lulling lapping

anonymous asked:

More cuddling prompts please! They're the best! ❤️

Seeing as I probably shouldn’t go to sleep on thoughts of angst and possession.

1) The bath water was warm and lulling around us, lapping at skin when we shifted. You were even warmer. I settled my head on your chest as you sifted your fingers idly through my hair, listening to me read aloud. It was our favourite habit.

2) Cuddling was, somehow, both perfect and maddening. They enjoyed the arm slung around them - casual as could possibly be, as if it had been forgotten by accident like a scarf tossed over a chair, or something that simply belonged there. On the other hand, with every inch that they were pressed together, all they could think about was how easy it would be to trail their fingers beneath jumpers or to plant a kiss to a shoulder. Maddening and perfect. Electric. The two exchanged glances, close enough that all it would take was the slightest lean and their lips would brush. 

3) “I know you’re awake, you know.” 
A had been pretending to be asleep, in order to stay close, for the last three hours. It was so nice just to be close to someone. To feel the rise and fall of their chest, to feel safe and comfortable. They expected to be unceremoniously dumped at any moment, or at least when the film ended. The movie had been over for an hour now. 

The Mighty Rio Grande (Dunkirk Cast x Reader)

AN: Inspiration for this came from this interview were Tom Glynn-Carney and Jack Lowden talk about how they got really hot on the boat and just jumped into the sea. This is set with the boys in the Mole. @outofworkactress wrote one for all of the lads at the Moonstone which you should defo read here

I also wrote this with inspiration from when I was walking along this beach (of extreme sentimental value to yours truly and in the photo down below) at 5am whilst listening to this song. Let me tell you, it is one of the best and happiest memories I have: running towards the sea at the 3 minute mark in the song with no one else on the beach and then watching the sun come up at the 5 minute mark whilst standing in the surf with a gentle breeze on your face. Cheesy as fuck yes but this will probably be the basis of another imagine because it makes me so damn happy.

Summary:  It’s too damn hot to be in your clothes. Lucky for you, the sea is just a hop, skip and a race away.


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Cover Me Like Dust (Chapter One)

you held my head down, didn’t let me breathe

Pairings: Taako/Kravitz, Taako & Lup

Characters: Taako, Lup, Sazed

Other Tags: Abusive Relationships, Spoilers, endgame spoilers, Hurt/Comfort taako has trauma ™, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder -, PTSD, Angst, sazed sucks

Warnings: sazed, ptsd

Words: 1530

Summary: The battle is won, the world is saved, everything is perfect.
But trauma never really goes away, and neither does Sazed..

Other Notes: Art by @taakitoz​, fic title from “Think of You” by MS MR, chapter titles from “Boomerang” by She Is We.


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*BTS REACTION: You Sing to Them While They Lay “Asleep” On Your Lap*

S E O K J I N:

It’s been months since you’ve seen him. He just came home from their latest world tour. This tour and their win at the BBMAs has led to a massive increase in, not only their fan base, but the popularity of Korean music internationally. He’s been so busy because of this, so it’s nice for him to take some rest even if having his head on your lap limits your movement. Although he’s not really asleep, just enjoying your presence.

However, even with him so close you still feel lonely. You aren’t insecure about your relationship in anyway, it is just very difficult for you to not see him for months at a time. This isn’t something you will voice as you don’t want to make him feel guilty and no matter what, at the end of it all, he comes home to you. This realization alone fills you with overwhelming affection for the man on your lap. You lightly play with his hair, an adoring smile on your face, and start to sing very softly.

“A tornado flew around my room before you came

Excuse the mess it made

It usually doesn’t rain

In Southern California, much like Arizona

My eyes don’t shed tears but boy they blowin’”

He manages to successfully keep his expression still.

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout you

Ooh no, no, no

I been thinkin’ ‘bout you

You know, know, know

I been thinkin’ ‘bout you

Do you think about me still?

Do you, do you?

Or do you not think so far ahead?

‘Cause I been thinkin’ ‘bout forever…”

Quickly, he brings your lips to his and smiles into the kiss because he knows that you are blushing from the realization that he was not asleep.

His head is still on your lap and he has a wide smile when he says, “Marry me.”

“You were supposed to be asleep!…Wait, what!?”

Originally posted by softskpop

Frank Ocean “Thinkin’ ‘Bout You”

Y O O N G I:

Normally, you wouldn’t mind that he fell asleep on your lap. You know that he’ll fall asleep anywhere, every chance he gets. But you are quite certain you told him you had to get up soon to get ready to go out with your friends. You’re suspicious that he did this on purpose. He knows that you would never wake him up unless you absolutely had to, and going to the club at your single friends’ insistence isn’t really necessary. Especially since you don’t want to go. Clubs have never been your scene and give you a headache more than anything, unless you’re well on your way to getting drunk. You’re in a committed relationship now and it frustrates you that your friends don’t seem to understand your refusal to get shitfaced at a club.

You sigh and chuckle lightly to yourself, he thinks he’s so clever doesn’t he? You start to lightly tug on his hair to encourage his sleep.

He slowly wakes up and has to stop himself from smirking when he feels your hands running through his hair, mission complete. He hears you softly singing so instead of making you aware that he is awake, like he was going to, he pretends to still be asleep.

“…Maybe I know, somewhere

Deep in my soul

That love never lasts

And we’ve go to find other ways

To make it alone

But keep a straight face

And I’ve always lived like this

Keeping a comfortable, distance

And up until now

I had swore to myself that I’m content

With loneliness”

He cannot believe how soft you are for him, not that he is any better. He takes a small peek at you. When he’s sure you are looking away from him he smiles.

“Because none of it was ever worth the risk

But, you are, the only exception

You are, the only exception

You are, the only exception…”

You look back at him and see him giving you his gummy smile. With no hesitance and a deep sigh you simply say, “Fucking Yoongi.”

Originally posted by sweetly-delirious

Paramore “The Only Exception” 

H O S E O K:

He came to you after his schedule was over, tired but with a large smile when you opened the door. It’s difficult for you to get him to rest when he’s visiting you. It makes him feel like he is putting more effort into his work than he is in your relationship. So maybe it was a little sneaky of you to have him lay his head on your lap and lull him to sleep with gentle hair stroking while you two are supposed to be watching a movie, not that you feel guilty about it. Good thing the control is within reach for you to lower the volume. He can sleep more peacefully that way.

When he starts awakening his first impulse is to complain about how sneaky you are, but stops himself when he hears your soft voice. Are you…rapping?

“…But now the hearts of moonlight hits, and we’ll just watch the stars dance

Attempt to mimic them until our little hearts can’t

Take anymore of that vacant ancient decor

And depart fast, and honestly, you look like Mozart sounds

You’re warm embrace compared to the cold, hard ground

The chicken noodle soup when I’ve been fretting sick in bed

It’s like expecting death and restlessness and then catching a kiss instead

You’re a myth that’s said to hide via love

An angel who was one thought to reside in skies above

You’re the sand between my toes when the high tide comes

Matter of fact, you’re the air that’s inside my lungs…”

You’re startled when he screams to the ceiling, “AHHH~! Y/N, YOU’RE TOO CUTE WHEN YOU RAAAAP~!” He makes you blush even more by showering you with kisses.

Originally posted by yoongistae

Atlas “Sand”

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The weekend started calm, an ease and optimism that floated everyone through the next days, despite the elevated pace and energy of a wedding taking place, my young brother’s to his longtime love. Nerves and excitement, a frenzy of prep: of last-minute seating chart changes, of shucking corn, of placing lanterns, of practicing walking in fancy shoes down a mulched path that would serve as aisle. The energy shifted – from the lulled and lapping drift of late summer to a more fevered pace, still optimistic and fizzing with joy like the sparklers that’d get lit late that night, but faster, time accelerating, so when the music stopped and the dancing ended, I said quietly to no one in particular don’t go. A day marking a celebratory moment of change. And change stirs this time of year, here in September when it’s still warm, an itch for different, an itch to make things happen, a gold-glow embered sense of possibility. I woke on the morning of the wedding from a dream. In it, some adult said, ‘first you’re a child, then you’re fifty. It happens so fast.’ It held the gut-punch force of truth and jolted me awake. My heart thudded in the sheets as in the aftermath of nightmare. It happens so fast. There’s so much still to do.

a gleam through emerald waters

My contribution to Day 3: Mermaid-Siren AU/Emerald-Green for @frukweek. I decided to try and incorporate both prompts. There’s a drabble to go with it:

A little way round the coast, down from the cliff-side spot where he normally sits to paint, there are the treacherously thin, rocky paths that lead down to secluded spots along the shore. A scattering of tiny beaches, a few caves, all great draws for adventurous children – and yet shockingly few people have drowned over the years. The number of lucky escapes, with people found simply laying on the sand a way down shore, is unfathomable.

His mother used to claim it was mermaids.

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Pink Marshmallows Only

A/N: This is a quick filler fic before I post my bigger fic tomorrow. Basically, I felt bad that I wasn’t posting my bigger fic today andso I wrote this fluffy piece of feelings. You might love this just a bit.

Title: Pink Marshmallows Only

Genre: Pure fluff

Description: Because when you’ve had a bad day,sometimes all you want is a blanket, a cuddle, and a hot chocolate with the person you love the most.

Word Count: 1200


The front door flings open and the sound of teeth-chattering travels up the stairs. It’s 11pm and Phil can’t believe he’s only just gotten home.

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Imagine early on in their relationship, Cecil inviting Carlos to watch the sunset one evening, and the scientist is extremely nervous because since when is anything that should be mundane safe in Night Vale? However, a few hours later he lies sound asleep on an amused Cecil’s lap, lulled by the soft sounds of the setting sun mingled with the gorgeous gradients of purple in the sky.


 Saving Burma’s Child Soldiers

The sun is sinking into the Yangon River, one of Burma’s main arteries. It is dotted with small boats on their way to dusky moorings. Arkar Min, 21, rides a water taxi with seven men, all of them silent. They’ve spent the day hauling fish into trucks. Now they rest against one another, backs between knees, arms around shoulders, heads on laps, lulled by the rhythmic thump of the engine.

Arkar Min has worked on Yangon’s docks since his release from the Tatmadaw, Burma’s armed forces, six years ago. He left school at the age of eight to help his struggling family. On the way home from his factory job, a man approached him, asking whether he’d like to earn better money as a driver. “I was so happy that I was going to learn to drive,” he says quietly, his eyes trained on the ember of his cigarette. His father, Tin Win, wanted him to be a farmer, but “the only thing that excited me then was driving fast.”


(( Pirate!AU, Arthur x Anyone, Open roleplay! ))

The seas were his life. His mornings were incomplete without a soft, salty caress from the ocean air, and he could only be lulled to sleep by the sound of lulling waves, lapping gently at his ship’s hull. Departed from his earlier, prudish life, he greatly enjoyed and partook in singing songs of the sea with his shipmates, guzzling down ale after ale. He revered hanging above on the masts, watching his crew work themselves to the bone down below. He enjoyed the hunt, the danger, the intoxicating thrill of being a pirate.

Though, the possibility of those simple, mundane things seemed unreachable now.

Captain Arthur Kirkland, legendary pirate and owner of the famed Britannia, sat stripped of his glory, his crew, and his ship. His wrists had been bound tightly behind his back, and from the struggling fit he had put up, they had cut into his wrists long ago. They ached with soreness, and it irritated him when he flexed them and felt dried blood crackle. His lavish red jacket decorated with golden lining and buttons was now torn, and hung about his torso in a haphazard fashion. His white undershirt was torn open, revealing small bits of toned pale flesh, some parts of which had been cut.

It wasn’t like Arthur to be overpowered, nor lose in a brawl. His crew had been caught by surprise in the dead of night, and attackers had come to his quarters personally, wrestling him from his bed. Though Arthur was a strong man, despite his lean stature, he was no match for nearly five pirates all holding him at bay. It had been a fruitless fight for his crew, and he as sure they were all dead now.

His single eye opened (the other covered by a patch), as he heard the soft creak of a wooden door. Ah, it seems he had a visitor. The room he was in was quite dark, for no-one cared to light it for him, or offer him any sort of comfort. Well, after-all, this was an enemy ship, and most likely belonged to another pirate. Or was it perhaps the British Navy, come to hunt him down? It could be a member of the crew, a captain, a soldier. He still did not know.

Despite his predicament, his eye gleamed. He sat up then, a smirk creasing his lips at the dark figure that now stood before him. A bitter laugh escaped his throat.

“Ah, finally, some company. So, here to kill me? Torture me? Both? Sorry to say, but I’m not a very good screamer.”

Based on bench spoilers. (AKA I WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN.)

my house, my home

Granny visits him on a Sunday morning, just after the sun breaks, when the golden light is filtering in through the half drawn shades in streaks of red and orange. The knock on the door startles him from his inspection of the frost lingering on the edges of the window pane (he is not from this realm, but it seems the weather is changing far too quickly - the trees are still full with bright green leaves, the birds not yet starting their migration south (he borrowed one of Henry’s nature books and it makes a sweet pang in his chest when he thinks of it)). 

He answers the door to find Granny already dressed in her apron that he’s grown accustomed to seeing her don in the eatery below, crossbow at the ready. He eyes it for a moment - idly thinks that is horribly barbaric for such an hour - and raises his eyebrow in silent question. 

For her part, she looks conflicted, and after a moment, she drops the weapon to her side. 

“You can’t stay here anymore.” 

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame in what he hopes to be a casual pose, all the while trying to mask the anxiety clawing at his chest. He has nowhere else to go in this small town, and if he wishes to be near Emma - and her boy - this puts him at quite the disadvantage. 

“Is my gold of no more use to you?” 

The woman does give genuine emotion at that, a heavy sigh leaving her lips, disappointment seeping into the fall of her shoulders. 

“Mayor’s orders.” She replies with a tight smile and his stomach plummets. Of course. “Those accused of pirating in the Enchanted Forest are forbidden from staying in town owned dwellings.”

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