#forehead kisses
Can I,,,
have some forehead kisses??
“Kiss the corners of her mouth, kiss her until she lays down in bed, kiss her lips softly, and then kiss the fore of her head.. kiss her cheek next with a little grin, then kiss her neck and pull the covers to her chin. Turn out the lights and that’s that, until tomorrow night then we are coming right back..”
Softness is always appreciated during bedtime - eUë
“Just laying here thinking how nice it would be to lazily run my finger over the skin of your forehead and trace little hearts, maybe write out the secrets of how much I love you.. it would be really nice to spend some time with you if you have any free time.”
Then when I am done, I’d place the softest kiss in the middle of your forehead - eUë
The ball night ♡
-
“One wrong move and you are asking to be punished.” He said. “With your ass in my lap and you counting with every spank.” He continued while smirking.
Bringing her closer to him, he whispered “And if you stop counting my love, we’ll just have to start again.” He leaned forward biting her ear while she stood there quivering with arousal. There was a glint in her eyes that made him feel all the more excited for their night to come (*wink wink*).
*Time skip*
Turns out she stopped counting four times because it was too pleasurable.
It was after the fifth time though that he stopped himself because she was so out of it. So being the caring husband he was, he laid her down gently on the silk sheets and rubbed some arnica on her cherry red ass to ease the burning. Giving her a final look, he kissed her forehead and got in bed snuggling to her closely. Calling her a good girl, he falls asleep to her even breaths coming in puffs.
hot as fuck
“- I wanna grow old with you.”
“- We are already old Bucky.”
More Steve and Bucky cute moments, this time for @stephrc79 : )
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My lips have some muscle memory. It isn’t exclusive to them, instead a vast array of hard storage that runs down my jaw line and into my neck, down the rigorous musculature of my shoulders, and even a few fading tendrils that snake down my arms, a vague vestige of remembrance from the last time, and the time before that.
It’s always an afterthought. It’s always just a moment of thought, a decision that’s never actually a decision, and then my lips are at your forehead, leaving their imprint there before I stand and get up off the bed.
It feels like a signature. It acts like a mark.
I wonder if you rub there, once I’m gone. I don’t even have to be gone, but in the bathroom, or the next room. I think you might. I think you couldn’t resist at least placing a finger there, because the more you think about it the more you can feel those lips there, and you need to rub that skin to either make sure it’sstill there, or at the very least get rid of that feeling of soft skin against you, because for some reason it’s a scratch you just can’t itch.
The problem is, you can’t get rid of it. And even if you could, I’m just going to sign you again, and again. Your forehead will become a bathroom stall, covered in my graffiti.
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This is my birthday present for @fabulanova-ffxv :D. ENJOY THE SOFTNESS
➥DAY 09 - Forehead Kiss
We continue on the **beep**tober! let the hunger games for artists begin! shared work with my dear @negativesd09
I’m still on a bit of an ocean theme, even if it’s metaphorical.
CWs: Implied aftermath of torture, swearing.
Whumpee floats alone on an icy sea. Above them, a fog pokes its suffocating tendrils down their throat. Beneath them, the depths whisper their name and try to coax them into sinking.
“Whumpee…”
“Whumpee…”
“Whumpee…”
Something grabs them, drags them. They try to squirm away, their exhausted heart spooked into a gallop. The numbing cold grows searing hot, like a kettle coming to boil, blazing vivid lines across their back. Air rushes out from lungs that held so little to begin with.
“Whumpee!” Those grabbing arms have a stranglehold. Something trembles against Whumpee’s shoulder as the voice crescendos. “Oh, thank fuck you’re alive…”
Caretaker?Whumpee tries to lift their head, but the fire is burning all the way up their neck. There is no use in seeking out Caretaker’s face, no matter how desperately they long for it. The sea-mist of unconsciousness still veils their eyes.
“Sh-sh-shh.” Caretaker’s shaking hand extracts strands of hair from Whumpee’s sweat-soaked brow. Whumpee hadn’t even realised they were making noise, that the high-pitched wailing sound was coming from their own throat. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, Whumpee. They’re on their way.”
Okay. The word drifts past Whumpee like flotsam. Familiar, but not quite. Then Caretaker presses a kiss to their forehead, and they think they understand.
It’s a blearied understanding.
“You can sleep if it’s easier,” Caretaker whispers into their ear. “We’ll look after you, Whumpee. No matter what happens, you’re not theirs. You’re ours.”
Ours. Not a possessive ours,Whumper’sours,but a gentle affirmation of belonging. Whumpee allows that affirmation to soothe them out of the scene, until they’re floating on the waves again.
This time a liferaft, soft and warm and filled with Caretaker’s scent, separates them from the depths.
“You kissed me on the forehead and kept calling me beautiful while combing your fingers through my hair. All I could do was smile, for I felt so comfortable for the first time in a long time.”
— now I just want the comfort back…
Chibi’s from my emergency call out at the beginning of the month! AAAA THANK YOU!
Lillyvaine — @wildewinged-fr
@nirnrootnoises—@infectionaryfr
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