“(Y/N), if you really don’t want to help, you can leave. It’s okay.”
You snap out of your involuntary trance, meeting the peeved eyes of the tall figure in front of you. Your eyelids rapidly close and open before you blankly mutter, “Huh?”
“Since we started setting up, you’ve sighed thirteen times, loudly scuffed your shoe against the floor seven times, and spaced out four times. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you don’t want to do this.”
It takes a lot to annoy actual angel Steve Rogers, but somehow you’ve accomplished just that in only five minutes. Sheepish guilt washes over you, and you quickly insist, “I’m so sorry. But I swear I want to help!”
“Are you sure? You look a little preoccupied, and I can also do this myself if something’s –“
“No, no, I want to help. I promise,” you firmly repeat. You furiously tape the banner to the table’s edges as if to show how determined you are to help. “I didn’t mean to be a drama queen and space out.”
Steve tiredly rubs his palm against his face. “Is everything okay?” he asks. The concern in his voice makes the guilt expand in your lungs, compelling you to cast your eyes downwards.
When faced with a small deficit in the Student Government budget, Steve came up with the carnation sale. Students could order flowers –red for love, pink for friendship, and white for secret admiration– and cabinet members would deliver them to the recipients’ respective dorms.
This started as a headcanon, but got a little long for bullet-points, so here we go. A little meandering from my tired brain on Flintwood. I don’t do Valentine’s Day, so this is belatedly in lieu. Dedicated to the lovely Flintwood squad at large.
Premise: Marcus uses numbers to manage anxiety. He keeps count of their kisses. One day, he slips, and he says the number out loud.
Kissing Oliver is always different each time for Marcus. He
keeps count, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t know how else to cope, or if it’s because each one bears remembering. It might well be both. Numbers help him to keep the chaos in his head ordered in the same way that Quidditch strategy does. He’s never told anyone. He never plans to.
There’s the first time, when their blood is boiling
mid-argument; there’s a cut on Oliver’s lip and Marcus’ eye is swollen from
where the other punched him. Oliver’s mouth tastes like blood when he closes in,
firstly just wanting him to shut up,
to stop talking, to stop being so tempting and beyond reach, to just stop, but then Oliver yanks his head
back and bites his lower lip, turns what should have conquered him into silence
into yet another challenge. Marcus is really, really bad at resisting
challenges. As it turns out, he’s even worse at resisting them when they come
in the form of a Gryffindor Quidditch captain, whose hair is always a mess and
who, as it turns out, makes not
kissing him seem like a sin.
I couldn’t stop myself. I’m at work, and that fucking smile got to me.
Damn him. Damn him for his smile that spreads across his
features like sunshine, crossing the barren landscape.
Damn him for his lips, curving in a quirky, devilish grin,
before breaking out into full glee, like a child seeing something wondrous for
the first time.
Damn him for his smile, because it means I’ll be smiling
I felt warm hands break between my arms and waist, as he
wrapped his arms around me; his clasped hands resting higher than necessary,
under my breasts. I fell back into him, the heat of his bare chest, resonating
through my little slip.
Sam curled my hair behind my ear, kissing the lobe gingerly,
before lightly sucking it between his lips.
I melted into him; fell beneath his flesh and took up residency
in his body, surrounded by his strength and comfort.
“Our last Cape sunset.”
His words flowed gently from my ear to tickle my brain as I
turned in his embrace, laying my head against his chest, soothed by the
thumping of his beating heart. I curled my arms around his body, linking my
thumbs in the waistband of his shorts as my lower body pressed into him.
The thumping increased, as I knew the blood was leaving his
brain, travelling South. I held him tighter still.
“But it’s a beautiful sunset,” I responded, finally.
His lips touched my hair and I could sense his smile through
“How would you know? You’re not looking at it.”
Pulling back, but never breaking from his arms, I placed my
hands on his cheeks, my thumbs idling drawing circles. “Because I see it in
your face. I see the red streaks in the centre of the sky, here-,“ I kissed his lips softly, “and those bits of
yellow and pink, they’re glowing, right here,” I kissed the tip of his nose,
and rose higher on my toes. “And - ahh,” I smiled, my heart content, pulling
his head toward me, “and that brilliant orange, like a raging fire, could never
be missed. Right. Here,” pulling him close, I kissed each eyelid, that
fluttered shut at my touch.
My lips lingered on his face, longing to live in the moment
and never break the touch, but Sam pulled free, and with that smile, that damn
smile crossing his face, captured my lips in his; and I knew I was smiling as
We made love on the balcony, slow and passionate, our
whimpers carrying across the breeze to join the crickets in their song.
My legs tightened around his waist, his thrusts deep,
hitting my wall with each push. It was exquisite. I gripped his shoulders,
rising up to meet him, to touch him, taste the sweat that dripped from his body,
but he pushed me back down to the cushion with a grunt, before capturing a
nipple between his teeth. I cried out, but they weren’t calls of pain. Not
alone. They were a release. Release from the exhaustive last several months. A
release from all the bullshit with the world we lived in. I cried out in pain,
yes, but I cried out in fucking joy, as well.
Sam equaled my sentiment as he howled to the stars,
releasing his seed inside my body.
I silently wished for them to take root and grow.
We lay in sweaty silence, our bodies joined from root to
tip. I looked past the blonde curls that blanketed my face, to the stars above.
It was dark now. We would see no more sunsets here. But there would still be a
sunrise. And with a shift of his hips, we began again.
Sam rose above me, his palms flat to the floor outside the
cushion, with his eyes closed in concentrated passion. I held his face,
beckoning him to look upon me. I watched his face shudder, my hands cold in the
South African night against his scorched flesh. But there it was -before he
opened his eyes to gaze upon me - that smile. It started with a quivering sigh,
like a flower, waking to the early morning glow, before blooming to the most
brilliant ray of light.
I smiled back as our hips stilled, his penis pulsing inside my body.
Sam’s hand came to rest on my cheek as he kissed me softly, “You
have the most beautiful and contagious smile, Caitriona. I can’t help but smile
when I see it.”
Do you have any tips on drawing cats? Btw I love your art! :)
(HEADS UP THIS IS A LONG ONE. I’m also adding a disclaimer right now that this is assuming you want to draw cats as accurately as possible, and is not meant to put down anyone’s art style for not being 100% anatomically accurate. Stylization can definitely break the rules, but it’s best to know the rules before you break them, imo. Okay, on to the real answer.)
My number one piece of advice: I know I always say this but…Always use photo references. No matter what, this WILL be the best, fastest, most accurate way to learn to draw cats (and everything else)
But aside from that, let’s see…
-Cat tails move in ways you wouldn’t really intuit or expect. They’re very rarely held in an elegant curve or swoopy, swishy “S” shape how people often draw them. (it’s fine to draw them that way if that’s what you’re going for. Nice swoopy tails can be a great way to accentuate a line of action if you’ve got one going, so don’t shy away from it just because it’s not 100% accurate to the anatomy) But if you ARE looking to be as accurate to life as possible, take a look at a bunch of cat pictures. You’ll notice the tails will often sort of resemble old, low-poly 3D models. Kinda like sticks with a couple breaks/joints. They curve and kink in really weird ways sometimes. I find this most noticeable in action shots, particularly jumping/leaping.
-Cats have surprisingly simple chests. (This one is… hard to explain) I find when drawing cats from the side or at a ¾ angle, cats have this really elegant, easy to draw sort of “soft L” shape starting from the bottom at the chin and ending where the front leg intercepts it. I find it most noticeable on photos of sitting or crouching cats. I hope that makes at least some sense???
-The length from the hock/ankle to the toes is a LOT shorter than many artists seem to realize. I see a lot of artists draw cats’ rear legs with almost deer-like proportions, their femurs/fibulas/tibulas will be super short and their metatarsals are SUPER LONG. (Sometimes I even see people draw cats with their hocks practically level with their elbows! That’s about where their knees should be!) Photos of cats just walking or standing are good references for this detail.
-The general shape of a cat is a rectangle. A long rectangle with little leggies underneath it, a head/neck sticking out one end and a tail sticking out the other. Sometimes you’ll see people draw cats with a really deep ribcage and a really pronounced “tuck” (slope from the ribcage up to the crotch) but I find that to be a far more canine type feature than feline. Real cats, even the skinny oriental types, have really rectangular guts. When standing in a natural position the line from the elbow to the knee is practically straight. The elbow and the knee very nearly always line right up with the belly.
-When a cat sits down, its hind legs kind of disappear. So back to that rectangle shape, right? One of the reasons they appear that way (aside from needing somewhere to put their guts) is that they have this really weird flap of skin that runs from roughly the back of the ribcage to the knee. This is difficult to see on photos of house cats because their fur is so thick, but it’s VERY noticeable on photos of lions.I’m not honestly sure exactly what the function of this flap of skin is (I don’t believe it contains any muscle) but when a cat sits down that flap kind of lays over the knees almost like a blanket, creating this near seamless space between body and leg. Just Google “sitting cat” and try to draw an imaginary line around the hind leg. It’s more difficult than you’d think!
I think that’s all I’ve got for now! I hope those are useful to you! They sound really complex and scary now, but if you go through some images on Google and just try to draw what you see it’ll all start making sense. :)
Dan stood in front of the expanse of the bathroom mirror and lightly tugged the collar of his t-shirt off-center. He admired the deep blue, almost black bruises on his collarbones and up his neck, turning his head to be met with a faint blue strip of a bruise pigmenting his cheekbone as well. He passed a thumb over the healing of his split bottom lip feeling oddly.. triumphant. Regal, almost.
Dan liked it rough. Like, really rough. It had been quite the challenge getting Phil to comply with his desires at first, the older man insisting that “It’s abuse, Dan. Spanking you’s one thing, even choking you, sure; but I’m not gonna damn well punch you in the face.” To which Dan retorted “It’s not abuse if I’m literally asking you to do it, Phil. We’re two consenting adults, we can do what we like.” Phil simply shook his head and urged to walk out of the room, and Dan grabbed at the older man’s wrist before tugging at the front of his shirt, grossly whining “Phil Lester.. hurt me” which incited this back and forth between the two of Phil’s “Dan-.. I-, c'mon knock it off, love. Stop.” and Dan’s “Philly, pleeease… please Phil I need it.”
Dan lifted up the bottom of his shirt to be met with almost identical deep purple marks that littered his hips on either side, angry red scratches trailing from the dark spots on his right.
Phil’s resolve only lasted so long. He shook his head frustratedly before rolling his eyes and and slamming Dan against the closed door of their lounge, a hand firmly on the younger man’s neck, but not squeezing. “Daniel,” Phil began, voice low. “There is a difference between me getting passionate and me getting angry. You keep this up and my actions toward you aren’t gonna come from a kind heart, alright?” Dan smirked, and like the cheeky fuck he was.. spat right in Phil’s face.
I have always thought men wearing formal suits were too same-y and generic-looking. They just look so bland in the same formal wear. At least mix it up a bit with different fabrics, colors, and so forth. I’ve heard from (probably) straight women that formal suits show off their chest and stuff, but I just can’t see it. I love seeing women wearing suits, though. I think the curves make the suit look better, break it up with curves, plus there’s more of a sense of not conforming to their gender. Sure, she could wear a dress, but a suit also looks awesome, and I’d love to wear them myself.
Summary: Matt Murdock was an insanely great kisser. And he absolutely loved to put his lips to use. Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, minor character death (just a mention), implied sexy times 1,752 words
Notes: While I finish the requests I have in my askbox, I decided to post this Matty one because I’m on his mood. <3 Just a silly one-shot without all his Daredevil drama (sort of). And also because I rewatched the kiss scene between Claire and Matt. Too many times. For my own good. Remember that italic parts are flashbacks. SO…I hope you enjoy it! ^_^
If there was something in your life that you just couldn’t
deny, was that being Matt Murdock’s girlfriend had its fair amount of
In an overall, you were always safe, knowing he’d step up
into the situation whenever something could happen. Sometimes it had some
downfalls, but his senses were another great thing since he’d always know when
and how to help you when you needed.
And the list could go on and on, but there was one little
thing that you completely loved the most and would always drive you crazy:
There are still pockets of smoke speckling the pavement, but the danger is past. Little by little, people emerge from their makeshift shelters, dodging the holes in the ground and the small piles of debris, going on with their lives. A few look up, wave at them. Steve, perched on a ledge a few stories up, returns the greeting.
“A good day’s work,” Tony says, taking a seat next to him. From up close, the scratches on his suit have become actual dents, an inch shy of permanent.
Steve considers the state of his own uniform and lets out a puff of air. “So I hear.”
Summary: The group starts to take notice of how 10k acts around you, all the while you remain ignorant
A/N: Just a short little one-shot that I hope you guys like :)
At first, the group never took notice of how 10k would act shy around you, cheeks lightly coloring a rose pink while his eyes never strayed from your form. How if he decided to say something, his words would slightly stutter before he completely shut up and let you talk. How when you rested your head on his shoulder, he would freeze up, glancing at you from the corner of his eye before relaxing his body, carefully patting your arm before giving it a small squeeze.
The first to take notice of 10k’s infatuation was Addy, who, upon spotting the pink tint on his cheeks after you brushed your hand against his, took him to the side and tried to get him to talk.
“I think someone has a little crush on our dear old (Y/N),” Addy pestered, backing the young man into a corner of the house they were staying in for the night.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 10k tried ducking under her arms that were caging him in, but Addy managed to keep him in place.
“C’mon Ten, you can’t fool me! The glances, the light touches. I mean, you’re blushing,” Addy emphasized, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow while poking him in the chest. He chose not to say anything, eyes looking anywhere except for the redhead before him. She sighed, giving in to his wishes and moving away, but not before saying, “This is far from over, lover boy.”
The next to notice was Doc after he spotted you walking away from 10k, the undeniable blush in full bloom as he skimmed his fingers over his cheek. The older man walked over to him, standing in front of the dazed young man who was staring at your retreating form. Doc focused on where exactly 10k’s eyes were set on, only to discover that he was staring at the curve of your hips. Doc laughed, breaking the boy’s attention before blushing an even darker shade of pink, moving to turn around and flee.
“Now, hold on there kid. Were you checkin’ her out?” Another loud laugh escaped Docs lips, slapping a hand against 10k’s shoulder while trying to lower his voice. “Never thought I’d see the day. Good for you kid.” And with that, Doc walked away, leaving a baffled and embarrassed 10k to stare at nothing in particular.
After that, Addy and Doc were always trying to find ways to get the two together. When the group would sit around the makeshift fire on cold night’s, they always made sure the two were sitting next to each other with Doc on 10k’s other available side and Addy on yours. If Warren made everyone split up for supply runs or to scope out an area, they would always switch partners at the last moment to make sure you were both going together. And when everyone was piling into the truck or whatever vehicle they were using that day, they would always make sure to shove everyone else into the cab while you two were left to sit next to each other.
Soon enough, the others came to the realization that 10k was harboring a large crush, if not a real feeling of love for you. It would have been less obvious if Addy and Doc weren’t trying to pair the two of you up every second of the day. Except, the only one who didn’t notice anything going on with 10k was the person who he was crushing on: you. At every glance, every lingering touch, every small smile and quick cheek peck, you had never seen a reaction from the boy. And it broke his heart because he wanted you to see his reactions.
It was the only way he could really show how he was feeling without opening his mouth and making a fool out of himself. So almost a month later, when you innocently gave him a hug of gratitude for saving you from becoming Z chow and pulled back just enough, you noticed that he was looking at you with a flushed face and an awkward smile.
Hey, I really want to get into art but I seriously don't know how to draw a body? The stick figure just isn't working for me, do you maybe know another way or maybe tips?
so quick disclaimer before i start: i decided to do the female body because i learned how to draw women before i started drawing men… and im also a woman LOL so i have a better idea of how to break down each body part… also curves are really fun to draw!! whereas men im still trying to figure out what goes where
i also think its easier to start off with women and then transition into drawing men? at least that’s what i find… so if anyone wants a follow up tutorial on men just let me know!
i think when it comes to drawing bodies, i find that it’s a lot easier if you imagine shapes first
by recognizing certain body parts as shapes you can sort of configure a guideline first in the pose and proportions you want first before adding any details
for example this is how i would plan out a (very skinny lol) female body before starting
so in red is my actual organic process, which is really quick and fluid and then in black is just a more defined demo of the shapes i have in mind
one of the biggest problems i see for people starting out drawing bodies is that they’re so caught up trying to get every detail correct, by the time they’re finished the proportions are all off… so by planning the shapes first i can ensure i have every part the correct length and width i want
ok again this is going to be a really long post so more details on each body part under the cut!
Being a high class model you were invited to many dinners, events and places which you just couldn’t turn down. publicity was a major key in the industry that you just couldn’t fight. so when you were invited to dinner by a close friend named nicholas grimshaw you couldn’t turn down the invite for two major reasons. nick was one of your closest friends and your publicist defiently wanted you to go, she called it a ‘great opportunity.’ so you decided to go. although nick notified you that you knew a large amount of people going, you still weren’t sure. nick normally says things just to get you to rock up. feeling uneasy you assured him you will attend.
it was friday evening, aka the date of the dinner. you had just finished running some errands and taking care of a few things before you arrived home awfully tired. you were laying on your bed for longer then you promised yourself before you finally found the strength to get ready for the dinner. you dragged your feet behind you walking to the bathroom to prepare your shower. once your shower was done you began your routine. you moisturised your face and then applied a minimal but effective amount of makeup. all you used was some contour, highlighter, eyeliner, mascara, a bit of a smokey eye and a bold red lip. you were satisfied with your final product and then began to dry and loosely curl your hair. after all the beauty was done you walked towards your walk in wardrobe and scanned your clothes for the perfect outfit for tonight. you found a gorgeous black yves saint laurent tight fitted dress that complimented your curves flawlessly. you paired the dress with a pair of black heels, two cartier love bracelets and your mini louis vuitton. you then threw on a coat and spritzed some of your vanilla scented perfume before heading towards the restaurant.
once your uber had dropped you off at the restaurant you checked the time, 5 minutes late. perfect, you thought to yourself. you entered the restaurant letting the man at the door know who you are here with, he lead you to the table where majority of the guests had all ready arrived. to your surprise, nick was right you do know lots of these people, familiar faces like ed sheeran, irina shayk, rita ora, jeff azoff, stella maxwell, charlie puth, niall horan and the one and only harry styles. you smiled and greeted the all and introducing yourself to the unfamiliar faces you had just met. once reaching harry he pulled you in for a hug and winked as he left the hug, he then ordered you to sit in-between him and irina. you were about to protest when irina insisted and made room for you. you and harry had have a bit of history behind you both. you met first at an award show where he as shamelessly flirting with you the whole night. and you two have ran into each other a few times at other events which wasn’t quite good since it lead to a few sexual interactions in the bathrooms of expensive hotels and receptions.
the night was going great and you were actually quite glad you turned up. there were so many jokes and interesting conversations being held. it was after the main course had been served when harry had started being a little cheeky. he firstly kept on brushing his hand against yours, you gave him a look a few times and he just smiled and shrugged it off. he kept on touching your arm, hands and brushing his knee and feet against yours, but it wasn’t until you were having a conversation with irina about fashion week when harry let his hand roam up thigh through your dress. your breath was caught in your throat and your eyes grew wide before swatting harrys hand away. ‘y/n are you okay?’ irina laughed, ‘aha yes’ you breathed before turning to face harry. ‘what the fuck’ you said lowly not wanting to cause a scene. no one really knows about you and harrys fews sexual interactions and you would like to keep it that way. harry chuckled deeply and smirked before leaning over to whisper in your ear ‘baby how long are you gonna keep this act up before giving in.’ he asks. you shoot him a confused look. ‘what act?’ you ask short and sharp. he chuckles ‘love i know what you want, no need to pretend.’ he replied in his husky velvet voice. you stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom to give yourself a minute. once you arrived to the female restroom you touched up on your makeup and stared for a while in the mirror. lately whenever you see harry you’ve been feeling some kind of butterflies erupt. the worse thing is he’s very handy so when he touches you its almost like your heart bursts. suddenly the bathroom door flies opens and harry styles himself enters with a smirk. ‘baby’ he dragged out before walking towards you. ‘harry this is the girls bathroom’ your voice says nervously. ‘then we will have to be quick, won’t we’ he smirks. you were about to reply but then harry pinned your against the wall connecting your lips together. you count resist. you let your lips melt into his tender ones and your tongue glide alone his. he was just so amazing. harry deepens the kiss before letting his hands roam up and down your curves before pulling your dress up above your panties. harry didnt break the kiss as he touched and felt your sweet body before slipping your panties down before inserting his fingers to give you pleasure. ‘you’re so wet for me baby’ he breathed in your ear. you moaned out of pleasure and tilted your head back out of lust. harrys eyes danced and twinkled to the view of him almost cumming on his fingers. ‘fuck baby’ harry groaned. the bathroom was filled with heavy panting until your harmed took over and you took a hold of harry. you slid down and unbuckled his belts and unzipped his jeans sliding his boxers down to reveal harry styles and all his glory. harry kissed you deeply and then you felt his mouth move to a smirk and thats when you knew he was ready. harry then thrusted into you. your legs wobbles at the action and you let out a gasp. harry smirked in success and gave you a kiss on your jaw bone. when you both reached your highs you stopped and leaned onto the bathroom sink. you both just stared at each other before you turned around, fixed your dress and your hair before strutting your stuff out of the bathroom leaving a panting harry behind you. before you exited the bathroom your turned around throwing harry a wink and closing the door.
you walked back to the table sitting in your original spot. ‘what took you so long?’ stella asked from across the table. your cheeks heated up while the whole table was staring at you and nick was giggling. ‘my mum called’ you replied and smiled. ‘sure’ nick chuckled as well as everyone else. moments later harry walked back and took his seat next to you and smiled. ‘where were you?’ you asked him so you didnt look suspicious. ‘like you don’t know’ charlie said loud enough for the whole table to erupt into laugh and sly smirks. harry leaned into your ear whispering in his husky after sex voice, ‘good job baby’ and then went to eat his desert. holy fuck.
do you mind maybe satisfying my horny mind with fix it sex as u referred to before? But it is gentle where maggie takes care of alex and gives her what she needs. if u take the prompt or not, thanks:)
It takes a few days.
A few days full of blood and full of agony, full of torture.
A few nights full of shower after shower, red rings around the tub, full of tears, full of screaming nightmares.
It takes a few days, a few nights, for Maggie to feel comfortable giving in to Alex’s persistent requests for sex. A few days, a few nights, for Maggie to feel like she’s not taking advantage of the pain of the woman she… loves. Loves. Loves.
They’re laying down and they’re kissing, and it’s the first night since Jeremiah betrayed them that Alex hasn’t wept, that Alex hasn’t tried to drink. The first night she’s making jokes – bad ones, granted – the first night that her eyes are clear, that she slept through the night before.
They’re laying down and they’re kissing, and it’s soft and it’s gentle and it’s loving, Maggie’s hands on Alex’s jawline, her thumbs swiping across her cheeks, Alex’s hands skimming Maggie’s sides, Alex pulling back slightly to ask if her hands can slip under Maggie’s shirt, and Maggie nods, because yes, god, please, yes.
She sighs in time with Alex as her hands traipse up her skin, under her henley, tracing every curve, every contour, and when she breaks their kiss to look up into Alex’s eyes, she knows exactly what Alex wants.
“You sure?” she asks, and Alex licks her lips and nods, because yes, god, please, yes.
Maggie’s fingers tremble as she shifts so Alex is laying next to her, so she can strip Alex’s clothes off, so she can undress the woman she loves, so she can kiss and lick and nip at every inch of her skin.
Alex starts with sighs and whispers of her name, but soon, sighs are becoming gasps, screams, and whispers are becoming moans, ragged pleas.
“Maggie, I… I want…”
Maggie pauses and stares up Alex’s naked body with wide, patient eyes. “Tell me, sweetie. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. I’ve got you, Ally. Tell me what you want.”
Alex chews on her bottom lip as she stares down at Maggie, considering, considering.
“I don’t want you to make love to me.”
Maggie tenses slightly, already cursing herself, because she should have known it was too soon, that Alex was still hurting too much, that –
“I want you to fuck me so hard I forget where I am.”
Oh. Oh. Oh.
Maggie’s mouth runs dry and she has to try to swallow several times before she can croak out something approximating speech, and Alex watches her like she’s the most radiant thing she’s ever seen.
“I uh… yeah. Yeah. I can do that.”
Alex’s eyes flash, and her voice drops an octave or two. “I know you can.”
Maggie gulps and crawls up Alex’s body to kiss her mouth, softly at first, then harder, stronger, firmer. Alex moans and grabs up at her hair, at her strong shoulders, at her back, at her ass.
“Maggie, please,” she begs, and Maggie complies, slipping her thigh between Alex’s open legs, staring down at Alex, already panting, as she starts to move.
“Fuckkkk,” Alex whines, and Maggie tosses her head back and bites her lip, because Alex is so damn soaked for her, because Alex is grabbing at her ass, at the back of her thigh, thrusting up as she yanks Maggie down, scratching perfect lines down Maggie’s back as she tosses her own head back into the pillows because fuck, yes, Maggie, god, please don’t stop, please, harder, please, please, please.
“I love you, Alex,” Maggie tells her, because she might be fucking her as hard as Alex is asking her to, but her hand is resting like a pillow behind Alex’s head and her other arm is wrapped under the small of Alex’s back, enveloping her body, holding her, loving her, embracing her.
“I love you, Ally, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”
She repeats it like a mantra. She repeats it like a prayer. She repeats it like a promise, because she’s exactly what it is.
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” Alex whispers, prays, cries. “I love you too, I love you, I love you, I love you.”
She clutches onto her like she is her lifeline, like she is her anchor, like she is her rock, like she is her oxygen, because she is, she is, she is, and when Alex cums from the pressure of Maggie’s thigh between her legs, she brings Maggie’s lips to her own and Maggie swallows the soft gasps, the sudden shudders, the perfect convulsions, that rock Alex’s body, that rock Alex’s heart.
“I’ve got you, Alex. Always and always,” Maggie promises as she kisses every inch of Alex’s face.
And Alex, trembling and satiated and safe, believes her.
Words are flowing
Rain is falling
Tenderly upon her naked skin
Feeling love deep within
Dreams she craves
Exposed complete and unafraid
She searches for
Wondering what’s been forbade
Across she rides to foreign lands
To see what more
May lay in store
Built with loving from His hands
Will she stay
Smile and play
The colors light her dreams again
Child is grown
Wonder lights her soul aflame
Watching drops through rainy sky
She searches for
Painting a rainbow lullaby
Where she searches
Falling from her gorgeous sighs
She’ll quickly find
A technicolor mind
Filling up her wondrous guise
Rain falls shoreward
Ending, soon, she embraces it
Her wish has come in colored writ
Takes her over
Let’s it love her
Bathing her in crayola streams
Now she’s one
WIth the moon and sun
She’s found her
rainbow colored dreams.