#55 "tracing the lines on the other’s hand" for Vesper x Kurt?
hehehe thank you! Any chance to write these two being mushy is a good thing <3 ~650 words
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It was still an adjustment waking up not-alone.
In a good way. A glorious, wonderful way that made warmth ball in her chest; the weight of his arm draped over her waist, her toes curling against her calf.
"Morning, Green Blood." His voice in her ear, low and rough.
Vesper smiled and wriggled back further into his embrace. "Morning. How long have you been awake?"
"Not very," Kurt murmured, though it had been long enough all trace of sleep was gone from his voice. His fingers traced lazy circles around her navel that made Vesper bite her lip. "I am willin' to have a slow start every once in a while."
"Mm, lucky me, then." She rested her hand over his, running her fingers in loops around his knuckles. lingered over a faint scar between two of them. "I suppose we don't have anything pressing this morning, do we?"
"Not in the morning, no." He kisses behind her ears. "I think you mentioned a meeting or a tea or something later, though."
"Mm, tea with Lady Morange." She traced the outline of his thumb, then along each finger. "But that's not 'til much later; we have plenty of time. You don't have drills to run or anything?"
"Always," Kurt snorted softly at her teasing tone. "One of the lieutenants'll handle them if I'm not there."
"Ah, I see." She fought a smile at the thought he'd prepared for such a circumstance, then shifted. Much as she was enjoying this position, she had a crick starting. Vesper sat up, remains of her haphazard braid falling over her shuolder, and rubbed her neck.
"Done already, Green Blood?" Kurt teased in turn.
"Perish the thought," she retorted, tugging his arms until he sat up as well. "I just want a different arrangement..." She shoved the pillows more against the headboard as she spoke.
He caught the intent and tugged her close to snuggle as he settled against the rearranged pillow. His arm around her waist. Her head on his shoulder. Perfect.
"I thought I was the creaky old one." Murmured into her hair.
"You aren't, and unfortunately neck cricks don't care how old you are." His hand lay in her lap and she idly traced a finger up the Y-line of his palm, then back and forth along the ones above it.
"No, I suppose not." A beat. "They only care how many nights you fall asleep at your desk."
"That has only happened once in the past two weeks and you know it, good Captain," Vesper retorted lightly, earning a chuckle. Her thumb ran back and forth--equally light--over the higher line across his palm. "I've had such an enticing incentive to come to bed, you know."
"Flattering, but we both know you were good at keepin' work to a proper place and time even before."
"True as that may be," back down the Y-line, trying not to look at a scar on his wrist, a burn she suspected wasn't from combat. "knowing I'll have you for company is a very persuasive case for turning in at a reasonable time."
Kurt was quiet, just a faint catch to his breathing at the lines she was drawing on his hand.
"Too much?" Vesper asked softly.
He wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "Just not used to havin' my praises sung."
"I know." She tugged his hand up to kiss the fingertips. "i'm sorry if it's coming on strong, but I happen to think you're every bit the wonder you believe me to be. I'm making up for lost time the rest of the world didn't acknowledge that."
"Then I suppose I'll adjust," Kurt said after a moment, voice thick. "But only if you let me return the favor."
"Your terms are acceptable," Vesper said, and tipped her hands back for a proper kiss.
Giving preschool teacher Peter Parker a massage, I know those kiddos use his long limbs as a human jungle gym
[from this prompt list] [feel free to request a prompt from the list]
[tasm!peter parker x reader]
Gray Hairs and Massages
"And then, for some unknown reason, Marcus stood up and started singing Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs while Allie attempted to do the worm around him. She hit her face off the floor and got a bloody nose. Meanwhile, Jessica and Kit have climbed to the top of the bookcase and are attempting to jump off, Kevin has Chubs the hamster in his pocket even after I told him not to touch the class pet, Max is spinning in circles so fast that he starts puking, Rowen is crying in the corner because he misses his mom, and the rest of the kids are sitting on the circle time rug looking at me like they've lost all hope in my abilities to run a classroom!"
Peter let out a loud, exaggerated sigh and flopped face first onto the bed after detailing his chaotic work day to you.
"I thought fighting crime was hard," he mumbled into the bunched up blankets under his face. "Preschool is worse than any bad guy I've ever come across."
You repressed a laugh for his own sanity and took a seat on the bed beside him, "At least it'll be good practice for when we have kids. If you can handle 22 children, I think you should be able to handle four with ease."
He peaked his eyes up from his blanket prison to give you a questioning look, "Four? You want four kids now? What happened to only two?"
You shot him a smile and gave an innocent shrug, "Hearing you talk about the chaos made me excited. I want to see you in action. Super dad, Peter Parker. It has a nice ring to it."
He groaned and hid his face back into the blankets, "I don't think I could even handle one. These children are crazed. They're taking over. They know I'm weak. They can smell my blood in the water and they're circling into attack mode. They're going to eat me alive. One day someone will check in on me and my half devoured body will be staring lifeless up at the ceiling while the children have gone completely feral as they feast on my flesh for snacktime. It's Lord of the Flies in there. My head has been pounding all evening."
You chucked at his over exaggeration of the situation and patted his back, "Such a drama queen. My day was lovely, thank you for asking. I got to sit in a quiet library and sort books."
He rolled over and flopped his head into your lap, staring up at you, "That sounds wonderful. Wanna trade?"
"You wish." You brushed your fingers through his thick hair. "Want me to give you a massage? I'll go grab some ibuprofen for your headache and massage away your troubles."
He responded with a pathetically sad whine, "Please. I'm dying."
You scooted out from under him to go grab a bottle of pain meds from the cabinet, along with a glass of water, and your cooling eye mask from the fridge. When you returned, Peter was laying in his boxers and had half unbuttoned his shirt before giving up. His arms were flopped onto the mattress and spread out to either side of him while he stared in a daze up at the ceiling.
"Help me," he croaked, his voice clearly strained from trying to speak over boisterous four year old's all day. "'m so tired. Can't even finish taking my shirt off. Just wanna be comfy..."
"Oh, honey, you poor thing," you chuckled under your breath. "Come here."
You placed his things on the bedside table and quickly made work of unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged it off his shoulders, grabbing the pain relief next to him and chugging the entire glass of water with it. You helped fix the eye mask around his face and he rolled back onto his stomach.
You climbed up on top of him, straddling your legs on either side of his hips, and started to rub your hands over his bare shoulders. Peter let out a low groan of approval.
"Your hands are so cold," he mumbled.
"Aren't they always like that?" You replied, working your fingers into his large muscles with circular motions.
"Yeah but they feel nice now. You should quit your library job and work as a masseuse. Libraries are a dying breed."
You gasped in feigned outrage, "How dare you speak of my beloved library like that?"
He shrugged his tense shoulders, a tiny smile gracing his half hidden face, "Truth hurts, baby."
"Yeah, well, at least I know I'll never become a preschool teacher."
"Hey, don't mess with us teachers. We're hardcore."
You laughed, "Says the man who couldn't even take off his shirt tonight."
He gave a sly smile, "Maybe I wanted you to be the one to undress me? Maybe I knew exactly what I was doing?"
"Or maybe you were exhausted and lazy?" You patted his shoulder and rolled off him, sitting upright on the mattress. "Turn around and roll over. Put your head in my lap. I'll massage your head."
He did as he was told and settled nicely into your lap, a lingering smile on his lips. You gently took the eye mask off his face to have better access to him. You started with a gentle pressure, circling around his temples and working your way up his hairline to his forehead.
"Imma fall 'sleep," he mumbled.
"Go for it. You deserve the rest."
You continued to work on massaging his scalp, listening to his breathing get steadier and softer, when you looked down and quietly gasped at what you saw. As you ran your fingers through his thick hair, you noticed a patch of gray glinting under the dim light. The more you brushed through it, the more single strands of gray you saw. It wasn't immediately obvious unless you were up close and grooming him like you were doing but, there was no denying it, Peter was graying.
"Well, shit," you whispered under your breath.
Peter peaked a sleepy eye open and mumbled, "What? Don't tell me a kid gave me lice again."
"Not lice. Did you know that you're graying?" You couldn't hide the tinge of amusement in your voice.
His eyes snapped open, the sleep vanishing from his face, and he shot up right.
"What? I'm not going gray! Don't say that!" He gasped, putting a protective hand to his precious hair.
You laughed at his over the top reaction, "Sorry, Pete, but go look in the mirror."
He rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. You laid down to curl up in the warm spot his body heat had left on the bed and smiled when you heard his yelp of horror from the other room.
"No!" He yelled. "Those damn kids! This is their fault!" He shuffled back into the bedroom with a pout. "Am I old?"
You rolled your eyes, "You're 35, Peter."
"Is that old?" He sank to knees beside the bed in front of your face and looked up at you with pleading, but playful, eyes.
You nodded, taking on a serious tone, "Very. Oldest man alive."
"Oy vey," he stifled a laugh with his hand. "Might as well get me a cane and call me grandpa. Now that I think about it, my father grayed really early and so did Uncle Ben. At least they both still had a full head of hair. I'd rather be gray than bald. If I start to bald, I need you to put me out of my misery."
You scooted over to give him space to climb into bed with you, "Come on, old man. I promise if you go bald that I will make you a wig out of my own hair."
He rolled into bed beside you and snuggled his face next to yours so your noses were brushing against each other, "I have gray hair."
"I know," you whispered back. "That's so fucking hot."
"Really?"
You nodded, "Oh yeah. You're giving off serious daddy vibes right now." You gave him a sneaky smirk. "Is this old man too tired to please his wife tonight?"
His smile matched yours as you watched his eyes spark to life, "Wow, look at that, I suddenly feel fully rested. You're the perfect cure to a crazy day."
45 for the touch prompts, with tangerine, if you're able to! 🌻
45. feeling their temperature
“You’re sick.”
“I’m not fucking sick,” Tangerine snaps, then bursts into a cough so violent you’re surprised he doesn’t hack up a lung. You suppress the need to roll your eyes and instead nod towards the sofa, encouraging him to sit down. Tangerine grumbles but complies - his cooperation a testament to his ill-health - he falls back heavily and grunts as he sinks into the cheap upholstery of your loveseat.
Christ, he looks unwell. He’s paler than usual and there’s a sheen of sweat all over his face. You’re amazed he even made it out to visit you, but come rain or shine he always visits on weekends. ‘Just to make sure you aren’t getting up to no good’, he insists. You’re not quite sure you believe that.
You press the back of your hand to his forehead. He stiffens, not expecting the touch, and you’re worried for a moment you’ve gone too far - but quickly he relaxes under you as he gets used to the feeling. In fact he even seems to be leaning into it.
“Well?” he asks, eventually, when you’ve been holding your hand against his warm skin for too long without saying anything.
“I’m making you a Lemsip. And some soup,” is your professional opinion and, knowing he has no choice when you’re this made up, Tangerine lets himself be fussed over for once.
hi alex!! i’m so excited that you’re taking requests 😊 if you’re inspired to write this, id like to request the touches prompt #52 (gripping thigh) with cillian? 💞
Hey Nina! Thank you so much for sending me this! 😘♥️ I had a lot of fun writing it 😉
So, full disclosure, apparently I’m in a smutty writing mood because, whilst I am sure there are lots of ways this prompt could go, my mind went straight to the gutter 😂 Enjoy!
Warnings: 🔞 Smut. Like, almost immediately. I’m not sorry. Slightly (like blink and you’ll miss it) dom!Cillian vibes.
Word count: 751 MASTERLIST
Movie Night
It all started with a seemingly innocuous kiss to her shoulder, while she lay in his arms, watching a film after dinner one night. They were stretched out on the comfy forest green sofa in the basement, lights low, a comedy they had seen a million times playing on the tv in front of them.
Her slouchy jumper had slipped down on one side, leaving her shoulder bare, except for her bra strap. An open invitation.
But as he absent-mindedly dropped a kiss there, he noticed her little wriggle. A subtle squeezing together of her thighs.
He knew that move.
Intimately.
So he did it again, to check that he’d definitely seen it correctly. Testing. You know, for science.
And she did it again, a little less subtly than the last time.
Yep. He had confirmed it.
His wife was horny.
What a disaster, he thought wickedly.
He shifted slightly so he could reach her neck and shoulder more comfortably, and began trailing featherlight kisses across her skin.
The squeezing intensified and a low moan sounded at the back of her throat.
“Cill…” she breathed, eyes slipping closed as one of his large hands found its way to the junction of her upper thigh, delicately tracing patterns against her leggings-clad skin.
She parted her legs to give him greater access and he began to run his fingers, lightly, over where she needed him most. His lips continuing their gentle assault of her neck.
Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, and she let out a shuddering breath as he pressed harder on her clit through her clothes.
“Please…baby…I..” she whimpered, looping an arm back around his head, fingers digging into the short hair at the base of his neck. He was still growing out his ‘Tommy’ hair and he could feel her short nails against his scalp, sending a wave of desire through him.
He made short work of pushing her leggings and underwear down her legs, spreading her open, fingers teasing the slickness he found waiting for him there.
“Fuck, baby…always so wet for me,” he murmured in her ear and he felt her clench around the fingers he had slid inside her plush heat.
She moaned, long and low, wordlessly begging him not to stop, her hips grinding against his hand.
He teased her with his fingers, running lazy circles around her clit, before plunging back into her warmth, curling his digits to create sparks behind her eyelids.
But he wouldn’t let her cum. He brought her to the edge again and again, but held her back, until she was shaking with the need for release.
“Please…Cill..ah…fuck…I can’t….” she begged, chewing her lip, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold herself together.
“Not until I say,” he replied in a low voice.
But it was too much. His voice, his command, coupled with the tight circles he was now drawing on her sensitive clit was overwhelming. She gripped his thigh so hard it would undoubtedly leave bruises tomorrow. He knew she couldn’t control it anymore.
“Now Y/N. Cum for me, love,” he said quickly, same low voice as before, knowing exactly how far he could push her and what it would take to drive her over the edge.
And for a moment she teetered on the edge of the precipice before her climax overtook her. Her body was practically rigid with pleasure, back arched away from him, as she rode the waves of bliss.
He kept his fingers moving, stroking her through the high, easing her back down to earth.
“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear, as her eyes fluttered open again.
On the screen in front of them, the credits had begun to roll.
“We missed the end of the film,” she giggled quietly, cheeks flushed, breathing still slightly erratic.
“This was better,” he smirked into her shoulder, pressing his lips against her skin.
She hummed in response, twisting to look up at him. She smiled, “I feel I should repay the favour, Mr Murphy.”
“Hmmmm…Mrs Murphy. I think that could be arranged.” He captured her lips with his own in a searing kiss.
There was a thud from above their heads.
“Daaaaaaad!” Finn’s voice floated down the stairs.
For fuck’s sake. These cock-blocking children. He thought in exasperation, as he levered himself up from the sofa and attempted to adjust his aching erection in his jeans.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he said, pointing at her seriously. “I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.”
As with Strangers earlier, I’ve made this is a little blurb for our favourite kinky Lockdown couple. I’m enjoying having smaller little bits to add to their collection that aren’t strictly part of the broader story I’m going to tell ☺️♥️
Also 35 kissing bruises/scars with codywan??? Gotta get som obi angst up in this bitch
Touching prompts #35: kissing bruises/scars
Their General resembles a Vod.
He came to them already having known war. He came to them already understanding the importance of orders, of duty. He came to them with hair like fire, a solider's voice, and a surly vod'ika tripping at his heels.
He came to them with scars. Their General has burn scars, blaster scars, and silvery ones around his neck in a ring - like something painful used to rest there. He came with old wounds speckled atop his hands, his arms, the soles of his feet. He resembles them, in this way. Obi-Wan is decorated with battle.
Cody asks after each mark, but only one per evening. He wants to spend his lifetime putting names and places to those marks, mapping them with his fingers, eyes and lips.
"This one?" he murmurs, having decided. He skirts the long-faded ring around Obi-Wan's throat - paler than the rest of his skin and oddly textured, when one knows to look.
Obi-Wan jerks slightly at the touch, gentle though Cody is. He shoots him an apologetic look for the flinch and leans heavier onto Cody's shoulder.
"Did I ever tell you about Bandomeer, my love?"
"No," Cody replies. He skirts his lips feather-light across the scar. "Tell me."
And in this way, too, Obi-Wan resembles a vod: the sharing of stories in the dark.
If you're still doing the Touching prompts could I request either prompt 23 or 3 for Lester Sinclair?
Lester Sinclair x Reader (F)
Thanks for the request, Anon! SFW, Fluff
Touching prompts
3. Hiding face in neck
23. carrying the other in their arms.
> You had been more than excited for your date night with Lester. Just you and him at the little diner he used to work at as a teen. He swore by the place, “Best food in all of north Louisiana!”
> You bounced in spot, hands-on the large bay windows of Bo’s gas station. Bo was thankful you were turned away from him, he wore a bright smile. He thought you looked like the cutest little thing in all of Ambrose.
> “Bo,” You turned to him, “Lester’s late, by at least fifteen minutes now…” It didn't help that it began to rain. The date wasn’t outside but the one sunny day now held a grey hue.
> “Could be stuck again. That truck is old as shit and has trouble getting past the washed-out path.” Bo walked over to you, placing his large hand on the small of your back. You shifted slightly, “You might as well go check on him.”
> Lester came bounding around the corner of town, running as fast as he could to the gas station. Any concerns of the rain long gone as you rushed out of the store giving Bo a quick goodbye.
> You collide into each other’s arms at full speed, almost knocking yourselves over. Lester laughed and you giggled into his neck, nuzzling into him. He placed a hand on the back of your head in an attempt to bring you even closer to him. “Missed you darlin’” he murmured into your ear, a warm feeling being spread through you despite the cold rain.
> He kissed you, hard. You could feel the smile on his lips. He ran his hands up and down your sides. You kissed him back just as hard, hands resting on his back, pulling him into you. He whimpered when you pulled away.
> You both turned to wave to Bo, “He wasn’t acting sweet on ya, was he?” Lester raised an eyebrow at you, curious as all hell. He’s seen the way Bo looks at ya, and not just some pretty girl he enjoys messing around with either. You held his hand and squeezed it,
> “I think he tried, or he was just being comforting.” Lester frowned at your words. “You don’t have to worry, Lester. It’s always you.” You kissed his cheek, enjoying the way he blushed.
> You and Lester stood in silence, mouths agape staring at the washed-out road. What was once a few stepping stones to the other side was now rushing knee-deep water. You looked at one another, “Well, I’ll carry you, so come here.” Lester gestured for you to hop up into his arms.
> “You sure, Lester?” He gave you a stern look and nodded. “Okay.” You smiled and happily jumped into his arms. Enjoying his lean muscles flexed under you, his pecs puffing out, his hands holding you tight.
> “Okay, try not to move too much,” Lester stepped into the swampy water, “This shit feels slimy despite the rain.” The water came up to his knees, pants soaked up to his thighs from the steps. He fumbled but caught himself, holding onto you even tighter.
> You giggled into his neck, “Be careful, Les, don’t wanna tr-” He stumbled forward, his foot snagging on an exposed root. You went first into the water, the cold slimy water making you shriek. Lester scrambled, yanking his hat back on, and began apologizing profusely.
> “Sorry Darlin, I’m so sorry.” He helped you up, face wore a frown, “Damn, I’m so damn stupid.” He held your hand and placed his other on the small of your back, helping you out of the water. “I’m such a shit head, your pretty dress all rui-”
> You kissed him, wanting him to stop his self-deprecating, “Lester, it was fun.” He shook his head at you. “No, Lester, come on. It’s no big deal, it’s just some water. We're in Louisiana after all, we should expect this.” You grinned at him, placing more kisses on his cheek.
> “ You don’t get it,” He grabbed your hand to lead you to his truck, “I just want it to be perfect y’know? I want you to have a nice night out. You spend all your time helping us, helping me. You don’t deserve to have anything less than the best.” He hugged you, his face buried into your neck as if hiding his embarrassment.
> You hugged back, running your hand through his short blonde hair, enjoying the way it felt, despite the rain that had touched it, you could feel that he had showered.
> He walked you to his truck, opened your door for you. He pushed you up by your ass, giving it a light pinch. You squealed and smiled at his cheeky little grin. He rushed to his side, you could see the spark in his eyes.
> He hopped in, winking at you, “Kay, Darlin, we’re gonna stop by the house first and then-” He turned the key, nothing. He made a face and tried again. Nothing. He scrunched his face and slammed his palms on the steering wheel.
> You didn’t want to hear the words coming out of his mouth, you scooted over to him, placed your self in his lap, and rested a hand on his chest. You didn’t say anything, just nuzzled into him.
> Lester sighed, he looked straight forward, mind racing. He heard you, a slight murmur from your mouth, he didn’t want to know exactly what you said, but he had a feeling. He wrapped his arms around you, kissed your forehead, and pulled you close.
> You looked up and smiled at him, kissed his cheek, and nuzzled back into him. Any time spent with Lester was time well spent.
