[request]

Kisses. Sweet, human forms of affection.

Newt loved them, was practically addicted; your kisses were like nicotine, flooding his organs with unhealthy joy. He was sure if you kissed him anymore his heart would explode and he would die a happy man.

“I have to feed the creatures” Newt protested weakly, though he didn’t want to leave this position.

After all, laying in bed, ruffled from sleep, your hands on his cheeks: that was all Newt could have asked for.

He always was a sucker for your sweetness.