though she does fall asleep with me

Guide Me

REID X READER – written for a prompt in which Spencer and the reader have been dating for a few months, he gets nervous about sleeping with her because he has no experience, she does though and calms him. The prompt said it didn’t have to be smut so I assumed maybe you didn’t want it to be? If you do, I can make a part 2. Happy reading! :)

Author: @thebeautifultimesofladybrooklynn

Guide Me

(y/n) loved Spencer. She loved being his girlfriend. She loved all four months of their relationship from start to finish. (y/n) loved the fact that Spencer was shy. She loved that he was intelligent. She loved the way his arms felt around her, and for the last month, she loved that he felt comfortable enough with her to fall asleep like that. (y/n) loved Spencer’s lips. Those pouty lips. (y/n) loved the way the felt against hers, and she loved that she got to feel them every night before bed for the last week. Tonight was no different, and (y/n) loved it.

               As Spencer’s hand moved up her cheek, (y/n) deepened their kiss, pushing her tongue between his lips and caressing his passionately. The wet, warm massage prompted a soft moan to form in Spencer’s throat. It vibrated through mouth and across his lips, landing on (y/n)’s and making them tingle.

               “Mmm, Spencer,” she breathed before taking his lips into her again.

               She pushed his shoulder backward, causing him to lie on his back instead of his side. Wrapping her leg around his waist, (y/n) shifted her body on top of his, moving her lips to his jawline and nibbling it tenderly. Spencer’s chest heaved as (y/n)’s tongue trailed along his neck, his heavy breaths adorned with faint moans and soft purrs. His arms wrapped around her body, his fingers digging deep into her back. He held her as if his life depended on it, and the tight embrace only served to fuel the fires of (y/n)’s lust. Her hips began to roll slowly over Spencer’s as she brought her lips back to his.

               “You’re so sexy,” she grinned against his lips as he grew harder and harder beneath her.

               “(y/n),” Spencer breathed tentatively, “Ah, um, (y/n), just wait…”

Keep reading

The most-likely-to: Cophine version
  •  Falls asleep on the couch: Delphine. She works too hard and does most of the housework because Cosima has a tendency to get lost in some book. She doesn’t mind though, because whenever she wakes up there’s either a nice warm blanket on her with a tea on the coffee table, or, even better, a small figure curled against her side sleeping as well.
  • Makes friends with the neighbors: Cosima, she’s social with everyone. The self-proclaimed friend-maker (Look, I just like hearing people’s stories, it’s not even me being nice, it’s me being nosey) always heads out first just to find someone to chat with while she waits for the blonde to finish getting ready. She also tells them little things that Delphine loves in hopes that eventually someone will catch on and get her something nice.
  • Is the adventurous eater: Delphine, but only because she’s well-traveled, and her parents love experiencing new cultures. It’s not to say Cosima won’t give foreign foods a try, but she much prefers her burgers and fries from in-n-out thank you very much.
  • Hogs the covers at night: Cosima, not because she needs them, but because when she does, Delphine always moves closer to get the warmth, and she’s not about to complain about a hot girl pulling her closer. She does, however, even them back out once Delphine’s asleep again, her mission complete already.
  • Forgets to do the dishes: Cosima, she couldn’t care less. She honestly just doesn’t understand why you’d waste washing dishes when there’s perfectly good paper plates available. Delphine claims they’re not as sophisticated and they hurt the environment, but Cosima retorts that they waste a lot of water cleaning the porcelain ones anyway. It’s safe to say that no one has yet to win that argument.
  • Tries to surprise their partner more often: Both of them. They try to make it romantic sometimes, but it usually just ends up being stupid little pranks of affection. Like the one time Cosima just lounged naked around Delphine’s apartment waiting to pull her into the bedroom when she got home, only to be stark naked when her girlfriend walked in with Sarah.
  • Leaves dirty laundry on the floor: Delphine, she’s yet to buy a laundry hamper to put in the bedroom, so there’s just a “dirty clothes corner” by the bed. She could very well walk into the bathroom to put them in the hamper there, but more often than not she’s rushing to change and ends up just tossing her old outfit on the floor.
  • Stays up til 2 AM reading: Both of them. So enthralled in science, they often end up sharing tidbits of information from the books their reading with the other, and love it because they both usually understand it all and relish in late night science talks as they call it.
  • Sings in the shower: Delphine, always in French, much to the pleasure of Cosima. She hates her voice, but continues anyway because of habit, and blushes each time Cosima tells her she has a beautiful voice, though she wishes the blonde would sing something she could actually understand. The only time she fails to sing in the shower is when the cheeky brunette is in there with her, in which case her mouth is busy doing other, more important things.
  • Takes the selfies: Cosima, apparently silly Europeans don’t know how to get the right angle, and she hardly cares that Delphine’s arms are longer because her photos are “top-notch quality.”
  • Plans date night: Usually Delphine because she thinks about it more often, Cosima’s head too much in the clouds, too stuck on everything else that is going on around her. However, when the American does manage to plan a date night, she always knocks it out of the park, coming up with the best ideas and the most unconventional ways to spend time with the one she loves. In the end, they just love spending time together so it hardly matters.
lighten up the atmosphere

Prompted by clarkeslight​: "I’m zoning out working on this painting and you just stopped me from drinking out of my dirty water cup" + bellarke + 700 words max, go!

:P COURTNEY YOU ARE TERRIBLE, and I love you! *smooches*

Word Count (for the record): 690


Right now, Clarke’s the kind of tired that sticks eyelids open and locks muscles into position. For the past few hours, she’s been staring at the same section of canvas, and she’s still not satisfied with the color. It needs something, but that something has been eluding her since midnight and at this point she’s ready to tear her hair out. This commission is due next week, and she still has so much left to touch up before she can call it done.

There’s a little digital clock sitting on the shelves by the door, but Clarke hasn’t turned around to check the time since she heard Bellamy puttering around upstairs sometime around eleven, letting Apollo out one last time and starting the dishwasher before bed. That was hours ago, and the thought of sleep makes Clarke want to cry a little. But she has to finish these details, dammit, or she’ll be up half the night agonizing over it anyway.

So Clarke sighs, reaching over to the cart where she stores all the brushes and paints she keeps at home, and closes her hands around her coffee mug. If she’s going to be up until dawn, she might as well be semi-lucid.

A warm hand closes around her wrist, and before she can question him, Bellamy’s chuckling into her hair, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

Bell.” She’s too tired to care how much it borders on a whine, but she clears her throat and adds dryly, “If you want to keep your hand, you will let go of my coffee cup.”

“That’s not coffee, princess.” He’s sounding much too fond, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. But Clarke focuses on the mug in her hands, on the “paint water” scrawled across the side. Inside, her paints have blended into a muddy, murky brown. It’s nowhere near the color of her cold black coffee in the “not paint water” mug still sitting on the cart.

“Oh.”

The smile in Bellamy’s voice is too obvious when he says, “It’s time for bed.” His arms snake around her shoulders and he rests his cheek against the top of her head.

“But I have to finish this,” she protests, but it’s more reflex than anything. When his lips find the shell of her ear, she lets out a little sigh and sinks deeper into the embrace.

“If you do that,” he says, his voice low and warm in a way that drags at her eyelids, “you’ll come back in the morning and hate it, and then you’ll want to scrap the whole thing. But this isn’t a personal project you can set aside. You’ve been working too hard on this to start over now, so close to the deadline.” Then he tilts her chin just so, pressing a kiss to the apple of her cheek. “You’ll feel better with a fresh start in the morning.”

He’s right and she knows it, especially since it’s practically the same speech she gives him whenever he’s up late in bed working on his novel. They’ve always been too similar, that way.

“Okay,” she acquiesces. He helps her to her feet, whisking her coffee mug upstairs while she gathers up her brushes to rinse out. He returns to lean against the door of the basement bathroom while she washes up, scrubbing paint off her hands and out from under her nails. When she declares herself and her brushes clean enough, he takes her hand and leads her upstairs.

From his cushion at the foot of the bed, Apollo opens one lazy eye to watch Clarke shuffle around the room as she gets ready for bed, before she pats him on the head and he relaxes. Then, finally, Clarke climbs into bed and into her husband’s arms, and when they’re both comfortable, he presses a kiss against her forehead and asks, “Where were we?”

“That damn golden apple made a comeback,” she mumbles into his chest.

“Ahh, yes, that damn apple.”

Clarke falls asleep to Bellamy’s voice in her ear, his hands in her hair, and their hearts beating in steady synchronization.