I whispered. He gave my hand a small squeeze and whispered back, “No problem. I always used to come out here when I couldn’t sleep or needed a quiet place to think. It’s nice to get to share it with you.” He turned his head to look at me, and I followed in suit, gazing into his green eyes. We stayed like that for a few moments; the silence, rather than being awkward, was serene and comfortable and before we knew it, our eyes were locked once again on the star-riddled sky. And like that we stayed until the horizon turned into a warm pink and we saw the sun rising up over the tree line.

[spookyold-saintjm]

Good Morning

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x pregnant!reader

Warnings: none. reader is pregnant & married to din. just some fluffy content for your afternoon.

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: There was absolutely no reason for this whatsoever other than I was feeling soft and Din deserves a moment to have a happy little family. I also realized I don’t have an official tag list for my general Star Wars works, so if you’d like to be tagged in future pieces, please let me know! Enjoy reading. x

—

His back was to you as he stared out one of the bedroom windows as you drifted into the life of the morning. The dim cloudiness of the sky cast shadows between the muscles that spread across his broad shoulders, down his back and vanished beneath the grey pants that hung carelessly low on his hips. You caught the strong scent of the dark caf he’d gotten accustomed to having a couple cups of every morning, and sure enough saw the still-steaming mug curled in his hands when he turned at the sound of you rustling to life in your shared bed.

His face had softened instantly at the sight of you as you propped yourself up on an elbow to get a better look at him, but the lines marking his brow didn’t thin. He’d wear those lines for the rest of his life, small stories of years of survival, of blood and sweat and an endless will and determination. They made him all the more beautiful in your eyes

Din, your husband, your best friend and your partner for life, looked back to you thoughtfully for a moment before placing his cup down onto the table by the window and making his way over to you. His footsteps were silent as he approached, and then he was hovering over you, forehead pressed to yours and hand reaching behind your head and into your hair, holding you there for a passing breath. The Mandalorian display of intimate devotion wasn’t one that he’d ever dropped, despite the fact that he could kiss you, really kiss you, whenever he wanted now. Had been able to for a couple years, now. But you didn’t mind his forgetfulness of the fact.

That didn’t mean, however, you didn’t like to remind him. You leaned upward just far enough to connect your lips, although you could only hold it for a second before Din was lowering you down flat onto the bed again.

“Careful,” he chided, his voice hardly audible over the insistent pattering of the heavy rain outside as you felt his smile against your lips. You sighed in brief frustration at his teasing tone, yet your heart warmed when you felt his hand slide down and search to rest on the swell of your stomach underneath the warmth of the blanket laid over you . Even with the layer between your skin and his, his palm tucked into the distinctive curve like it was what you both had been made for.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, leaning back to scan his deep, dark eyes over your face. He frowned subconsciously as he always did when he lingered too long on a now-faint scar that crossed down near your collarbone, an eternal reminder of when he hadn’t been there to protect you when you’d needed it.

You could read him like a book, could immediately decipher his endless range of expressions, only now somewhat tamed after a lifetime of having no need to control them. You were always quick to try to shake him from his dark thoughts, so you smiled softly back up at him.

“Just fine,” you replied. “But we would have been better if someone hadn’t been moving around in their sleep so much.”

Din’s face brightened considerably at that, and his palm glided up and over your stomach as he replied. “You should have woken me up. I could have gotten her to settle down.”  

You shook your head, failing at holding back your grin. “It wasn’t the baby who was moving around, you big oaf.”

Din could only pretend to be offended for a second before he was leaning forward, smiling into your neck between kisses. “You’re insufferable, cyar’ika.”

You sighed in contentment. “So you tell me.” You reached to massage the top of his head with your fingertips as he continued to dust kisses along your neck. “And you said ‘her' again.”

Din hummed a sound you interpreted as a “So?" against your skin. 

“So…what if it isn’t?”

He rolled onto his side, pulling you gently along with him so that he could glide the featherlight touch of his fingers, a contrast of his rugged and worn exterior, against your jawline and along your cheek.

“Then I will still be no less than the luckiest man in the galaxy.” His caress turned into a gentle, teasing pinch at your chin. “But I’m right.”

You reached with your arm that rested atop the covers to lightly tap his stubble-lined jaw. “And you say I’m the insufferable one.” 

His soft chuckle as he pulled you into his warm embrace was deep and full of the unyielding love that poured from him nearly every minute of every day. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it, the seemingly endless bounds of what he felt for you, and in turn how you felt about him. You hadn’t known, hadn’t had any idea that this kind of love was real. Had always assumed it was just something people said just for the sake of it. 

But Din, from the day he had finally professed his feelings for you, and even long before, had shown you that it was a possibility, after all. And you would spend every day hoping to even return a fraction of that devotion back to him.

A faint pat-pat-pat gradually grew quicker and louder as it neared the open door of your bedroom, suddenly halting once the sound reached the doorway. You smiled into Din’s chest, knowing the exact source of the noise. You felt Din shift from where he’d dropped his chin atop your head and looked over to the one responsible for the sound.

“Come on, then, ad’ika.” He said, your heart warming at the distinct softness in his voice that he reserved only for the small green creature with petaled ears and dark eyes that held galaxies within them. His son. Your son. He was the link that had bound you to the man at your side through what you would consider nothing less than the direct hand of destiny itself.

Although his legs had grown a bit longer, his strides more confident as he padded over to the bed, he was still much too small to climb up on his own. Din turned over with a soft sigh after pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and reached down to pick up the child, who was giddily reaching with outstretched arms.

Din turned onto his back and plopped the bundle down atop his chest, upon which the little one immediately leaned forward with both tiny, open hands to pat along Din’s cheeks, his nose, anywhere he could reach. It wasn’t anything new, now, for the child to be able to see his father’s face, but it was regardless something he seemed to never fail to be thrilled about.

“Okay, enough,” Din carefully reached for the child’s hands, holding them gently between his thumb and index fingers as the child let out an almost twinkling giggle and blinked down at him. Din released his hold on the little one just before gently patting him toward where you still laid on your side next to him. “Go to your mother.”

The child happily obliged, dropping down and crawling over to you. His soft head bumped up lightly against your shoulder in his enthusiasm to reach you. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” You kissed the fluff of hair splayed wildly atop his head, and glided your fingers along the length of his long ears as he cooed up at you. The child then reached, returning your kiss with a wet, open mouth pushing abruptly against your cheek.

There was a pause in the room as you both registered what had just happened. Then Din laughed, full and deep and bright and a sound that you would never, ever grow tired of hearing.

“Well, close enough,” you said through your own laughter as the child’s ears perked high and he grinned widely at the sound of the gentle joy that filled the room. You slipped your arms up and around his small body, tucking him carefully against your chest. He was quick to delve into your embrace, wiggling his head into your neck and letting his ears droop back down with a tiny, contented hum.

You looked back to Din, who watched the both of you as a warmth filled him that he couldn’t, would never be able to describe in words. It made him never  want to stop staring back at you or the child cradled against you or the swell of your stomach that promised the ultimate culmination of the love he had for you both.

He hadn’t known it before, not until it was right in front of him, but everything he’d done, everything he had worked for all these years without any sign of a destination...it was for this. Something he never thought he would have for himself, something he thought he never deserved to have at all, but somehow had ended up falling into his tired hands. He didn’t dare take a second of it for granted.

“What is it?” You asked quietly when he hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved. You knew what he was thinking, of course. Years of hiding behind a mask hadn’t taught him the art of subtle expression. He was getting better...but there were still moments that he wore his feelings so wonderfully open. You didn’t mind; you were simply thankful to live in another moment where you could truly see your lover’s face.

But Din only shook his head, his smile never fading as he answered you in a voice hardly over a whisper. “Nothing. S’just a good morning.”

—

tags: @ah-callie @kaspbraksbitch

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, an anonymous reader donated $25 and requested John/Dean, Stanford era. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

Snow on the ground; two days into the new year and John's home. Finally. What was supposed to be a good lead turned into a bad lead, but it was a job either way. He solved the riddle, killed the wraith. Only two dead, which these days means that it was a win, but it doesn't feel so much like one. He's got a laceration on his arm and everything in him feels—bruised. He wants a drink, and a bath, and a warm bed, but he wants, too—

He pulls into the motel parking lot and there's the Impala. Something goes easier in his chest, when he sees it. He parks the truck in the empty space right by the old beast and sits there, in the dark, easing himself for a second. The Impala has a fine layer of snow, gleaming in the neon light. In room 16, there's a do not disturb and the curtains are drawn tight but a little lamplight's leaking out, and John wishes that he didn't have to open the door, didn't have to get up, and stand, and unpack. He just wants to teleport, somehow, from here to there. To be in bed and in comfort, and have none of the troubles in between.

He opens the door. Cold. Why on earth, he thinks, did he say they'd meet up in Minnesota.

He knocks twice and then once, and then twice again. The room opens up, immediately, and Dean's face—John comes in, stepping over the salt line, and there's a blast of warmth from the heater, a wash of yellowish light, the television on and playing some show, that doctor drama. Noise and energy, after the dark empty of the night outside, and he dumps his bags on the table and closes his eyes, breathing it in. Smells like pizza. Well, Dean's been on his own, for a few days.

The door closes. Lock, chain. John drags his hand over his hair and Dean says, quietly, "You okay?"

He's leaning against the door, when John turns around. In jeans, and a red flannel shirt that's seen better days, and grey soft socks. Home, John thinks again, and then he has to look at Dean's face again, and it's like a dozen thumbs are pressing into all his bruises, all at once.

His boy. "I'm good," he says, and Dean's face doesn't get better. He looks—hollow. Starved. Big splotchy dark under his eyes like he hasn't slept, all the time they've been apart. John sighs. "How was yours?"

"Dead ghoul," Dean says. He lifts a shoulder. After a beat too long, he says, "It got a few people."

"Yeah," John says, and holds out his hand, and Dean comes to him in two quick steps, and gets folded against his chest. "Yeah, I lost some too."

Dean doesn't say anything to that. He's too big to hold like this, really. Just an inch shorter than John, and his shoulders all filled out. Well, John holds him anyway, with an arm around his shoulders and the other at his hip, and Dean holds onto his coat, buries his face into John's throat. Quivering in his skin, like a hunted thing.

John disengages after—too long, probably. Indulging them both. There is pizza, a few slices left over in the box, and he gets those down and then gets into the shower, Dean sitting on the sink, telling him the details of the hunt. John has to ask questions to drag it out of him, like he usually doesn't—what alias did you use, and which cops did you talk to—and the responses are slow, Dean's attention somewhere else. When John's drying off Dean disappears, and reappears with a beer, and John drinks it while Dean reapplies the bandage on his arm, cleaning up the places where the cut seeped. His fingers are steady but his eyes aren't, jumping all over. He's got a fat lip, like something punched him, and he keeps worrying it with his teeth, everything in him just—unquiet. John left him alone too long.

"How's your money situation?" John says, and Dean says, "Good, I've got two hundred and a new card," and John says, "How's supply," and Dean says, "Low on silver but there's a pawn shop in town, figure I can make some more bullets soon." All fine, and correct, but Dean's picking at the loose threads on his shirt sleeve, fraying the plaid into ruin, and he's pale and shaky and raw, and John—they can't afford this. They have work to do, and people to save, and they can't just—hole up together, and shelter through the winter like a pair of wounded, lonely bears.

He finishes his beer, leaves the empty on the sink. Dean's looking into the corner of the room, at nothing. "Dean," he says.

"Can we—" Dean cuts himself off, bites his lip where it must hurt. His eyes close briefly and then he looks at John, side-along and then turning his head and lifting his chin, being a man. "Can you just—would you fuck me."

The air goes out of John.

Dean swallows. "I can't sleep," he says, "and I—god, Dad, I've been freaking out, here—"

John gets Dean's neck in his hand, drags him close, cuts him off. Dean comes easy, his body soft even if the words aren't, and John's—lord, they don't—talk, like that, they hardly even acknowledge this, what's between them. "That what you want?" he says, and Dean nods, his shoulders low, his eyes a car-wreck, and John doesn't have a way to arm himself, here. Not when it's been these months, the two of them apart more than they've been together, and when he thought it himself, alone in a motel in Wisconsin, wishing—wanting. He wants it, as much as Dean does.

He kisses Dean soft, no matter that the boy's spoiling for it. He gets a gentle shock of reaction, Dean's hands splayed against his bare chest, holding his shoulders. Holding on. He walks them both toward the bed and Dean hitches air, stumbles. Surprised, when he's the one who asked for it. There's no sense in messing around—John's not going anywhere tomorrow, or the next day if he can help it, and there'll be time, later, if they want to spend the time. Dean fumbles out of his plaid shirt while John's undoing his jeans, and then it's socks and boxers and tee, and then—naked, except for the amulet around his neck, his bracelets, the ring on his finger that John kisses briefly before he kisses Dean's palm, and then his wrist, and then Dean grips his hair and tugs him, asking, so John lifts up and kisses him on the mouth again, taking Dean's open sigh of relief right to the chest, to the nuts, his body waking up at the familiarity of it.

It's better now than it was when Dean was younger. When he was too young, really. That first time—John doesn't think about that first time. Now, Dean's more confident in it, more open. Asking for what he wants and not just taking what John gives, although he does enough of that second one, too. His boy, John thinks, raw inside, and as he's thinking it in this incoherent way Dean makes it true—spreading his legs, getting John between them. His hands in John's hair, kissing him back, his mouth soft and willing, and John's ready for him, his dick bumping over Dean's spread thigh, sliding against his balls and back, behind. Dean breathes against him, their noses brushing. Weirdly intimate, considering. Dean's hand disappears, reappears—a bottle, handed over—and John dips his head against Dean's throat, fumbles one-handed. Two inside, making Dean's hips flinch; a slow, dragging rub, making him make that soft helpless noise, the one John's never heard from another person. He could play, here, and has, for long minutes of just getting noises out of him, watching him flex and moan and leak.

"Dad," Dean whispers, and John squeezes his eyes shut, takes his fingers out. Dean stretches under him, arches, and John bulls in slow but unrelenting, feeling the muscle bloom wetly around him, that shock of tightness and then vague, soft heat, unlike any woman, this—unreal, unbelievable thing. Dean makes a little pained sound. His knees cringe up higher, and John shoves an arm under his shoulders, grips his hip. Tips him to a better angle and fucks in again, slower, and feels Dean's whole body ripple in reaction and then go—soft, totally open. He wraps an arm around John's neck, puts hot damp fingers against his chest. He sighs again, his lips against John's jaw, and John fucks him that way—wrapped up tight together, slow, hardly any force behind it—just rocking, inside, in the cradle Dean's body makes for him, dragging friction and Dean's mouth softly moaning, groaning, wanting him. Wanting his dad to make it better.

Dean comes first. He's twenty-two, of course he does. He ripples around John, his body arching, wet heat between their pressed-together stomachs, and his hands slide, holding John closer, his thighs closing around John's hips to keep him deep. "God," Dean says, "fuck—fuck—fuck me, come on, fuck me—" and John's gut flips but he gets up on one hand, shoves in, and Dean slides on the mattress but grips John harder, his head tipped back and his mouth open, and John nails him, chasing, watching the wet part of his lips and his flushed freckled cheeks and his eyes half-open, staring unseeing at the ceiling or past it, and he thinks, good god, his boy, his beautiful, crazy, loyal boy—

He sags, after. Things go dark. He blinks to find Dean still holding him, wrapped around with his arm around John's shoulders and his leg twined over John's hip, and soft careful fingers stroking his collarbone, feeling that spot where it broke bad, and healed lumpy. He lifts his head and Dean's not smiling, but he's looking John in the eye the way he's started to, now, and John sees the way his lips part and his expression goes inward when John pulls out, but he doesn't let John go.

"Ought to clean up," John says. Quietly. Lately he wants to treat Dean—quietly.

Dean doesn't answer. He doesn't jump quite as fast, the last few months. Another thing John shouldn't really allow, and doesn't quite know how to fix.

He tips them on the bed, a little, so at least his weight isn't crushing Dean into the mattress. He strokes Dean's cheekbone with one thumb. He says, "Think you'll sleep?" and Dean closes his eyes and tips his face into the touch, and John sees for the first time, when his head turns toward the lamplight, that there's a rim of wet, there in his eyelashes, and there's a wet track running down from his eye. When? John doesn't know, and he cups Dean's jaw, uneasy. If this is—if it was him—

"You'll stay, right?" Dean says, scratchy-voiced, and John says, "Yeah, I will," and Dean arches a little, his soft dick pressing against John's stomach, his thigh sliding where it's still caught over John's hip, and he says, "Yeah, I'll sleep," but he doesn't sound happy about it.

John drags his hand down Dean's back, firm. "Tell me," he says.

Not that he has room to make demands, when Dean's sloppy with him. Still, he's—the dad, here, and Dean's his boy, and he does what he's told. He gets a swallow, and Dean's fingers touching the center of his chest very lightly, pulling at the chest hair Dean still can't grow, and a soft, mumbled confession: "I miss him. Little shit. I miss him, all the time."

John closes his eyes. His instinct is to pull back but Dean's clinging to him, wrapped around him, and he can't move more than an inch. "I know," he says, because—god, of course he does.

Dean's whole life is this family. He's faithful to the memory of his mother, loyal to his fuck-up of a father, and to his little brother—when John was very, very drunk, in a cabin in Utah where half the windows were broken and Dean was miserable out on the front step, his world broken, John thought with weird clarity that one day, Dean was going to make a choice. A choice, where devotion would be pulled two directions, and John didn't know, then, how Dean would choose. He doesn't know now. He cups Dean's ass and pulls him close, a full body hug, and kisses the top of Dean's head, gently. He can guess.

"Will you," Dean says, and stops. John pulls back and looks at him, and Dean's hands are both on his chest now, his head ducked. "Dad. I know you're—you're mad—but maybe we can—check on him. Sometime. I just. He's all by himself, and I—"

"I know," John says, again. It comes out harder than he means. Dean quiets instantly and bites his sore lip. John runs his thumb over his chin, pulling at his mouth so that he lets go, and Dean glances up at him, eyes hurt and tired. "I'll take care of it, Dean," he says, and Dean closes his eyes, relief sinking into him. He turns his face against the pillow and breathes out, slow, and John kisses his temple and rolls away, getting off the bed.

"Dad," Dean says, small, and John shushes him.

"I'm just cleaning up," he says. "I'll come back. I'm right here, buddy."

Dean subsides, curling around the pillow. John looks at him, alone in the big bed, and thinks to the week ahead. He's here, for now. Soon, he won't be, and Dean will have to be ready for that. Not yet, though. John's not going to put him through two losses. Not yet.

[suhfleur]

dear, my dear • jaebeom (4/4)

• pairing: soulmate!jaebeom x reader

• genre: romance, angst, smut

• warnings: cursing, smut, smut, smuuuut

• word count: 4.3k

summary: in a world where a touch can lock the doors of the heart, his voice opened the doors to your soul as he filled it with joy.

a/n: there is going to be an extra chapter, probably by the end of the week i’m gonna post it! and honestly idk what to say, just want to thank all of you who sent me sweet words about this fic and everything. thank you. hope you guys enjoy.

• • •

Nothing. 

That was how Jaebeom felt about his life, at that time.

His days were gloomy. Sometimes, meaningless.

He didn’t have a lot of things that he appreciated that much anymore. 

Jaebeom loved his cats, loved his cozy apartment and how it was the best place ever when he was watching his favorites animes and series, he loved to wake up every day and drink his coffee in peace, but even though he loved being alone, he didn’t like feeling lonely anymore. It was something difficult to understand, maybe if you ask him he wouldn’t be able to explain it in exact words, so he started making beats and writing songs. Developing art was the best way he could express himself.

Music was everything to him, he loved doing it and dedicating his life towards this specific thing. Music was everything that he had left, the only thing that brought something else to his life, and when the only thing he truly liked started to feel like everything else, he knew that his battle was almost lost. Doing music without a real meaning felt wrong and distorted, and that feeling burned the things left on his heart.

He was tired of pretending, every single comment about his songs felt hollow, it didn’t felt like he was changing somebody’s life with it, Jaebeom didn’t feel like he was doing a good job. He couldn’t even change his life with his own music, what else he expected? That was something he thought about a hundred times, at midnight. He couldn’t sleep that much, sometimes he didn’t even sleep. Those nights where his mind was too full with darkness and he couldn’t sleep, he would sit down on his living room floor and watch the stars, his cats by his side and the silence. Jaebeom missed his parents, living alone was not that great anymore, maybe he should give up and go back to his old life.

But then, life showed him that she was a tricky thing and you showed up to make him rethink a lot of things. 

Your first words to him lighted up a fire that he thought was dead and gone. At least, at the end of the day, he changed your life with his music and he was happy about it. That happiness brought excitement, that excitement brought ideas and his mind didn’t stop crafting new lyrics, composing new songs. Inspiration showed up again. 

Saying that you saved his life was something that he didn’t know if it was the right thing to say, but he could say that your faith in him made his own faith shine again. It all depended on him but yes, he could say that you saved his life too. You started him again, as a musician, then as a person.

Jaebeom never had intentions of knowing more about you because he wanted something, that didn’t even cross his mind back then, being friends with you didn’t even cross his mind either. But he felt like he could trust you, musically speaking so, of course, he would reach out for you when he felt doubts about the songs, you were good to give advice for these things. And after that phase, everything else came naturally, he didn’t even saw it coming.

For years, Jaebeom had walls too thin and too big inside him, protecting himself. He came from a broken home, broken childhood, he was too broken in every sense of the word but you came and broke each one of these walls and he had no idea of who were you.

Messages that once was just about his songs, started to be something else.

Just wrote this on my way to work, what do you think about it?

I’m not working as a teacher anymore, I received a proposal to work as a producer, isn’t that nice? I’m finishing that song, also.

I had a meeting with some people from a record label, and guess what? They offered me a deal as a solo artist, like, officially. I’m signed up! They want me to drop my album in 5 months!!!

oh, do you like animes? I just saw a really good one, you should watch it too. 

just ate the best food in my life, do you know that red restaurant at itaewon? best pancakes ever

it’s so cold today, are you wearing warm clothes? don’t you get sick, ok?

how was work today?

At first, those things terrified him, a lot. The fast heartbeats every time he received a text from you, with your sweet or funny words, the way you took care of him even from a distance, brought an inexplicable sense of peace; made him feel so good that he knew it was over. He fought a lot of battles, every day, but against you… he could never win. With time, Jaebeom’s only wish was that he could see you, at least one time while he was breathing. He just wanted you to show up, wanted you to forget about your crazy deal and say “hey, let’s see each other?”. He was wrapped around your finger. 

Jaebeom realized that his heart was yours. 

Even when the girl from the subway made him feel kind of weird every Thursday, even though she was a hell of a beautiful girl, even when he touched her and his whole body wanted to run towards her.

His heart was still yours. And Jaebeom had no intentions in giving it to nobody else. 

He could feel everything coming back to life with you, like a blooming flower, he could see the true colors of life once again. It was a slow process, but thanks to your push, he tried again and here he was. Destiny could give up, he wasn’t going to accept nobody else but you, that was what he imagined.

But then, just like it happened to you, nothing prepared him for reality. 

Life and destiny had plans for both of you, an unreal reality.

Especially, this specific reality where your sleepy face is resting against his shoulder, with your eyes closed, lips touching his neck giving gentle kisses along his exposed skin, your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him dearly, he felt loved. He felt safe. He felt vivid.

Both of you were meant to be, and thinking about this he couldn’t feel more relieved. Soulmates. He didn’t have to worry anymore.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you broke the silence as you felt Jaebeom's fingers over the back of your neck, tangling in the strands of your hair. Both of you ran away from Jaehyun’s apartment and Mark’s confused face, you decided that you could explain everything later because your mind was off with so much information and plot twists. And right now, as your body is pressed against Jaebeom’s toned chest, laid on your bed, legs tangled in one another, nothing could feel more peaceful than this.

“What doesn’t make sense, baby?” Jaebeom asked with his lips brushing slightly your forehead. In the last thirty minutes, the word ‘baby’ became the thing you loved the most to hear, that word was never that powerful in your life before.

“The first time that we bumped into each other, it was early in the morning,” you reminded, putting your hand in his chest and resting your chin there, dangerously close to his face but you liked the way you could see every single detail of his sculpted pretty face and appreciate the brown galaxies on his eyes. “When you told me that you had found your soulmate, it was late at night. Around 9 pm. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jaebeom frowned, tilting his head a little bit to the side, like a confused dog.

“What you talking about? I sent that message to you right after I touched you at the station.” He said smirking. Now you were the one confused. “You seriously received the message late night?” You nodded. “Wow...” He laughed, slapping his forehead. “We could’ve figured out that we were soulmates way sooner. Jesus… Nothing helped with us, not even your phone service.” Jaebeom closed his eyes and laughed.

“I can say that it was kind of my fault too, right? I mean… The whole ‘please, don’t tell me your real name I don’t want us to get attached’ was king of stupid because I was already attached to you, but I was also scared. Like a lot… I didn’t like the idea of falling in love with you but being the ‘love’ of somebody else, you know? If we weren’t meant to be together then I couldn’t let those feelings flood my heart. It was a silly decision.”

“It’s okay, baby. I was scared too. I was in love with somebody I didn’t know, how messed up was that? How could I feel something for somebody like that, through texts?” He gave you a fond smile, tracing circles on your cheeks with his thumb. “I tried to hide it for months, but every day it was torture. I wanted to see you, to hug and kiss you, comfort you when you were stressed, I wanted everything with you but I had to respect your decision, I had to put myself aside and think about you. I loved you in silence because I didn’t want to cross a line and end our friendship, I didn’t know if you felt the same way but I wished that, a lot. It’s okay, baby. It was always okay. Today I am more in love with you more than I was yesterday... We lost a little bit of time but it’s fine, we still have time now. We will make up for the time we lost.” Jaebeom said brightly, hugging you even tighter, pressing several kisses on your face, making you giggle like a child. 

Both of you kept talking through the night, while all the city lights got out and only the darkness embraced the midnight. 

The intimacy that you two had through the phone, spread through the moment, both of you felt comfortable enough to take off your shirts and you felt comfortable enough not feeling ashamed of it, still laying down with him, pulling one leg around his waist, getting yourself more comfortable around him. His fingertips tracing a path across the skin of your thigh around his waist, running his palms in circles, back and forth, slightly squeezing your skin each time. Your lips touching his collarbone, while your hands ran through his neck, scratching your nails in his nape to his broad shoulder. 

His hands on your body were taking away all of your self-control, and he was barely doing anything. But the fact that he was this close to you, was enough to make your body shiver and the sleepy feeling was away.

Leaving aside the rest of your sanity, you took the leg that was on his waist a little further, supporting your body weight on your knees on top of his waist, taking your two hands to both sides of his face, kissing him hard while feeling his hands travel a path from your thighs to the end of your spine, pulling your body closer, raising both hands to the back of your neck while his forearms kept you attached to his body. Your teeth bit his lower lip, pulling it lightly, while tugging hard the soft hair at the end of Jaebeom's nape, just enough to make him sigh deeply.

“We can slow down, baby… I told you. We have time. There’s no need to hurry.” He said with eyes closed, chest heavily going up and down.

“There’s nothing to slow down here, Jaebeom. I know we have time, but I don’t want to slow anything down, not anymore.” Your voice expressed so much determination that it made him growl and throw his head back like you were tearing down each string of his sanity away. You took the chance and brought your lips towards his exposed neck, touching his skin with your tongue and teeth, gently sucking and biting the skin. You could feel the shiver through his warm body, running your hands through his chest until his hips, digging your nails into his abdomen. He surprised you when his rough hands squeezed both sides of your ass, harshly, making you moan and distract yourself. He changed the position, throwing you on the bed, getting on top of your, taking both of your legs and wrapping them around his waist while he supported himself on his elbows, both of them on each side of your face, his lips sucking your earlobe, then his teeth biting your jaw a bit, running his teeth until the connecting of your neck and shoulder, biting there even harder, making you whimper and dig your nails on his neck. 

“Let me take care of you, baby…” He whispered on your ear, in a husky and dark voice, pulling away from your skin just enough to look at your blushing face, running his thumb on your bottom lip, getting closer and sucking your lip between his, pressing his hips on yours, making you feel that specific hard part. “So beautiful… It’s so unfair that you can have so much power on me.” 

His lips and tongue traced a path through the top of your breasts until you could feel his sinful tongue was underneath the fabric of your bra while his indicator finger hooked in the middles of your bra, pushing it down, enough to show your erect nipples, making easier for Jaebeom’s tongue do what it wanted to do. You sighed feeling his lips wrap around your left nipple, with his tongue circling it precisely, making your hips move unwittingly. His right touched the top of your clothed center, pressing his middle finger precisely on your clit. The moan that came out of your lips was probably the most sinful thing he ever heard, it was extremely pleasing to hear and know that he was the one causing it. 

While his lips did the work on your upper body, his fingers pushed your wet panties aside and when he touched you there, he moaned on your nipple feeling the soaked situation down there. He sat on his heels, pulling away from you until he had a privileged view of his fingers on your pussy like he was mesmerized by that. His gaze on that part of you made your whole body hot, seeing his kind of lost face, appreciating every part of this, made you desperate. 

His index and middle finger dragged your lubrication to your clitoris, massaging him in slow circles, making your legs shake and your waist lift for more friction, digging your nails into the bedsheet. Jaebeom added more pressure on your clit, sliding them towards your wet entrance, slowly pushing then inside, receiving another of your moan*.

“That’s right, baby. Be vocal…” He laid down a bit kissing your lips while pumping fingers inside of you. “Can I eat you out?” He asked in a whisper, making you roll your eyes and moan at the thought of it.

“Why would you even ask me that? Do you think I can be capable of saying no?” You whined, rolling your hips towards his fingers that were working slowly on you.

“Just wanted to make sure,” he said laughing and giving a peck on your lips, before going down on you. “Gonna make you come now, baby.” He promised with his head between your legs, eyes locked on yours while licking a long, hot stripe from your entrance to your clit, still moving his fingers in and out. The image makes you shudder. That devilish gaze was something that would burn on your mind for ages and centuries, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows that he will tear you apart with his tongue. You threw your head back, putting your hands on your forehead, ‘cause that sight was the hottest thing you ever saw on your life. His large hands wrapped around your legs, keeping you steady and his tongue stroke against your clit, his hand gripping your hip harder, suing his tongue mercilessly on you, core clenching around his two fingers that kept coming in and out of you, curving them deep inside you. 

Jaebeom kept that same pace, driving you insane each time. His tongue twirling around your clitoris and his lips sucking it took you over the edge, and your walls tightened around his fingers, nonstop. Eventually, he lets you ride his tongue, rolling your hips back and forth as he buries his face further into you and sucks your clit gently, feeling your hands flown to fist his hair in your palms. He moans an appreciative, greedy sound as you cry out, sending the vibrations straight to your core. And Jaebeom works harder and faster until you are a sobbing mess. Your vision goes white as your thighs quake, short gasps coming out of your mouth, breathless, as you came around his fingers with your hips jerking into his face.

Even with a clouded mind for a few moments, you could still feel Jaebeom's fingers pulling your panties gently off your legs. His lips tracing a path back to your lips

“You good, baby?” He whispered with his left hand at the back of your neck, kissing you softly

“Wonderful.” You whispered back, opening your eyes and wrapping his waist with your legs again. “Wanna me ride you. Thought about that so many times, just listening to your voice...” You looked right inside his eyes, loving to see him roll his eyes.

“Don’t say something like that like this,” he growled, tugging your hair a bit. “Thought about that too. Even though you had no face in my fantasies, I thought about a lot of naughty things with you. Wrote many songs about it, the things I wanted to do with you. You gon’ ride me next time, but now, I want you like this. Under me.”

Did you feel his hand between you two, opening and pulling his pants and underwear enough to release his member, you felt his hard dick brushing against your wet core and moaned at the little friction. Jaebeom made sure to rub it on you several times, while his thick hands tightly gripped your ass, pulling you upwards, making the friction stronger and more needy for both of you.

“I want you like this every day,” Jaebeom whispered against your lips, positioning the tip of his dick on your entrance, entering in you slowly. “I want to make you feel good like this every day,” he gasped feeling your walls tighten around him as he moved slowly inside you, in and out. “Want to love you every day.” The head of his cock alone causes a burning stretch as it spreads you open for him, and his quiet moans making you shiver. He lets his forehead rest against yours whenever feeling you clenching hard around him with a particularly deep thrust, making you rake your nails down his chest in return. 

You cling to him as you wrap your legs around his torso, the change in angle allowing him to hit deeper inside you, both of you panting, you feel him nip at your earlobe. You clench hard around him and he moans directly into your ear, and then you feel him throbbing inside you. Picking up the pace, his thrusts become harder and quicker, more precise as he lifted himself up a little more to look at you, admiring how your eyes would roll back every time. Jaebeom crashes his lips to yours, growling into your mouth as your walls clamp down around his cock, his hand going down on you to firm circles against your clit until you can’t take it no more. You come first, moaning against his lips, Jaebeom comes next, letting tiny whines out of his mouth, and praises at you.

You both stay like that for long minutes, as you come down from your respective highs, sharing lazy kisses as Jaebeom keeps himself laid at the top of your body while you hug him, giving a little peck in his neck. When he rolls to your side his arms wrap around your waist and once again your head is on top of his chest.

“Ok, now we really need to slow down. I have no stamina anymore.” Jaebeom said pinching your ass. “Big spoon or little spoon?” He asks muffled against your skin, with his face stuck in your neck.

“You want to sleep already?” You ask making him look at you with a pout.

“What do you have in mind to keep me awake? It’s past midnight, baby. You need to rest.”

“I thought about show off my cooking skills to you, making that pasta that I know you love,” you received a long and positive ‘hum’ in response as if maybe he was not that sleepy anymore. “And after that, I’ll ride you on my couch.” The nasty words coming out of your mouth make Jaebeom whine.

“Oh god, since when you are such a pervert?” He asked, turning on his stomach on the bed, his face hidden in his pillows, while his broad back exposed. “I love you so much, but I’m starting to think that you don’t really love me.” He lifts his face to the side and looks at you. “Not even three hours of real contact with you and you already have plans about killing me. Don’t know if I can take that, where’s my almost pure Lily?” 

“So, you telling me you don’t want it?” You ask raising your left eyebrows.

“Never said that. I’m a hundred percent down, just let me pick the pieces of my soul and you can call me Khan, Mulan.” He answers quickly. “Yeehaw!”

“Oh god, don’t ruin Mulan with your dirty mind and lame jokes, Jaebeom!” You yell slapping his arm, laughing out loud.

“You are the one to blame, cowgirl.” He laughs too, showering you with kisses everywhere, as both of you roll between the sheets.

The following weeks went by radiantly for both of you. 

Being close to each other, face to face every day made even more difference in your lives, even when you thought it was impossible to him more, day after day being in love was something that continued to be reframed in your life. 

Both of you took small habits from each other. You now spent more time taking care of Jaebeom's five cats than he did himself, Jaebeom now had a habit of actually shopping and cooking, not just eating ramen because he was too lazy to move his own muscles.

You learned from each other daily, you learned more about each other, daily. 

Now, you know how Jaebeom has the habit of getting up early and reading on the floor because it’s cooler there, you know how he scratched his face when he is irritated by some mistake in the song he is working on, you also know that he is fascinated with taking pictures, especially pictures of you. 

You see and give him love in small gestures. You inspire him every day, to be a better and more grateful man. The support you give him is what keeps him going. He already lost count of how many times you stayed nights after nights sleeping on the sofa of his studio because he was worried about the release of his album that was going to be in 3 weeks. He would always tell you to go to bed and you would complain and tell him to shut up that you want to sleep, and he loved that you were even more stubborn than in the messages. He loved how you loved your friends, loved how you loved flowers and lived filling your apartment with jars and jars of it, especially of lily of the valley. He loved you and the way you made him appreciate life and its little details. Jaebeom loved you a little more, every single day.

So, when he asked you to live with him in his apartment, he never regretted it or thought he was going too fast. Now, seeing you carrying your stuff into his house, wearing one of his sweatshirts, he knew it was that. He wanted that for the rest of his life.

"Mark, watch out for my EXO cups! They're limited edition, if you knock them over I'll rip your lungs out!" He saw you yelling at your friend, pointing a finger at the red-haired guy and passing your finger on your throat right after.

"I'm helping you and you yell at me? Yell at Sunny too, equal rights." Mark defended himself, pointing to Sunny who was now placing several small boxes on Jaehyun's arm.

"Shut up, Mark! I'm listening!" Sunny responded by pulling her head out of the car.

"Everyone hates me around here!" Mark said placing the box on the pavement floor and placing both hands on his hips.

"I love you very much, but if you don't go up with this right now, I promise you that Yaya will be a widow even before she gets married." You threatened him one last time, throwing your sandals at Mark, who quickly grabbed the box and ran out to Jaebeom's apartment. Then, you turned towards Jaebeom, with the softest expression and a gentle smile on your face. "What is it, baby?"

He loved you even more now.

[thewillowbends]

@arlome Please enjoy! It turned out much longer than expected. Fluffy, smutty Deckerstar below. Mild spoilers for 5A.

Title: As You Like It | Rating: E | Fandom: Lucifer

“I have to turn in the witness report by six tomorrow,” Chloe says thoughtfully, tilting her head to let Lucifer kiss a line down her throat. He hums into her collarbone, letting his mouth linger there, his tongue tracing a warm little circle, before he worries it a little with his teeth. She groans, leaning into him.

“I suppose Daniel will be picking up the urchin,” Lucifer comments.

“Oh shit, that’s right. She has practice tomorrow, and he’s working the late shift.” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “Maybe if I drop it off at five, I can get there in time.”

“This would hardly be a problem had you simply allowed me to buy her a car like I offered.”

“She’s fourteen.”

He sighs. “As you insisted. Regardless, I will retrieve your burdensome offspring and deliver her home safely.”

She blows out a breath. “You would?”

“Certainly.”

Chloe presses a kiss against his jaw, enjoying the roughness of his stubble against her mouth.

“You’re too sweet.”

“Hopefully not too sweet,” he says with a grin. Lucifer smooths a hand across her hip and up her back, before hooking it under her bra and effortlessly unclasping it. She rolls her shoulders to help him remove it, which he does with exacting sensuality, the pleasure of undressing her plain on his features. Once removed, he makes a show of dropping it off the edge of the bed with a twirl, before he leans in and kisses her again.

A hand comes up and cups her breast, fingers playing at the nipple. The other slips down past her waist, seeking out her clit and brushing it teasingly. She groans a little into his mouth, then slips a hand down to grasp him, evening the score. He breaks the kiss to huff out a laugh, thrusting a little into her hand.

“How do you want it?” he asks between kisses, his mouth warm and wet against hers.

“You mean,” she says, fluttering her lashes in demure appraisal, “what do I yearn for?”

He laughs, and the sound warms her belly, as much as his kiss or the touch of his hand. He presses a kiss beneath her ear.

“Surely, there is a better word for that,” he murmurs into her skin.

“Not that I know of, but I can be convinced.”

She thinks for a minute, considering. Really, the problem is that she wants him every way, all the time, but that’s not conducive to decision making. They go around in circles sometimes, like puppies chasing their own tails, trying to catch each other’s desire between their teeth. Gently tightening her hand, she smiles as his breath stutters.

“Is there something you want?” she parries, stroking him lightly.

He sighs and says, “Everything,” and she can’t help but laugh, bumping her nose against his, kissing him.

“We’re getting nowhere,” she mumbles against his lips. It’s still good, though, quiet for a moment as they touch each other, only the sound of their quickened breath between them.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says finally, his eyes full of mischief.

Her hips flex as his fingers press down firmer onto her clit, and she sighs with pleasure. She groans when he extracts his hand.

“Lucifer,” she says, her voice close enough to a whine that he smirks. It makes her want to slap him then sit on his face.

Instead of indulging her wishes, he leans back, easing his weight back against the headboard. Spread out, she can see every long, delicious inch of him, muscled and smooth, a body literally carved by divine hands. It sends a shiver of something warm and pleasing through her, and she can tell he knows it from the way he arches a little, peacocking, letting his muscles flex handsomely. She runs a tongue along the seam of her mouth, wanting him, unfathomable narcissism and all.

“Do you want me to go down on you?” she asks, a little hungrily, letting her gaze linger on his cock. She leans forward, placing her hands on his thighs in anticipation, and watches it twitch a little, making it clear the offer holds plenty of appeal, but Lucifer shakes his head, throwing an arm behind him. He lets her suffer for a moment, laid out like some kind of Grecian pottery mosaic, partly because he insists gratification was always best delayed, but mostly because he is an egotistical bastard.

Running a thumb across his lips, he smiles a little, like he knows full well how much she’s aching for it, then said, “Touch yourself.”

She groans, pushing herself off him, then shifts back on her knees, spreading out to brace herself well. She looks at him keenly, letting her eyes drift over him again, hoping to convey something in her gaze that smolders as much as she does for him. Her hand slides over her breast, drifting over the slim line of her hip, then dips toward her center, until her fingers land on her clit. Gasping a little, she arches into her own touch, before pressing down more firmly and starting a counterclockwise motion.

Lucifer watches her with eyes narrowed and a smirk playing at his lips. His own hand strokes lightly over his chest, playing at a nipple, before slipping down to his thigh, where his hand lingers temptingly, never quite touching where she wants. With a groan she closes her eyes, changing the rhythm of her hand, shifting to a faster, more intense vertical movement.

“Put your fingers in yourself.”

She whimpers but complies, leaving her clit to play at her opening, spreading her knees wider so he got a better view of her folds as she slipped her fingers inside. It was almost embarrassing, how wet she is, but she wants him to see it, what he does to her. They slick in easily, moving smoothly in and out, and this time Lucifer groans.

“Detective,” he says, a little breathless, and then, “Don’t stop,” and she grins a little hearing it, biting her lip. The best part of sex with Lucifer was that one was never alone in their pleasure. What he did to her was one thing, but he made it clear the relationship was reciprocal, an open circle twisting back to find itself; desire passes back and forth between them continuously like a Newton’s cradle of erotic potential.

Chloe moves her other hand to her breast, cupping it, then pinches the nipple between her thumb and index finger. She hums a little, rocking into her hand, while the other tugs on her nipple, rolling it between her forefingers. The ache between her thighs is warming, the tension tightening like a rope pulled taut, the strands fraying. Pushing a thumb down on her clit, she lets out a sound that begins as a sigh and transforms into a moan midway, and she feels herself starting to unravel, hips undulating into her touch reflexively, her whole body trembling with pleasure and tension.

“Chloe.”

Her eyes snap open at the proximity of his voice, and he’s right there, his eyes hot and wild. He grabs her hand, toppling her easily and following her down, like she’s a weight to which he’s tethered, and the bed bounces a little with their fall.

Her whole body is a live wire; she writhes under him, contorting into desperate, aching shapes. “Lucifer, please.”

He complies with a kiss, all tongue and teeth, slipping an arm under her leg and throwing it over his shoulder. He pushes into her hard, no time to adjust, but she doesn’t need it - she always wants him so badly that it’s like a constant, throbbing ache, a second heartbeat beside hers, wanting his kiss, his touch, whatever he can give her in the time they have -

And she’s already wound up so well, it’s a matter of seconds before she comes, her whole body tightening and focusing around one burning point, like the spasm of a too tightly clasped fist, and then it rolls out in waves that have her moving helplessly beneath him, moaning and crying and babbling. Her hands scrabble at his arms, her nails digging into them; he’s impervious to any damage she can cause him these days, but it does it for him anyway. He groans loudly, rocking into her, and it’s so good, and she knows she’s going to come again, but she wants it for him too, she wants -

“Lucifer, I -“

Her voice cuts off as he pushes a thumb firmly into her clit, rubbing a tight, hot circle that makes her arch off the bed and cry out, and then she is coming again, and she’s completely gone, all of the words struck from her tongue. The sound that gets caught in her throat is something almost inhuman, like an animal keening, a whole body made dumb with pleasure and desire, a yearning she can longer voice -

Lucifer comes with a gasp, pressing down on her hard as he fucks her through it, and he is so beautiful like this it makes her heart ache, free of all the trappings of vanity he wears like armor, his face open to her, looking as wild and free as he makes her feel. She reaches her hands up to catch him as he stutters to a stop, falling into her. Her leg slides off his shoulder and then open, before she moves it to tangle them both in his, holding him to her as they come down from the high.

It’s sticky and sweaty and a little gross, but she holds him anyway, enjoying the way his heart beats so rapidly, in tandem with hers. The way he’s breathless in his arms the way she is for him. They linger for a long moment, catching their breath; she presses a kiss against his shoulder when he stirs.

He pulled back a little, bringing up a hand up to stroke her face, a thumb tracing the line of her lip. His eyes are bright and happy, the color of warm earth, and she brings up her hands to frame his face, kissing him.

“I love you,” she says against his lips, at first softly, then again, louder, as she nuzzles her face against his because he deserves to hear it over and over, without the weight of fear or the pain of a farewell behind it.

“I know,” he says, grinning, and she rolls her eyes, before he settles against her more firmly, placing a kiss against her neck.

“I love you, too,” he whispers into her skin, and it has the touch and taste of a lasting promise.