Tumgik
#hands and arms and eyes and jaw and cheekbones
Note
not pressuring u but pls write for art donaldson:)
Warnings: Established relationship, Stanford era, Sleepy Art Donaldson being The Sweetest, hints of subby Art, smooches
Tumblr media
"...You're doing it again, you know."
"What am I doing?"
"You're distracting me, Art."
"How? I'm laying still and I'm being quiet."
"You're staring at me."
"I'm not staring."
"Art."
"I'm not."
"What do you call it, then?"
"...Watching."
You turn your head, brows raised in disbelief, lips pursed as you try to fix him with a stern look. It doesn't hold. How can it, with the way he's smiling at you?
You can see how tired he is from the slow blinking of his heavy lids. It's a wonder that he's still awake; he's been curled up in your bed for the last half hour as you've tried to finish up a paper. It's nearly midnight, and you know that he's been up since six that morning. Between classes and practice, he's had an insanely long day.
"You should be sleeping," You scold.
"'m not tired."
"Bullshit."
He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and nuzzling your pillow.
"I'll wait."
"For what?"
"You to come to bed."
"Are you just going to stare at me until I do?"
"'Course not...I am gonna watch you, though."
You smile, sighing and saving your work before shutting your laptop.
"Alright."
"You're finished?"
"No, I'll finish it tomorrow."
"You sure?"
You hum affirmatively, stepping into your bathroom and cranking the faucet on. You make it through washing your face before you see movement in your periphery.
"I'll be there in a second," You promise as Art drifts into the room. "I'm just gonna brush my teeth."
Art cuddles up behind you, arms curling around your middle as he presses his face into your neck, drawing in a deep breath.
"You miss me already? It's been two minutes," You tease before lifting your toothbrush.
"Not just two minutes," Art insists. "Barely saw you today." He tips his head up, nuzzling your jaw. "I was thinkin' about you."
You smile, leaning down and rinsing your mouth out, wiggling your hips back against him as you hinge forward. Art groans low in his throat, thumbs dipping beneath your shirt and gently sweeping over your sides.
"I was thinking about you, too," You admit, turning to face him.
"Really?"
"Mhm. All day." Art's smile widens as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "We goin' to bed now?"
"In a minute." Art leans in, brushing his lips against yours. You smile, sliding a hand into his hair and parting your lips, teasing your tongue tenderly against his. He sighs into your kiss, hands snaking around your back to draw you closer into his chest. You break the kiss slowly, giving his hair a gentle tug and grinning as his eyelids flutter, a sweet flush spreading across his cheeks.
"Come on," You urge. "We can't have you sleep-walking through practice tomorrow."
--
Even with your eyes closed, in the dim room, you can still feel it. You shift a little, adjusting your covers.
"Art," You warn softly, "You're still doing it."
Art's hand cups your face, his thumb sweeping across your cheekbone.
"Baby," He murmurs, "If you were in my place, you'd stare, too."
406 notes · View notes
sunnynwanda · 3 days
Text
Heal me
Warnings: slightly suggestive/ kissing, touch starved Villain, sort of hurt/comfort.
Based on and inspired by this wonderful idea by the amazing @aflyingsheepnamedrose. I had to write this, it was simply eating me alive.
Villain's body hits the wall, sliding down onto the concrete floor with a loud thud. They groan, every limb of theirs aching with dull pain and acute yearning. They cough out blood but cannot stop themself from thinking about the gentle brush of Hero's fingertips against their skin that will follow once the 'battle' is over. They've been deprived of it for far longer than they could handle, their starved body longing for the pain to be followed by a touch.
Hero lands next to them, fisting their shirt to drag them into a standing position. Villain sags against the wall, heaving through every breath. Yet their injuries have positively nothing to do with the dire need flaming in their veins. It's severe, all-consuming, and it terrifies the living light out of them. Villain craves Hero's touch with the entirety of their being. Villain craves Hero. 
"Think you should surrender?" Hero suggests, eyeing Villain with a hint of concern in their bright blue eyes. Their fingers feel almost tender when they curl around Villain's chin, lifting it up so their intent gaze can inspect their buttered face.
"Not yet," Villain gargles, blood filling their mouth again. They turn away, spitting it out before meeting Hero's eyes, a pleasant thrill feeling their lungs at the sight of Hero's distress.
"I won't..." Hero wants to say they won't keep up the vicious cycle they found themselves in. They won't fight Villain anymore - only to spend the following night healing them with their touch. Hero wants Villain to know that they can't keep hurting them, that it tears them apart in ways they never imagined possible, and that it is the reason they've been avoiding them. That they cannot handle witnessing - worse yet, inflicting - their pain. They want to say that Villain doesn't need injuries to have Hero showering them with kisses. They want to tell Villain they need them safe and sound, not beaten and buttered. Hero needs Villain.
But they don't say that. They can't. Instead, they threaten. "Surrender, or I won't heal you anymore."
Villain has to restrain themself from outright begging. They press their lips together, nodding shortly, and avert their eyes, gulping as their mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Hero's hands let go of their shirt and Villain exhales shakily, shutting their eyes to suppress the shudder raking through their entire being. Something inside them quivers, helpless and desperate. Villain decides to call it disappointment, but then Hero's arms wrap around them, picking them off the ground with close to no effort.
Villain knows it's not disappointment, because the quiver in their chest grows stronger, thrashing against their ribs with unabated persistence. They refuse to open their eyes as Hero carries them all the way to their apartment and straight to their bedroom.
They lay Villain down on their bed and sit beside them, cupping their jaw with a cold hand. "Vil..." Hero's voice is small, and - if Villain didn't know better - they'd think it sounds choked up. "Look at me."
Villain groans, peeling their eyes open. The sight that greets them leaves their heart throbbing in their throat. Hero's eyes are brimming with tears, and their lips are trembling when they lean in, pressing them to Villain's forehead. They pull away, only to plant a kiss on Villain's split eyebrow, then shift to their bruising cheekbone, over to the other one - the small cut on it heals in mere seconds.
Villain watches them with bated breath, biting the inside of their cheek to keep any sounds from escaping them. Hero's hand on their jaw moves, tilting their head up as their lips trail down Villain's neck, ghosting over their collarbones. Villain registers a wet sensation on their skin but fails to process what it is until it drips down the base of their throat, leaving a damp trail in its wake.
Another drop hits Villain's burning skin, then one more. Their nemesis chooses to ignore them as their hands make quick work of Villain's shirt, pushing it open and trailing their lips down Villain's chest, fixing a broken rib back into place.
"Hero?" Villain can't help it when their hands take hold of Hero's head, lifting it off their body. Their tear-stained face wrecks Villain's heart worse than any injury could.
"I can't." Hero mutters in explanation, leaning down to plant another tender kiss onto Villain's feverish skin, their hands gripping their enemy's sides with uncharacteristic urgency. "I can't..."
"Hero, please," the pleading tone of their voice seems to snap Hero out of it as they withdraw hastily, their eyes widening. Villain moves to sit up.
"I'm sorry, I was... t-that was the last cut, y-you're all good now," Hero stutters out, panic contorting their face into a mask of horror. "I didn't mean to overstep."
Villain can't help the chuckle that escapes them at that conclusion. Their fingers brush through Hero's hair, earning a soft sigh from their nemesis. "I wasn't exactly trying to protest the kisses."
"You were not?" Hero repeats, their gaze finally daring to land on Villain as the criminal shakes their head. "I thought you wanted me to stop." Hero confesses, their head dropping, only to be brought back up again.
"No way in hell." The words fly out of their mouth before Villain can process them. They cannot bring themself to care about the consequences at this point. Not when Hero's hands are rubbing their sides unconsciously, not when they can still feel Hero's tears on their skin. "If you ask me, you don't have to stop, ever."
"What?" Hero's gaze darts back and forth between Villain's lips and eyes, wheels turning in their head as Villain watches them with a small smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. They bite their lip to keep their grin under control but fail miserably.
"You heard me," Villain states, causing Hero to roll their eyes. "Why were you crying?"
Hero freezes like a deer in headlights. Villain lets out an amused chuckle, still holding Hero's face in their hands. And, when Hero doesn't respond, Villain decides to take matters into their own hands.
"Can you heal one more cut for me?" They ask, barely containing the cheeky smile threatening to break onto their face any minute now.
Hero nods, their expression shifting into that of worry. "Yes. 'Course I can. Where?"
Villain doesn't utter a word, instead pointing to their bitten lip. They also give up on keeping a neutral expression, allowing the smug smirk to stretch in full glory.
Now that leaves Hero speechless and gaping. For several seconds, they stare at Villain in disbelief, their heart pounding heavily in their ribcage.
"Are you gonna let me bleed o-"
Villain's playful remark is cut short when Hero lunges at them, connecting their lips with more force than Villain anticipated. They fall onto their back, with Hero landing on top of them as they focus on healing Villain's 'dreadful' injury with painstaking dedication.
Masterlist
Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444
118 notes · View notes
warpedwings · 11 months
Text
Misha Collins • Colors - Grey, Part Two
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Continuing the rainbow of Misha.
Reds Pinks Orange & Yellow White Green Blues Blues 2 Blues 3 Blues 4 Blues 5 Purple Brown Grey Black Black 2 Black 3
177 notes · View notes
Text
Okay I’m currently furious that migraines are often so blindly easy to treat and I had to find this out myself at the age of 26 when I’ve been to a neurologist since I was 11 lol so I’m about to teach you two neat and fast little tricks to deal with pain!
The first is the sternocleidomastoid muscle, or the SCM muscle.
Tumblr media
This big red section is responsible for pain around the eye, cheekbone, and jaw, as well as some temple pain. Literally all you have to do is angle your head down a little, angle it away from the side that hurts, and then you can gently pinch and rub that muscle. I find it best to start at the bottom and travel upwards. The relief is so immediate! You can increase pressure as you feel comfortable doing so.
Here is a short and easy video showing this in action
The second is a fast and easy stretch that soothes your vagus nerve, which is the nerve responsible for calming you down. The vagus nerve, for those unfamiliar, is stimulated by deep breathing such as yawning, sighing, singing, or taking a deep breath to calm your anger in a tense situation.
You can stretch this out by sitting up as straight as possible (this does not have to be perfect to work) and interlacing your fingers. Put your hands on the back of your head with your thumbs going down the sides of your neck and, while keeping your face forward, look all the way to one side with just your eyes. Hold that until you feel the urge to breathe deeply or yawn, or until you can tell there’s a change. Then do the same thing on the other side. When you put your arms down, you should clearly be able to turn your head farther in both directions. If the first session doesn’t get rid of your migraine, rest and repeat as many times as necessary. I even get a little fancy with it and roll my eyes up and down along the outer edge sometimes to stretch as much as I can.
If you need a visual here’s a good video on it. I know some of the language they use seems questionable but this is real and simple science and should not be discarded because it’s been adopted by the trendy wellness crowd!
I seriously cannot believe I didn’t hear a word of this from any doctor in my life. Additionally, if you get frequent recurring migraines, you may want to see a dietician. Migraines can be caused by foods containing histamines, lectin, etc. and can also be caused by high blood pressure in specific situations such as exercise, stress, and even sex.
If any of this information helps you I’d love to hear it btw! It’s so so fast and easy to do. Good luck!
119K notes · View notes
goldenhypen · 2 months
Text
against the wall 𓈒 ݁ ₊
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing. enhypen ot7 x reader
syn. literally just kisses against the wall with enhypen :’>
genre + warnings. fluff? suggestive? making out,,, literally just making out against a wall help me
wc. 1.9k (0.25k/member average… with jake’s as the exception… as always…)
a/n. help this is the most straightforward and out there and random fic ever help why does the title keep catching me off guard- but the idea of it alone gives me butterflies so maybe reading this will for you too,, enjoy :’>
Tumblr media
❤︎ ⎯ lee HEESEUNG…
“careful not to hit your head, beautiful,” he said, catching the wall with his palm as your back hit the flat surface. he let out a tiny chuckle with a smirk that you could barely comprehend because not even a second later, his lips crashed right back onto yours, continuing right where he left off in your little make-out session.
he took the lead, first adjusting to find the best angle, arm leaning over you as his other hand held your jaw, tilting your head for better access. but amidst the passion-filled movements of his lips, he always had a way of keeping you at ease, allowing you to enjoy every second of it.
if it wasn’t for your body being held between his and the wall behind you, you would’ve been swept off your feet a long time ago.
your lips fit against his perfectly like a piece to a puzzle. being alone with him, the room was silent other than the sounds of your heavy breaths and lips repeatedly smashing against one other.
and he continued kissing you until your lips were sore and your heads spun in a drunken daze.
you stared at him as he pulled away, your mind empty as you consumed the sight of him, chest violently rising and falling, his fiery gaze never leaving your lips. and you watched as he dove down for yet another round.
❤︎ ⎯ park JONGSEONG…
as you were getting ready for the day to hang out with one of your friends, your phone lit up with an unexpected message from your boyfriend: hey, love, are you home? i’m outside :)
what was jongseong doing here?
you responded: coming!
running to the door, you opened it expectantly, only to find that your boyfriend wasn’t there. confused, you searched around for a second before your eyes landed on him, leaning on his car parked in front of your house. you smiled and quickly ran over.
“what are you doing here?” you asked excitedly.
“i don’t know,” he paused. “i just missed you.”
he stood up straight, back now off his car as he walked closer to you. so much so, however, that it caused you to back up, bumping straight into the wall of the vehicle.
you gulped. “you could’ve just called me or something.”
your last words nearly got lost in your throat by the way jongseong’s body was now trapping you between him and the car.
he was so close. were his lips always this pretty?
“but calling you wouldn’t allow me to do this…”
with his eyes fastened on your lips, he brought a hand to your chin and immediately pulled you in to meet your lips with his.
your heartbeat quickened at the unannounced gesture, yet you couldn’t help but melt under his touch, kissing him back.
as he placed one hand on the car behind you to lean in closer, the other circled to the side of your face, tilting your head to find that perfect angle.
you don’t know what had gotten into him, but were you complaining? not. at. all.
❤︎ ⎯ sim JAEYUN…
a gasp ran past your lips as jake pushed you against the hallway wall, a look of desire in his eyes, yet he made sure to support you so that you wouldn’t get hurt—the way he was gentle with his hands but sharp like daggers with his eyes.
he pressed an unexpectedly delicate kiss against yours lips, starting out soft but quickly escalating to something much more passionate, taking your breath away within seconds.
he pulled away, both of you panting as you got lost in each others’ eyes.
“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” jake whispered as his thumb caressed your cheekbone, finding himself unable to pull away from your loving stare. he smiled, wondering how he managed to ever get this lucky.
you chuckled. “yes, you tell me that every day.”
he let out a small and breathy laugh before calming into a soft smile. “yeah.”
eventually, and using all his willpower, he teared his eyes away, only to examine the rest of your facial features, and with every passing second—every inch of skin his eyes ran over—the beating of his heart grew more apparent to his ear drums. and his immense love for you broke down every bit and piece of strength he had in his soul, and he couldn’t help it. he just had to kiss you again.
and that’s exactly what he did, and it took only mere milliseconds before his lips found their way back home to yours, right where they belonged.
you smiled into the kiss, secretly wanting and waiting for this moment just as much as he had been. you savoured every second of it.
yet no amount of time could have felt long enough for the two of you. he could kiss you for 12 hours straight, and you’d still instantly miss the feeling of his lips on yours.
so when he pulled away, it left you hungry for more.
“don’t stop,” you quickly let out before immediately pulling him by the collar and bringing his lips to yours, so soft and sweet.
❤︎ ⎯ park SUNGHOON…
closed eyes, shared breaths and lips moving in sync against one another, you felt the delicacy of sunghoon’s fingertips brushing along the front of your jaw, finding their way to the back to cup the side of your head. this slow and soft movement shot shivers down every part of your body, causing your heartbeat to race faster than ever.
your back was pressed flush onto the wall of your room as sunghoon’s body was to yours before he pulled away ever so slightly to readjust and tilt his head in a way to get better access, returning just as quick as he was to leave.
the taste of coffee and creamy chocolate from the tiramisu you shared at the restaurant earlier lingered on his lips, and you were enjoying every bit of it.
mouths still moving with one another, you ran your hands up his chest, but your limbs grew weak with every kiss, your fingers barely gripping the fabric of his dress shirt hanging over his shoulders.
you felt his other hand pressed into your waist somehow gently firm, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer.
when he separated his lips from yours, eyes glued to your mouth, he whispered as you took his breath away—figuratively and literally—“you don’t understand how much i love you.”
“no?” you asked innocently.
all he did was stare at you in response, you wouldn’t be surprised if this was him zoning out, mind only occupied with having his lips back on yours.
you whispered, “then show me, hoon.”
and those four words were all it took for the switch inside of him to flick, and in an instant, his lips were back on yours, the way they were meant to be.
❤︎ ⎯ kim SUNOO…
“hey, let’s try this trend i found,” your boyfriend said as he approached you, who was conveniently already leaning against the wall. “put your hands together for a sec.”
“hm?” you hummed, confused, but proceeded to follow along anyways. you clasped your hands together. “like this?”
sunoo nodded, satisfied.
“now wha—”
leaving you no time to process, immediately, your own intertwined hands were lifted up above your head at the same time your boyfriend pressed his lips against yours in what was easily the hottest kiss he had given you yet.
but he pulled away sooner than you would’ve liked, separating from you far enough to put your hands gently back down, but unable to let one of your hands go from his.
you pouted. and suddenly reality came crashing onto you and your face grew warm.
“w-what was that for?” you asked, with a shy smile, your voice weak.
“i thought the trend would be fun to do with you.”
“are you saying it wasn’t what you expected?” you asked, disappointment laced in your voice.
he paused. “oh, it was beyond what i expected.”
“so you liked it?”
he didn’t answer, and just gave you a smirk in response instead.
“then do it again,” you said.
and without a moment to spare, he quickly dove in for another kiss, bringing his hand interlaced with yours back up beside your head, body leaning into yours to get impossibly closer.
silly trend.
❤︎ ⎯ yang JUNGWON…
“hi, baby,” jungwon said as he watched you walk through the door, returning home, “i missed you.”
you let out a small laugh. “it’s only been an hour.”
“an hour too long,” he added as he made his way to you, his arms open before you found your way into them, realizing how much you had been craving his embrace all day.
he pulled away slightly, causing you to look into his eyes filled with a glint of desire you had never seen before.
“w—” and before you could barely make out a sound, he had already brought his lips to yours in the softest kiss he had ever given you.
it was a long kiss that started out slow but quickly grew faster and harder—much more passionate and fiery than earlier. before you knew it, your back was against the wall, his body pressed against yours, hands tangled in each other’s hair.
but after a few seconds, he pulled back, hands dropping to your waist as he cleared his throat with a look of guilt overcoming his features. “sorry, i—”
“won—” you started, “don’t stop.”
his face washed over with relief and he smiled before taking your face into the palms of his hands and kissed you again.
❤︎ ⎯ nishimura RIKI…
“you liked that, didn’t you?” riki asked you teasingly, his forehead pressed against your own—funnily, kind of like how your back was to the wall at the moment.
your recollection of how you two got yourselves into this position was blurry. the countless kisses he had already given you left you in a trance. all you knew was that you craved for more.
his eyes followed his fingers as they brushed your jaw, leading their way to your chin, before his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.
you grew weaker with every touch of his skin to yours. why was he teasing you like this?!
“riki, just kiss me already.”
you would’ve said those words sooner if you had known that was all it would take for him to return his lips back to yours. in an instant, he was kissing you again, this time deeper and more passionate. it had a fire to it—or maybe that was the effect he had on you whenever he would treat you this way, causing a heat to rise and warm your face.
he rarely acted this way out in public—always feeling more comfortable showing you love alone in a more intimate matter.
but even so, rarely did it ever evolve into something like this: your body pushed against the wall of your home, his body pressed right into yours, missing your touch after a long and busy week for both of you.
but if it meant having to survive the toughest of days just to be with him, you’d live through them over and over again, because moments like this—time with him—made it all worth it.
with one last kiss, he pulled away ever so slightly, lips swollen and eyes in a daze as he whispered, nearly breathless, “we should do this more often.”
Tumblr media
a/n. idk what’s up with my writing style lately but here you go :D hope you enjoyed :> i don’t write like this often so lmk what you think? :’>
m.list | taglist form
taglist. @seroriis @raimbows4u @beibybtch @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @potato0579 @koishua @4ri-ki @sunoksunny @kookielover29 @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @1unxtic @palajae @clarakyunisageek @annoyingbitch83 @aeriil11 @wonswondrland @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @pistachiophobia @loveforred@svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts
4K notes · View notes
ieirism · 7 months
Text
intertwined. | preview
Tumblr media
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
setting: omegaverse!au, university!au
genre: angst, smut, some fluff
contains: yandere, estranged childhood friends to enemies to lovers, mentions of self-identity issues, dubious consent, obsessive behavior, loss of virginity, mutual(ish) pining, gojo is bad at expressing his feelings so he’s kinda a jerk, lovesick!gojo
summary: you just want to lose your virginity, no strings attached. how could you have known that gojo satoru is in love with you?
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
release date: tbd | ask for taglist if interested
-
“I want you to take my virginity.”
Satoru’s cocky grin wipes clean off his face. His stare goes blank and his jaw drops open comically wide. For the first time in the twenty-one years you’ve known him, Gojo Satoru is at a loss for words.
“We never have to talk again afterwards,” you add quickly, your cheeks starting to heat up in embarrassment. “This is just gonna be a one-time thing.”
Satoru is silent, expression tense as he observes you carefully. His crystal blue eyes seem to darken a few shades as he takes your hand in his. His thumb strokes once, slowly over the back of your knuckles.
“Just a one-time thing,” he repeats languidly, lips stretching into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Perhaps if you weren’t so focused on the rapid, frantic beating of your own heart, you would’ve noticed Satoru’s gaze wander—only to lock right on the clear patch stubbornly covering your neck’s scent gland. You would’ve seen the way his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his lips, with hunger written all over his face.
“Well then,” he all but rasps out, voice thick with desire. Without warning, he pulls your body against his with ease, trapping you in the warmth of his arms. Satoru rests his forehead against yours, letting out a groan that is too soft, too vulnerable, too intimate.
He’s so big, you realize. You can hardly believe that you once stood a whole head taller than him. Satoru towers over you, his lean frame completely dwarfing you. His large hands squeeze at your waist as he presses a barely-there, tender peck to your forehead.
You feel like you can’t breathe.
“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, sweetheart.”
You’ve heard stories about what he’s like in bed; it’s inevitable that as the most desired alpha on campus, he’s gotten around. You don’t expect tenderness or care; if you did, Gojo Satoru is the dead last person to approach. You’re waiting for him to start man-handling you, tearing your clothes off, chasing after the carnal pleasure that only sex can bring. You’ve prepared yourself for that.
Instead, Satoru cups your pretty face between his large hands, running his thumb along your cheekbone. His blue eyes are a swirling pool of emotions, burning with not only lust but something deeper. “Been waitin’ so long for this.” His hushed whisper falls on deaf ears as he leans in to kiss you.
You let out a surprised squeak as his lips press against yours; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re not here to play romance with Satoru—yet, the slow gentle kisses he’s giving you and the gentleness with which he’s holding you are cutting it too close.
“W-Wait,” you gasp out, pulling away to catch your breath. Satoru is panting too, cheeks flushed pink as he stares at you like a man dying of thirst discovering an oasis. His hand trails down your side to rest on your waist, pulling himself forward so he can drop his head against your shoulder. “What are y—“ your words die in your throat as you feel his nose nudge against the most vulnerable part of you.
“You smell so fuckin’ good…” His groan against your neck reverberates through your entire body, shaking you to your very core. Your internal alarm flares to life, blaring loudly in warning. You can’t even pay much attention to that, though, not when—
“Y-You do, too…” The words leave you before you can even process them. You knees feel like jelly as his scent washes over you, deep, musky and addicting. Satoru stiffens against you, huffing out a short breath of frustration.
“You’re gonna kill me.” You feel it. You feel his teeth scrape against the spot your mating bond would be. Satoru knows just as well as you do that you don’t have one, and that if you had things your way, that would never change. He teases the edge of the bandage covering your scent gland, rolling it between his teeth. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging nervously.
“N-Not there,” you protest, stumbling over your words in panic. Satoru pauses, and for three very long seconds, neither of you move. The only thing you can hear the is the pounding of your own heartbeat, his shallow pants against your neck, and the hum of the air conditioning.
He’s close, too close—you’re terrified of what he’s capable of, only because you don’t know if you can count on your own willpower to stop him. You’re slowly going limp in his arms, becoming nothing but putty in between his fingers—you’ve never felt so weak.
You hate how he makes you feel. You’ve always hated how he makes you feel. Weak. The world has always told you that you are. You’re nothing but a little omega whose only fate is to be a strong alpha’s obedient mate. You’ve fought back, resisted, protested—yet, Gojo Satoru has always managed to put you right back in your place.
This time is no different. Once again, you find yourself at his mercy. Your stomach boils with bitterness, with anger, with hatred… with longing.
Too slowly, he pulls away from your neck, only to lock eyes with you. “Right.” Satoru’s lips quirk into a crooked grin. “This is just a one-time thing, huh?”
You recognize that smile.
It’s the one that Satoru gave when he broke his mama’s favorite vase and blamed the cat. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he stole a candy bar from the store and got caught by the cashier. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he claimed you were no more than a stranger and left you to fend for yourself through high school.
He’s lying.
Far too late, you realize you’d made a big mistake.
-
author’s note: i can’t even lie this little word vomit was just a way to get some gojo thirst off my chest. i’m not even sure if i’ll ever get around to writing a full fic because i’ve been planning this in my head for weeks and there’s so much i want to include. yet i have too little time because of uni :(
if you are interested in being part of a taglist just in case i ever actually get around to writing the full fic, just let me know in the replies.
thank you for reading this far :)
5K notes · View notes
wyvernest · 10 months
Text
hammock by the sea
Tumblr media
pairing - miguel o'hara x wife!f!reader
warnings - fluff, established relationship, suggestive
summary - you and miguel enjoy a sunny july afternoon on your honeymoon in a hammock
translations: lo sé - i know / así me gusta - that's how i like it
part 2! part3!
The air is hot, but fresh with a salty sea breeze. The waves roll rhythmically against the white shores, echoing through the gardens of the resort you're spending your honeymoon at.
Everything is so quiet, so serene, and incontestably intimate.
The hammock hangs low between two palms, heavy with your weight added on top of his. Miguel sits cosily in the linen cocoon, arms hanging out on each side. You're seated on his lap, straddling him. Sunlight grazes his features in interrupted stripes, filtered through the sharp palm leaves. 
His eyes are closed, eyebrows relaxed. Your gaze lingers over his sculpted face, the shape of his eyes, his cheekbones, the line of his nose and his soft lips; then up to his dark hair, sun-kissed dark silk. 
You're startled when you feel his hand take ahold of your wrist gently, pulling you with a little force into his embrace. Eyes still closed, he's silently asking you to lay back on top of him, to let him capture you back into his arms. 
You remain straight for the single purpose of looking at him for a little longer. It's not often that you see him so relaxed, so defenceless and vulnerable. Your attention follows his jaw, adorned with the remnants of what used to be a stubble; then the line of his neck, and you hold back a primal impulse to bend down and start kissing it, just to hear him giggle lowly before groaning in need.
Your hands follow your vision, flowing down his broad shoulders, and over his strong pecs, reaching the firm muscles of his torso. You feel him tense up, flexing his abdomen under your touch and puffing out a giggled breath. 
"You don't have to do that to impress me, you know." you keep your hands on his abdomen, struggling to mask the loving and lustful awe in your eyes. 
"Lo sé. I just love to see you all red in the face." He smirks at you, pearl-white fangs peeking from the smile, opening his eyes enough just to witness the sight before him. You hadn't realised you were getting so flustered. Maybe it's the heat outside.
Or maybe it's just him, looking like a greek sculpture, completely enamoured by you and at your disposal. All sleepy, messy hair and smile teasing. 
You cave in, laying yourself on top of him, head on his chest, hiding the blush in your cheeks. His arms encompass your body, holding you against him. You feel one of his legs drop out of the hammock, slowly swaying you both into a lulling cradle. 
You snuggle into him, pressing your face closer to hear his heartbeat. With a deep sigh, you melt into him. He brings a hand to your hair, laying soft caresses over the expanse of your back.
But you don't want to fall asleep just yet. There's only so many things you could do. Getting up, you come face to face with him, starting to kiss him all over his face. He smiles, eyes still closed. You kiss him on his forehead, on his temples, all over his cheeks, and when you get close enough to the corner of his mouth, he catches you and deepens the kiss. His lips are soft and tender against yours, tongues dancing in tandem as you make out under the July sun.
His hands arrive at your sides, grasping at your waist before starting to tickle violently. You break away from the kiss, erupting in uncontrolled laughter. He doesn't stop. He keeps tickling until you're backing up on the opposite end of the hammock, seeking shelter from the attack.
He takes the chance and gets up from his place, repositioning himself so that he's laying on you, face up. The hammock swings abruptly from side to side and you nearly fall out of it. You scream and laugh but he doesn't stop until he's seated comfortably, head on your chest.
"There we go." He sighs, placing a quick peck on your breast, making you even more flustered, before once again shutting his eyes.
"You could've told me you wanted to switch." 
"Wouldn't have been as fun."
You tangle your fingers in his hair, massaging lightly.
"Ah, así me gusta" he moans and relaxes further into your embrace. 
"You're so handsome." you mumble to yourself, gazing at him with all the love you could bestow upon someone.
He opens his eyes instantly, staring at you like you just told him the craziest thing he could've heard.
"Mi vida", he pauses, weighing his words for half a second, "coming from an angel like you, it means a lot."
You smile, knowing he means it. He's not the type to throw in compliments and sweet talk just for the sake of it, and you love him for that.
Your attention is suddenly intercepted by the sight of the fruit bowl you brought with you, next to the hammock. You pick it up and start with a strawberry. He looks up at you, eyes pleading silently. Raising your eyebrows smugly, you feed him a tangerine slice. 
You analyse the picture before you, wishing you could freeze it in time. Miguel, comfortably seated on top of you, head on your soft chest, looking up at you like he's nothing less than a god and you're his paradisiacal muse, feeding him fruits. 
However, the air suddenly shifts as your eyes river down his frame, and over to the hardening outline of his bulge, curved against his shorts. Your gaze returns to his, recognizing the familiar want beneath the relaxed façade.
"Let's take care of that, love", you suggest, pointing in the direction of your room with your eyes.
He doesn't waste a second before he stands up and scoops you from the hammock, hoisting you over his shoulder and giving your exposed ass a playful smack.
a/n - i'll make a part 2 if anyone is interested:)
EDIT: part 2
6K notes · View notes
shotmrmiller · 22 days
Text
simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.
gambling's illegal, you know.
thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.
a veterinarian.
good thing we're all dogs here, then.
he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.
seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.
what, did they guy like steal them or something?
no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.
incredible. (that's insane.)
he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.
lemme take ya out, love—
don't call me that.
and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—
stop talking, simon.
and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.
a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)
with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."
he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"
always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"
the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.
there's never any rest for the wicked.
"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"
the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.
"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."
you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"
his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."
he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"
"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.
"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.
the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.
"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.
black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"
simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."
you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."
he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"
his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."
johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.
pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."
you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"
he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"
"stop talking, simon."
johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.
--
this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.
simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.
even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.
"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.
pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.
simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.
heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.
he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.
"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.
johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."
he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.
oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.
"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.
simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"
he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."
you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.
"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.
"shit, let me go get my medbag."
he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."
a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.
"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.
"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."
you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.
2K notes · View notes
blacknight1230 · 5 months
Text
Ways in which I think Tav shows Astarion love: (SFW)
Tumblr media
*Tav is gender-neutral*
Gentle touches to the face.
Cue Tav walking up to Astarion in camp; Astarion greets them with his usual flirtatious greeting and a smirk, asking them if they need anything. Tav just raises their hand and gently brush a loose strand of his hair out of his face and cups his cheek, telling the vampire how they just wanted to see how he was doing.
Astarion is caught off guard, not used to intimate physical touch, ones that don't come with him eventually bedding the other person.
But he relaxes into it, enjoying the warmth of Tav's roughened palm. "I'll alright, now that you are here," he purred.
Hugs, feeling the way Tav wraps their arms securely around his torso.
Since his confession, Tav would occasionally come up to him and ask if they could hug him, always mindful of his consent.
At first, he had no idea as to what to do with his hands when wrapped up in his lover's embrace, uncomfortably stiff. But Tav gently guided his hands to the cusp of their lower back. If Tav is taller than Astarion, they cup the back of his head and leads him to lay it on the top of their chest, right where there heart is. If Tav is smaller, they cradle his face into the side of their neck, chin on their shoulder. Soon, Astarion would need no motivation to snuggle into his lover's chest/neck.
He secretly enjoys Tav's back hugs the best, once he is comfortable enough to let them to approach him from behind. Tav laying their chin on his shoulder and sneaking a cheek kiss if they are taller, or snuggling their face into the back of his armor/shirt with a smile ... It brings a love-sick genuine smile to his pale lips.
Trailing touches along his arms.
Tav usually does this to let him know they are coming up alongside them without causing the vampire to flitch back at their unexpected movement. He likes it even more when he's in his camp clothes and his shirt sleeves are rolled up, allowing him to feel the lingering warmth of their fingers on his cold skin.
Laying beside each other on his and their bedrolls.
They don't even have to say anything, just the two of them staring at each other, memorizing the little details of their faces. Astarion enjoys when Tav runs a finger across his cheekbone and jaw, playfully biting at it as the digit trails over his lips. His favorite feature of Tav's at times like this are their eyes. He can see the affection and love in their eyes as they look at him. It almost makes his undead heart start beating again.
Sleepy cuddles.
Most of the time he's the small spoon, either with his head directly on their chest, their heart beat lulling him into a trance, wrapped up in Tav's warm arms and legs tangled together. Sometimes it's the other way around, with Tav snuggled into the crook of his arm, leg thrown over his and hand on his chest, one of his hands on their lower back. Cuddle sessions tend to happen after a feeding session, even before his confession in Act 2. It eventually starts to become a nightly routine, even if no feeding is involved.
"I like it when you stay with me. I feel safe with you," Tav told him one time when Astarion questioned them on it. Astarion swears he could hear his undead heart beating again.
Tav's fingers running through his hair.
This of course tended to happen when they had their nightly cuddle sessions and during the act of feeding. When feeding, the feeling on Tav's fingers in his hair would ground him as he gave into his sanguine desire, reminding him to not take too much. When cuddling, Tav's fingers served to relax him as the motion of their fingers gently racking across his scalp lulled him into a trance. The act also filled his chest with warmth, which he finally realized was love and admiration after he confessed to Tav.
Waking up next to Tav.
This tends to happen after a feeding session and the subsequent cuddle session (after the confession in Act 2). In the morning, he's either wrapped around Tav with his head buried into the valley of their neck, slowly breathing in their signature scent (not just their blood, but the natural scent on their skin), or he's encased in Tav's arms with his head buried in their chest as they cradle him close. Astarion wants nothing more than to stay in their shared tent together like that all day, but sadly they have to separate or else they will never get those tadpoles out of their heads.
Feeling safe whenever he decides to sleep with no shirt and bare his scars.
The raised flesh on his back where his master carved his sadistic poem - which he then learned was part of an infernal contact that he was going to be sacrificed for - was by far the most traumatic and cruelest torture Cazador inflicted upon him. The slightest touch on his scars would cause him to flinch away and he refused to let anyone touch him there. Taking off his shirt, even in the confines of his own tent, was out of the question.
But with you, he craved the feeling of your fingers trailing shapeless figures on his bare chest, not just over his sleep shirt. He wanted to feel the warmth of your fingers to heat up his cold pale skin over his heart, almost as if it would seep deep into the organ.
When Astarion decided he could lay himself bare to you (figuratively speaking in this sense), he was practically shaking, desperately trying to calm his nerves as Tav slowly brought a steady hand to the spot above his heart. He didn't flitch at the first contact, sighing in content as Tav continued their ministrations.
After this first step, Astarion found that this act played into their cuddle sessions, usually right before Astarion and Tav start their day or before they feel asleep, regardless of a nightly feeding session.
Slowly letting Tav touch his scars.
This would probably take years for him to do, but luckily the both of them have time after the end of Act 3.
It would start with allowing Tav to gently caress the upper edges of his scars closest to his neck and by the small of his back closest to his hips.
For the longest time, that's all he could handle without him having flashbacks to the time they were created and cowering away from Tav's touch.
But Tav understood; they never pressured him nor did they expect to fully being to fully touch his scars. They were content with just skimming lightly across the back of his hip, tracing the spot where his neck met his back. If this is all they were allowed to do, then so be it. They would never push Astarion's boundaries and verbally told him to tell them if they accidently did.
Reading together in silence.
When not off adventuring, Astarion could be found rustling through whatever book he had on hand. Tav noticed this and decided early on to spend some of their downtime to read something quietly alongside him. Astarion teased them about this at first, saying something about how desperate they were to be in his company. As their relationship blossomed, this act continued, with Astarion sitting on a stool scraped up from an abandoned location, book in hand, while Tav lounged against the vampire's pile of pillows outside his tent, a nameless tome also in hand. When this started to become a frequent thing, Astarion frequently caught himself peering over at Tav from the top of his book, silently watching as their eyes skimmed at the runes on the page, the way a finger was used to hold their place in their reading, mind focused on the story in front of them. Astarion liked the sight of them this relaxed and their quiet presenance. After the end of their adventure, when the two decided to remain together, this act becomes a staple way they spend their quality time together. In a townhouse in Baldur's Gate, the two of them could be seen reading quietly next to each other, cuddled in each others arms as a fire rages in the main room's fireplace.
Playing with his fingers and hands.
Whenever they are bored, whether they be at a tavern or listening to a mindless conversation, Tav ends up gently playing with Astarion's hand as it sits idle. Astarion raised an eyebrow the first time he noticed Tav doing this, in which they were silently comparing the sizes of their palms and digits. He never knew gentle touch before, so he was still learning the many different ways Tav show affection through harmless contact. Eventually, he gets used to it, paying absolutely no mind as Tav takes his hand and starts trailing along the roughed fingertips or caressing his knuckles. He finds it comforting, the act silently letting him known that his lover was there for him. He finds it especially humorous when they decide to take a playful nip at his digits, an amused smile on his lips as he jokes "Don't make me return the favor," and returns with a peck on their mouth
Brushing of fingers as they walk side by side (mainly when in the city).
The city of Baldur's Gate was quite populated, making their usually close-quartered party have to repeatedly be cautious as they tried to make their ways through the crowded streets without losing a party member as they occasionally get cut off by passersby.
Astarion was edge the moment they got closed to the city walls, even more so once they made it to the Lower City. He was Cazador's territory now and though he and his spawn could not go out in the daylight, there were other minions of the vampire lord that could be hiding in the busy streets.
The numerous Baldurians constantly impeding their groups way did nothing to help this, as it meant someone usually was temporarily separated from the others and was lagging behind before they could meet back up with the group. Astarion tried to keep a constant eye on Tav, but sometimes they too got swept up in the crowds.
Tav didn't like this either as they too grew slightly worried whenever they lost sight of Astarion as they tried to file through numerous crowds, wanting to keep an eye on the vampire spawn as they drew nearer to his master's residence.
So, whenever they were near each other, Tav made it a routine to gently brush their fingers against Astarion's knuckles to let them know they were beside them, regardless if he could see them or not.
The gentle carassess acted as a soothing balm, calming his heart as he felt the briefest warmth of their fingers on his skin. Sometime he longed to outright take a hold of their hand, but he knew they both needed their hands free in case they were attacked. But he knew one day, after this adventure was over, he would be able to do hold their hand in his as they trail downt eh numerous pathways the city harbors without a care in world, safe from vampire lords and death cults alike.
Cleaning his face after a tough battle.
This man gets dirty after a battle. Blame it on being a vampire or him being a dastardly rogue with a penchant for daggers, but his face is usually covered in blood. Astarion usually just washed his face himself, after sampling a couple of drops onto his tongue, but after their little deed at the tiefling party, Tav has come up to him with a wet rag or sponge to gently wipe away the grim once they made it make to camp. "Here, let me do it for you," they would say. Astarion would try to argue with them, flirtatious jokes and compliments coming out of his mouth, but Tav wouldn't hear it. "Just let me do something nice for you. And how else do you expect to get everything without using a mirror?" Astarion shut up after their little mirror comment, knowing they were right. Also, this nice act being performed on him without expecting some form of repayment? Impossible, surely you want something from him. Yet, it kept happening, again and again, without Astarion having to repay this kindness by sleeping with Tav. And a part of him secretly enjoyed the way the cool rag or sponge gently wiped away the grime on his brow, the scent of berand rosemary filling his lungs as he breathed the mixture of scented oils on the rag/sponge. Though, he would let them know it, until he confessed to them once he realized his true feelings. Then he return the favor, along with peppering Tav's face with numerous kisses to boot.
Words of affirmation, specifically complimenting him on other things than beside his looks.
As he spent nearly 200 years using his good looks and body to seduce victims to bring back to Cazador, the last thing Astarion wants to be reminded of is how handsome he is. He's sick and tired of being seen as nothing but just a pretty face, even if he flaunts his looks to get what he wants. It's more of a bad habit, knowing nothing else but than to manipulate to secure safety. With Tav, they try to remind him that he is more than this, hence the constant affirmations and complements.
For example, his embroidery skills. He's constantly patching up his clothing and once him and Tav officially become a couple, it is likely he starts doing the same for their clothing. Tav gushes over his fine craftsmanship, whether he's embroidering a complex design or just hemming a tear in one of their lounge wears.
Other skills of Astarion that Tav constantly fonds over: his locksmanship ability; his journey to becoming a better man; his soft spot for children and pets; his sass and dark humor; his exceptionally good taste in wine; his genuine laughter and little giggles. This man is usually left speechless at Tav's words, unable to do nothing but leave a flurry of kisses across their face as a soft smile graces his lips.
In all these ways, Astarion has been "I love you" without hearing those 3 magic words from Tav. But it's all he ever need.
2K notes · View notes
princeguri66 · 4 months
Text
"our sergeant keeps kissing us when he's drunk, how do we tell him we'd like for him to kiss us while he's sober as well." -TF 141
TF 141 x very affectionate while drunk male reader
All fluff!
Building off of my old drunk clingy reader thing..
You have too much affection for the task force in your heart for your own good. When you're sober you at least hold it off, suppress it, unsure on how your friends would think about it. At most it's an arm around the waist or shoulder. Trying to not be too affectionate in fear of making them uncomfortable. Unbeknownst to you, they absolutely live for it.
When you're drunk all that self restraint goes away, other than clinging to their side you also very much enjoy giving them little pecks all over their face.
You have Soap leaning on your front, his back connected to your chest as you turn his head around to kiss his face, smooshing his cheeks as you do so. Kissing all the way from his brow to his jaw, rubbing your cheek against his and then resting your head on his shoulder and nuzzle your head into his neck as you leave him a blushing mess.
And when you're sticking next to Gaz, your hands wrapping around him, trapping him in your embrace as you leave kisses on his cheekbones and kiss the tip of his ear. Your lips touching every surface that you can get your hands (well lips) on. Leaving kisses on his shoulders as well.
Ghost sitting facing you as you intertwine your hands with his, and slowly lift said hands to your lips, kissing each knuckle and moving up to his covered face, placing kisses where he can still feel it through the fabric of his balaclava, like his cheeks and his chin. Maybe even his ear. You can't see it but he's beat red from his face down to his neck.
Sitting on the couch together with Price, your thighs touching and you have an arm on his shoulders, you can't help but keep staring at the man and as he turns to look at you you place a small kiss in the middle of his eyebrows, moving to kiss the corner of his eyes and moving your other arm to grab his face and smoosh his cheek in to your lips and give him an audible kiss and moving your lips to kiss the corner of his mouth. Only the best for your captain.
The next day always follows you furiously apologizing to the team, hoping you didn't make them uncomfortable but they always brush it off, always assuring you that it was fine and they don't mind it. They don't mind it at all, in fact, they're patiently waiting for the day you'll kiss them without having the help of alcohol.
2K notes · View notes
anantaru · 10 days
Text
⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ ACE OF SPADES — PART TWO
Tumblr media
part one. | rich boy aven masterlist.
synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ so far, your date with rich boy aventurine goes really well, and after going outside to take a fresh breath of air, you two cannot keep your hands off each other anymore. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ wc. 1.8k ♡
cw. semi public (you're outside), heavy make out session, tit play & tit sucking, reader wears a dress <3 rich boy au, fem! reader ♡
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a razor-edged cold hovers on your face and crawls underneath your dress, taking over your skin as dew does to drooping leaves.
you snug yourself into the jacket rich boy aventurine has draped around your shoulders as your nostrils pick up his signatory cologne— a balmy orchestra of lavish flowers greet you, well balanced with a manly musk that made your heart leap.
aventurine was irresistible— truly, he held an alluring, captivating aura that went way beyond his exterior.
in simple terms, beauty clung to his face and belonged to him, to his cheekbones and jaw, or inside the attractive glow smoldering in his eyes.
the frigid wind beats upon your cold flesh as aventurine grabs on to the collar of his coat to drape it around your tighter, the fleeting trace of his skin brushing along your own was tempting out a mellowness from deep within your bones, not ceasing until it conquered your entire form.
he smiles at you, eyes vivid and wide, "you okay?" and slowly, step by step, aventurine feels down from your shoulders to your arms before taking your icy hands into his warm palms.
a rich hunger captivated him, the strong need to explore more of you was devouring every fragment of life and energy that kept the lust inside of him restrained.
alas he continues, gingerly pulling your hands towards his mouth, "here, let me help," before watching you through his thick lashes.
he smirks, taking a long, deep breath and closing his eyes before exhaling through his lips softly, a warm smoke of air ascending along your knuckles.
it felt gentle on your freezing fingers as he ends it with a keen rub of his thumbs stroking over your cold knuckles.
a warm prickle manifests itself on your cheeks as he repeats it, and while he does it, you had the chance to admire his beauty all the more.
by the fourth time of a comforting breeze tickling your hands, your eyes stung at the focus on his face as he suddenly pulls you closer to his chest.
aventurine knew how to make you melt inside a chilly climate— and alas, he glares at you contently, his stomach twisting in agony as he couldn't help but wonder how your lips would taste like.
the idea of going in for a kiss was fixed into his mind and refused to leave— aventurine believes the date had been going well so far? to take it a step further would be okay, wouldn't it?
you didn't have to be a genius to figure out his musing— his red cheeks and dilated pupils told it all.
did you happen to make aventurine flustered? oh, such wasn't an easy deed to accomplish.
ah well, should he? should he not? that was the question.
not to mention that he was a lucky man, and if the gambler were to take this intriguing gamble, what were the odds of actually losing it in the end?
"did you make up your mind?" you murmur softly, your breath clinging on his lips as you narrow your brows, watching how the wheels in his mind were working restlessly.
"hah, you got me figured out, haven't you?"
"—but you see," aventurine whispers as he continues his sentence, placing his palms from your hands to your cheeks, "before taking a gamble, one has to calculate possible wins," a palm strokes over your jaw as he heaves out a low exhale.
"—and possible losses,"
his thumb taps at your bottom lip, focusing intently on their shape and quizzing your every reaction.
without hesitation he leans in, softening your tense muscles and limbs before pressing his lips on you. aventurine was certain it had an effect on you, but wow, how sexy it was that you made it so easy for him to kiss you— how you didn't fear calling him out.
you hold your breath as his tongue slides inside, the both of you moaning longingly against each other. his lips curl in satisfaction as saliva frames the corners of your lips.
the ache of wanting him to touch every sweet square of you sat heavy in your stomach as your tongue danced around his, lips clashing and hands melting into your bodies.
aventurine was an awfully good kisser— not to mention that he was very much aware of that. the coarse laps of his tongue tracing against yours were almost too perfect, too delicious that you felt your own face burning.
only the best for you, aventurine thinks, in fact, this date has been planned out just for you, under the guise of being a simple evening at the casino to get to know each other— when in reality, he made sure everything was as needed.
starting from your most liked music, to the colors you favored the most which were all represented in various decorations all over the casino— finished with handpicked beverages all on display.
holding a secret of precise planning and dedication.
unquestionably had he worked his mind to bits and pieces in order to have the most perfect first date imaginable.
for what felt like hours passing and at the same time, no time going by, his kisses were rough and searing as his palms began to explore your body, making it the most comfortable for you to rest your own against his chest.
his tongue was craving you, keen to taste your hypnotic lips or the specific flavor of your lipgloss.
he couldn't decide on it— was it strawberry or cherry flavored? in fact, it held an artificial taste, although after trapping your bottom lip between his mouth to nibble on the skin, he can finally taste it.
yes, aventurine was sure of it now, it was strawberry and he fucking loved it.
it feels so good when he touches you, and your entire body was hot and searing with a vigorous urgency manifesting in your precious whines.
embraced by his tenderness, aventurine pulls you closer to him.
he slides one palm up to your chest, testing the waters and seeing how far you'd be comfortable for him to go.
the gambler thought he was being patient, in fact, he still considers himself such— he wouldn't want to actually take this further and fuck you on the first date, which was okay, because no matter how good your chemistry has been this night, he still considered himself a gentleman.
aventurine slowly pulls himself from your mouth, the gloss on his lips making his features light up as he kisses along your cheek, then proceeds to lick over your jaw all the while his hands were toying with the straps of your dress.
"is this okay?" he mumbles out, tenderly nipping at your neck before trapping a bit of the flesh between his teeth, the sharp trail grazing above your boiling veins and making you squirm.
you cough slightly and nod, your eyes lidded as you watch him through an expectant look on your face, "yeah, please keep going,"
for balance, you slide your hand into his tousled hair before scratching over his scalp softly.
you cannot shake the excitement from yourself but the sheer imagination of him touching you underneath your pretty dress made something in your brain click and fold, click and fold.
and among your fight against your knees fearing to give up on you, aventurine skillfully slips two fingers into the strap of your dress before sliding it down just a bit— not too much, well yes, you were still outside but concealed behind a secure spot, yet he only needed your breasts to pop out just enough, so he could take them in his mouth.
aventurine doesn't know if the sight of your erected nipples sticking through the thin fabric of your dress was more maddening or actually seeing them bare and naked for the first time.
you will truly be the death of him.
fuck, you're so beautiful, your skin looks so soft and kissable and perfect that he cannot wait to devour you whole.
his jaw clenches as he gulps out, attentively moving his lips towards one breast while settling his palm on the other to roughly squeeze the mound.
you keep your balance by lightly tugging at his blonde hair and holding at his shoulders as your back arches into him, your eyebrows pulled together.
your pussy flutters around nothing as pleasure shoots through your veins the moment he takes your tit inside his mouth.
aventurine laps a heavy lick across it and moans into your spongy flesh before observing you through under his lashes, "you're sensitive here," he drawls and clicks his tongue, slightly pulling away to fling the tip of his muscle up and down, kitty licking your nipple.
you whine at his words as your noises break into a thousand pieces,  lolling your head back as your blood raced in anticipation, relentlessly rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction, really.
aventurine loves to hear you, so he knows he was doing a good job in pleasuring you well.
perhaps one day, you could tell him how fucking nicely his tongue felt covering your tits while he messily slurps on your breasts with saliva dewed on his chin— or if your poor, little cunt was waiting to be filled too?
he can tell you're trying to keep your voice down due to the fact that you were outside— although your whispers told another story, the gasp of a shaky and desperate fuck, f-fuck told him everything he needed to know.
in comparison, aventurine couldn't care less if people were hearing you both, "you scared someone will see us?"
he grins, his tongue lapping up the saliva on his lips, "watch how i'm doing this," as he moves to your other tit, squeezing the flesh together to properly take it in his mouth and suck.
he repeats it; squeezing, licking across your nipple, sucking and drawing out everything he could until your mounds were so sore and sensitive, pulsing and throbbing at the loss of him.
aventurine hums before popping your tit from his mouth, placing his pointer finger over the stinging nipple and stroking it, "can only imagine how much they wish to be in my spot right now," he winks cheekily at you, his dick throbbing at your embarrassed face that was more hot and delirious than actually embarrassed.
in a tangle of making you endure the heaviness of his palms and lips all over you, your eyes slide shut as he rolls the pads of his fingers right there, oh fuck, there.
"be quiet for me, okay?" the overstimulation on your chest was too much, almost painful as you whine, nodding and puffing out a little okay before you feel the rumble of aventurine's groan press into your skin, "good girl, that's all i need you to do."
Tumblr media
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
692 notes · View notes
avis-writeshq · 1 month
Text
hello 😘 aaron hotchner drabble request!
anything with jealousy and possessiveness but in a natural normal way not a joe goldberg way haha
and also - aaron sees you wearing his hoodie/shirt drabble!
thank you and your work is amazing!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, aaron is a little (a lot) upset warnings: misogynistic moron >:( reader wears a skirt, if you get the reference ily a/n: i wrote it and the more i wrote the more i realised that it... really isn't the same at all :( if you want me to redo it, please send me an ask !! thank you lovely <3 wc: 631
Tumblr media
“You would think that he would know by now,” Emily hums, her tone disapproving and mostly disappointed as she watches from a distance as Captain Pembroke attempts to chat you up. 
“He’s a captain?” Spencer asks in genuine amazement. 
“For NYPD’s major crime unit,” JJ confirms, her arms crossed over her chest. “He tried to hit on Emily a couple days ago, and on Amy from the fourth floor. I wouldn’t be surprised it he has some sort of sealed file on him.”
Emily scoffs a little, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like a charmer.”
“The bigger question is, does Hotch know?” Derek pipes up as he glances in your direction.
“Well…” JJ lets out a nervous laugh. “I kind of hope he doesn’t.”
You offer a curt smile in Pembroke’s direction, doing everything in your power to subtly signal that you really should be leaving. Fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt, averting eye contact, taking tiny steps away in hopes that he’ll somehow get the message. It isn’t surprising that he doesn’t. 
“I beat my PR yesterday, you know,” he brags, flexing his muscles. You think you’re about to throw up as he continues, “129. Impressive, right, hun?”
“The average amount of pounds an untrained man can lift is 135,” you respond dismissively in an attempt to lean into Spencer’s way of getting people to leave him alone, but Pembroke doesn’t seem to hear you. 
“You know, sweets, I don’t think you should even be in this job. You’re far too foxy,” he says with a wink, “You’d be better in a different job. I mean, women aren’t fit for these types of roles. They get too emotional.”
You refrain from punching his face as it will only prove his point. “Listen, Ken–”
“It’s Keith–”
“Kyle,” you amend with a sickly smile. “I do need to get these files to Agent Rossi, so if you’ll excuse me…”
“Aw, come on, it was only a joke,” Pembroke says with a laugh. “It’ll be fine–”
“There you are.”
You don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life. Aaron’s hand rests flat against your back, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt and he stands behind you. Aaron is a good couple of inches taller than Pembroke, especially when he stands at his full height, his dark eyed narrowed and his jaw clenched. 
“Did you need something from my agent, Captain?” He asks lowly. 
“Just pleasant conversation,” Pembroke responds dismissively.
Aaron raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from your uncomfortable frown to the captain’s smug face. “We have three missing women and you are disturbing an investigation by disrupting my agents. I suggest you get your act together before I report you to your superiors for harassment.”
He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, guiding you by the small of your back towards his makeshift office in the New York Police Office. He doesn’t say a word until the door is firmly closed and the blinds are drawn. 
“Are you alright?” He asks softly, taking a step towards you and curling his fingers by your cheekbone. “I heard what he said. Do you want me to report it?”
“I’ve dealt with worse.” You don’t mean to sound so honest when you say it and his frown deepens.
“That’s not okay, honey.” Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll report it. You know how it is with cases like these; someone just has to put the first step forward.”
You smile at that, poking at his cheeks. “I thought you were going to hit him.”
“I thought you would’ve beat me to it,” he admits through a quiet laugh, giving you a proper kiss. “We shouldn’t make this into a habit.”
“Tell that to Kimberly.”
“That isn’t even close.”
Tumblr media
reblogs are always appreciated!
events page
Tumblr media
982 notes · View notes
Note
if ur still taking requests could u do dbf!miguel? :3
he would be a brat tamer, change my mind.
DBF!Miguel O'Hara
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
DBF!Miguel O'Hara x fem reader
summary: fucking dbf!mig in a closet at a christmas party <3
warnings: Minors DNI. 18+. Brat taming, PIV, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. established relationship? idk, this isn't the first time y'all are fucking
a/n: if you squint this is christmas themed. happy holidays everyone!
wc: 1k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dbf!Miguel but he has some semblance of a conscience. He has just enough self awareness, the wherewithal to feel guilty as he fucks you - sighing into the crook of your neck as you whine. 
And God, do you whine… simpering, breathy little moans that go straight to his cock. The way you squirm underneath him, legs shaking and shivering so he has to dig into the meat of perfect thigh just a bit more; lapping at that dip below your jaw in a frenzy. 
“Quiet.” He hisses, grinding his pelvis against yours, pushing your body flat against the wall. 
“F-Fuck, Mig… can't–”
When your head tips back, and it will - he's been fucking you long enough to know your tells, to catch every shiver and creak of bones before you come - he'll lick up those moans too. 
You keen, fucking back on his length, and Miguel shifts his hips just so - hiking up your leg even higher. With one swift movement, you've wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hand in his hair. He's pulled out, tip of his cock kissing your hole, and then he slams himself back in - a delicious curve that hits just the right place. 
“Look at me.” He says it soft, tilting your chin so your noses graze against one another, lips barely a hair's breadth away. “You're close, baby.”
He says it like a statement, so attuned to you in that little coat closet, batting away fur trim and padding. And it's intimate, tits pressed up against him, spilling out of a push up bra under an itchy jumper you wore specifically for him - but of course, you wouldn't dare say as such. 
The way your lips press against him is enough, desperate and breathy. He presses the flat of his thumb - deliciously rough, with just the right amount of pressure - against your clit, and your legs buckle under the pleasure that it brings. 
“Look at me.” He says it again, crooning and gentle. “Want you to look at me when you come, hermosa.”
Like a dog in heat, what he says, goes; and you're brought to the edge by just his words. Quiet, like he said you should, and you nip at the juncture of neck peeking out from that thickly knit sweater, biting down a moan. It rips through you, bubbling up at your chest, causing you to clamp down on his length.
“Needy girl…. O-Oh fuck….” Miguel whispers it into your ear, holding you close. 
Eyes lidded, you trace cheekbone and deep furrows, addicted to the way his dimples look in the low light. And when you tug, hand in his hair and pulling him closer, deeper, milking his cock; he rewards with you with hot cum and a sloppy kiss. 
Hips stuttering, eventually he pulls out; tucking his cock back into loose slacks. You're breathless, slumped back onto cool. wall. 
“Give me a second…” You huff. 
“Here,” He says, wrapping the limp limbs around his shoulders even tighter. “Don't be a brat.”
It’s said without any real venom, quiet protests kissed into skin. He sinks to his knees, using his thumbs to open up your cunt, marvelling at the way you glisten. It makes you hot under the collar, batting him away. Regardless, Miguel persists, swiping his tongue at your pretty hole and taking a careful taste. 
You squirm - half-heartedly, with a hand in his hair - as he presses pretty kisses, eating out his cum with a nose at your clit. You're close, tugging  That second orgasm, ever elusive, is snatched away.
“Fuck you.” You spit, watching him wipe a hand across stubble as he gets up. 
“Watch the attitude. S'why we're here in the first place.”
“No.” Adjusting your skirt, you step forward. If looks could kill, Miguel could give you a run for your money, you realise with a grimace. “We're here because you're a dirty old man.”
He rolls his eyes, arms crossed in the tiny space.
“Someone needs to teach you some manners.” He grunts.
…by fucking you in a coat closet? You raise an eyebrow. 
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He doesn't crack a smile, opting for a hand snaked under your skirt instead. Squeezing your ass, he presses you against him and gulps down subsequent moans. You both separate with a wet pop. 
He goes to bed with a hand down his pants, fucking his hand to the pictures you send him late at night. But you already know that. 
Miguel sighs, watching as you slip out of the little room, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt, adjusting a crinkly paper crown. After a reasonable amount of time, he follows the path you must have taken, across the hall and into the dining room, met with a dozen faces milling about. 
There you are in the corner, pressing manicured nails to a screen; ignoring the way half the people in the room ogle you: the boss's kid. His chest puffs up, protective. There's a line drawn in the sand, between him and them. When he looks you up and down, traces the curve of thigh disappearing under a too-short skirt…. it's different, he thinks. 
As if you can hear his thoughts, you look up. Catching his eye, he doesn't miss the way your thighs squeeze together, nor how you shift your red sweater to hide a blossoming bruise. 
Good. You're learning. 
Your dad asked him to take care of you - preening and dithering despite the fact you were grown; definitely not his wide eyed little girl. Spoilt rotten, sure. But Miguel will do anything to keep you safe, even if that means a few... corrective measures. 
_
_
_
1K notes · View notes
murdrdocs · 11 months
Note
yknow what…….. you should elaborate more on after shows w/ rockstar bf hobie……
mhm ik what ur asking for ... and i will deliver fem!reader
he always comes off the stage drenched in sweat. a bright look in his eyes, prominent cheekbones glowing with happiness instead of just sweat. he chats to a few people on the way down, dapping them up as he goes, and you stand just a little bit away, rocking back and forth on your feet, playing with the rings hobie's gotten you, gnawing on your lip as he gets closer, and closer, and closer.
until sweat-slickened hands are pulling you into him by the waist, your hands finding the cotton of his muscle tee. he asks you the same question that he always does ("what'd you think?"), and you give the same answer as always ("was amazing") and then he kisses you, just like he always does.
there's some more time where he's dragged into different places, his hand in yours as you walk behind him, then his hands on your hips as he walks you in front of him. he talks to his mates, fingers tapping along the denim of your skirt, angular jaw resting on your shoulder and you can practically feel the anticipation buzzing from his body.
you finally end up outside, under a streetlight with your backs against the wall of the pub. hobie smokes a cig while he listens to you tell him about what the show looked like from your end, something he makes you do as he values your opinion (though he says it like it doesn't matter but his attentive eyes say otherwise).
the last drag is taken, you've finished your spiel, hobie stomps the butt out into the asphalt with his boots, and then his hands are pulling you into him, slender fingers hooking into your belt loops to encourage the movement.
your hands collide with his chest, he stares down at you, dark eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips, and then his lips are on yours.
it's usually like this, intensely making out just steps away from where he'd performed, a few feet away from where he'd laid almost all of his heart and soul out, always leaving just enough left to give to you.
your back ends up against the wall and hobie crowds your space. he tastes like cigarettes, and a little like beer, with a tinge of the gum you'd given him when he'd asked for it a few minutes ago. he smells like you, and like him, a mixture that works more than it should.
his hands are warm and rough when they meet your thighs, thumbs on the innermost parts of your skin. they dig into the flesh in a silent command to spread your legs more, one you easily obey. it gives access for hobie's deft fingers to push your panties aside.
he takes a step closer, his head dips down, he pecks your cheek. "d'you want me to stop?" it's always the same question, formatted slightly different each time.
and each time, you shake your head.
there are some nights where you just talk, his arm slung around your waist, your head rested somewhere on his chest or shoulders, a cigarette either between his lips or fingers as he tells you stories that he somehow hasn't told you before. those nights end with you back at either of your places, in a position similar to this one.
but there are other nights, most nights if you're honest, where hobie looked so good on stage from your perspective, and he had adrenaline pumping through his veins that couldn't be quelled with spiderman duties, and neither of you could wait to get home so the side of a pub was the next best place.
his fingers work you in ways that only he can do, and as you start to unravel from his ministrations, you don't have any worries about being seen because you know that in the off chance that would happen, hobie would handle it. he always does.
3K notes · View notes
m-ayo-o · 5 months
Text
18+ keep riding me ft. 21+ sub ish megumi pt one : riding him
Tumblr media
"Ah- again, again baby-"
He's panting and moaning through your feverish post sex kisses. He's just spilled his load, calmed down for only minutes, and he's begging you for more.
"I want you to keep riding me- please, don't stop-"
You're flustered, taken aback by his needy words. He usually has a longer cool down period.
"Megumi? Megumi you want- ah!!"
You feel his hands on you, readjusting your hips and sliding himself over you once more.
"Just do as I say, please, fuck-"
He's for real. He's hard as a fucking rock and pushing into you, grabbing your ass to pull you closer.
He doesn't have to ask you again.
"Yea, ok, ok baby I'll do it," you nod your head up and down- of course, you want it too. And when he's splayed out on your bed with that pink blush on his cheekbones, you'd do just about anything for this man.
So you take his cock in, slipping through your entrance that's already been spread open, and with his cum now dripping down his shaft. And yours, your creamy, wet mess just coating him from base to tip.
It's gonna make him lose his mind.
And he does.
He just breaks when you ride his dick like that.
He pants and moans like you've never heard him before and he screws his eyebrows up and chokes out a whimper.
His hand comes flying to his mouth, groaning with his head tilting further back on the pillow, exposing his neck and bucking his hips uncontrollably.
"Megumi, you really like that?"
You watch him swallow and gulp and nod his head while you keep taking him, up and down. It feels so good but he swears he's gonna die of embarrassment.
You lean down, tracing your fingers up his arm, and start pulling his hand away from his mouth.
"Let me hear you then, please" you tell him, seeing his pretty lips open up again as he moans right into your mouth.
You kiss and suck him, tugging gently at his spiky black hair, with his hips angled perfectly for you.
"Aah, [name], feels so good like this, don't, don't stop-" he whispers in the gap between your lips, giving you a look you seldom see. His eyes are wide now, like a puppy, and he's biting on his lip in attempts to keep in those little whining noises.
But he can't help it. You lean in and press your body to his, and now he can feel your gorgeous tits on him, his hands on your ass, guiding you over his dick, he just lets it out.
"That's so hot, please, please need to hear you, Megumi~"
You can't help but kiss and bite at his jaw gently when you hear those whimpers spill, then suck on his adam's apple and kiss down to his collar bones, tonguing him and leaving little marks.
"Ok, oh fuck, baby, you can hear me- all fuh-fucking night if you ride me like this-"
"I willll, Megummiii love sitting on your cock"
You're getting lost now, too, in the movements of your hips, the drag of him inside you, pressing in all those soft, gummy parts of your sweet pussy. And as he suddenly locks lips with you, kissing you as feverishly as when you started, you grind your clit against his lower abs and get a long, deep orgasm over his length.
"Mmmmhh- mh- mm!"
He can feel you.
He gives your ass a spank, getting frustrated that you're slowing down just for a second while you ride out your high.
"Du- don't fucking stop, don't stop baby-!"
"Ok, ok, I'm sorry, sorry" you whimper and push your body up. You keep moving, overstimulating yourself with the sensation of his throbbing cock pushing through your clenching walls.
"That's it, close, close-"
He helps you ride him to the brink of his orgasm then lets your waist go, holding your thighs and watching your tits bounce as you take his second load of cum.
He squeezes your legs so tight the fat is melding through his fingers, and he lets out the most erotic sigh as you slow your pace, milking him for all he's worth till he grabs hold of your hips.
"St-stop, good, good girl, that's, that's enough"
And he finally seems satisfied.
Tumblr media
reblog if u love riding d :)
megumi | part one
2K notes · View notes
laiiaaa · 5 months
Text
Carmy with a stressed cranky gf getting her degree and he’s just so good to her ughhhhhhh (so self-indulgent)
“Carmen, could you—could you just, fuckin’—…watch where you’re going?”
He freezes where he took a misstep, leaving your laptop’s charger dangling near the floor after accidentally unplugging it. A simple little thing, a dumb mistake made while caught up in something else mentally. A matter of a charger extended beyond its comfortable reach. It’d be fixed in seconds, but you weren’t having it.
A confused look washes over him. “I-I’m sorry, baby—” He knows you’re in one of those moods—he always knows—and lowers to pick up the cord. “Lemme plug it back in for you—”
“Or you could just not walk right into it,” you snap, fingers tapping away at your keyboard, face illuminated in a blueish hue from the screen.
“Hey.” He perks right back up after fixing the charger, but you don’t look back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t start that w’me, c’mon.” He comes a little closer, perched at the end of the couch right beside you. “You’re in a mood.”
“I’m not.” You definitely are.
“Baby.” Instinctively, his hand comes to rub your shoulder, his thumb presses just a little firmer along the crook of your neck. “Take a break for the night.”
“I need to finish up with this—”
“‘M not asking.” He gives you that look, with his hands extended to silently demand you hand over your computer. “It’s a Friday night. C’mon.”
You pout, and you huff, and you give him those eyes that tell him you don’t want to, but you save your document and hand it over anyway, quickly curling into the end of the couch and not making a move when he sits next to you.
“You mad at me?” he asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, a little hurt when you don’t melt into his touch like you usually do.
You keep your eyes glued to the wall, not paying him any mind. “No.”
“Then why’re you always workin’, huh?” He squeezes you a little tighter, bringing you deeper into his embrace as he cups your jaw—with those firm, strong hands of his that somehow always have you pliant—and turns you to look up at him. “Every time I come home you’re on the computer with that look on your face.”
“I don’t have a look.”
Smiling, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah you do.” Then to the furrow in your brow. “But it’s cute.”
He scatters slow, gentle kisses across your face, from your temples, to your cheeks, to your jaw, until he finds your lips and takes them carefully, relishing in your act of apology when your hands circle around his forearms and kiss him a little deeper. And slowly, he feels the tenseness in your body begin to dissipate, feels you turn into him more.
Pulling away, still intent on figuring out your rut, he rests his forehead to yours. “Talk to me, baby. What’s got you actin’ all mean, hm?” His hands hold you close, and his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “Somethin’ I do you wanna talk about?”
“No—”
“No?” He’d be lying if he said a wave of relief washed over him. “What’s goin’ on then?”
“I’m—it’s just that—…” You sigh.
He waits patiently, knowing that by now he’s cracking open that shell. “‘S alright, hon, we can work it out.”
“Carmen, I just—” And your lip quivers, and your throat gets sore, and your vision gets bleary from tears emerging. “I have so much to do, and—…”
“For school?”
You nod against him. “It’s just—I get behind on one thing, and then there’s five other things I need to do, and I try to get ahead but then I don’t sleep, and—I-I’m just stressed, is all.”
“I know.” He coos gently at you and thumbs away your tears. “I know, ‘n you’ve been workin’ so hard, baby.”
“Well I’m still not getting anywhere.” Your throat tightens, and tears keep falling, and you feel your resolve crumbling, the last of your strength dissolving now that Carmen’s handling you so gently. “And I just feel so stupid all the time—”
“Uh-uh,” he nudges his nose against yours, “You don’t get to say that, you’re the smartest person I know.”
He pulls you away carefully, just to look you in the eye—and his gut wrenches, seeing you like this, all pouty and wet with tears, your lips salty when he kisses them slowly to mellow the racing of your heart.
With a calm hand he urges your head to rest against his chest, his lips lending a kiss to your temple. “So fuckin’ smart ‘n you don’t even know it.” Naturally, the rest of you follows, with his arms keeping you close, one wrapped around your waist to hold you tight as the other hand rests with on the back of your neck to soothe you, scratching gently at the nape of it. “Always blowin’ me away, baby, you’re so smart. So hardworkin’, too—”
“But Carm—” Your sobs choke you up then, and there’s a throb in your forehead that has you almost begging for sleep.
“Shhh, what is it?” His hand smooths up and down your back, his voice becomes gentler than ever. “Take a breath, c’mon, take a deep breath.”
You push yourself away from his chest, seeing the tears staining his white tee before you look up at him. “I’m sorry, Bear. All the stress, it’s—I’ve been so mean to you lately—” you don’t even process the vigorous shake of his head— “I’m sorry, Bear—”
“Hey, hey, baby, stop—” He wipes tears from your eyes before they get the chance to spill onto your cheeks. “Stop with that, would ya?” Another kiss to your forehead has you melting. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, slower, to your sob-bitten lips, like he wants you to taste his forgiveness.
“But I was mean to you, and I’m sorry—”
His chest physically aches because he knows there’s only so much he can do for you. “I know,” he tells you, “I know, baby, I got you. It’s okay.”
“I promise don’t mean it, Carmen—”
“Yeah, I know that, hon.” Pulling you tight to his chest again, his strong arms wrap around you fully, and he presses kisses to the skin where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “You’re workin’ yourself to the bone, y’know that?”
“Mhm,” you hum, just happy to be held, to be swallowed whole by his warmth.
“You promise to rest up from now on?”
“Mhm.”
“Yeah? Not even listenin’, huh?”
“Mhm.” You burrow into him just a little deeper, eyes slipping shut.
He scoffs, but it’s full of love. “It’s gettin’ late now.” He shuffles you closer to him with little effort, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to encourage them around his hips. “Let’s get you t’bed, hm? C’mon—” he hoists you to his hip with a subtle grunt— “Up you go, baby, that’s it—”
And in the brief minute or two it takes for him to turn out the lights in your shared apartment, and the twenty-some paces to the bedroom, you’re lulled off to sleep in his embrace, stoking that fire in his chest that keeps him going—because knowing you feel safe with him, secure with him, is all he really needs.
2K notes · View notes