tender lips

Tongue Meets Toes

Lips softly enclosing on your big toe.

It feels good. This is going to be nice.

Tongue slowly caressing the underside of your big toe.

You tense up slightly.

Lips and tongue now move to your second toe.

Suddenly you realize how ticklish this is going to be.

You thought it would be sensual, erotic.

It is—but it’s so much more.

Tongue caressing the underside of your second toe, then spinning circles around it.

You reflexively start to pull away.

Hands grip your ankle to keep your foot in place. 

Tongue gets bolder, dancing in between your first two toes, then second and third toes.

The laughter begins to pour out. It accelerates to heavy laughter almost instantly. You have no control over it.

Now your second and third toes enclosed, inside mouth.

Hot, wet tongue and soft, tender lips.

Shrieks punctuate your heavy laughter.

You grip the sides of the bed.

Fourth toe joins them inside.

You writhe on the bed, pounding your fists against the mattress.

This tickles more than you could have ever imagined.

Light caresses of the tongue alternate with wild flutters.

You’re on the edge

of insanity.

You’d give anything to make it stop

and yet you want even more.

Your foot reflexively jerks forcefully, but is held in place.

You try to say, “It tickles too much” through your laughter but you don’t have enough breath.

The sensation pulsates through your entire body like an electric shock.

They pause and look up at you with a smile.

You catch your breath, panting.

“My toes…” you try to say, “they’re just so…”

Are they done? Are they stopping?

Nope. They like it way too much.

The sensation returns. The hysterics return.

You realize they could do this all night.

Then it dawns on you…they’re going to.

Dont make them your full course meal if you’re just an icing on their cake. You deserve more than that. You fucking deserve more than that. You deserve the moon and the stars and all those shit that guys promise to the girl they love. You deserve a goodnight text, not a ‘where are you, come here’ at 1 am. You deserve a goodmorning text, not a panic attack each night that he might be gone when you wake up. Hell, you deserve handwritten love notes and not just a text.

You deserve a breakfast in bed, or at the kitchen, as long as it is breakfast and it is your favorite pancake drizzled with your favorite chocolate and mapple syrup, because who cares if you gain a little bit of weight, he loves you anyways. You deserve a forehead kiss and tender kisses on your lips, and not a slap on your backside. You deserve a cuddle whenever you’re feeling out of sorts, and not a quick fuck. You deserve I love you’s, and not ‘give me some space’. You deserve much more than this. You deserve all of it, because girl, you are the baker of your own life and you… you can choose to be more than the pretty icing on their cake.
—  cynthia go // An Open Letter to All the Girls: You’re not just a pretty icing on the cake ( @cynthiatingo )
A Love Poem - CIL 04, 5296



O, would that it be permitted to hold your delicate arms, 

fastened around my neck, and to offer kisses to your tender lips.

Go now, darling, and trust your joys to the winds;

trust me, the nature of men is fickle.

Often while I lie awake in the middle of the night, lost in love,

I reflect on these things with myself: many are they whom Fortune has lifted up high;

and in the same way these, suddenly thrown down headlong, she now oppresses:

just as when Venus has unexpectedly joined the bodies of lovers,

daylight divides them, and (they?)…


Milnor, Kristina. “Gender and Genre: The Case of CIL 4. 5296.” In Graffiti and the Literary Landscape in Roman Pompeii. 1st ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.

(The picture and transcription are taken from this source, p 198 and 209. There is obviously MUCH more scholarship on this, but Milnor is a good starting place.)

I’d recommend looking up Rebecca Benefiel if you want more information specifically about graffiti in domestic spaces.


A beautiful love poem from one woman to another, neatly inscribed on the wall inside a house in Pompeii. There’s much to say about this poem, but I’ll keep it brief! There’s a lot of debate as to whether this was actually written by a woman, to a woman, and scholars sometimes bend over backwards to try to justify another explanation. But I (and many others) argue that it rejects the involvement of men both thematically and grammatically. The speaker does not seem interested in men’s “fickle nature.” The gender of the speaker can be determined by the perdita in line 4: a nominative, feminine perfect passive participle. The gender of the addressee is shown by pupula, a vocative, feminine noun (a diminutive term of endearment, literally meaning “little girl,” but probably more like “darling,” or maybe even “baby”?)

Please add your own translations, comments, and bibliography if you like!

Thanks to @ciceronian for the great request!


Wincest AU: Dean’s not great with the whole “chick-flick moments” thing, but sometimes there are no words to say.

Dating Harry Would Include - 35

Long day:

- Coming home after and long and tiring day, craving for one of harry’s comforting hugs
- Hearing him welcoming you before you can call him, the sound of his voice making you smile
- Walking slowly to the living room to find him sitting on couch reading a book, a wide smile appearing on his lips
- The immediate frown when he sees your tired face, asking you with a soft voice “ Hard day my Little Queen?”
- Moving slowly toward him in noding, A tender smile on his lips while he opens his arms for you
- Catching your body in his arms when you sit on his laps, pressing your body on his chest
- Hugging you tightly against him in kissing your hair “ Very bad day indeed! … Let’s see if I can make it better for you! ”
- His palm rubbing gently your back, following the line of your spine to rest on the small of your back rubbing slow circles upon your hip
- Taking delicately your chin in his fingers to make you look at him “ Want to talk it out?”
- The smile on his lips when you kiss him out of guard instead of answering, wrapping your arms around his neck
- Looking at you in biting his lips when you break the kiss, his large hands resting on your thighs
- His long fingers stroking your legs up and down before sliding along your leg to reach your knee when he bends toward you
- His lips begging for more contact, making your lips brushes on each other nibbling playfully the corner of your mouth
- His hands leaving your legs to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you toward him
- Whispering almost intelligible above your mouth “Lips please…” when he can’t make you kiss him
- A smile on his face when he sees you reacting with a smile, happy to cheer up your mood
- Bending toward him to kiss him, a light moan vibrating down his throat when your lips catch his upper lip
- The light bite on your lower lip to keep you close when you try to pull back
- His hands moving to the side of your neck, his thumbs rubbing on the edge of your jaw
- His stare focused on your lips when you break the kiss, his tongue passing over his hungry lips
- Pulling on your neck to make you lean toward him and make the tip of his tongue following the edge of your upper lip
- Pressing a warm kiss on your lower lip, his hand on your shoulder blade to keep you as close as possible
- Your hands gripping his shirt when he pulls back, a smirk on his lips to see you this needy for his kisses
- His worked breath coming out as a light laugh, his lips now red because of  the intensity of your kisses
- Trying to catch his breath in laying his forehead on your cheek when you hug him
- Taking your hand and resting it above his chest while pressing your forehead on his, smiling to see you feeling better
- The seconds becoming long minutes without a word, delicate pecks being spread all over your face
- Laying your head on his shoulder, one of his arms holding around your waist while  rubbing gently your cheek with the back of his fingers
- Pressing his lips in a soft kiss over your forehead “ What about a hot bath for my Little Queen and I?”

college au where karkat orders from dominos and ofc when he does he uses the hot romantic tracker theme;

which jic you dont know has a fabio-esque voiceover thats passionate and wooing and karkat absolutely forgets abt it and opens his laptop in the library and in the dead silence you hear a deep, rousing voice; “the pizza is coming, my love, to soon grace your tender lips…”

in public;

member- taekook x you

genre- fluff (idk maybe angstish?) 

words- 1,388

summary- (requested) all you want is to hold hands with your two boys, but some people can be so rude. polyamorous!au

a/n- dhlaj’hf;asdg okay so i dont take requests for scenarios but i needed some poly!au prompts so this was one sent in :) i hope you guys enjoy!! 

Originally posted by taekookie-bts

Usually, you love the idea of skinship. Big warm hugs, soft kisses against your lips, tender strokes against your back as you fall asleep- it’s all heavenly. But things were different when you started your relationship with Taehyung and Jungkook.

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Cater To You: Tom Holland x WOC

While everyone is off getting some good ole succ, I’m here writing about Tom giving the succ. A bit of inspiration from the Destinys CHild song- Cater 2 U. *SMUT for your Tom Valentine’s Day fantasies. 

You patiently waited for Tom to get back from the gym. He always went before you woke up and you were pretty sire that today he was a little late because he was getting the rest of your Valentine’s Day gifts together. You smiled when he came in with two arm fulls of bags and Harrison carrying the human sized Teddy Bear behind him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love!” He handed you the bags and gave you a soft, tender kiss on the lips. 

“All of this for me?” You asked. “Of course, you’re the love of my life.” He blushed. Haz groaned and propped the bear on the couch. “Well I have to go prepare my things for Y/F/N!” He said his goodbyes and ran out the door. 

“So are you going to open the gifts?” he asked ushering you to sit down. You blushed at the amount of lingerie he bought you. After opening the huge amount of gifts you turned to him and smiled, “I appreciate these gifts but I don’t want you spoiling me anymore today.” He was a bit taken aback, “What do you mean? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“I know but I hate how it’s usually about how the guy buys the girl stuff, so today is all about you.” You clapped. “Wow, okay.” He scratched his head and smiled. 

“Is it supposed to tickle?” He asked trying not to laugh as the lady scrubbed his feet. “Sometimes.” You laughed. He was a bit skeptical to go get his feet done but he was enjoying it. You had been wanting to take him to get a pedicure for the longest time, his feet were hideous and today was a good excuse to do so. 

He tugged at his robe and sighed in relief, “I never thought getting a massage was this amazing!” He said as the Masseuse rubbed his back. “You thought I was kidding huh?” After his pedicure you two were lead to the most quietest part of the Spa and given a couples massage. 

He walked out of the Spa with a wide smile on his face, “That was amazing.” He threw his arm over your shoulder and kissed you on the forehead. “I’m glad you liked it.”

You drove back home and started cooking brunch, “You sit down and relax and the food will be ready in a bit my love.”

You cooked and served the food, “Eat up.” You handed him his plate and he smiled. He finished and you took the plates back to the kitchen. “I can help-” You put your hand up,”Nope you relax, I got it.”

After spending  the rest of the day cuddling and making out, you got dressed to take him to dinner. “You ready love?” You asked stepping out of the bathroom and getting turned on when you saw him in his suit. “Oh that is definitely coming off tonight.” You winked and kissed him on the cheek.

 The restaurant was crowded with couples. “Okay so I have a few things for you.” You said. “I figured when I saw you carrying the bags.” He smuled, taking the gifts from your hands. You two sat in a quiet corner both away from the general public. “Oh wow these are some great shoes.” He said. “I love you but those fucking combat boots have got to go!”

“I like those boots!”, “Well I don’t.” You joked. After opening all of is gifts he smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Their great, thank you darling.”

“Also I have this!” You pulled out a rose and he blushed, “W-what?”

“It’s a rose silly.” You handed it to him and he looked around a bit embarrassed. “Guys usually don’t get flowers.” He mumbled. “Are you embarrassed?” You asked. “N-no, it’s just that I’m so used to giving you flowers-”, “I know but you do so much for me and I wanted to return the favor.”

“Thank you.” He said kissing your hand. 

You were ready for the grand finale of your Valentine’s gift for Tom. You poured out something to drink an pushed him on the couch, “Wait here.”

You put on the lingerie he had bought you and you walked back into the living room, your heels echoing on the wooden floor. His eyes widened and moaned, “This has got to be the best Valentine’s day ever.”

You took the drink out of his hand and placed it on the table, you made him sit all the way back on the couch and you straddled him. You kissed him softly at first until he got impatient. His tongue separated your lips and soon you tongues danced around. 

You pulled away from him and unbutton his shirt while his hands roamed your body. You climbed off of him and got on your knees, he gulped and threw his head back as you pulled his hard cock out of his pants. He hissed when you kissed the tip and slowly took all of him in your mouth. You kept a steady pace and smiled when his hands grabbed your hair. The satisfaction of hearing him moan made you wet, his breathing got heavier and you knew he was about to cum. You stopped and stood up, sliding your panties off. 

You hovered over him, he grabbed your hips and slammed you onto him. You moaned at the feeling of him inside you. “Fuck!” You screamed as his pumped hard into you. You buried your face into his neck and sucked on his ear. 

“I’m gonna come.” He panted. “Come for me daddy.” You said sucking on his sweet spot of his neck. Sucking on his neck and calling him daddy was enough for him to release into you. Even after he came, he kept his steady pace and soon you felt yourself coming undone.

 You rested your forehead against his and tried to catch your breath, “Happy Valentine’s day baby.” You said kissing him on the lips. “Happy Valentine’s day, love.”


Not An Hour Ago

I kissed you
not an hour ago

and you have left me
so distracted
I can write of nothing else.

My lip is tender
where it met your mouth.
I cannot help
but probe at it with
my tongue and my teeth

and test the swollen burn
of your kiss, a sore,
a sweetness

that tastes of your laughter.

I hesitate to kiss you again.
I rush to kiss you again.

How They Kiss (Tara’s Romanced BioWare Companions Edition)

Alistair’s kisses are infused with wonder and gratitude and, under it all, the promise of heat, like a banked fire that only needs tinder to flare up into an enthusiastic bonfire. His lips are tender, soft as rose petals against the corner of a mouth, an eyelid, the curve of a brow. Capturing lips is a promise, a certainty, and with that certainty comes strength. His arms are strong and his heart open, a gift freely offered.

When Fenris kisses, it’s because he chooses it. He gives because he can; his mouth is his, his life is his. His kisses are heady, full of coiled strength, and yet there’s vulnerability in them, too, like a touch of honey in a fine wine; a gift of unexpected sweetness. Sometimes he smiles–that small smile, that Fenris smile, the smile like he has a secret he wants to share–as he curves his mouth against his lover’s and thinks I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours without having the words tainted by the memory of servitude. What freedom, what freedom there is in that.

Sometimes Sebastian kisses gently, tenderly, prayerfully–the kiss of a priest, the kiss of a penitent. Other times, his kisses are deep, wild, filled with passion and yearning. Mostly, though, his wild kisses are tempered with devotion, with love, with the certainty that sharing is more satisfying than taking (all his kisses used to take without giving, but that was a different time and he a different man). He kisses like a man who’s lost families, whose faith has wavered, but who still seeks salvation, and who knows home is found in his lover’s arms.

Isabela kisses like she drinks, with gusto and enthusiasm. Her mouth is vibrant, talented; it is easy to drown against Isabela’s lips, easy to drink of her and feel tipsy with need. Her mouth never lingers overlong. Later, though, curled against a lover she thinks is sleeping, her full lips find the nape of a neck, a bare shoulder and these are softer kisses, tenderer ones, the kind of kisses she cannot yet give on waking. Someday, perhaps. Someday.

Cullen’s kisses are prayers, sometimes grateful, sometimes pleading, sometimes reverent. He transports and is transported, and once he begins he does not hold back. He does not kiss without using his hands–as lips find lips, his hands cup a face, trail down a back, curve around a waist. His hands tell him this is real, is not a dream, that the mouth curving against his mouth will not vanish if he opens his eyes. He is himself when he kisses, not the collection of roles and titles and pieces of armor he has amassed. He is Cullen, hope and faith and fresh air rippling a secluded lake and the gift of a lover’s hand enfolded so gently in his own.

Garrus may not have pliable human lips, but he kisses in a hundred thousand other ways that can never be mistaken for anything but what they are. The brush of his hand against the small of a back, the linger of fingers as he hands over a cleaned weapon, the butt of one companionable shoulder against another, the exchange of banter. His kisses are the brief flutter of mandible against cheek, or the more lingering press of brow to brow. His turian mouth may not purse the way his lover’s does, but that does not stop him from trying. No one, no one kissed by Garrus Vakarian, could ever find that mouth lacking.

1. first, there was hope
mad, deep, deafening
the kind that keeps you awake
thinking, thinking, long past dawn
dreaming, dreaming, past the sunset.

2. then, the kiss
your tender lips met mine
in a fire that would burn
the seven continents and set the seas ablaze
did the ground still lay beneath our feet?

3. and next was the adventure
mingled breath and hidden words
that could never be uttered past the dark of night
or the safety of our bedsheets
where no promise was too daring and no confession came too soon.

4. then there was love
the red visioned passion
that would skin lions and kill gods
you made me believe that two
was the holiest number of all.

5. after our love came the contentment of two from a youth long past
but perhaps it is better to say that we grew staid:
the static weight of our bodies in bed
where your hands never ventured farther than the bedside table
and a kiss was as rare as the desert rain.

6. when stagnancy past all we were left with was truth
the wrinkles framing our tired eyes
from laughs long gone
and a passion that used to be
can any love last forever?

7. we decided to part ways
to rekindle the burning embers deep in our soul
when roads diverge you can not turn back
you walked your path and i walked mine
as we promised ourselves it was for the best.

8. but still when i think of you i feel a pull in my chest
towards a place that i know cannot be found
to the ashen walls of an ancient bedroom:

remember that you are dust
and to dust you shall return.

9. in the end we were nothing:
no mortal can be infinite
and the only way to know love is to lose it.

remember that you are dust
and to dust you shall return.

remember that you are dust
and to dust you shall return.

—  a.c. | cats have nine lives; lovers do too
The Purest of Love - Thranduil

Based off these headcanons: Thranduil and you having matching outfits + Watching the stars together whenever you have the chance + Playing with Thranduil’s hands because they are so elegant and slender, but strong nonetheless (headcanons not mine, they belong to the respectful owner)

A/N: Agh, my dearest Thranduil was actually happy in this one, yay! *cries in the corner happily while feels devour my soul*

Translations: Tolo ar nin: Come with me, A'maelamin: my beloved, belegon nin: my mighty one, meleth e-guilen: love of my life.

Abbreviations: S/T: Skin Tone, H/C: Hair color

Warnings: None

Words: 1300

A pair of slender, able arms encircled my waist as I adjusted the circlet of crimson flora that wreathed my head, now resting seamlessly atop my brow. The soft pressure of tender, suckling lips against the S/T skin of my neck elicited a satisfied hum from my chest as my husband’s platinum tendrils tumbled like water over my shoulder, contrasting elegantly with the corresponding paraphernalia that hung proudly from both Thranduil and I’s frames. The embroidery of aegean vines against the sterling silks blended together to seem as if Thranduil and I’s bodies had been joined, accompanying our already bonded minds and hearts.

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“Spence, say something please. Y-you’re worrying me. Are you mad-?”

“How can I be mad? We’re having a baby. I’m going to be a father!” he broke out into a beam, picking you and spinning you around gently before placing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you so much.”