cheeks flushed

I Just Need You (NSFW)

Summary: When you have a nightmare, Steve calms you down with a long session of gentle sex.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Counting: 1.3k
Warnings: Smut, gentle sex, parent Steve Rogers, you and Steve haven’t been intimate in months, post-civil war, fluff.

Mrs Captain - Masterlist

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

You let out a short scream when your eyes opened wide, finding Steve’s face right above yours.

“Hey.” He muttered. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

You breathed deep, trying to relax. Looking at your side, you could clearly see the room had been disrupted by your powers, and you used them to put the furniture and dropped objects back in their places.

“You were dead.” You muttered. “I was at your funeral and…”

Steve immediately pulled you his arms, feeling as your body started to shake again.

“It’s okay.” He held you tightly, running his hands over your back and hair. “I’m here, I’m alive. I’m here with you.”

You close your eyes inhaling his husky smell and feeling his strong fingers massaging your back and scalp, calming you down.

“It was terrifying.” You confessed.

“I know.” He breathed under you. “The thought of losing you terrifies me too.”

You raised your head and looked into his eyes, the light from the windows only enough for you to focus on his blue gaze and leant down, joining your lips.

“I love you.” You murmured into the kiss. “Love you so much.”

His hands flew to your waist when you moved your leg to his hip.

“Y/N.” He exclaimed when you pulled away from the kiss. “Are you sure?”

Keep reading


“Fight me” she calls, throwing a slipper sock at his back, watching it bounce to the floor as he turns to her, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“You’d lose” he states, leaning against the doorway casually as he lets his gaze wonder over you.

You take in his sheer size and cross your arms defiantly. “I would not.”

He laughs at you, shoulders bobbing before turning away from you and starting to walk down the hall.

“Dont walk away from me” you say trying to capture his attention again, before removing the other slipper sock from your foot and throwing that after him.

In a split second he’s turned, running towards you with a grin on his face leaving you just enough time to grab a pillow to defend yourself.

Somehow your pillow defence isn’t strong enough, which you probably should have guessed considering his sheer size. You end up wrapped in one of his arms and in attempt to wriggle out of his grip you flop onto the bed, him falling on top of you.

Knowing that he will assume you’ve given up you stop struggling and fix your eyes on his, taking in his flushed cheeks and easy smile as you wait for his muscles to relax.

You angle your face towards him, counting his eyelashes as he leans down towards you, before taking advantage of the sweet moment. Flipping one leg over his body you roll your tangled limbs over so that your sat on his stomach.

“I win” you tease, registering the shock displayed on his features.

He moves his hands towards your hips, spanning them wide. “You cheated” he protests.

“I still won” you mutter with a shrug, pushing his hands back into the bed and holding them there.

He intertwines his fingers with yours and grins up at you, eyes holding yours softly. “no you didn’t.”

“How? I’m on top of you” you grumble, releasing one of your hands from his and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear with your pinky finger.

He sits in silence for a moment, memorising the dip of your eyebrows and squint of your eyes as you wait for his response in confusion. He can’t help noticing the crinkles forming around your lips. Smile lines, signifying a happy life. He reaches up to brush his fingers against them, moments like these caused those lines. And hopefully many more will come, he thinks to himself.

“Exactly” he murmurs, with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

anonymous asked:

Every morning you came down to the communal kitchen, there was always a little note with something you've mentioned that you wanted before at your seat of the table. His time it was oreos and a glass of milk. "Enjoy this sweetheart, figured you like original best. X," the scribbles read. You missed Bucky's widened eyes and flushed cheeks when he walked in, but you grinned up at Bucky. "Cmere Buck, eat with me." The biker gladly sat next to you at the table and kissed your cheek good morning. (1)

(2) “Want me to dip it first?” You asked your best friend, to which he nodded. You dunked the cookie in the milk, pulling it out and holding it up to his lips. He ate it with a grin before taking out his journal. He always wrote down the things he wanted to do that day. You were happily eating your cookies with him till you noticed his handwriting, glancing back at the little heart shaped note. Same scribbles. Realization kicked in and you grabbed Bucky’s face, landing a kiss on his lips.

(3/3) “Thanks for the cookies, Buck. I love you,” you grin with another kiss, a scruffy one at that. “You’re very welcome, Dollface,” he pecked your lips, “I love you too.” You kissed the tip of his nose giddily, brushing his long hair behind his ears. “I guess I don’t have to say I want a Bucky anymore, cause I just got my baby,” you grin. “Oh cmere you cutie,” he says as he pulled you in his lap, tackling you with kisses.


 Fluffy Friday™

tammi-dawdles  asked:

let's get some fluffy muriel feels up in here, please? how about him and your apprentice sharing their first morning together and just basking in each other's warmth?

Raiden woke up to the sound of songbirds, the rustle of a breeze through the trees… brown eyes flutter open, squinting at the sunlight that streams in through the window of the small hut.

Where were they…?

Strong arms settled on their waist jog their memory, their cheeks flushing as they remember… 

His hands; gentle on their skin as he touches them, the sounds that fall from his lips as they move are soft, whispered sighs… their name on his lips as they press heated kisses to his neck. Every touch was hesitant, careful and curious.

Raiden swallows hard, rolling over to face the man laying beside them, warm brown eyes full of love as they trace his jaw lightly with their fingertips. “Muriel…” they murmur, sea foam green hair falling in their eyes as they move.

Muriel stirs, eyes opening as he looks down at them through dark strands of hair. “Raiden…?” his voice is a deep rumble, rougher than usual from sleep. 

Raiden smiles, so warm and full of love as they lean forward and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “good morning..” they whisper softly, the hand on his chest tracing the many scars that mar his skin. 

“yes… I.. it is a good morning.” Muriel says, pulling them closer as they both bask in the early morning sun. their form pressed against his is… new and foreign, but not at all unwelcome. 

They look radiant in the sunlight; hair splayed around their shoulders in a tangled, fluffy mess, freckled skin dusted with a faint blush. They bring arms around his shoulders as they pull him closer, pressing soft kisses to his face. Muriel smiles, warmth blossoming in his chest as they whisper soft words of love against his skin. Their hands curl in his hair gently as they press their lips to his, smiling as he returns the affection gently; like he’s afraid they will break if he moves too fast. His stubble brushes against their cheeks, making them break the kiss with a soft giggle, looking up at him as they worry their bottom lip between their teeth. 

 “can we stay here…? just for a little longer?” they ask, voice hopeful as they curl closer to him, lips ghosting over his as they lean in once more, brown eyes searching. 

Muriel allows a small smile to grace his lips, letting his eyes slip shut as he nods, pressing his forehead to theirs.

“For you, anything.”


orahlee  asked:

Swan Queen + Music

Thanks for the prompt ;)

The sound of the music in the pub drowned their voices but as Snow stared at them from her place at the counter, she could see the tender looks and touches, the slight smiles and sad eyes -those that spoke volumes. She sighed and took another sip of her drink, the taste sticking to her lips as she eyed them through slightly narrowed eyes, her head beginning to swim in the golden lights. The music rose and fell and by the time it was over Regina was already drinking from her own glass, eyes zeroing on the same counter Emma now stared at, flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes and so Snow asked for another song, secret smile as she drank.


“So stop making that face at me…”

concept: walking out of that exam hall, head up high, cheeks flushed because it’s over, it’s finally over. breathing in fresh air, eyelashes fluttering and you know that all the late nights, the caffeine overdoses and the tireless hours spent studying, haven’t gone to waste and you’ve done your very best 

Everyone Lived.

Everyone lived. When Harry was born, Lily hardly saw him because Sirius was fitting him into a tiny leather jacket, Remus was reading to him, and James was already trying to sneak him to the Quidditch supply store to get Harry his first toy broom. Christmases were spent with full bellies and rooms stuffed with laughter, and there wasn’t a single person without flushed cheeks from all the wine. Lily’s eyes sparkled, and there was always a joke on the tip of James’ tongue. All Harry knew was love, love, love, from every corner of the universe.

Everyone lived, and every Thursday afternoon, Sirius and Remus took Harry to the “library”, which was the secret word they taught him for the ice cream parlor. With each trip, they ordered the biggest sundae that was offered with three spoons, and Harry always ate nearly all of it. They kept it up until the day Harry asked Lily to take him to the library and, when confronted with the shelves piled high with books, he asked her where they went to order their ice cream.

Remus and Sirius got married when Harry was three, and Harry was the ring bearer. Lily cried the first time she saw him in his tiny dress robes. They were just long enough that he nearly tripped halfway up the aisle. There wasn’t a single pair of dry of eyes in the audience that day.

Everyone lived, and on Harry’s sixth birthday, he celebrated alongside Neville with all their friends and family. James gave Harry his first set of toy Quidditch balls. He, Ron, Neville, Draco, and Ginny all played together until Draco pushed Neville off his broom and into the cake Alice had spent hours working on. Lily tried so hard not to laugh at Neville’s frosting-covered face, but instead she went beet red and gave herself away to everyone.

Draco said he was sorry. He actually meant it.

Everyone lived, and the moms had a Lockhart book club, which consisted of everyone getting wine-drunk and complaining about their husbands together. Draco, Neville, Harry and Ron eavesdropped and reported back to their dads, who were standing around the kitchen armed with beer, about what they did wrong that week. Each of the meetings somehow coincidentally ended with each of the men stopping by to bring their respective wives bouquets of flowers or boxes of chocolate “because they just felt like it.”

Everyone lived, and Draco and Harry were friends, believe it or not. When Narcissa and Lucius had a date night, they dropped Draco off at the Potters. James told them scary stories in the darkness of their blanket tent. Lily used magic to cast shadows all over their living room, and Harry and Draco wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. But Lily kissed each of their foreheads and assured them each that everything would be fine, because she and James would never let anything bad happen to either of them.

She meant it.

Draco and Harry stayed up until their eyelids were simply too heavy to bear, but Harry managed to remain awake till Draco was completely asleep before closing his eyes. It was one of the most peaceful things he’d ever seen. He wasn’t exactly sure why he thought that. Not yet, anyways.

Everyone lived. Everyone got a little bit older. The kids all went off to Hogwarts, somehow managing to stuff themselves all into one train compartment, even with Hermione once she joined. Draco and Harry got put into different houses, which was a relief to everyone around them. “they already bickered like a married couple without rooming together,” Ron said when they were first sorted, “I don’t want to think about what we’d have to deal with if they were sharing a dorm.”

The only time Harry and Draco forgot about their friendship was when they played against each other in Quidditch. There were no rules when you needed to be the first one to the snitch.

(I suppose there weren’t any rules when it came to making out with your best friend in an empty corridor after drinking half a bottle of fire whiskey, either.)

Sixth year came with sly glances and brushing fingertips in the hallway; throwing all caution to the wind and risking friendship for feelings Harry and Draco had been denying since they were kids. Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing looks, but no one said a word. Not even when Harry inconspicuously crept out of bed nearly every night at half past two with his Invisibility cloak in tow, not returning until the sun was just peeking out over the mountains, if at all. He looked happier than ever that year, secrets tugging on the corners of his mouth every time he spoke.

Everyone lived, and when Draco and Harry came out to their families their seventh year, everyone groaned. “You owe me ten Galleons,” was the first thing James said to Lucius, and Harry knew then that everything was going to be okay.

Because everyone was here, surrounding him, breathing, alive. They all hugged him and Draco at once, cheeks smooshed together, a mess of laughter and “I love you’s” and kisses on foreheads. They were all connected then, their pulses stitching them together with a bond Harry knew nothing could break.

They all knew hurt; they knew pain and suffering, and they knew loss, but most of all, they knew each other. They knew love, and they knew hope.

As they stood there, a giant amoeba of people from all walks of life, some more challenging than others, Harry let go of the breath he felt as though he had been holding for his entire life.

BTS Reactions To Catching You Pleasuring Yourself


Jin thought his ears were playing a trick on him, when he heard the distinct sound of your high pitch moan resonate through the house. He had just been on his way to meet the boys  when he realized that he had forgotten his wallet. He had expected to find you on the couch either talking to a friend, or watching your favourite drama, but was surprised to be met with silence. That was until he heard it. Your moan. He had heard it too many times before to not be able to recognize it. 

He was quiet as he neared the bedroom you two shared, your moans getting louder and louder the closer he got. He could feel himself immediately becoming hard when he heard his name leave your lips in a breathy moan. His lust getting the better of him, he couldn’t stop himself as he pushed the door open. He gave you no time to react to being caught, as he quickly made his way to you, pinning you to the bed. 

Fuck baby, is this what you do when I’m not home?” He whispered into your ear. At the question, you could feel your cheeks flush as you shyly tried to look away, but Jin was having none of that. 

Gently gripping your chin, he turned your head so you’d be looking at him, “am I not satisfying you enough?” However, the question was not posed at you but rather himself. Before you could respond, his lips were already molded to yours. With only thoughts of making you feel good running through his head, his hand caressed down your body to replace where yours had been seconds ago. 

Originally posted by yoongichii


You let out a frustrated sigh, as you thought back to the morning.

“Mmm baby,” you heard Yoongi murmur against you, his arm around your waist loosening.

“Hmm?“ You  mumbled, curling more into his chest.  

You were answered by silence. You smiled, as you began wonder if he had fallen back asleep. Before you could turn your head and check for yourself, you felt him press his lips against your bare shoulder. You were wide awake as he continued to kiss along your exposed back. As you felt the hand that had been around your waist begin to slither down in between your thighs, you couldn’t help but wait in anticipation. But nothing came. Instantly, all sensations were gone as the bed dipped and he got up.

You swiveled your head to look at him, "Yoongi what the hell?”

“Sorry Y/N, I have dance practice I can’t be late,” he smirked.

Your eyes narrowed at the memory; because of your teasing boyfriend you had been feeling beyond needy the whole day. However, you refused to play his game.


You had thought you’d be fine. You had sworn to yourself that you’d be fine, but the effect he had on you was strong. You tentatively turned your head to the side to make sure Yoongi was asleep before you slipped your hand down your pj shorts. 

You were close when you suddenly felt the heat of Yoongi’s intense stare on you. No words were spoken as he moved down your body, his head coming to rest between your thighs. 

“Jagiya, if you were this horny you should’ve just told me,” he smirked.

You were just about to tell him it was his fault when you felt his tongue against you, instantly shutting you up.

Originally posted by cyyphr


“Jagiya wake up,” you heard a voice call as they shook you awake.

With your cheeks flushed, your eyes slowly opened to find Hoseok hovering above you. He looked worried.

“Oh thank God. Were you having a nightmare Y/N?” He asked, relieved to finally see you awake. Your tongue practically dried as you recalled very vividly what your dream had been about, or rather who it had been about.

“Uh,” you said awkwardly, “no…why?”

“You were making strange sounds,” he pointed out. With a puzzled look he continued, “well if it wasn’t a nightmare then what w-oh.” He abruptly paused as the realization dawned on his face. You were far too embarrassed to say anything. You couldn’t even look Hoseok straight in the eyes. You bit your lip hoping you could just disappear when you suddenly felt Hoseok press a kiss against your neck. 

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he reassured you, “however,” he paused, “I’d like it if you could tell me what it was about.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Your mouth formed words before you could even think, “I-i had been uh…touching myself when you walked in and um you kind of helped me with that.” 

“How?” He asked with blown pupils. You hesitantly looked towards the zipper of his pants. Following your line of vision he understood.

“Would you like me to turn that dream into reality Jagiya?” He whispered into your ear.

Originally posted by itsrapmonster


If you had asked Namjoon what was going through his mind, when he heard your soft moans coming from the bedroom, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. He wasn’t even sure himself. 

You had been so lost in your own euphoria, that you hadn’t heard the door open. All you know is that you had been in the process of pleasuring yourself when Namjoon suddenly burst through the door. 

Startled, your eyes were wide as you looked at him. The second you saw his face you could feel yourself shrink back. He looked absolutely furious. You watched as he crazily searched your room trying to find something or someone. However, he found nothing making what you had been doing to yourself only moments ago crystal clear.

“Namjoon?” You called questioningly, as you finally understood. You had initially thought that his anger was due to you pleasuring yourself without him, but were slightly hurt as you began to understand what had really upset him.

He ran a hand down his face and you couldn’t help but notice his jaw clenching, “fuck Y/N, I thought-I don’t know what I was thinking-fuck I’m so stupid.” 

“Namjoon do you not trust me?” The hurt on your face instantly sprung him into action as he got on his knees and began apologizing, “I do! Jagiya I do! I’m just stupid okay? You’re so damn perfect, that I can’t help but get worried sometimes.” 

Your eyes softened as you felt the sincerity in his words. You’d forgive him just this time. 

However, when he heard you say nothing he panicked,“Y/N, let me make it up to you.”

Curious you raised an eyebrow at him, “how?”

He looked as if he was in pain as the words left his mouth, "I’ll let you be in charge today.” You nearly laughed at how desperate he was to get you to forgive him. For someone as dominate as Namjoon, letting you have control was crazy. You couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. With an eager smile, you agreed.

Originally posted by bangtangirl-cutennes-v


| Hyung Line | Maknae Line |


tbh i don’t know whether this turned out good or not but i hope you enjoy<3 

~Admin Coffee

Yuuri awoke to the light of the sun and the care of a delicate touch on his back, grooming through his feathers. The past two days, Yuuri had barely been able to move. Adrenaline burned off, the strain he had put his wings and body through had hit him like canon fire.

Emil had ordered him to bedrest the moment he had seen Yuuri, hardly able to lift a limb yet still laboring to act as a nurse to Victor. Small sachets filled with heated sand were lain across his back to ease the soreness in his muscles, but Yuuri had flung them off in protest. He substituted them for the heat of Victor’s body against his own.

Stubborn, Yuuri had not permitted Emil to change Victor’s bandages nor mix more of the siren medicine he had received. He had fought through his own pain to deliver Victor’s doses, until the red of infection began to recede.

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, at the caress of lips against it. Victor had sat up in their bed and dipped low to kiss beneath the bruise there, from Yuuri’s fall onto the deck. Soft lips trailed down, dotting along each inch of Yuuri’s bicep before slipping further. Victor’s mouth had Yuuri shivering into the sweetness of dawn, kisses counting down his ribs and the curve of his waist to settle above the second bruise marring Yuuri’s hip.

The siren lifted long strands of silver which cascaded over Victor’s face, palm cupping his forehead. Warm. But naturally so. The fever had broken.

Yuuri launched himself at Victor, bowling him over into piles of their pillows and blankets. Streaks of irritation shot through his spine. Equally so, Victor groaned in displeasure.

“Ahhh, careful, lovebird. My side’s not quite healed yet, I don’t want to go bleeding out on you.”

“Shut up,” Yuuri commanded and followed through by plunging his hands into Victor’s morning messed hair, holding Victor’s tongue silent with his own. He could pour his entire heart out into his kisses with Victor, permit himself to flood with emotion. He had his mate beside him, breathing, smiling, flirting like always, alive.

Yuuri pulled back to see the beauty of Victor’s flushed cheeks, pink seeping down past the sharpness of his collarbone, highlighting the paleness of his skin. Yuuri wanted to paint it all in color.

The rush of blood to his own face caused the little feathers around his ears to sprout and quiver.

Victor’s eyes pleaded, his heart-shaped smile like a work of art, a treasure beyond any other that Yuuri greedily hoarded. He relented. “You can speak.”

Instead, Victor drew Yuuri into another kiss, a brushing of petals, the blooming of spring. His fingers curved over the line of Yuuri’s wings, a reminder that his new colors had finally come in full.

“I adore you.” Victor’s words lost themselves on Yuuri’s lips, swallowed by one desperate kiss of response after another.

Yuuri tipped their foreheads together, eyes shut, simply breathing in the closeness between them. The feeling swelled inside him until he felt too small to contain it, threatening to break through his ribs and spill over. Like the fondest infection, spreading into every nerve, every fiber, lighting him up. Dancing through his heart and the glimmer of his wings. Yuuri bubbled in that adoration, in the celebration that he could feel the full beat of Victor’s heart under him, unwavering.

Tears splashed from his cheeks down onto Victor’s, glittering off his skin like diamonds. Victor’s fingers, as gentle as always, swept them away.

Yuuri let himself overflow.

“I love you.”

First Kisses

Their first kiss wasn’t spectacular. No one stood in the background, waiting to light off fireworks while hordes of people cheered and applauded. There was no performance at all, really.

The fact of the matter is that their first kiss was on a Tuesday night, and Draco was making Harry stay up with him to study for a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam they had the next morning. They were the only ones in the common room. But Harry looked at the clock and realized it wasn’t Tuesday night anymore, it was actually Wednesday morning, and somehow during their studying they’d slumped over onto each other, eyelids weighed down with sleep. The fire had all but burned out, the glowing coals casting a dim orange light across the two boys on the overstuffed sofa…

It wasn’t spectacular. They just sort of… fell together, I suppose, melting into each other, and Harry wasn’t sure where his mouth ended and Draco’s began anymore. He kept falling. Harry hoped he’d never hit the ground.

Their first kiss was in the rain after Harry and Draco were both shit-faced drunk, stumbling out of the bar while still swaying in time to the pumping music inside. Harry’s glasses were askew, and his cheeks were flushed, and god, his pupils were so dilated… Draco had intended on mapping out every corner of Harry’s face so he could remember it later when he went home alone like usual, but when he straightened Harry’s glasses for him, his hands lingered against his cheeks, thumbs tracing Harry’s lips. Their foreheads pressed together. He could feel Harry’s breath against his mouth and when he finally closed the remaining space between them, Harry’s wand shot out sparks and singed Draco’s coat. If you weren’t looking closely as you walked past them in the dark, you’d think it was one cloaked figure, standing very still outside the crowded bar.

Draco didn’t go home alone ever again after that night.

Their first kiss was in the eighth-year common room, surrounded by friends who had all had far too much firewhiskey to drink. It was Harry’s turn, and his face was already beet red. He wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from what was about to happen, but he wasn’t sure that mattered right now. He spun the bottle as hard as it would go. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and the bottle just kept going… There was no way there wasn’t magic involved in how long it took it to stop spinning. Maybe he was so drunk, it had stopped spinning hours ago and he just hadn’t noticed.

The room went silent.

Harry was particularly aware of the fact that there was a floor beneath him, and something else underneath, and he felt entirely too heavy to hold up. He looked at who the bottle pointed towards and wished the floorboards would give way to send him plummeting into whatever room was beneath them.

And Ron was assuring him that no, if he really didn’t want to, he didn’t have to do it, but Pansy started chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and made everyone else join in. Hell, even Hermione was pumping her fists and chanting, and all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his head. He was most definitely a deep shade of scarlet now.

He looked up from his lap, though, and inches in front of him was the one person he never thought he’d touch in a way that wasn’t with malintent, and his eyes were already closed.

Draco tasted like peppermint and booze. The first time, at least.

Their first kiss was full of fire and anger and sweat, and they were seventeen. There was no one left in the showers after Slytherin lost another Quidditch match to Gryffindor, and Draco was convinced Harry had cheated. He’d almost had the snitch. He could have beat him for the first time in his life. Draco punched first, hitting the hard brick wall and bloodying his knuckles when Harry ducked out of the way. Harry’s face was covered in dirt and neither of them had much in the way of a hairstyle after playing out in a rainstorm for several hours. But Draco couldn’t think about Harry’s unkempt hair or muddy face right now, because somehow Harry had pinned him up against the wall, breathing hard and muttering something about how Draco should think very hard about what he did next…

Harry had hickeys landscaped across his chest for days.

Their first kiss was confusing for both of them. Of course Snape had paired them together for potions again, and Harry was prepared to sit back and let Draco do all the work again, but they were being watched so Draco thrust into Harry’s arms some things to chop up that had nothing to do with what they were brewing. Harry was getting a Dreadful in this class and he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish school if he flunked out.

“I’ll help you,” Draco mumbled, and Harry became aware that he had somehow managed to say all of this out loud.

“You’ll what?” asked Harry, dumbfounded.

“I said I’ll help you, you git,” Draco sneered, “McGonagall wants me to do something for the less fortunate because it might help me get a job when we get out of here.”

So Harry agreed, and for two hours on Saturday nights Harry and Draco had a scheduled slot of time to argue study. They’d never spent time alone together though, at least not for this long, and Harry began to notice little things about Draco. Like how when Draco was thinking hard about something, he flossed his hands through his hair, pulling it all off of his forehead and accentuating his widow’s peak. He looked like a blond vampire like that. It was a good look on him.

“What did you just say?” questioned Draco, one eyebrow raised. Harry had thought out loud again. Shit. He tried to think of something to cover up what he’d just said, but it was all out in the open now. He couldn’t backtrack on something like that. Draco looked beyond pleased with himself, and Harry felt his jaw clench. That git.

God, Draco got under his skin, but here, in the empty potions classroom, alone, he looked…


He got under his skin so much that skin was all Harry could think about now. Draco’s skin. It was softer than he’d ever imagined. And his lips were another story.

And that’s what I love about fanfiction. The fact that we can write into existence hundreds of first kiss, each one unique in it’s own way, but each one dripping with more magic than anything you can cast with your wand. Each one the jumping off point for an infinite universe of stories, love, heartbreak, and laughter. So here’s to beginnings. Here’s to more first kisses.

Thank you @parkkate for reminding me of the post I made a few months ago that fell along this line! I figured I’d have at it once again like I did with the other post I made yesterday since I don’t really remember anything I wrote last time! 

all night long

Summary: Make out sessions are Steve’s favorite thing in the whole wide world, and sometimes he can get just a little carried away…

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I actually died writing this, so this is my ghost typing. Enjoy xx | masterlist

Originally posted by franciscastle

Keep reading

Yuuri squirmed under Victor’s kisses as they tickled his ear. With each sweet brush, Victor dotted the line of small diamond marks along Yuuri’s skin. The roughness of his morning voice melded with the compliments he whispered, of cute and lovely, and everything that had Yuuri’s cheeks flushing redder than the wine Victor had brought on board for them the previous night.

Yuuri bunched his hands against Victor’s chest, giggling silently at how Victor’s lips swept at the sensitive spots. He pushed lightly in protest, felt the joy expanding in his chest as Victor continued with mutters of beautiful and lovebird. A lifetime spent living on the solitude of jagged cliffsides, and now he awoke in the warmth of Victor’s embrace and the fondness of his kisses.

Teeth scrapped playfully over his earlobe, and Yuuri moaned, the exhale soft and hushed. He did not realize he had let it slip his lips until Victor’s laugh rolled across his skin. Bubbling with glee.

“Yuuri, you sprouted.” Victor teased another kiss just below Yuuri’s ear. His lips tickled tiny feathers, blooming from the tattoos he had been tracing.

Cheeks burning hot, Yuuri clasped his hands over his ears, while Victor laughed all the more.

“Oh darling, don’t hide from me,” Victor said, delicate as he pulled Yuuri’s hands away, kissing his fingertips, the inside of his wrist, and up the tattoos twisting up Yuuri’s arms. “That’s the cutest thing in the world, my kisses got you so excited. You know that I adore you, feathers and all.”

Scowling, Yuuri let his feathers bristle, but Victor just beamed in response. Beamed and kissed at Yuuri’s ears again, until the siren’s giggles filled the room with the magic of their delight.

Cállate (NSFW)

Summary: After seeing you dancing with another man, Steve gets jealous and makes a move about it.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Other Characters: Unnamed Male Character, Sam Wilson.
Word Counting: 2.1k
Warnings: Very dirty smut and dirty talk, lots of Spanish. This was vaguely inspired by Despacito. Translation to the words is before the tags.
A/N: A huge thanks to @widowsfics and @som3thingcr3ative for helping me with the Spanish parts.

Originally posted by ifoundkylo

Steve tilted his head to the side while your body moved to the sound of the music. He’d never seen you like this, so free and open. It was as if you felt like home in that crowd.

Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote
Tengo que bailar contigo hoy

When that hit – the one he would hear all the time on the radio and Tony played just to bother him – started he braced himself to hear Justin Bieber’s annoying voice in the air, but that wasn’t what heard. A male voice speaking Spanish and completely natural filled his ear and the whole place, and you shoot the man in front of you a smile.

You had taken him to the party Tony was throwing and never left his side. You two were glued to each other, attached by the hip, and when the DJ started throwing dancing songs, you were dancing with him.

When your lips moved, he tried to understand what you said. Steve’s hearing was sensitive, but even he couldn’t hear you talking to the guy with all those the loud sounds.

The first steps you two gave coordinated had everyone moving away to watch, and some agents quickly pulled their phones to film the scene.

Your body moved fluid like water and your toned leg peaked from the slip of the red dress, and it didn’t even look like you were wearing the highest heels he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Damn, dude,” Sam exclaimed. “She’s a pro.”

And you really were.

Vi que tu mirada ya estaba llamándome
Muéstrame el camino que yo voy

Your hips moved as you didn’t even have bones, and he quickly understood how you were so flexible during missions.

Steve’s mouth was hanging open and the crotch of his pants was very uncomfortable.

Damn him if he wasn’t hard for you right now. You were always so sexy – not even trying –, but now… You were driving him insane.

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