30+, minors dni. a collection of things i enjoy or find pretty. games, films, words, art in general, some fics and some personal posts might be posted here.
Moon siren, you grant his wish in the middle of the night, speak in tongues and melt in his mouth.
Dissolving into him.
He can't breathe.
Moon siren when you're naked on top of him. I love you. The words scratch his throat, makes him choke, he wants to say them, chant them like an old forbiddenpoem-if he does, will fate punish him? This is what happens, after all, poor little deity boy , the worst is over but life is still life.
Your eyes scanning him. Mmmn? Yet he can't say he's done, he can measure this entire room with his body, he can carry the world on his shoulders, what are you then, his oceanid oceanid oceanid, you get under his skin, swim into his veins, through the bones, you're his everything.
Conjure the past, let it burn
(it did)
and let it go.
"I think we should get up," your hazy, almost slurred speech makes him hold you closer to him. "Can't believe how long we've slept. Pregnancy makes me tired and sleepy all the time and you're enabling me," you say with a smile, eyes closed, head resting on his chest.
He chuckles.
See the future, let it come
(clear lines)
"I love you," he says, anyway, words meant just for you and the life in your womb. "And what do you mean enabling you, mmm?" He plants a kiss on top of your head. "May I remind you of the way you banned any extra work for the day, dragged me to our bedroom by my tie--"
"It's such a nice tie," you say, voice muffled as you bury your face on his chest, trying to hide the red on your cheeks.
He looks down at you, chuckling.
"Yes, it is. Thank you for buying it for me, however, that was not my original point."
It's quiet for a moment, a brief one, just until he notices your steady breathing. "Did you fall asleep again?"
"Nope, just..." you yawn, "resting my eyes."
Moon siren when you quench his thirst, a drowsy kiss on his chest, a spell on each strand of hair on your head.
"Then rest your eyes, I'll take the blame for enabling your bad sleeping habits."
You sigh, content. "You haven't taught me yet though," you look up at him, your left hand reaching up to trace his jawline, feeling the prickling hairs that are already growing when he shaved just the day before.
"What?", he asks, catching your wrist, delighting himself at how you open your palm to let him lean on it, nuzzle his cheek like a cat, marking his territory even more.
"How to tie knots like you."
Moon siren when he readjusts himself and kisses you silly, and deep and long, kisses you as if he's been without you for days.
"Then choose," he starts, tracing his lips down your neck, your collarbone. "Do you wish to be taught now or sleep some more?
And it's hard to resist when he's breathing you in, when his touch heals you from any kind of fatigue.
Moon siren when you choose now, the obvious, choose him, without hesitation, moon siren when his hold on you tightens, his moon, his siren, his wife, mother of his child.
He wants to tell you that, tell you that you're all of his dreams combined into one, you're made of stardust
It starts simple enough.
You're washing the dishes, handing him a plate and he catches you off guard with a kiss. You giggle, he chuckles, takes in the way you blush, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear so he can see your smile. He sets the plate aside after drying it, and then you turn to him and he wants to make you giggle one more time so he grabs you by the waist, you gasp and he kisses you again, a little slower this time, getting lost in the way you fall into him.
It doesn't go unnoticed the scent of jasmine on your skin, and he swears you drive him insane.
It's his fault, after all, for giving you that massage in the middle of the night, that jasmine essential oil he bought being put to work perfectly.
When you break apart you're flushed and out of breath and he's smiling.
You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, and going back to the dishes. He stands next to you, waiting patiently for the next plate, except he can't focus on anything but you. Your delicate features, the way your hair frames your face, how soft and vulnerable you look even though you can bring the house down with just your fists.
You steal a glance at him and then looks down, grinning.
"Don't give me that look," you say.
"What look?"
"The one you're giving me."
"I feel like you're accusing me of something here, darling."
"I'm serious. I have work, you have work, Aurora will be back from school in a couple of hours…"
"Hmmhm," Zayne starts. "We're very busy people."
You laugh at that, playfully shoving him to the side with your hips.
Deep inside his heart there's a tendency to shatter his own happiness, but this time he knows how to keep it locked, this tendency, knows how to keep it away from your laughter and his peace, the daughter you gave him, he knows how to appreciate the moment without feeling like it will go away in the next second, he's learned his lesson and it's even clearer when your laughter resonates around his fears, the tender sound of you voice making him warm, you always do this, you're his world, after all, you're his.
He wants to tell you that, tell you that you're all of his dreams combined into one, you're made of stardust, but talking isn't one of his strongest suits so he shuts the tap on the sink and when you turn to question him, he lifts ypu up and sets you on the counter, your legs on each side of him as he stands in the middle, towering over you.
Your cheeks go red, even after all this time, your cheeks go red, your hands tremble, he's the love of your life and he takes your hand in his and leans closer. You're chanting his name when his lips go back to yours, and he feels a shiver when your legs wrap around his body as he deepens the kiss so you can both feel it in your bones.
Through it all he thinks that if he could measure his devotion for you then it'd stretch all the way to the moon and back twice, it'd cause chaos in the entire galaxy and he wouldn't mind a bit, not when it means that he can have you like this, stay here to make you laugh and giggle every day for the rest of his life, he wouldn't mind a little chaos, no.
He can't resist trailing his kisses along your neck, biting and licking and leaving red marks and then going all the way to your mouth to hear you moan and hold on to him, your hands on his shoulders for balance, it's okay, he's got you safe and sound.
You bring out this impulsiveness in him at the same time you keep him grounded. The urgency he's feeling right now, the one that's going straight through his body, reverberating through his ribs, accelerating his heart, is a blessing.
Your fingers tugging lightly at his hair, you make him look at you, his forehead against yours, erratic breathing and electrified limbs.
He grabs your shorts by the waist line, swiftly undoes the button and pulls them down, discarding them to the side. He takes a moment to admire you; black cropped top, pink cotton panties, hair a mess, chest heaving, and you're gorgeous in the way dangerous things are.
Looking for approval, he steals another kiss, slides off your panties and grabs your legs. He brings you closer to the edge of the counter, wanting to tease you first. He lowers himself a bit, smiles at you as you wait with your mouth hanging open, yearning and burning for what's about to happen.
He wastes absolutely no time in eating you out, his tongue on your clit, licking and sucking, swriling around until you're gasping, holding his hair to guide him, keep him there, right there in the middle of your legs, and he loves it because you taste so sweet, so fucking sweet, he has never tasted anything as good.
Honeysuckle, you're close to screaming, calling his name, warning him that you're close. That's when he stops, and you swear at first, pouting as he laughs mischievously, but then you relax, take a deep breath as he comes back up to you. You're the one who doesn't let him say anything this time, the one who pulls him into a kiss to taste yourself on his tongue.
"Here?" he asks, mainly to be certain.
You nod, say:
"Here, anywhere," your tone low and shaky. "Please."
He wants your mouth on him too, but you don't have much time, so he unzips his pants, lowers them down to his thighs along with his boxers.
He holds his cock by the base, he's hard and aching, and he rubs the head on your sensitive clit to see you gasp, throw your head back and beg him to stop being so mean.
He complies, he's mean, oh so mean, yet he slides into you and you throw your arms around his neck. He's slow and gentle at first, your legs wrapped around him and his hands on your waist, you're almost off the counter but he's holding you steady, like always, he's got you.
His thrusts are calculated, one, two, three and then he holds himself deep inside you, both of you moaning and grunting at the feeling. His rythm is good, focused, and he feels like melting inside you every time you say his name.
"Please please please please please Zayne," your words are rushed and messy and needy.
It drives him crazy, he picks up the pace, goes faster and harder like you want him to. You hold on to him, trusting him with everything.
His thrusts start to grow frantic, he pounds into you until you're losing any sense of reality, saying his name, begging for more, telling him how good he feels, you're so full, he's thick and big and so fucking hard, fingernails digging at the shirt he didn't even bother to take off, you're so close, he's close too, and he can't help his own moans, can't help burying his mouth on your neck, losing himself in you.
Your orgasm sneaks up on you and you come, squeezing around him and opening your mouth in a silent cry, and then he's next, thrusts erratic, shallow, unfocused, desperate until he's going still inside you and filling you up, knowing he's the only one who gets to do this, the only one who gets to see you like this.
After a moment where he kisses you and then plants a small kiss at the tip of your nose, he carefully slips out of you, pulls his pants up and when you're still in a haze and catching your breath, you smile, watching him, contemplating the mess around you, some dirty dishes still in the sink.
"This is your fault," you say, laughing. "You know that, right?"
He chuckles, not daring to move. Not yet.
"Why?"
"That look."
"You don't like that look?"
"You know I do," you say, blushing and grinning. "C'mon, we need to hurry."
He helps you off the counter, grabs your shorts and panties, unable to hide the proud smile on his face as he helps you get dressed. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes with his fingers, plants a kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips again. You hug him, your face on his chest, eyes closed, and he holds you tightly. Dirty dishes in the sink or not, it's just the two of you in the world right now.
Sometimes he feels like the both of you can stop time.
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a/n: writing away my frustrations in the middle of this crisis.
i have two fics written about their daughter here and here :)
