Is This Too Much To Ask For - Tumblr Posts
goddess sub thoughts
a goddess who gives to her followers. who answers all their prayers by giving them something of herself. a goddess for who everything is commanded by those who worship her.
in reverance those worshippers consume her. they ask for her blessings, which must be carved and cut from her holy body. they pray for her interventions, and in service of her followers she steps out to aid them. as a goddess she is a power that belongs to those who worship her. she exists to help and support her followers in love and in sacrifice.
in reverance the devout committed to her tied her down and use her to satisfy themselves by her divine commandment. her body is for them to use, and in the rituals in her name she becomes a sacrifice for her worshippers to use. to be used for pleasure to satisfy her followers. to be used for pain when her followers need to alleviate the stresses of their lives.
goddess who gives freely to her followers, whatever they want, desire, or need. she gives of herself to satisfy her followers, who in turn worship and revere her, giving to her and drawing more into her worship. sharing the good word of a goddess whose whole existence is that of giving herself to those who show her the proper reverence.
a perfectly submissive goddess.
rough kinky sex is fun and all but I need to have slow sweet missionary with a girl and look her in the eyes as I tell her how much I love her between thrusts
Reeeeally need to hold a butch who just finished topping me and tell them how good they did and how much I appreciate them and run my hands through their hair while they lay their head on my chest and cuddle up to me and then we eat cheesecake together
@cherryblossomsenpai don’t look at me!!! 🫣🫣
@chrollohearttags Maybe you’ll enjoy this? I know you love Eren, my sweet angel 🥰🫶
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I want Eren so bad. :(
Like imagine being pushed up against the couch he has in his dorm, black leather to match the black dorm walls he painted himself (and got in trouble for). His hands running over the smooth fabric of the pretty little summer dress you'd thrown on hours earlier. To have his hands desperately grabbing at any of your
supple flesh he can, his mouth leaving hot, wet kissing along the sensitive skin of your neck. Sharp canines biting roughly on your pulse point and all along your shoulders that slowly become exposed when his fingers untie the strings of your straps. Soft puffs of air leaving his parted lips when you grind your thinly clothed pussy against the bulge in his baggy black sweats, the ones that drive you crazy each time you see him wearing them. Rough hands that pull down the top of your dress to expose your tits that sit pretty and perked when the cool air hits them. His hands move down to grab at your waist, pulling it towards him, forcing your back to arch so he can take one of your perky nipples into his mouth. Listening to your whiny little moans as he swirls his tongue around the perked bud, his cock twitching and straining against the fabric of his pants. When one of his hands comes up to play with your other tit, he listens to the whine you try to suppress, his dick throbbing beneath his sweats. His other hand falls to the skirt of your dress, slipping it beneath the fabric to snap the band of your panties against your hip, feeling you jolt against the couch, groaning when your pussy rubs against his dick. His mouth leaves hickeys and bites all over your tits, making sure to split his attention between them equally, while his hands slips into your now drenched panties. His fingers glide across your pussy, from your dripping entrance to your clit, collecting your slick and letting it coat his digits. His eyes flick up to meet yours as his fingers play with your sensitive clit, rubbing and flicking it between his fingers, letting your slick soak his digits so they can glide across the little bud better. Green orbs watch your every movement, every twitch and shift you make doesn’t go unnoticed by the brunette. His lips leave your tit with a soft pop as his middle and ring finger sink into your drooling pussy, his palm rubbing against your clit each time he thrusts his fingers. He leans back now, the muscles of his forearm flexing each time he thrusts his fingers, his veins beginning to show, his eyes trailing down to watch his fingers disappear into your sopping cunt. He can’t seem to choose what to focus on, your pussy or your pretty face. Your lips part to let out the most beautiful moans he’s ever heard, your hands gripping his biceps, your head falling back against the couch, and hips grinding all over his palm just to get more friction. Clicking his tongue softly, his deep voice calls out to you, “Come on baby, lemme see yer eyes. Wanna watch you when you cum all over my fingers. I wanna see what you’re gonna do when I have you on my dick. You can ride my shit all night, ma. Come on baby, you can do it. All ya gotta do it cum for me. I know you can, angel.”
Photo + Radio Collection by Mark Meijster Amsterdam The Netherlands 2011
Source: booglarized.tumblr.com
My favorite pictures of George and Carmen part 10
Respectfully laying in oncoming traffic now 😃😭❤️
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
"NIGHT TIME RELIGION"
EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"
→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 2.3k+ → a/n: just a simple, sweet glimpse into what our favorite idiots' nighttime routine is like. probably got a little too poetic with it, as always <3
enjoy the main story's masterlist here
“You fell asleep again.”
It’s not a question, just a mere observation. Eddie doesn’t even put any emphasis on the key word there, that it had happened again, as he glances up on you sprawled out on his couch.
“Nuh uh,” you childishly rebuke, ironically squeezing your eyes shut tighter as you let your cheek nuzzle deeper into the page of the textbook you’d been taking notes on, “I’m… I’m wide awake.”
Every word painfully slurs with your next, voice mostly muffled. If he hadn’t been so close to you from where he was sitting on the floor, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make out what you’d just murmured.
It only makes him laugh softly as he focuses back on whatever piece of equipment he’d brought into the apartment that belongs to his bike, “Sure you are, sweetheart.”
The coffee table is spread with hand towels and paper towels alike as Eddie fiddles with the hunk of metal. You hadn’t even prodded him about what it was he was fiddling with; you were too busy, knee deep in your studies as you’d made yourself comfortable in his living room.
It was a normal routine now – something cozy, something domestic. Instead of being holed up in your dorm these days, you found yourself occupying apartment 2C far more frequently than you’d ever admit to anyone else. Half the time, the two of you didn’t even have plans. It wasn’t about elaborate date nights or purposeful hangouts anymore; these days, the two of you simply enjoyed one another’s presence. It was enough to just know he was there with you, in the same room, as the two of you were occupied with your own individual tasks. Sometimes, he would be reading a book as you wrote your essays. Sometimes, he’d steal your laptop to shop for new bike parts and accessories online as you caught up on your favorite TV shows. There had been plenty of phone calls with Nancy in which Eddie had let you simply rest your head in his lap, hands mindlessly carding through the scalp of your hair as he tried to offer assistance to his best friend’s daily troubles and rambles.
It was nice, and it was normal, and it was something the rest of the world would have to pry from your cold, dead hands.
The apartment could have easily become something akin to a prison after the bet, but it hadn’t. Instead, somehow and someway, you and Eddie had turned it into a proper sanctuary.
You no longer spent lectures daydreaming about returning to your dorm; your mind much preferred longing to return to Eddie’s room, to picture falling face down in his bed, where the pillow on the right side had begun to smell of your shampoo rather than his cologne.
“It’s getting late,” he sighs when he hears you go silent again. He’s not annoyed by any means. If he had it his way, he’d probably curl up on the couch with you for the rest of the night, content to fall asleep to the view of your face smoothing out in peaceful rest. But he knows if he leaves you be, you’ll wake up with an aching back and an attitude that makes even Harrington cower. He puts down his project for the night, wiping his hands on a damp paper towel before he reaches blindly behind himself to give you a few taps on your rear, “C’mon, we need to get ready for bed.”
You swat his hand away, and it only makes him grin, “It’s not that late. Plus, I’m comfy.”
“It’s half past eleven, baby.”
And oh, do you shoot straight up at that.
Your eyes are finally wide open as you look at him wildly, face struck with confusion, “Excuse me?”
“I said, it’s half past ele-”
“When the Hell did it get so late?” you fumble with yourself as he slowly gets up, making a show out of stretching all his limbs. You don’t even grow distracted when his arms reach well over his head and tug up his shirt, exposing that sliver of stomach that would normally entice you, “I swear to God, it wasn’t even ten like…. Ten minutes ago.”
“Ten waking minutes ago, maybe,” he teases, holding a hand out for you, “Time flies when you’re napping instead of studying.”
It’s hard for him to not smile so softly down at you right now, even as he watches the defeat take hold. Your entire outfit is compiled of his clothes, yet another t-shirt you’d snagged from him along with a pair of sweatpants that he can’t even remember the last time he’d worn them. Your hair is messy, falling out of the convenient style you’d fashioned in it hours before when you’d declared you needed to focus. Your shoulders sag, the corners of your mouth inch downward, and all he really cares about right now is getting you in bed so he can wrap himself up around you.
Your eyes dart between his outstretched hand and your textbook, still open on a page that you’d embarrassingly drooled on, “I know we joked about celebrating when I aced my finals, but can we still get milkshakes when I absolutely flunk them?”
The way you manage to melt his heart is impeccable. He doesn’t even have it in him to be snarky, or to make another menacing jokes, “Of course we can.”
That seems to make your decision. You finally reach out and take his hand, clearly trying to be dramatic as you pull on him with the entirety of your weight, almost as though your end goal was for him to actually end up beside you on the couch rather than to be standing beside him.
If your goal is the former, you fail miserably. He doesn’t budge beneath your drag, only leaning forward to grab your other hand and properly haul you off the couch.
“Oof,” you huff out as you collide with his chest from the force, letting your face smash into him and making no move to pull back, “Can’t you just carry me to bed? Is that an option?”
He almost says yes. Almost.
“We won’t even make it down the hall,” he chuckles, taking slow steps back, guiding you right along with him, “I may or may not have also dozed off at some point. Jury’s still out on that one.”
“Is it?”
You’re hardly lifting your feet, shuffling your way along, letting him walk you deceiving to the bathroom rather than the bedroom. He has no idea if you’ll be capable of doing your full skincare routine, but at the very least, he has to get you to brush your teeth. If he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it.
“It is indeed,” he finally stops walking backwards, deciding it might become more dangerous rather than just dragging you along, “Probably won’t get a ruling until morning, so we might as well brush our teeth now, doll.”
He’s trying to sweeten the deal. Coaxing you with adoring pet names to keep you in motion.
“Ugh, effort,” you crunch your nose as you say it, and it’s clearly more for show than anything now. You’re fully conscious, capable of getting yourself to the bathroom sink where both your toothbrushes now sit side-by-side in a glass cup, but you don’t let go of his hand just yet.
His palm is warm, and right now, all you really wanna do is curl up in that heat.
Eventually, though, you let go. The two of you stand in the mirror as you go through the motions of wetting your toothbrushes, applying the toothpaste – all the boring, mundane actions that are more habit than conscious choices. But interspersed in the habits you’ve gathered over your years of life are new ones, minimal but vital after the amount of time spent together. Proof of the way this nighttime routine had become something of a religion between the two of you, something to be offered and to be shared rather than simply going through the motions.
The way Eddie carefully rolls the end of the toothpaste tube before passing it to you, simply so it’s easier for you to get your share of it. The way you leave the water running after you’ve wet your own brush just so Eddie can also do so. All the sneaky glances caught in the mirror as the corners of your mouths foam up. Every ridiculous face, every nimble bump of your hip to his, the way he sticks out his very white tongue at you before he spits out into the basin – new things that have all become the normal, but still settle warmth in your chest.
Things that water a garden of vinery and blooms that no longer only belong within the confine of your bones, but his as well.
A shared garden of memories and comfort. Growing, flourishing, nurturing one another.
You lean down to spit right before him, and when you take a second too long, he tugs on a strand of your hair, trying to move you. And even as tired as you are, you find it within yourself to be a little shit as he so lovingly mumbles out around his toothbrush, lingering until he’s bumping you with his hip with purpose.
Passing the floss back and forth (or more like you shoving the floss into his hands before he can try to argue against it), using the same paper cup to sip mouthwash out of – something so bland that you used to do it alone, now something to enjoy with him.
You kind of love it. You kind of love him.
“Should I wash my face?” you question, leaning in closer to the mirror and poking at your cheeks, checking your skin for any blemishes you can find.
Eddie only moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and making the entire ordeal far more difficult as his chin rests on your shoulder, “Not if you don’t feel like it. Besides, it’s gonna make your nose cold, and then you’re gonna press it all over my damn neck and-”
You cut him off with a joking glare, reaching up to flick at his nose, but he’s quick to pull his face out of your reach. Smiling widely, showing off those fresh and minty pearly whites.
“If my cold nose bothers you that much, I could just stay on my side of the bed tonight,” you scowl, even though you were already taking his advice and calling it a night, twisting out of his hold to flick the lightswitch and exit the bathroom.
He’s still stronger as he keeps his arms in place, only twisting himself around to face the door frame right with you, whining in your ear, “No.”
He drags out the ‘o’, his voice slowly growing more quiet the longer he draws out the vowel. At some point, it’s less than Eddie has ended the protest, and more that he’s just run out of breath.
His arms only leave your waist for the two of you to get dressed in proper pajamas. Well, what you both consider proper pajamas.
You, left in only his shirt and underwear, and Eddie simply in his boxers.
There’s no more sarcastic comments or lazy banter, although you certainly expect it. You’re almost holding your breath for it, right up until Eddie’s lifting his comforter and eagerly motioning for you to climb into bed first. Not one smartass remark about ladies first that could easily backfire on him as you shoved him into the bed before you.
No, he waits until the two of you are lying on your sides, facing one another, not quite touching when his face breaks into a radiant smile.
“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him, overly suspicious of his random burst of happiness.
“You call it your side of the bed.”
At first, you don’t get it, “What?”
“You called it your side of the bed,” he repeats with the utmost emphasis, finally throwing his hand out in search of your own, pulling it up to eye-level so he can toy slowly with each of your knuckles.
“Is it not?” you’re whispering like two children at a sleepover, your feet finally drifting to toe at his calves. If they’re too cold for his liking, you don’t know. He doesn’t flinch or complain, only spreads his legs ever so slightly so there’s a space left for you to fill as you intertwine limbs.
“It is,” he confirms, nodding a little, finally slotting his fingers between your own, “Just nice to hear you say it out loud.”
And suddenly, you get it.
It’s your side of the bed. It’s your toothbrush resting beside his. Your textbooks and laptops are still on his couch, you have a sticky note with a reminder for yourself to buy more milk put up on the fridge, there’s now a space for your shoes at the front door right beside his daily boots – slowly but surely, you’ve whittled out spaces for yourself here, with him.
Even when you’re not here in this apartment with him, your presence remains. Someone could walk in, and they still see traces of you. You exist here, constantly, right along with Eddie.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, finally scooching closer. He immediately shifts so that you can cuddle into his side, your head resting against his chest and your ear pressed to listen to his thrumming heartbeat. A perfectly carved out space for you even here, between this sheets, against his skin, “It’s nice to say out loud.”
Not a routine, but a religion. Something to worship in the quiet hours between the sound of quiet snores and a noisy coffee maker you already have plans to replace as a Christmas gift to Eddie. An apartment turned altar, with offerings from both of you, to all that has and could become.
You whisper your final prayer, just as you do every night, even when you think Eddie might already be fast asleep, “G’night, Eddie. I love you.”
He’s not already asleep.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
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flirting is so stupid. just tell me if you're gonna dismember & cannibalize me right out the gate
Of course I'm gonna jerk off to your pictures later. Have you seen how pretty you are? How could I not do that?
IV the kinda guy to let you lay your head on his chest and play with your hair while you info dump on him for hours. He'd hum and say "yeah ?" sometimes just to show that he's following you and he's listening and maybe he would ask a few questions but he would mostly silently listen to you and run his fingers through your hair or caress you or play with your hand and gaze lovingly at you because oh my god how gorgeous you are when you talk about the things you are passionate about.
being married to aaron hotchner would include
• this man is SOO wholesome. the two of you have the fluffiest relationship.
• whenever he sees you, he can’t help but break into a full-on, sunshine-bright grin— it isn’t just a smile; it’s like he’s radiating pure joy.
• aaron tries hard not to talk about you too much around his team. however, they’re incredibly nosy, and he knows that once he starts discussing you, you’ll be on his mind all day.
• penelope's wallpaper is a picture of the two of you kissing (she ships the two of you soo hard).
• he isn't surprised when people hit on you— after all, you're stunning. but when they can see you’re with aaron and still choose to disrespect that, it completely overshadows any compliment they were trying to give you.
• if anything were to happen to you, he’d lose his mind and wouldn’t rest until you’re safe in his arms again.
• we already know aaron is fiercely protective, but with you, it’s even more evident. after losing haley in such a traumatic way, it’s only natural that he some deep-seated fears about losing you too.
• the moment he introduced you to jack, it was like magic— he took to you instantly, bursting into fits of giggles as he saw the genuine smile on your face. for aaron, watching this interaction unfold made his heart soar.
• you made it clear to him that you would never replace jack’s mother. you acknowledged that jack has a mother who, though not present, is still very much a part of his life.
• you assured him that you’d be there for jack in any way he needed, that you’d care for him and love him as your own.
• aaron could have dropped down to one knee and proposed to you right there after hearing that, the respect you had for haley despite never meeting her and the kindness in your heart was enough to melt him to the core.
• when he has to leave for a case early and doesn’t want to wake you, he always leaves a detailed letter so you know exactly where he’s headed and what’s happening.
• he often makes you breakfast before he heads out, driven by guilt for leaving so abruptly.
• whenever he’s paged in the middle of a date, he’s quick to apologize for the sudden departure but makes up for it with a flood of calls to stay connected.
• you're the only one he'll dance with.
• slow dancing might not be his forte, but he gives it his best shot. and though he’ll never admit it, if a faster-paced song comes on and he’s had a drink or two, he’s surprisingly pretty good.
• while he’s intense at work, aaron appreciates quiet, peaceful moments when he’s off duty. a cozy night in with a good book, a movie, or just enjoying each other's company without distractions would be his ideal way to unwind.
• every night he's home, he’s guaranteed to cuddle up with you, his head resting on your chest or nestled in the crook of your neck, while your fingers gently run through his hair.
• it's the closest thing to heaven he’s ever known. <33
platonic wheelclair doodle request from instagram <3
i love this so much its insane definitely will be rereading 1000 times🔥💯💯 AAAAA THIS IS SO PERFECT
HEYYY i wanted to req an arda fic cause thats my BAE fr🤞 so it goes like this arda and fem!reader are good friends (who secretly like each other) and then one night their feelings come out SOMEHOW and then after they like start kissing/making out and its just this emotional moment between them that theyve been waiting for for so long😋😋😇 UGH I CANT I LOVE HIM
Midnight love — Arda Güler.
Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader
Summary: Telling your best friend a guy asked you out would usually be an exciting moment, both equally excited. But after telling Arda, he only seemed nonchalant, not necessarily caring. And you would be damned if you didn’t figure out why.
Disclaimer/s: none! just a little jealous!arda though..
A/N: ARDA REQS MAKE ME A VERY HAPPY WRITER. Wait I lowkey don’t know if I followed this req very well… feel free to ask for more i’ll try harder next time😅
The sky above twinkled with a billion stars. You loved visiting Arda’s family home on the outskirts of Altındağ. It was rare when he was home, that you’d have time to do so, but you’d gotten lucky by having a four day weekend.
Now, you two both sat on the back patio, your heads tilted at an awkward angle to watch the stars, a tradition you’d had since you both were kids.
“Oh!” You suddenly shoot upright, causing the boy to do the same, his eyes shining in surprise. Your heart flutters as you look at him. He looked so good tonight. “You’ll never guess what happened at work the other day. I’ve been meaning to tell you all day!”
Curiosity takes Arda over as he leans back on the couch, his head lulling to the side with a smile, “yeah? Tell me what?”
“Okay, y’know that one guy, Marcus? The one who I work the morning shift with?” You continue slowly, building up anticipation.
Arda’s eyes, still glued on you, narrow at the mention of Marcus. You’d brought him up during a few facetime calls, but it never seemed too important. Plus, Arda never enjoyed hearing you talk about men like that.
“What about him?” Arda clears his throat, not knowing why this conversation was starting to get in his nerves as it’d just started. It could mean nothing. Marcus, could mean nothing.
You lean back on the couch, “he asked me out.” You shrug.
So he did mean something. Right. Okay.
“Oh, that’s cool.” Is all he says.
That’s it. No ‘congratulations’ or excitement. Just, ‘oh, that’s cool.’ ?? His face even lacked emotion and he’d diverted his attention back to the sky, pushing aside the conversation like it was nothing.
Your eyebrows scrunch together, “that’s all?”
Arda’s eyes flicker to yours, a look of confusion on his face. “Yeah? What else am I supposed to say?”
Now you were just flat out peeved. “Uhm, I don’t know? Something other than your monotonous ‘that’s cool’” You mock his voice, “I mean, seriously?”
Pursing his lips, Arda looks to the stars, silently begging them for the right words. He knew exactly why what you said had him acting like a dick, he just couldn’t admit it. If he did, that meant he could potentially ruin what you two had. If he didn’t, and you were going to go on that date, he’d potentially lose you for good.
You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to admit how much you liked Arda. You’d known for years, but he was always so.. confusing, so you chose to keep it to yourself. Now you could move on, but now he was acting like this.
“What’s your actual fucking problem.” You laugh dryly, your eyes burning holes into his head.
“Congrats!” Arda sighs, “I hope that date goes well, i’m happy for you.”
Pursing your lips, you cross your arms. “I didn’t say I said yes.”
You didn’t say yes… You didn’t say yes?
The boys brown eyes flicker toward yours, “what?”
“Yeah, I said no—why are you smiling?” Your eyebrows furrow, noticing the way his lips had tugged upwards ever so slightly.
“Smiling?” His face falters, “i’m not smiling?”
“I literally saw your lips twitch, you were totally smiling!?” You laugh, although it was more out of confusion than actual humor. “Fuck are you smiling about?”
Arda shrugs, his lips pulling into an amused, thin line. “Nothing, nothing.”
You don’t let up though, “bullshit.”
“I—“ He huffs, “I’m just surprised you’d turn him down. You’ve been complaining about being single recently, so I find it funny that you turned him down, that’s all!”
Yeah, I wonder why i’d do that. You think. Because of you. How can you not tell?
You hadn’t noticed you’d dazed off, your mind wandering to Arda once again. How could he not notice how you feel after all these years? With how many hints you’d dropped, it seems crazy to think he doesn’t know. Maybe he did, maybe he was just avoiding it because—
“Hello? Earth to you?” Arda’s waving his hand in front of your face.
Blinking, you pull yourself together. “Y’know.. For someone so smart, you really are stupid.” You sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as you look at him.
“What?” He’s the one speechless now.
“You’re just very oblivious, it’s insane, honestly.” You didn’t mean it in a rude way, you were just baffled. “I rejected Marcus, because I didn’t want him to ask me out, I wanted—“ You shut yourself up, your mouth snapping shut.
Arda’s eyes search yours, his heart hammering in his chest. “You wanted me to.” He finishes for you.
“Yeah.” You admit, hesitantly looking back to him. “But—“
“No!” He interrupts, “no, no ‘buts’, please.” Arda’s eyes soften, his hands reaching out to cup your cheeks. You hadn’t realized until now how close you were, how close you had been.
“Oh.” You clear your throat, “okay.”
“I didn’t want Marcus taking you out either, i’m just pissed he had the courage to do it before I did, I was being a baby.” He rambles, “i’m sorry.”
“Can we just stop talking.” You ask, leaning into his touch, your eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips. “Please?”
Arda feels his chest swell a few sizes as he takes a second to stare at you, overwhelmed with emotions he’d tried to bury for so long.
“Of course,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours delicately.
With one hand cupping your cheek, the other trails down to your hip, pulling you impossibly closer. He was lost in you, and you in him. Every feeling you’d felt for each other prominent in the way neither of you seemed to need more air. Your breaths mingled in between kisses, smiles mirroring each other.
You, finally pulling away, giggle. The sound music to Arda’s ears. He grins at you, placing two kisses on your flushed cheeks.
“I should’ve done that a long time ago.” He murmurs, head resting in the nape of your neck where he leaves another soft kiss.
“Yeah, you should’ve.” You hum, pulling his face away to look at it, taking in his lopsided grin. His eyes, his nose, oh you were so screwed.
DTS , @halfwayhearted <3
