Flexible

Let Andrew Garfield and Ryan Reynolds and Tom Hardy all come together for a Spiderman Deadpool Venom movie and watch the world collectively melt down from how goddamn WEIRD the movie would be, plus none of us would know who TF to ship in that ensemble.

Friendly reminder! Don’t make Namor speak Spanish in your fics. Yes, I know Aquapapi is played by Tenoch Huerta (y está buenísimo el hombre ik), but Namor’s native language is Yucatec Maya. Making him speak the language of the colonizers who killed his people for terms of endearment and playing it off as his first language is a bit insulting, I think.

come to me (namor)

warnings: uhh su*c*dal undertones, bpwf spoilers, probably plot holes but let’s ignore, it gets..nasty in a good way, google translate, I think that’s it but if not lmk and have fun I guess??

Streams of salt had caressed your face long before the rain came down. Too many times you’d been here before, mentally and physically. Why did everything end? And why did it always leave you feeling like you were being ripped apart like the storm bearing palms above your head? 

It was dark, nearly too dark. The moon’s light had been all but obscured by the thick clouds. Yet, there was just enough illumination for you to make out the small cay in the distance. It had been abandoned long ago by some tycoon that once resided in the now crumbling ruins of an estate tucked deep between wild foliage. 

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Wanted

Summary: You consider ending things with Bucky after seeing a girl come on to him, but it's not that easy, and you get a hard reminder about who he really wants in the clubhouse bathroom.

Pairing: Beefy biker!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough possessive sex, oral sex (f), fingering, brief exhibitionism/semi-public sex, mirror sex, jealous and angry reader, biker slang/culture, slightly toxic angsty vibes with a happy ending, a lot of swearing, pet names, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).

Word Count: 1.6k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

Leaning against the counter you tried to slow your breath and calm down after what you had just seen. A slutty little sweet butt, practically grinding herself against the man you’d been seeing – the man you thought was yours. Hell, he hadn’t told you that you were his old lady, but countless nights tangled up in his sheets at the clubhouse had you thinking that you were something more. Anything more.  

You watched the way he smirked at her before you finally got sick of the sight and stormed into the bathroom down the hall. 

Embarrassment flooded you as you realized what a waste your efforts with him were. You tried your best to play it cool, go easy and casual with Bucky because that's the pace that he set. But now you knew that he was just stringing you along out of convenience. 

Deep blue eyes locked with yours as you stared into the mirror, the brawny biker slipping into the bathroom behind you. 

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could ya Buck?” you sneered at his reflection. 

“C’mon darlin’, don’t be like that.” His big, warm hands slowly slid around your waist from behind. 

You turned in his hold, glaring up into his stupid gorgeous eyes. He towered over you and his large frame took over the cramped space. Why did he have to look like that? All broody, and irresistible, and annoyingly beguiling. Just having his hands on you made you want to fall down the rabbit hole, pretend like it didn’t bother you, as if your heart wasn’t on the line and you were perfectly fine – but then he smirked. 

Anger rose up your chest as you looked at him, grinning at you like he did at her. Rage took over. “I’m fucking done with you!” you shouted, shoving his broad chest away from you, but he didn’t move an inch and you hated how hot that was. His body emanated power, and his presence made you weak. 

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, his mouth slightly opening as his gaze darkened. “Nothing happened, and nothing was gonna happen, honest,” he declared. He sounded sincere, and you despised the way you felt your hard exterior fragment at his words. 

That smug smirk graced his lips again, and you wanted to slap it off, or more honestly, kiss it off. 

“You didn’t want something to happen with her?” 

He crowded you, pushing you up against the counter behind you, close enough to feel the heat permeating off his body. “Now why would I want that when I have this sexy little spitfire right here?” 

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip as you fought to hold onto your resolve the best you could. God, you just wanted him to hurt a little bit, wanted to be the one to walk away. “You don’t have me, Bucky.”

Gently running the back of his knuckles down the side of your face, his gaze flickered from your mouth to your eyes. “Don’t I?” he questioned, unaffected by your lie. 

Gasping at his arrogance, “You son of a bitch.” You were done, this was it. He was used to getting his way with every girl he came across, but you weren’t going to give the self-righteous bastard the satisfaction. 

His gruff voice broke your train of thought. “Because you sure as hell have me.”

Your breath hitched as you looked into his dark dilated pupils – he meant it. 

“You’re only gonna break my heart, I don't think we should –”

His lips cut you off before you could end it. His tongue was hot and determined. His hands moved up and cupped your jaw as he held you in place, kissing you until you couldn’t think. Until you forgot why you were mad in the first place, only knowing that you needed him. 

“You can’t quit me, baby,” he whispered against your lips. His hypnotic eyes reminded you that you were too far gone; his lips against your neck as his rough hands slid down and up your skirt, kneading your ass harshly cemented his possession. 

With his sinful blue eyes transfixed on yours, he dropped to his knees between your legs and licked up the length of your inner thigh. Heat bloomed in your core as you gave in, watching him kiss his way up your thighs, biting into your flesh as his eyes held yours. Whimpering out, you tugged him closer, needing more. Bucky chuckled darkly before burying his face in between your thighs, licking and sucking you through your lacy g-string. He hooked his thumbs into the sides of your panty and eased them off before swiftly hooking your leg over his shoulder and swiping his hot thick tongue through your wet folds. 

Your hands fell to his hair, holding him in place. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned under his breath, his eyes closed in pleasure as he licked you from your entrance to clit, over and over again. 

Without warning he shoved two thick fingers into your center, working you over as his tongue fixated on your bundle of nerves. The cool metal of his rings sliding against your hot skin created a delicious contrast. You moaned in between gasps of air, watching as he took care of what he knew belonged to him. The grip on his hair got harsher and he could tell you were close, feeling your needy muscles quiver – his favorite tell-tale sign. 

Unable to control yourself you trembled in pleasure, body convulsing as you came undone. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, helping you through it, curling his fingers deeper inside of you. Mischievous eyes watched in appreciation, his chest swelling in pride as you whimpered out his name. 

While your anger had been snuffed out to embers, your passion for him reignited the flame. 

You coaxed Bucky to stand before tearing at his shirt, pulling his cut and flannel open so that you could nip at his neck. You bit and sucked your way down to his tattooed chest, leaving your mark as you went. 

Tugging at his belt, you swiftly undid his jeans, desperate to feel him. Before you could wrap your hand around his heavy length, he gripped the back of your thighs and pressed you hard up against the wall across from the mirror; where you could watch as he wrecked you. 

Holding you there with his hips and hands, he leaned forward to capture your lips before lining himself up; only pulling back a split second to watch your face as he buried himself inside of you, driving home with one hard thrust. You gasped at the stretch and intense familiar pressure. Bucky had fucked you so many times, but that first plunge never failed to take your breath away; always reminded you how no other man could ever fill you so right. 

His hips snapped into yours mercilessly, striking you roughly again and again at an unwavering pace. 

You threw your head back and lost yourself in a daze, incapable of uttering a word. Fuck, you’d let him do whatever he wanted if he’d keep on using your body like that.

“You’re all I want,” he growled, his teeth on your neck. 

As he recklessly thrusted in deeper than imaginable, you almost missed the quiet click of the door. But then your eyes locked in the mirror with that dumb skank that wanted your man. 

Her eyes nearly bulged out in surprise and you took the opportunity to toss her a devilish grin as Bucky took you apart. That’s right bitch, mine. 

She scurried off right before your back arched off the wall, your muscles tightening around him. 

“Oh, fuck –”

“Takin’ all of me so fuckin’ well,” Bucky grinded his pelvis into you, rubbing your clit each time he bottomed out, knocking the air from your lungs. He was lost in you, and all you could do was take it. Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, you pulled him impossibly closer, until your walls spasmed as you shattered in his arms. But he wasn’t done with you; he rutted into you hard, watching proudly as your body quaked between the wall and him. You clenched him perfectly, pulsating around him so hard it sent him over the edge. 

You bit his lip as you felt his thrusts grow erratic. Bucky groaned out your name as he jerked violently, emptying himself – branding your insides with his hot release. 

He’d be happy to spend the rest of his days living in you. His brain was foggy, but his heart knew who he was supposed to be with. Resting his forehead against yours, he panted as he tried to calm down. 

Wrapping your hand around his jaw, you smiled softly. “I love it when we fight,” you admitted. 

He chuckled and squeezed your thighs. “Me too, darlin’,” he nipped your lip. “But I’m starting to think you start these fights because you know how it’ll end.” 

You giggled at his words, he was onto your game. “Maybe I do,” you whispered just before your lips met his for a soft, sweet kiss. 

You were everything he wanted in a woman, you gave him more than he ever thought he’d find in his world. Right then, he made a mental note to stop entertaining the advances of other girls. His soul was already taken. But damn was it true, the fights always led to the best sex. 

Carefully pulling himself out, he gently set you down, keeping his arms around your waist as you stood on wobbly legs. Your smudged eye makeup, those gorgeous sultry lips, and the way you looked at him – Bucky was a goner. 

You were his weakness, and he knew then what he’d never said out loud – all he needed from this life was his bike, the club, and his best girl. 

I just think that if one time, while they are engaged, Peach called Baker Bucky hubbby on accident, his brain would short-circuit 😂🥰

Summary: Bucky loves the fact that he's going to be your husband

Pairing: Chubby Baker Bucky x Reader

CW: Bucky being LoveStruck.

A/N: Written on my phone.

Bucky's chatting with the farmer in front of his stall, balancing a wicker basket of freshly harvested plums on his hip. Every so often, his gaze strays to the left, his warm blue eyes drifting up and down your bundled-up body.

A smile tugs at his lips because he's the only one in this market who knows that underneath your oversized coat, his sweater (that you stole just as he was about to put it on), and those pants that make him want to bite one of your cheeks, you're wearing his marks like they're your favorite jewels.

You're not far away, standing in a booth covered in handcrafted plushies, knick-knacks and holiday ornaments. Although if he's being honest, any distance away from him is too far. So he ends the conversation, telling Frank he'll be back next week to try out his apricots.

Five long strides and he's within earshot of you.

"I have to get this, it reminds me so much of my husband. Soon to be anyway," you laugh, picking up the miniature stuffed bear wearing a baker's hat and holding a tiny croissant. "He's going to love this."

Bucky feels his heart stop. It hits his ribcage and stops right in his chest. Emotions billow inside him, warming more than the autumn sun ever could. His grip loosens on the basket, a few plums hitting the tall, damp grass with a faint plop.

Husband. He likes the sound of it on your lips. Your husband. He's going to be your husband.

You turn your head, a smile forming. "Bucky are you alright?"

"No. Yes. I-yes," he stammers out, closing the distance between you, his hands reaching for your face. He's disoriented and he knows he's not making sense but the part of brain that's still functioning knows it wants you, needs you right now.

"Wha-Bucky!" You quickly grab the handle of his basket, saving the rest of his plums. You have seconds to slide the basket onto the booth and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is—well you understand what people mean when they say time stopped because that's how it feels with his soft lips molding over yours, his large hands cupping your face, your fingers sliding through his hair.

He's passionate and desperate and sinfully sweet. His kiss leads to another and another. Around the seventh time he slides his lips over yours, you decide you can easily spend the rest of your life kissing this man.

But you are blocking Sarah's booth and is she—yeah she's taking a picture, you and Bucky are going to be the talk of her bingo night. You break the kiss, leaning back when he instinctively follows you with a low displeased groan like you just snatched his favorite dessert from him.

"C'mere," he mumbles. "Just one more Peach."

Moving to your tiptoes, you brush your lips over his , swiftly pulling back before he can capture your mouth again. Giggling softly when he makes a disgruntled noise in his throat, you pat his chest, ignoring his pout. "We can finish this when we get home Bucky."

Or when you get to the car. Judging by the look in his eyes, its going to be the car.

"You wanna tell me what brought that on?" you ask as you hand a grinning Sarah a twenty.

A blush flares across his rounded cheeks, pressing his kiss swollen lips together, he shrugs one broad shoulder. Your words play in his mind and he briefly wonders if you'd let Bruce marry the two of you right now, right here in the middle of the farmers market. His gaze sweeps over face, lingering on your gorgeous eyes. No, he can wait, you deserve the wedding of your dreams. Until then he'll dream about being your husband.

Realizing you're still waiting for his answer, Bucky clears his throat, wraps his arm around you and picks his basket and miniature baker up.

"Just felt like kissing you." Always will.

"That's fine with me," you hum, leaning into his side. "Love you Bucky."

His response is a quick as it is genuine. "I love you too Peach." With everything he has.

the great shirt debate

requested: could you write a fluffy fic about chris and reader (it could be it the futile series or not!) where they are doing laundry together or just doing domestic stuff! thank you so much!

a/n: this is so soft i love it, lowercase on purpose ig because im lazy but wanted to crank this out also it feels like i haven’t written for chris in so long and i miss it lmao

warnings: this is 110% tooth rotting fluff and therefore i am not responsible for your dentist bill ;)

no beta/loosely proofread so please excuse errors!

my main masterlist

the pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room had only grown exponentially over the past two weeks. you and chris had both been nonstop working, which meant that the household chores got pushed aside. luckily, the two of you are both relatively clean people, so the worst was really only the laundry, and the accumulation of dodger’s fur on the floors and couches.

and after a lazy saturday morning sleeping in (and resting up after various intimate reunion activities after almost two weeks of no time together), you and chris finally decided to get on with the chores.

he took on the vacuuming - rearranging the furniture so he could get under and behind things -  while you started on the laundry. you emptied the hampers, stripped the beds, and filled up the washing machine for the first load before wandering back to the living room to check in on chris. from afar, you’re able to hear the soft whirr of the vacuum cleaner, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that falls upon your eyes when you walk into the living room.

your six foot something hunk of a boyfriend has a pair of headphones over his ears, completely unbothered by the sound of the vacuum, and wiggling around, lip-syncing and dancing to whatever song is playing in his headphones as he sucks up the dog hair from the area rug. he’s sporting a simple hoodie and a baggy pair of joggers, but he’s just so adorable that you can’t help but interfere with his task.

you walk up behind him, then snake your hands around his torso, and he reacts with a small jump, clearly not expecting you. he looks down at you with a smile, switches off the vacuum, then pulls his headphones off his ears, letting them rest around his neck, and you can hear that he’s listening to Neil Diamond.

“boo,” you hum, softly scratching your fingers over his tummy.

“gosh, you scared me, love,” he laughs, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment as he pauses the music, then pulls the headphones off his neck and tosses them to the couch.

“sorry, you just looked too cute,” you giggle, and he turns around in your grasp, leaving the vacuum to stand on it’s own so that he can wrap his arms around you, too.

“mm, thank you,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to sweetly kiss your forehead. “you’re pretty cute, too.”

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𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑

here’s a slightly longer version of this drabble, hope you like it.

summary - you fall asleep during a scene and chris falls for you even more.

the gif isn’t mine.

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Rhythm

peter is a really, terrible actor. he doesn't need to be good. new years themed! friends to lovers, fake dating!

NOTE: HAPPY NEW YEARS!! i apologize for the delay, the tags got me :(

She’s like his heartbeat.

It’s rhythmic, the way his days circle around hers, the way their days weave into shared weeks, curving into months forming a life entwined like overgrown roots of oak trees.

She is easy to fall into, effortlessly graceful and unthinkingly kind. She’s the kind of beautiful you look at twice, just to make sure that you saw it right.

They live two buildings away from each other, and he’s memorized every step of how to reach her home. It’s a familiar waltz, a step in time to a place where safety and comfort is so abundant it surrounds the soul.

He hasn’t told her this, of course. There is comfort in her presence and peace found in her laughter, and he’s hardly strong enough to risk any of the beauty she brings about to tell her how it makes him feel.

Still, there is always the hypothetical.

And these is plenty he is willing to indulge himself, in the realm of the hypothetical. Thoughts of how she’d settle into his arms after a long day, how his face would fit into the crook of her neck. It’s a dangerous habit, how often he considers what it would be like to let someone worry over him, and that someone to be her, all softness and kind fingers brushing over harsh wounds- her loving Peter Parker. Not Spider-Man.

All of this to say that it is incredibly hard for him to say no to her.

She asks him when she’s just made him a cup of tea. It’s two days before New Years’, and he’s a sucker for her tea. To be perfectly honest, he loves watching her make it for him- how she runs her fingers through her hair before she grabs the mug, the way she rests one hand on her hip when she grabs the milk, how she stirs the honey and the spoon hits the ceramic, music in the way she shows care.

Her pretty eyes were wide and hopeful, and god isn’t that something the most selfish part of him wants to cling to, that even pretending to be her partner was something she would want of him.

“It’s just one night, Peter,” she says, and her delicate fingers are fiddling with themselves, picking at her cuticles, “And it’d help me out more than anything.”

“Are they really that weird about you being single?”

She’s single. It’s a truth he carries around like a wish-stone, a comfort he keeps thumbing over possibility.

“It’s just that I haven’t brought anyone to these parties, and they keep trying to set me up with someone, and I just- I really don’t wanna do that. Peter, you’d be doing me a massive favor.”

Set up. And it’s not like he doesn’t know that he has not leg to stand on, and he knows that it’s selfish, to keep her time hostage in their friendship. She deserves more than a best friend who looks at her too long, always too afraid to speak.

But he wants her, wants her more than his own sense of cowardice can suppress.

“Okay, okay! Anything to save you from a bind date!”

The way she lunges to hug him, all warmth and heart- she fits perfectly in his arms, the kind of match that feels tailor-made.

His girl.

This is going to be hard.

New Years Eve, 2021

She’s stunning.

She’s wearing this blush dress, and he’s seen it in her closet, thinks it might be her go-to date dress, and it’s dizzyingly satisfying to know that she’s dressed for him. Tonight, he will be able to touch her without restraint, speak of his affection without a layer of self-preservation behind it.

Closing the door behind her, she tucks her hair behind her ear, and asks him a question, one that draws him from the depths that drinking her in surrounds him in.

“Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful.”

It might be the only truth he says tonight, but it’s the most true. She’s prettier than city lights, than the view from the Empire State.

A whole new league of gorgeous.

She looks him up and down, drinks in the sight of him like she’s meeting him all over again, and he feels overwhelmingly seen, like she can see right through him.

“You look good too, Parker.” She smiles, before grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, it’s just my neighbor, she’s just down the hall.”

He tries desperately not to think about how good it feels to hold her hand.

After greeting her friends, one by one, she introduced him.

“This is my boyfriend, Peter.”

She plays the part beautifully, and he does his best to match. It’s not like they have to try very hard. Her friends have apparently expected this, and Peter- he doesn’t want to think about what that means. They know the rhythm to each other’s step, follow the other’s action like a dance they’ve memorized by heart.

She’d be an excellent girlfriend. He knew this, of course. Didn’t need a night of pretend to tell him that, Peter knew her kindness and warmth far before. Still, it’s intoxicating, the way flirt slips into her tone, how she trails her fingers up his wrist when they’re sitting at the table with her friends. She grabs him a drink calls him sweetheart, and part of him wishes he could keep it on vinyl, listen to her so-sweet voice over on a low crackle. Her sweetheart. What he’d give to really be that.

The whole night, she’s touching him. Nothing too much, nothing that anyone would call excessive. But it’s more than he’s ever felt from her- brushes their fingers, bumps their knees. After a while, on her friend’s couch, he had his arm around her, her head laying on his shoulder.

She’s the most precious thing he’s ever held.

Later, when everyone’s too caught up with their own lovers to ay attention to her fake one, Peter pulls her away to the kitchen. She looks so stunning, stunning in the original sense of the word. The sort of beauty that stuns you, stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, hey, am I doing okay?” He asks.

He’s got her backed up against the counter, and it’s a dizzyingly pleasant feeling, her this close to him. No one is watching. He’s pushing his luck.

“You’re the most convincing actor I’ve ever seen, Parker,” she laughs, and she’s giggly, tips her head to rest on his chest for just a second, just a passing indulgence, before she looks at him again, “I oughta keep you around.”

Please, he wants to say, I’d love to keep you.

“You’re pretty good yourself,” he replies’ and he’s playing fast and loose with the rules, his hand on her waist, “What did you say, you liked me since freshman year?”

She preens, and she’s so adorable, it nearly breaks his heart. He’s been doing far too much of that tonight.

She didn’t like him, freshman year. He knows that, because he overheard her talking about some guy, and when he asked her about it, she had just said it was some guy way out of her league.

That guy keeps Peter up, some nights. How some guy could have a shot with the girl of his dreams, and not want it.

“Yeah, well,” she looks down sheepishly, “I didn’t have to act that much.”

She can’t mean that. She can’t mean that.

“You didn’t,” he says, and it’s too slow, his hand trailing up to her face. He brushes the side of her cheek, and her eyelids flutter, her lashes throwing shadows on her pretty face, “it wasn’t- it was me?”

She can’t have liked him.

Because right now, and for much longer than that, Peter hasn’t wanted a damn thing else than to be the person she wanted. To be the person who could pull her in, hold her, kiss her in ways that no-one else could, in ways she’d only want from him.

He’s an addict with a craving for her affection, and she’s standing here offering him salvation. It can’t be happening.

“Peter,” her voice is a low hum, like a radio playing a song that always brings you home, “I don’t think I’ve wanted anything else from the minute I saw you.”

Her doe eyes are wide, searching his face, searching for meaning, but Peter- he’s all action. Her heartbeat’s fast, and he can almost feel the rhythm of her pulse, the finality of the dance they’ve been spinning for months. It’s a moment, Peter knows. And moments can slip.

Then, the counting starts.

It’s New Years, and she’s so close, and her perfume smells like roses. She’s warm and pliant in his arms, a blessing to behold in the arms of someone who is far less than she deserves.

3…

She’s the best thing that has ever happened to him. He keeps the city safe because it’s where she is.

2…

The way she’s looking at him- it’s unmistakable. She wants him back. There is nothing else he’s asked for from the universe.

1…

When it happens, it’s slow at first. She’s impossible not to be consumed by the sight of, and she’s so close, and he kisses her. He’s the one who does it, who leans in and takes the moment, her face in his grasp, her pulled close to him.

He could spend the rest of his life in this moment, in this kiss.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And when he looks down at her, wide-eyed and his home, she smiles. He could spend his entire life in moments like these.

He gets the feeling, though, that there will be plenty more.

In Every Lifetime

summary: When Bucky’s first love from the 1940′s is found alive in cyro, he begins to question whether you’d turn from him in fear or disgust. 

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: angsty angst (with a happy ending), bucky’s sad internal dialogue, 

Bucky had half a mind to wonder whether his heart might truly escape his chest. It pounded infernally against his rib cage; violently shaking against the bones until they splintered and cracked, he was certain he might look down at the SHIELD emblem on his sweatshirt to find blood soaking through the fabric. Or perhaps the bones of his sternum piercing through his skin. Hell, he might have left his heart on the tile a few paces behind him – throbbing on the ground, exposed to the elements.

He hadn’t so much as taken a breath since he caught word of what Stark uncovered in the Atlantic. It was only meant to be an exploratory mission; a simple means of honoring his father’s legacy by scanning the ocean depths in search of a history Howard had idolized in his time. Simple, apparently, to a billionaire with nothing but time on his well-manicured hands.   

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love in slow motion

+chris evans x reader

+warnings: talking of nudity, it's smut without being smut but in any case MDNI; written while listening to this - i suggest you to hear this while you read!

+summary: after months away, Chris wants to take things slow, retrieving any missed moment.

Months have passed since your naked skin burnt on his and his hands sculpted your body with the experience of a professional artist. Your hair was all scattered on the pillow while your legs were loosely wrapped around his bare waist, his lips devouring yours in the darkness of the room, illuminating by the mere lights of candles.

It had been a lot since it was only you and him, given how Chris travelled around the world to work, how his family asked for him to spend time with them when he was back and how your work was demanding. But then, in the gloomy atmosphere, everything took a back seat, the only important thing being him over you, his lips kissing your neck and jawline.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured between a kiss and another, the grip of his fingers tightening around your waist.

Fireworks of love exploded into your heart at his words, and his presence there. It was not a dream, his flesh was there for you to touch, to bite, to love. Your hands moved down to the end of his spine, getting you closer to him while your tongue moved faster on his, keeping the pace of your running heart.

"Hey, hey baby - slow down." Chris unlatched himself, looking at you in the eyes, his glaciers shining under the flickering flames he had carefully put inside the room.

"What?" you whispered out of breath. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, baby, no." Chris kissed the inside of your hand with such a tenderness that your heart threatened to explode at any moment. "It's just that -"

"What?" you repeat again while prepping on your elbows, not quite understanding the situation happening in front of you. He usually liked when you took initiative in those circumstances, happy that you were comfortable doing so with him.

However, his brows were furrowed together in what was his usual anxious expression, his lips bitten in nervousness. "I want to love you, slowly," he kissed your cheek again, as if your presence gave him the strength to keep talking, knowing that you wouldn't judge him. "I get caught up with everything I have to do, interview, press, friends - you know. But tonight I don't want to rush, I want to kiss every single missed moment from your lips."

A single tear wet your right cheek, chest bursting with love and warmth at his caring, soft words and his hands dried up your tear.

" I want to - to prioritize you, "he continued, his digits tracing the line of your lips." I want to remember this moment vividly when we are away, okay? "

He kissed the point of your nose while you nodded and pressed his lips on yours again with the force and love of one hundred tornadoes, hoping that he could feel the love emanating from your skin.

Heartbeats aligned together, as if they were two perfect jigsaws, and your lips pressed on his repeatedly, whispering soft and quick i love yous between one and another, Chris' tears and hugs replying in a voiceless answer, loving one on one.

Candlelights were the only spectators of that affection of yours, of your lips devouring each other and your bodies becoming one in slow motion, until even the last one turned off, and you two fell asleep in each other's arms, with the awareness that no one flew on you.

Love, by definition, could not be rushed.