#because ~i~ struggle with intimacy and I write for me ya know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pin-k-ink · 5 months ago

Note

nwjwnsjshwuw im thinking abt having a big argument with hoshina and ending in a rough rough smexy love makingg PLS PLS

daredevil // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ dub-con, manhandling, threats, mentions of injuries and death, mild objectification, rough sex, hair pulling, biting/marking, cunnilingus, blowjob, asphyxiation, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, power play, degradation/name calling, face-fucking, dacryphilia, dirty-talking, squirting, it’s kinda fluffy halfway through

wc ⇢ 6.9k

a/n: i got emotional halfway through because im not used to writing characters being this mean. i legit cried. i think you can see the moment i switched up T_T

The sharp bark of Soshiro's voice sliced through the ops room like a whip-crack, killing the busy din dead. You felt those clipped syllables punch straight through the chaos and detonate somewhere deep in your gut.

Fingers frozen on the holographic display, you didn't need to turn and verify the sudden tension coiling through the atmosphere. No, you could taste the aura of displeasure rolling off your boyfriend in practically visible waves from here.

"[Y/N]." Soshiro's growl cut through the stifling quiet like a blade, frayed patience and restrained irritation strung so tightly you could practically picture the vein pulsing at his temple. "A word. Now."

You drew in a steadying breath, fighting the tiny reflexive flutter that sparked low in your belly at that display of pure, smoky dominance. Get it together - he's clearly pissed, not putting on a show for your viewing pleasure. Yet.

Squaring your shoulders, you pivoted to face the stormy-eyed glare currently attempting to bore holes straight through your skull. Soshiro filled up the doorway like an imposing sentinel, arms corded with restrained menace, expression thunderous enough to shrivel houseplants at twenty paces. His violet hair stuck up in wild disarray from where he'd no doubt been raking anxious fingers through the tumbled strands.

But it was the scorching intensity blazing in those hooded scarlet eyes that really snared your attention. The crimson irises were near eclipsed into molten rubies framed by a few slivers of hungry violet, all razored focus currently centered on drinking in every subtle micro-expression flickering across your features.

You refused to be cowed so easily, however. Keeping your shoulders rolled back, you arched one brow in studied defiance and allowed your lips to quirk in a subtly smug smirk.

"Oh, hi babe," you greeted with intentional lightness, forcing your tone to remain easy and unbothered as you blinked up at him from beneath your lashes. "Everything okay?"

You allowed a tiny pout to exaggerate your expression into one of affected innocence - the picture-perfect vision of blameless bewilderment. The muscle ticking along Soshiro's jaw was the only warning before he bulldozed straight through your attempted deflection with the subtlety of a wrecking ball through rice paper.

"Cut the innocent act, [Y/N]-chan," he near growled, the unexpected endearment somehow dripping with more menace than sugared intimacy. Soshiro's nostrils flared as he visibly struggled to rein in whatever was quickly fraying his legendary restraint to mere threads. "Ya know damn well why I'm pissed."

Doing your best to smother the tiny thrill that sparked brighter at his thinly veiled anger, you blinked up at Soshiro through your lashes. You made a show of tracing your gaze down the powerful column of his throat, over the broad, heaving expanse of his chest and sleekly-muscled abdomen just to see his jaw tick again before replying.

"Actually, I don't have a clue, Shiro," you drawled, allowing your voice to dip into a lower, slightly breathier register as you emphasized his nickname with just a hint of taunting lilt. "Care to enlighten me?"

The low, subsonic growl that rumbled through Soshiro's frame in response was downright primordial in its blatant aggression. Before you could so much as hitch in another pointed inhalation, he was suddenly looming over you like a tsunami of leashed brute strength and simmering danger.

Powerful hands whipped out to bracket your upper arms, fingers digging into the lean cords of muscle with just enough force to raise a scattering of pinprick tingles across your hyper-aware nerves. You instinctively craned your neck to maintain eye contact, refusing to be cowed by Soshiro overwhelming your personal space so completely.

His chest expanded with a deep inhalation, the steady rise and fall of that broad, hair-roughened expanse practically hypnotic this close. When Soshiro finally spoke, each precisely enunciated word seemed to reverberate straight through your very marrow with tangible menace.

"Don't play dumb, sweetheart," he rumbled in that same tone of deadly, ominous calm somehow more chilling than any shouted epithet could ever be. "Should know better than to try handlin' me with that pretty pouty act by now..."

"Alright, enough with the thinly veiled threats, Soshiro," you snapped, finally allowing your own temper to flare in the face of his brooding menace. "If you've got something to say, then spit it out already."

His eyes flashed with something darker at your blunt challenge, fingers tightening fractionally on your arms. "Ya really wanna go there, baby?" Soshiro practically purred, upper lip curling in a hint of a sneer. "Fine. The off-books recon op your platoon ran yesterday without clearin' it through the proper chains first. Ring any goddamn bells?"

You felt your own jaw tighten as you fought the instinctive urge to look away guiltily. So that was the root of his pissy mood - the intel-gathering mission you'd deemed necessary despite lacking official authorization.

"It was a prime opportunity that required swift action," you countered, struggling to keep your tone even and professional despite the clear fury simmering behind Soshiro's stare. "We got the intel, didn't we? I'd say the results justified—"

"Don't even try justifyin' that bullshit to me," Soshiro snarled, deep timbre pitching even lower and more ominous as his grasp morphed from restraining into something far more purposefully bruising. "Ya went cowboy, leading yer whole squad into an unsanctioned op without backup or oversight!"

Anger sparked bright and hot in your core at having your capabilities and decisions questioned so bluntly, so publicly. Who the hell did Soshiro think he was to dress you down like some disobedient child rather than a respected platoon leader?

"I am more than capable of assessing potential threats to my team, Vice Captain," you bit out, not even trying to mask the distill that saturated his title. You leaned into Soshiro's restraining grip rather than pull away, unwilling to show even an iota of weakness or retreat. "Perhaps if you spent more time actually supporting our efforts rather than lounging around base, you'd see—"

The words cut off in a breathless huff as Soshiro bodily hauled you closer, eliminating what little distance still separated your bristling frames down to mere ionized inches. His free hand whipped up to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back at a sharp angle that robbed your next words of any scathing barb before they could slur free.

"Don't you dare imply I don't have yer back in the field," Soshiro growled, the words seeming to thrum directly into your feverish skin as your gazes locked and held. Pupils blown wide into yawning chasms swallowed up nearly all traces of amethyst, leaving nothing but pools of opalescent darkness consuming his features. "Ya know damn well that's never been the issue, baby."

Something darker and far more insidious than mere confrontation seemed to bleed into his gaze, tempering the naked fury until it scorched like smoldering coals banked and awaiting the right spark to detonate fully. One side of Soshiro's lips peeled back in a hint of an utterly failed attempt at a smile — something feral and cold and utterly devoid of humor.

"No, the real issue here is yer single-minded self-importance and blatant disrespect for the chain of command," he rumbled in a tone of quiet, inescapable certainty. "Yer stubborn refusal to recognize the bigger picture beyond yer own glory-seekin' antics, consequences be damned..."

You opened your mouth on a vehement denial, every fiber of your being thrumming like a livewire at his unflinching accusations. But Soshiro allowed no quarter or deflection, not a single millimeter of mercy. Shifting his weight minutely, he rolled his hips forward to trap yours in an unforgiving vise of solid, unyielding strength.

"I'm done makin' excuses or turning a blind eye every time ya blatantly disregard established protocols just because ya think ya know better or yer pride's been wounded," he growled, words seeming to sear in an unstoppable cadence. "Tonight, we're going to settle this power struggle once and for all, Platoon Leader..."

His free hand fisted tighter in your hair, making you grit your teeth against the stinging pull and tightening your jaw mulishly. Who the hell did he think he was talking to you like some disobedient child?

You bristled at the clear undercurrent of challenge and threat woven through his tone, refusal to back down flaring bright and hot in your veins. "You don't get to dictate anything to me, Vice Captain," you bit out through a tightly clenched jaw, relishing in stabbing him with his own title right back.

"I don't give a fuck about bruised protocol or your oversized ego — we got the intel that could save thousands of civilian lives, and you're pitching a fit over chain of command? You weren’t even here for the past week." You shook your head slowly, allowing your lips to curve into a sneer of derision that you knew would prick at his notoriously thin skin.

"I didn't realize playing by the rules was more important to Hoshina Soshiro than actually accomplishing the mission," you drawled with heavy sarcasm, feeling a flare of vicious satisfaction as his eyes seemed to swell even darker with unbridled fury.

His jawline flexed sharply as he visibly ground his teeth, tendons standing out in harsh definition beneath the stubbled hinge. For a long moment, the air between you seemed to thicken into a smothering fog laced with static and the acidic taste of pure restrained violence.

Then Soshiro began slowly shaking his head in a subtle negation, the tattered threads of his control audibly shredding apart under the strain. When he finally spoke, the words emerged in a gravelly rasp that seemed to bypass your eardrums entirely and reverberate straight into your very bones instead:

"Ya just don't get it, do ya, sweetheart?" He sneered the affectionate nickname with an acidic twist of mockery, the sound of it slicing through your defenses to draw an instinctive flinch.

"This goes so far beyond yer meaningless authority trips or whatever bullshit glory ya think getting some scrap of half-baked intel means in the grand scheme," Soshiro snarled, leaning in until you could taste the earthy, masculine tang of his anger on each raggedly exhaled word.

"What ya clearly fail to comprehend is that yer stubborn selfishness nearly got every last member of your platoon — your people — killed chasin' some suicidal lapse in judgment." His words were measured yet potent, viciously clinical in their precision and impact.

You felt your eyes widen involuntarily at the blunt accusation, mouth opening to spit some scathing retort and defend your proven capabilities as field commander. But Soshiro barreled on in a tone of thunderous judgment, allowing no room for interruption or deflection.

"You're so caught up in yer own goddamn hubris, always convinced you've got the angles figured out, prepared for everythin'..." His laugh was about as far from humorous as could be imagined — a harsh, barking bark of wry disdain that dripped acid. "Did it ever cross that thick skull exactly how I'd feel getting the call about a squad of glassed corpses thanks to some insubordinate asshole's solo glory play?"

His words sliced straight through to your core, searing their bitter truth across every nerve. Still, you couldn't quite bite back the wounded denial that burst free:

"We made it back clean, no casualties! Your concerns are total unfounded bullshit, Soshiro!"

But that only seemed to be the spark that detonated his final, fraying reserves of patience.

Soshiro moved with liquid grace and unanticipated speed, finally releasing his hold only to redirect his hands in blurring arcs that allowed no counter or evasion. One second you were straining against his restraints, mouth open on another heated rejoinder — the next, you'd been twisted and slammed back against the nearest bulkhead with brutal, jarring force.

The air punched free from your lungs in an explosive gust, leaving you gaping in mute shock at the speed of his assault. Soshiro loomed over you now, forearm braced across your chest in an unbreakable bar of corded muscle and virile strength, one thigh shoved between your splayed ones to lock you in a helpless full-body cage.

"Ya fucking insolent, arrogant brat," he hissed through gritted teeth, trembling with the sheer force of his restrained fury. You could feel every rapacious inhale, every shudder vibrating through him as he struggled to restrain the final dregs of control. "I don't give a damn that ya got lucky, sweetheart..."

Soshiro leaned in closer, eliminating the final precious slivers of personal space until his nose nearly brushed your own, until all that filled your addled senses was the overwhelming musk of his anger surrounding you, consuming you utterly.

"I'm gonna ensure yer willful idiocy never jeopardizes what's mine again," he growled in a tone edged with lethal promise, eyes locked with yours in a final duel of wills. "Startin' by reminding ya exactly who calls the shots around here."

The threat hung heavy between you, tension so thick you could practically choke on it. Your hands were balled into fists, nails digging crescents into your palms with how hard you were clenching them. The urge to lash out, to throw one final barbed insult was almost overwhelming, consequences be damned.

So you gave in, any rational thought consumed by the raging wildfire of anger and adrenaline blazing through your veins. "Fuck you," you spat, putting every ounce of venom and derision you could muster behind the two simple words.

That was it - the final straw that severed his taut grip on control. You saw it in the way his pupils blew wide, swallowing up those blazing crimson irises in a yawning void of heated fury. A harsh breath hissed out between his gritted teeth as his body went taut like a bowstring pulled to its maximum tension.

Then with a feral growl that reverberated straight to your bones, Soshiro surged forward and crashed his mouth against yours in a searing, branding kiss. But it wasn't gentle or tender — no, this was all pent-up aggression and unleashed hunger given free rein.

His teeth nipped at your lips with stinging force, drawing a sharp gasp that his questing tongue instantly occupied. You gave as good as you got, hands fisting in the front of his uniform to yank him closer as you bit at his lower lip hard enough to draw copper on your tongue.

Soshiro's growl transformed into something darker, richer, as your wrestling rapidly devolved into a primal give and take of dominance. Whenever he tried to slant his mouth and deepen the frenzied kiss, you'd buck your hips against his solid weight to throw him off-balance again.

His big hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair to angle your head, skimming over your waist and the flare of your hips, squeezing with possessive force. You could barely draw breath between the slick slide of your joined mouths, harsh pants and lewd smacks mingling in the supercharged air.

This was rawer, messier and infinitely more satisfying than any carefully orchestrated seduction could be. No, this was desire stripped down to its most base, primal core — all pretense and propriety discarded like tattered rags in the wake of you both finally giving in.

When you finally wrenched your mouth free with a gasp, Soshiro's eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed with naked hunger. His lips were reddened and spit-slick, hair awry where your hands had fisted through the strands.

"Ya try that stubborn martyr bullshit one more time, sweetheart," he rasped in that low, gravel-rough tone that never failed to make you shiver. "And next time I won't be playin' so nice..."

Those last three words were practically rolled across his tongue with how much dark, molten promise they contained. You felt a fresh spark of fiery arousal flare brighter at the implicit threat, chest heaving as your lips curved in a smirk of defiant invitation.

"Is that so?" you all but purred, dragging your nails down over the slope of his shoulders deliberately. "I'd pay to see you try keeping that in check..."

The only answer was Soshiro's low, rumbling chuckle as he swooped back in to seal your taunting lips in another searing, messy clash of tongues and teeth and relentless, glorious hunger.

Soshiro didn't waste any more time with words. With a low snarl vibrating against your swollen lips, he banded one powerful arm around your waist and simply lifted, hauling you up against his solid weight effortlessly.

You gasped at the sudden movement, legs instinctively winding around his hips as he pinned you against the nearest bulkhead. Soshiro took full advantage, angling his hips to grind against your clothed pussy with delicious friction that had you keening softly into the heated cavern of his mouth.

"Still runnin' that smart mouth, baby?" he rumbled after dragging his lips away, leaving a hot trail of nipping kisses along the thrumming pulse at your throat. "Need to learn to show some fuckin' respect..."

With that, Soshiro spun on his heel and began forcibly carting you down the corridor like a rutting beast claiming its prize. You didn't bother stifling your breathless laughter at his caveman antics, fingers tunneling through his sweat-dampened hair to yank his head back.

"Put me down this instant, you arrogant, over-muscled—"

The rest of your taunt dissolved into a startled squeak as Soshiro abruptly pivoted and slammed you back-first against the nearest surface. The wind rushed from your lungs in an explosive gust, leaving you blinking stupidly as you refocused on his blazing glare mere inches away.

"You were saying, Platoon Leader?" The way Soshiro all but spat out your title was blatantly mocking. His palm pressed insistently against your sternum as he slowly leaned in, each rasping inhalation gusting across your tingling lips. "Pretty sure it was somethin' about respectin' yer superiors..."

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, but Soshiro's free hand whipped up to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back at a sharp angle as he sealed his lips over your parted ones in a scorching brand of possession. Any words dissolved into desperate, needy whimpers against the molten slide of his tongue claiming every inch as undisputed territory.

When he finally tore away with a rasping groan, you were left trembling and light-headed from the sheer intensity of it all. Soshiro's lips curved in a slow, predatory slash of dark promise as his free hand skimmed down your side to palm over the curve of your hip with shameless appreciation.

"That's better..." he rumbled in that sinful baritone utterly saturated with sin and naked masculine satisfaction. "Think I prefer having that pretty mouth occupied with better uses for now."

His fingers squeezed purposefully against your flesh in emphasis. You couldn't quite stifle the tiny mewl of purely visceral need that slipped free at the subtle dominance play.

Soshiro tsked softly, somehow managing to layer the simple sound with undisguised derision. "So fuckin' needy, aren't ya baby? Don't worry..."

With that, he ducked his head to rasp the words directly against the heated hollow beneath your ear, sending a cascading shudder of expectant tingles across your hyper-aware nerves.

"I'm gonna take such good care of puttin' that greedy little mouth to proper use once we're somewhere more... private."

The heavy pause and emphasis he placed on that final word resonated straight to your pussy in a thrumming promise-slash-threat. You couldn't even formulate a response before Soshiro's mouth was crashing down over yours once more in a searing, breathtaking conflagration.

This time there was no struggle, no battle for dominance beyond your complete, unconditional surrender. You simply clung to Soshiro with a breathy mewl as he backed you through a doorway, devouring every pleased rumble and husky groan passing between your joined mouths with utter desperation. You caught brief glimpses of passing officers gaping at their Vice Captain brazenly manhandling his girlfriend, but the heat searing through your veins made you utterly uncaring of any scandalized looks.

Something solid bumped against the back of your thighs, not that it slowed Soshiro's relentless advance in the slightest. He simply lifted and deposited you on the awaiting surface without ever breaking the heated exchange.

Then his hands were roaming with purposeful possession — carding through your hair to angle your head for deeper plundering, skimming over the swell of your breasts with sublime friction, palming along the flare of your hipbones to hitch you closer to the edge. You gasped when his questing fingers trailed across the taut fabric straining over your nipples, hips bucking instinctively as his fingertips tweaked and rolled the sensitive buds through the clinging material.

You finally managed to wrench your mouth free with a ragged gasp, struggling to draw a steadying breath. But Soshiro seemed to take that as a challenge, immediately dropping his attention to your throat instead. He latched on to the wildly thrumming pulse point at the curve of your shoulder, his fangs piercing your skin with just enough force to leave a perfect ring of marks.

You couldn't stifle the needy whimper that slipped free at the exquisite combination of pleasure-pain. Soshiro's responding growl sent fresh sparks of tingling heat straight to your aching core, making your hips roll instinctively against the rock-hard bulge of his cock straining his pants.

"You have no fucking clue what that stubborn attitude does to me," he groaned, sounding utterly wrecked already. Soshiro's hips surged against yours with a rough, uncontrolled snap. "No goddamn idea how hard I get hearin' ya mouth off, so fuckin' confident and bratty, like no one could ever dare lay a finger on ya..."

He punctuated the words with a sharp nip at the hinge of your jaw, then a teasing tug on the lobe of your ear. You felt the heat of his smile curve against the heated column of your throat, the bastard.

"Ya like being such a spoiled princess, huh?" Soshiro all but purred, his tone edged with that familiar hint of mocking arrogance that never failed to make your pussy clench in anticipation. "Always gettin' what ya want, how ya want it..."

Before you could even begin formulating a retort, Soshiro had wrenched away and was yanking the zipper down on his pants. You felt your mouth go dry at the sight of his thick, straining cock jutting out proudly from the vee of his open uniform, tip glistening with pearlescent beads of precum.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips on instinct, and Soshiro's eyes darkened further at the action. His voice emerged in a husky rasp, the sound so deliciously filthy you felt it like a tangible stroke across your skin.

"Well, not this time. I’m about to make good on all those promises to fuck some respect into ya, sweetheart. So go on - open that smart mouth and suck my cock."

His tone was pure sin, dripping with dark promise and filthy intent. You felt your entire body flush with molten arousal, pussy clenching as he fisted a hand in your hair and tugged firmly, hauling you off the desk to kneel at his feet.

"Soshiro, I swear to god, if you think I'm gonna—"

But the rest of your protests died on a strangled gasp as Soshiro all but slapped the heavy length of his cock against your parted lips. The tang of his salty essence flooded your tastebuds, making your mouth water as he gave a shallow roll of his hips and smeared a streak of precum along your cheek.

"Ya can drop the act now, baby," he bit out, voice low and gravelly with raw desire. Soshiro's crimson eyes were nearly eclipsed by the sheer force of his hunger, a muscle ticking along his clenched jawline. "We both know how much of a cockslut you are - ya don’t gotta pretend like you're not dyin' to have this cock stretchin' yer pretty little throat?"

His words sent another surge of arousal through your veins, a rush of liquid heat pooling in your core and leaking from your pussy to stain your panties. You couldn't deny the way your heart stuttered at the way he was looking down at you, the sheer intensity of his gaze searing straight to your soul.

"So go ahead and admit it," he practically growled, giving your hair a yank and thrusting his hips forward to slide his cockhead across your cheek in a humiliatingly obscene display. "You’re nothing but a selfish brat, always needing something to fill up that smart mouth..."

His other hand fisted tighter in the roots, forcing your head back further until your eyes watered and throat worked reflexively. You couldn't suppress the tiny gasp that slipped free at the rough treatment, making his cock twitch against your parted lips in a silent demand.

"Say it, slut," Soshiro ground out, eyes narrowing in warning as they bored into yours. "Ya can’t fool me. Not after I’ve seen exactly how well that pretty little mouth takes my cock..."

The memory of all the times he'd fucked your mouth, the way he'd ruthlessly pinned you down and pumped his cock deep in your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks and you coughed and gasped for air flashed behind your eyes. Just the recollection of how he'd made you choke on his cum was enough to have your thighs clenching instinctively, pussy growing even slicker with each filthy demand.

"Go on, say it." His tone dropped lower, rougher with a hint of warning. "Ya can either do it now, or I'll fuck that disobedient attitude right out of ya the hard way."

With that, Soshiro hauled you up by his grip on your hair until his cockhead bumped against your lips once more, eyes narrowing. A thrill of mingled arousal and trepidation sparked through your veins, sending a rush of molten need straight to your clenching core.

But still, you forced yourself to lift your chin in stubborn defiance, glaring up at him with all the force of your ire.

"Go to hell," you spat with venomous disdain.

You were barely able to smirk in victory before you felt his fingers wrench your jaw open, the sudden movement sending a spike of pain-edged pleasure down your spine. Then Soshiro was slamming his cock between your lips, the force of it nearly choking you with how sudden and brutal the action was.

"That's what I thought," he muttered, but his tone was far from annoyed. If anything, the gravel-rough rasp was laced with a heavy undercurrent of satisfaction and pure, undisguised hunger.

You blinked back the haze of unshed tears as he shoved deeper, not pausing until the swollen tip was nudging the back of your throat and your nose was pressed against the neatly trimmed hairs at the base. Only then did he finally allow himself a ragged groan of pleasure, the sound nearly a sigh of pure relief.

"Ya know, baby, you look so much better like this," he taunted, rolling his hips to slide his cock a fraction deeper before retreating in a slick glide that had you swallowing back a moan. "When you're finally doing what you're best at - taking my cock and shuttin' that smart mouth up..."

Soshiro punctuated his statement by thrusting in again, not pausing as his fingers twisted cruelly in the roots. He kept his pace slow and shallow at first, clearly savoring the way you were struggling to suck him off and breathe around the thick length filling your throat.

He held you there until your vision began to blur and a whine built in the back of your throat, then finally allowed you to suck in a ragged gasp as he drew back. His cockhead was a deep, glistening purple, slick with spit and precum.

You opened your mouth to snark back, but the words died on a breathy gasp as Soshiro fisted his hand in your hair and yanked your head back sharply. A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slowly dragged the swollen head along the seam of your lips, his eyes locked with yours.

"So pretty when you cry," he purred, swiping his cock over your lower lip. You couldn't quite stifle the tiny mewl of desperate arousal the action drew, which only seemed to amuse Soshiro even further.

"I could watch ya suck my cock for hours," he mused, eyes flashing darkly as he dragged his free hand over his cock and smeared the precum pooling at the tip across your lips. "But maybe… I'd rather finish in that greedy little pussy, instead..."

Soshiro didn't bother waiting for your reaction, merely tightened his grip on your hair and hauled you up until your legs buckled and you stumbled onto the desk behind you. He crowded in, pushing your thighs wide apart with his own before his hands slid down to yank your uniform down your hips.

You didn't have a chance to even process the fact that he'd stripped you naked in mere seconds, leaving you clad in nothing but the sweat-dampened tank top you wore beneath the uniform. Your mouth went dry as his hands dropped lower, spreading your pussy apart with calloused fingers before ducking his head and pressing his lips against the soaked folds.

"My girl's so ready for my cock, huh?" he purred, the sound almost drowned out by the obscene slurping noise that sounded as his tongue delved into your dripping cunt. You couldn't hold back the whimper of pleasure that escaped at the sensation, and Soshiro responded with a low chuckle.

"Such a sloppy little cunt," he taunted, nipping at the swollen clit until you keened desperately. "All this slick leaking out of you, baby, and I haven't even put a finger inside."

You flushed hotly at the blatant degradation, unable to bite back the instinctive gasp of embarrassment and pleasure. But Soshiro seemed intent on driving the humiliation home, teeth latching onto your clit and sucking hard until you couldn't help bucking against his mouth, desperate for more.

"Fuck," you groaned, tossing your head back as the tension began winding tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any second. "Soshiro, please, I need—"

He pulled back abruptly, the abrupt loss of friction wrenching a strangled whine from the back of your throat. It took all your willpower to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze, and when you did, you felt your core clench at the blatant heat that burned in his gaze.

"Ya think ya deserve my cock after the stunt you pulled today?" he drawled, one eyebrow quirking upward mockingly. "Ya nearly got every member of your squad killed, and yer still so damn cocky about it all. Think ya deserve anything beyond the tip of my finger?"

Soshiro punctuated the question with a single digit, sliding it through your slick folds and teasing it over your hole until you were panting and rolling your hips, desperate for more. "Luckily for you , though, I'm not here to teach you a lesson, baby. No..."

He trailed off as he slowly slid his finger inside, eyes darkening as he watched the way you arched against the desk with a needy whine. He crooked the digit, teasing against your most sensitive spot until your hips bucked and pussy clenched tight, chasing the release he'd so cruelly denied.

"I'm here to fuck some respect into ya."

Soshiro pulled back just as abruptly, and the frustrated cry that left your lips was downright embarrassing. But then his hands were tearing at his uniform, yanking the shirt open and shrugging the material aside until his gorgeous chest was on full display, rippling with each huffing breath.

You watched in mute awe, feeling your pulse skyrocket and pussy clench around the sudden emptiness as he shoved his pants down to pool around his ankles, kicking the clothing aside. He fisted a hand around his cock and tugged, groaning raggedly at the contact.

"I haven’t felt that tight cunt in weeks," he growled, his free hand landing on the table beside your hip with a thud. "Been jerkin' off every night to the memory of this pussy squeezing my cock, but nothing's gonna compare to the real thing..."

He surged forward and sealed his lips over yours in a brutal kiss, swallowing the breathless cry as he lined the fat head up against your entrance and snapped his hips forward. The stretch was delicious, and you couldn't help moaning into his mouth as he bottomed out.

"That's better," Soshiro groaned, breaking away just far enough to speak against your lips. "So much better than my goddamn fist, fuckin' finally..."

He didn't waste any time, pulling back and thrusting in again in a punishing rhythm that had you seeing stars. There was no time for adjustment, no chance to savor the initial feeling of having him buried to the hilt. Instead, Soshiro set a relentless pace, hips pistoning back and forth in a series of deep, measured thrusts.

He broke away from your mouth, and you gasped for breath as his lips blazed a trail down the column of your throat. Soshiro's hands were everywhere, stroking and squeezing and groping at every inch of your body as he fucked you without abandon.

"You’re droolin' all over my cock, sweetheart," he taunted, teeth scraping at the hinge of your jaw. "Bet ya pulled that stunt just to get my attention, huh?"

His voice was a low growl against your throat, lips curving into a smirk against your skin. "Didn't realize ya were so desperate for me, baby..."

"No," you gasped, trying desperately to cling to some semblance of control, some way to regain the upper hand. "I didn't even know you were coming—"

"That's a fuckin' lie," Soshiro spat, snapping his hips harder. His pace was relentless, the thick girth of his cock filling you perfectly with each punishing stroke. "Ya knew I was due back today, knew I'd have no choice but to deal with yer bratty ass myself, and ya pulled that bullshit on purpose..."

He punctuated his point with a particularly sharp thrust, making your breath hitch. Soshiro didn't pause, didn't let you catch a break. He was fucking you into the desk like an animal, and the worst part was — it was working.

"I'm done letting ya pull this shit," he snarled, teeth biting into the slope of your shoulder. The sharp flare of pain sent a fresh surge of liquid heat pulsing from your core. "I'm done letting ya risk your neck every goddamn mission, not knowing if yer gonna come home or wind up in a fuckin' body bag."

His hand landed on your thigh and shoved it wider, the new angle allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. You couldn't choke back the needy moan at the new sensations, the way the heavy slap of his balls against your ass mingled with the lewd squelching noises of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

"You became mine the day ya kissed me back," Soshiro ground out, his words a low growl that made your blood run molten in your veins. "And if ya can't keep yourself in line, sweetheart, I'll make sure yer too busy suckin' my cock to go anywhere near the fuckin' field."

His hand tangled in the roots of your hair, twisting to wrench your head back and bare your throat in a helpless arc. Soshiro's fangs descended, the tips digging into the soft flesh beneath your ear as he growled directly against the shell.

"Gonna knock you up if I have to."

You gasped at the filthy words, but they only served to heighten the building sensations. You felt your pussy fluttering around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, his pace growing more uncoordinated as his own peak drew nearer.

"Maybe then ya'll understand exactly why I want to keep you safe, baby." His words were a rasp against your neck, his lips blazing a trail of molten heat against your skin. "Why I can't stand the thought of losing ya, no matter how damn reckless ya are. You're the most stubborn, arrogant, selfish woman I've ever met..."

His free hand dipped between your bodies, teasing along the taut expanse of your belly until it came to rest on your hip. Then he leaned forward, putting his entire weight behind the next thrust, and you cried out as he hit a spot that had sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

"You're also the best — ngh — goddamn thing that's ever happened to me," he finished with a groan, and you were so shocked by the unexpected confession you didn't even have a chance to reply before he was crashing his lips over yours again, stealing your breath and any coherent thoughts along with it.

The next few thrusts had the tension in your core coiling tighter, tighter, until you were practically thrashing against the desk, pinned in place by the force of his strength and the solid weight of his cock stretching your pussy wide. You were close, so fucking close, but Soshiro didn't seem to be showing any signs of slowing down.

In fact, he only seemed to be fucking you harder, with sharper thrusts that were rapidly pushing you toward the edge. You clung to his shoulders, nails biting into the tanned flesh as you whimpered and writhed and struggled to maintain even the slightest scrap of self-control.

"C'mon, baby," he purred, his mouth trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the arch of your neck. "I wanna feel that cunt milking my cock, sweetheart... Wanna feel ya gush all over my cock while I'm pumping ya full, just like I promised..."

It was too much, his words and the delicious drag of his cock stroking every sensitive nerve ending inside you. You couldn't bite back the sob that slipped free, couldn't hold out any longer as the coil wound to its breaking point.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking and breaking as the sensations overwhelmed you utterly. "Oh god, Soshiro, please, I'm—"

The rest dissolved into a ragged cry as the tension finally snapped, sending you plummeting over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a wave, flooding through your veins with a rush of searing heat as you shuddered and arched against his chest, spraying his cock with a gush of slick as he fucked you right through the pleasure.

"That’s my girl."

You felt Soshiro's groan reverberate against your lips as he thrust once, twice, three more times. Then his hips slammed forward, pinning you flat against the desk as he bottomed out and came with a hoarse, ragged shout of completion.

His cum spurted against your womb in a rush of hot liquid, filling your pussy so full it leaked out around the straining thickness of his cock. You felt yourself clench and pulse around the sensation, riding the aftershocks of your own peak.

Soshiro finally sagged above you, forehead dropping against your collarbone as he panted for breath. You blinked dazedly, struggling to clear the stars still flashing across your vision.

The two of you remained locked together, unmoving save for the erratic rise and fall of your chests. Gradually, you became aware of Soshiro's fingers carding through your hair, smoothing the sweat-damp strands back from your temple as he pressed a trail of soft, gentle kisses along the slope of your shoulder.

When you finally regained enough energy to lift your head, Soshiro was already waiting, leaning in to press a kiss to your mouth that was achingly tender. It was such a sharp contrast to the way he'd manhandled and fucked you mere minutes ago, and the juxtaposition of it all was almost enough to make you dizzy.

You felt him hook an arm around your shoulder to gently ease you upright, keeping his other arm braced against the desk for balance. The two of you were a complete mess, clothes torn and sweat-soaked, and his cock was still half-hard inside you.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

His tone was low, rough, and so, so tender you felt your heart constrict at the sound. Soshiro's expression was soft, almost vulnerable, and he didn't hesitate to cup your jaw and press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I mean, besides the obvious." He gave a slight roll of his hips, making you gasp as his cock twitched and pulsed inside your overstimulated pussy. Soshiro chuckled, the sound edged with dark promise.

"I meant what I said earlier," he added, his tone serious as he met your eyes once more. "I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life than when I heard what happened, and that was before I realized what a stupid, selfish little brat I have for a girlfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, and Soshiro immediately seized the opportunity, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. When he finally pulled back, you couldn't stop the small whine that escaped, and his eyes glittered with mischief and pure masculine satisfaction.

"We're gonna be having another conversation about your behavior, though," he continued, his voice dipping lower as his eyes darkened further. "Preferably with a paddle and my belt around your neck. But for now..."

He pulled back, slipping his softening cock from your abused cunt and drawing a whine of disappointment at the loss. Before you could protest, Soshiro was scooping you into his arms and turning to carry you across the room.

"For now," he murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head in a soft kiss, "Let's just get ya cleaned up and tucked into bed. And then..."

He glanced down, the look in his eyes making you shiver in anticipation.

"And then I’ll be waking you up in the morning the way I know you love best."

#this ain’t proofread yet #kaiju 8 x reader smut #kaiju 8 smut #kaiju 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 #kaijuu 8 #kaijuu 8 gou #hoshina smut #hoshina x reader smut #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro smut #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader smut #soshiro smut #soshiro x reader

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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im back to request another x male reader hehe🤭a plot inspired by moth to a flame by the weeknd, what do ya think?

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰/𝐥𝐧𝟒 & 𝐨𝐩��𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: lando has many regrets, the most painful one being the fact that he encouraged you to date oscar. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: angst. beta read. emotional infidelity. implied future possible cheating? established relationship w/oscar piastri. unhappy ending. but also, open ending (sick n twisted). 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris & male!reader | oscar piastri x male!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: moth to a flame • the weeknd & swedish house mafia

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i HATE writing cheat*ng fics, like the idea genuinely makes me sick to my stomach–i never understood why someone would cheat when they can literally just break up 😐, it pisses me off. it’s purely greedy behavior, manipulative, and disrespectful as fuck. but honestly an emotional affair would borderline break my heart more than a physical affair—like you love somebody else more than me??? and you’re not even having sex with them, you just have more emotional intimacy with them??? i fr would shatter into pieces—ANYWAYS: wikipedia was my source for the timeline, so if doesn’t canonically make sense…it is what it is :p sorry for hurting lando, i didn’t want to 😔i think this is my first true angst fic ever? enjoy, loves !!!

thank you to @biancathecool for beta-reading this fic for me !!

want to be added to my taglist? want to submit a request? send me an ask!

check out my table of contents for all of my works!

lando wishes he never invited you to the silverstone grand prix in 2022. he knows you would’ve been insulted if he didn’t; you’ve been his best friend since the two of you were in diapers, and you’ve avidly supported him during each race. so, bringing you along to his home race was a given. however, after his meeting with the team post fp1, he caught you sneaking back into his driver’s room with heart-eyes, flushed cheeks, and a new number saved in your phone. it was the first time you met oscar piastri, who at the time was a reserve driver for alpine. when lando teased you for details, you downplayed the interaction, but you also asked him if it was fine if you got to know the australian rookie. he snorted, you didn’t need his permission to associate with other drivers.

four months later at the the circuit of the americas, you told lando you were dating oscar.

he’s thankful that you waited until after the race to tell him because he would’ve shunted into the barriers. lando’s heard of how people struggle to get over someone they’ve dated and fell in love with—but how does he recover from getting over someone he’s never allowed himself to fall in love with?

lando feigned happiness for you, his shocked laughter passing for joy. he ushered you to sneak into oscar’s room to “make the most of the time you had together,” while he went out to celebrate max’s pole and his p6. the brit did congratulate his friend, and then for a man who claims to not like alcohol, he proceeded to get wasted. he was a mess, enough that he had to be escorted back to the hotel by daniel and carlos—as if being babysat by one of them wasn’t embarrassing enough. he broke down, sobbing into the spaniard’s shoulder about his missed chance, and was eventually soothed to sleep by daniel awkwardly rubbing his back.

he knew it would be difficult to pretend that he wasn’t distraught at your new relationship. he’s had you to himself his whole life; and now he has to see you love another man. when oscar joined mclaren for the 2023 season, sure, he first-handedly witnessed how well the rookie driver treated you. good morning and good night texts aren’t forgotten even with ever changing time zones, you’re spoiled with gifts, lando catches how oscar’s phone has three alternate home screens with photos of you, oscar’s car passenger seat is adjusted to you, he has a list of things you like written in his notes app, he has your coffee order memorized. you’re wearing oscar’s mclaren merch instead of his, you stay on the australian’s side of the garage and calm his nerves instead, you game with lando half as much as you usually did and go out on dates with oscar instead, the collection of stuff that you’ve forgotten in lando’s flat decreases and he spots your stuff in oscar’s flat when he came over to hangout with you two one day. you’re rarely in your own flat, lando has to call or text you to find out what you’re doing instead of just randomly appearing like he usually does, you practically live with oscar when he’s back home, and it becomes very clear to lando that he’s your best friend, not your boyfriend. something else becomes clear to lando. while you may be infatuated with oscar, you’re still his other half.

your phone battery may die during several hour long facetime calls with oscar, but does he know that when you sleep in your own bed, that you call lando and plug in your phone so it charges while you fall asleep to the sound of his voice?

the passcode to your phone may be oscar’s birthday, but does he know that you have lando listed as your emergency contact?

you never order any seafood dishes on dates with oscar, but does he know that’s muscle memory from years of knowing lando gags at the smell?

oscar kisses the scar you have on the knuckles of your right hand, but does he know that’s from when you broke your hand punching a group of older boys who were bullying lando after he beat them in a kart race?

does he know that lando was your first kiss?

it all comes to a head in qatar. oscar won the sprint race, lando hasn’t won anything in the five years he’s been in formula one. you were late to the party the team is throwing for oscar because you were cradling lando as he sobs into your chest. max won the grand prix, and lando was the first loser to cross the finish line; as usual.

at two in the morning, there was a knock on his hotel room door. lando knew it was you from the cadence. you were dressed for bed, clothes wrinkled, voice deep and throaty from sleep, hair mussed to one side, and pillow lines were indented on your cheek. you asked him if he wanted to talk, that you noticed he was off this whole weekend. all lando could think about is the fact that you woke up in the middle of the night, slipped out of the bed you shared with oscar, and continued to wander to lando’s room half-asleep because you were worried about him. waiting until the morning didn’t cross your mind. lando’s heart ached—he shouldn’t be in love with you, he can’t be.

he let you in anyways, how was he supposed to turn you away? you were blinking at him with sleepy eyes, swollen cheeks, pouted lips—he’s only a man. you made yourself comfortable on top of his bed, and lando stared before he shrugged and laid down next to you; this is fine, this is a completely normal thing the two of you have been doing for years. just not while you have a boyfriend, or while he’s suddenly been accepting his feelings for you.

you didn’t say a word, and kept your eyes shut (you’re used to lando, he’ll speak when he wants to or he’ll be fine with your presence next to him while he sorts out his thoughts). you almost fell asleep before lando’s torrent of words startled you into awareness.

he was tripping over his words, his brain moving faster than his mouth. self-deprecating and over critical views fell from his lips—the way they sounded clued you into everything you already knew. the brunet had been thinking this for a while, the phrases sounding too practiced to be sudden realizations. the remaining whisper of sleep was vaporized from your mind at lando’s harsh evaluation of the weekend and his entire career.

you rushed to sit upright and bodily forced lando to turn and face you; your hands warmly blanketed the sides of his face and applied enough pressure for his words to become unintelligible before they tapered off. he knew that you were disagreeing with his monologue from the way your brows were furrowed and how your eyes were alight with anger. the air between you vibrated with the force of your speech, and lando knew you were probably ranting about the only reason he isn’t world champion is because of his car, not his self-perceived lack of skill.

the sharp edge of your jawline was far more interesting to brit—the length of your fanned out eyelashes, the shape of your lips shifting as they formed syllables, the strength coiled beneath the skin of your hands, the broad spread of your chest—lando’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips distractedly and the sound of your voice returned to his ears.

“…you better understand me, okay?” is all that he caught. the senior mclaren driver (how weird), hummed half-heartedly in agreement. his stare tunneled to the part of your lips, and he knew his appreciation was discovered by the audible catch of breath in your throat.

it was like all the air was sucked out of the room, a perfect vacuum created. lando hesitated, before he redirected his gaze to meet yours, and he was sure what he saw was more catastrophic than anything he could’ve imagined. your eyes were locked on his lips, as well. the brunet can’t tell how much time passed by, the two of you were busy taking turns admiring the idea of a kiss. both of you continued to stare; eyes flickering across faces, tongues wetting lips, breath quickening in anticipation, and bodies leaning closer to each other steadily. when lando felt your exhales ghost faintly over his mouth, his eyes fluttered shut and he shivered slightly, a sense of satisfaction flooded his brain; you were going to kiss him—and then he heard you gasp.

lando’s eyes flew open to see you scrambling off the bed, a horrified look painted on your face as you stared at him.

“this never happened,” you started, running an anxious, guilt-ridden hand through your hair, “and it will never happen again.”

it felt like his world was crashing down, he was frozen in shock. you moved to rush by him and leave the room, and he finally defrosted, and caught you by the arm.

you turned around furiously, tears gathering in your eyes as you forced your arm out of his grasp, a scathing, “let go of me,” leaving your mouth.

lando’s hands were shaking, mouth wobbling as he held back his own tears, and he rambled, “you're just going to forget what happened? were never going to talk about that? you’re not going to tell oscar?”

“NO!” you screamed, “no—i won’t tell oscar. and, i don’t have to tell him anything, because nothing actually happened. it was a mistake.”

he heard his heart shatter, and he couldn’t hold his tears back anymore. lando angrily brushed them away as they fell, knowing his face was embarrassingly red with anguish, and his insides burned at the look of pity and longing mixed in your gaze.

“so, you’re just going to pretend that you don’t have feelings for me,” lando questioned disbelievingly, “like i don’t know you better than oscar ever could? you’re just going to forget this ever happened and run back to bed with oscar, and continue to have him believe that everything is fine?”

the air was still for a minute, your shared breaths the only audible noise in the room.

“you’re only going to hurt him more if you act like everything’s okay,” lando whispered, “he doesn’t deserve that.”

your first tear of the night fell, your arms wrapped around your torso to hold yourself, trying to find any glimpse of protection and comfort you could. “oscar’s good to me…he treats me well, perfectly, even. he’s sweet, i really like him a lot.”

“you ‘like him a lot,’” lando repeated, staring into your eyes desperately, “but, you love me.”

the flame of rage and distress reignited in your eyes, “lando—i loved you for years. and, not once have i ever tried to make a move on you because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship. i didn’t even know you liked men until almost three fucking years ago! and, you still never gave me any sign that you were romantically interested in me. you had plenty of time and chances to date me, and you only realized that you wanted me when you lost me to oscar.”

“that’s not true,” lando murmured, “i’ve always been in love with you.”

lando watched the fury falter in your expression, and saw the conflict dance in your gaze. your stare softened, and you stepped forward to hold his face in your hands.

“i can’t do this. not to oscar—he doesn’t deserve it. i can’t break up with him.” you said in a muted tone, “we shouldn’t be together.”

the brunet whimpered, eyes watering again. his large hands came up to hold yours against his cheeks, nuzzling into the warmth of your palm. you sighed brokenly, and leaned forward to press kiss on lando’s forehead. a muffled sob vibrated through lando’s chest, and you blinked rapidly to avoid crying again. your thumb swiped under lando’s eyes, brushing away his fresh tears, and you gently swept another kiss along his cheekbone.

lando cries messily when you pull away, and can only hold himself as you leave his room without glancing backwards at him. when the door shuts, lando falls to the ground, leaning back against the bed as he sobs into his hands. he understands what you said, but he can’t help but yearn for more. his chest aches painfully, and he doesn’t know if he can give you the time you need—the distance you need. lando will pretend to be okay, he’s good at that. he’ll let you be for as long as he can manage, but he’s reassured at the knowledge that you’re in love with him.

eventually, the two of you won’t be able to fight the pull of what you really need—you’re moths to each other's flames.

taglist: @saintslewis@cherry2stemss@lorarriri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecooll@barnestaticc @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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grimesrhees · 6 months ago

Text

Good Luck, Babe.

pairing: maggie greene/rhee x fem!reader

genre: angst, mostly.

warnings: mentions of intimacy & alcohol

notes: I rarely write so please enjoy my own self indulgent attempt at it solely for my queen Maggie<3 (this also took me forever, thanks adhd😅)

summary: based on Chappell Roan's song Good Luck, Babe! Set (mostly) before the zombie apocalypse, Maggie struggles with her feelings towards other women. reader gets caught in between, falling for her knowing Maggie isn't ready to accept herself yet.

-Pre-Zombie Apocalypse-

How the hell did I get here again?

You thought to yourself as you lay sweaty and tingly all over, staring into the void of the dark ceiling above. You knew exactly how you got here, in bed with Maggie Greene, yet again. All she had to do was bat those eyelashes your way and use that sweet southern drawl and you were a goner. Ever since you started getting to know each other at the beginning of the semester 6 months ago, you wanted to show her all the ways you could make her feel good. But from the start you were aware that this was experimentation for Maggie, being with another woman. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was attracted to women along with men. There were many occasions she’d drunkenly called or text you to come pick her up after one too many shots at the bar, only for you to walk in and find her making out with yet another man. But you always came anyway. Because even through the heart ache of this situationship, you couldn’t help but to start falling for Maggie. She was so smart and kind, gentle but fierce all the same, when she wasn’t being a stubborn bull in denial over the two of you.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you turned to face the soft, bare back of Maggie’s. All those days in the hot Georgia sun on her daddy’s farm had her shoulders and back peppered with freckles. You tried to take in every inch of her while you slowly drew your fingertips up and down along her spine. Maggie hummed sleepily at your touch, and you could feel you heart swell and break into pieces at the same time. You didn’t think you could take this, whatever this was between you and her, much longer.

You woke up early the next morning, way before Maggie, and decided to take a quick shower and brew some coffee. You poured two cups, set them both down on the small table and sat. After wrestling back and forth with your thoughts last night, before you mercifully fell asleep, you decided that it was best to talk to Maggie about what was going on between you two. You sipped the hot coffee slowly and stared into the black liquid abyss in front of you until you heard the small creaks of the floorboard.

Maggie’s figure appeared, wearing nothing but an oversized flannel shirt and a pair of lacey underwear. Her hair, completely disheveled from the passion of the night before. You couldn’t help your heart from fluttering at the sight. She leaned against the door frame and flashed you that winning, toothy smile of hers, signature lip bite and all. It quickly fell when she noticed the sad look on your face as you looked up from your coffee.

“Darlin’ why the sad face, what’s got you down this mornin’?” Maggie cooed in that sweet southern drawl of hers.

“After last night I cain’t have nothin’ but a smile on my face.”

You took a deep breath and looked up into Maggie’s big green eyes.

“Mags, what are we doing? Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? What are we?”

You prepped for the inevitable response you were going to get.

Maggie let out a huff and folded her arms across her chest.

“Whatta ya mean ‘what are we doin’ and ‘what are we’? We’re havin’ fun, it’s just casual sex y/n. We’re not anything but that…” she trailed off, almost as if she was convincing herself at the same time as the words were coming out of her mouth.

God she was so fucking stubborn.

You looked away from her and felt your eyes stinging with inescapable tears. Keeping those tears from falling would take everything in you, so you set your coffee down and started to get up from the table.

“Wait, y/n I didn’t mean it quite like that, you know how much I care about you," she shifted her body up straight,

"But this is just the way it is I can’t-"

You stopped her before she could finish.

“I know that this,” you motioned your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, “is more than “nothing��, more than just “casual” sex. You know that I love you, Maggie.”

Maggie’s mouth went agape for a brief moment before it snapped shut, her jaw tightening and brows furrowing. A mix of emotions flashed across her face, fear, frustration and sadness. She couldn’t will herself to say anything back to you, so you continued on.

“Y'know what, it’s fine. It's cool. You can kiss a hundred guys in bars, shoot shot after shot just to try and stop you from feeling what you know is true about yourself. Make all the excuses , give me all the stupid reasons, but I won’t be here for them. I can’t do this anymore.”

You stood quickly and snatched your bag off the back of your chair, walking over to Maggie and getting only inches away from her face. Even having just woken up she was exceptionally beautiful, and her scent was something you could get drunk off of. You had ripped the band aid almost all off, you had to control yourself, had to end this now, even though almost every ounce of your body was tempted to push her up against the wall and kiss her until you were both breathless and gasping for air.

“This isn’t something you can just hide from forever, Maggie Greene. And you will think about this, years from now, until maybe you finally fucking realize that. Face to face with my ‘I told you so,’ and a longing for what could have been.”

Maggie continued to just stare at you but with tears now brimming in her eyes, still too stubborn to respond to any of your words. Her eyes fell to your feet until you brushed past her and towards the front door. While reaching for the doorknob you turned and looked back at Maggie, tears already steadily rolling down your cheeks.

“Good luck, babe,” you managed to choke out before swiftly opening the door and closing it behind you with a thud.

-Some months into the Zombie Apocalypse-

Flashes of different images and sensations danced across her mind.

The wind whooshing through her hair as her arms stretched out through the car sun roof.

An arching back and the feeling of sweat rolling down her chest, in a state of complete pleasure. Soft moans and wet kisses.

Giggles rang in and out but soon faded into silence.

Your tear-stained face looking back at her, "I told you so," echoing loudly, and the slamming of a door. Suddenly a mirror appeared and only her heartbroken face was staring back at her.

Maggie awoke with a small gasp and sat straight up in her bed. She took a minute to steady her breathing while trying to recollect the dream she just had. Next to her she heard Glenn let out a sleepy sigh and shift in his sleep. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and put her head in her hands. The world ended and you were right, she couldn't hide the truth from herself forever. She had loved you, completely. Always did. Maggie laid her head back on her pillow, breathing a sigh of relief, finally allowing herself some acceptance.

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madsmilfelsen · 3 months ago

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Helloooooo its me who’s reread all ur true detective and killer Joe fics. I think my favourite is High Speed, Low Drag. I love the insight into Rust’s time as Crash,(even if it is in a fic) and I love how you wrote the struggle between him wanting to do the right thing, but also needing to keep his cover, AND how he’s still reeling after his daughters death and divorce and is deep in his nihilism but begrudgingly still cares about Sig.

AND on top of that, the sex is hot. The line in part two when he’s like “Sigourney please don’t tell me to stop,” I wanted to run around in circles for an hour like a rabid dog 😵‍💫

I was so nervous about posting that series too because I thought there was no way in hell I could pull off a virginity auction. Better writers can do natural narratives of meeting in a regular way, at work or a bar etc, in an escalation of attraction (I’m thinking specially of The Creeping Woods, Dead Flag Blues, and The Idler Wheel) which wait I guess technically I did use both of those settings? but I hate slow burns and find my idea of Rust so divorced from his own libido that it would take something extreme to catch his attention and hold his interest (I didn’t even know what Sugar did to do so until I was typing up how he said she shot someone six times and I was like damn she did??).

Okay so I totally invented Sig to be gross but also because I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed for him to care for something other than The Work— not that I think she distracted him from, ya know, the death of his daughter and divorce from Claire, but might’ve eased that ache by going through the motions again. I don’t think Rust could stomach watching her be neglected even while he’d mentally shout at himself that he has a Job To Do, a Cover To Keep, and suddenly he’s setting fires to sabotage a puppy mill operation apart of an overly complicated plot to steal Canik for her. Something @glitterslag mentioned was how he grew up isolated and on the fringes of everything so he’d be captivated by this Blonde Americana Cheerleader but I think he’d recognize how that creates its own kind of danger for Sig, too, and becomes even more protective once she made the squad (he’d be unbearable after she got to varsity— booster club president fr, I so wanted to write him getting mistaken as her father and just going with it but thought I can be more subtle about my weirdness)

Ten Seventy Three likely has the most tender smut I’ve written this year and so different from the intimacy I tried to establish between ‘12 Rust and Sugar. I was rusty with writing loss of virginity but the biggest challenge I had to work around was convincing myself ‘95 Rust would even be good in bed lmao

some goofy behind the scenes: I fashioned the efficiency apartment Crash brought Sig to after the first place I lived with my husband (it was that dark and dreary and we were so broke lmao), I cheered a bit in high school and still think bases should get more rep— we hold entire! girls! above our heads, Sig’s name was because I was so hoping Alien was released the year she was born (it was a few years later) because I could see her mother going for Sigourney after the horror of motherhood she depicted on screen and Ginger would be like ya lets name our daughter after a gun (Sig Sauer or just “Sour” when she’s being a brat— Rust does Not Ever call her that), Canik is also a gun manufacturer, “Riders in the Sky” is sung by Johnny Cash but I like Peggy Lee’s version more— if you want to save your soul from hell a’ ridin’ on our range / then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride

try reading American Wasteland by @sparklingmineraltequila the one chapter I’ve gotten to read between writing is so so so spot on in how the essence of the Crash era is captured— I love Cassandra!

#answered #riders in the sky #sorry to YAP but I have things I need to get done today that I don’t want to do

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sinfulwrites · 3 years ago

Note

i hope i’m not bugging you or overwhelming you but i seen your requests were open and i was wondering if i could request a lil somethin somethin 😣

may i please request bo & vincent (or just one of them, you pick) with an s/o who likes to sleep with them inside of her? if you know what i mean 👀

cockwarming

something like the s/o can’t sleep without them in her and requests it every night? i’m sorry if this is kinda weird, but thank u anyways ♥️ also, if you do decided to write this, any format is okay! :)

Of course anon, I can write you a little something something 😌

I did both the twins for you, I kept it in headcanon format if that's alright. I hope you like it!

(18+, cock warming content)

Bo Sinclair

"You want what, darlin?"

He's smirking the second you tell him, but he will still make you explain it just to get you all embarrassed.

He didn't have any strong feelings for it before, but when you ask him so nicely for it every night, he can't say no to you. It's become his favorite thing too.

He needed a little bit to warm up to the intimacy involved, but when you two are at the sex stage of your relationship, he will get over this wall in no time. He loves you, and he wants to keep you close, he just struggles to admit that.

Your little fetish absolutely leaves the bedroom. He loves to have you sat in his lap, keeping him nice and warm as he watches the movie he put on. He moves around just enough to tease you, but he will just smirk when confronted and deny it. What are you talking about, Y/N? He's just sitting here. Get ready to use that mouth in the car, because he knows of a way to make this drive much more enjoyable.

You two often have sex before bed, unless you say no or you're both dead tired from the day, you're most likely having sex that night. It's very easy to convince him to stay inside you right after an orgasm, though he hardly needs convincing most nights.

Bo collapsed on top of you, both of you a sweaty, panting mess as you basked in the afterglow. Your arms wrapped around his neck and kept him close to you, pressing tired kisses against his cheek before he turned his head and met your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His hands stayed where they were on your hips, keeping you close to him. You both pulled away from the kiss with a smile on your lips. You hugged him close and nuzzled into his shoulder.

"Stay in me?" You whisper to him, and he just chuckles.

"Don't gotta ask, darlin." Bo kissed the top of your head before removing his hands from your waist so he could wrap his arms around your back and keep you close. "I know how much you like my dick in ya."

You were spared from his usual teasing only because he was falling asleep, and so were you. You both melted into each other, becoming a mess of tangled limbs as sleep took over you. You could feel the mess you two would be cleaning up drip down your thighs as you drifted off to sleep, but that would be an issue for tomorrow.

Vincent Sinclair

When you first told Vincent about it, he was pretty flustered, but willing to indulge you.

He didn't see the appeal until you two did it the first time. Now he sees why you like it so much, and why you ask for it so often. The more you do it, the more he starts to like it. Soon he likes it as much as you do, and needs it as much as you do. It becomes part of your bedtime routine.

Vincent has a terrible sleep schedule, but this might fix it.

Doesn't even need to have sex involved, he's more than happy to slip in and get snug while wrapping his arms around you and keeping you close to his chest. He will place kisses on the back of your neck and on your shoulder until you drift off.

It's not uncommon for this to lead to early morning sex though. If you're okay with it, he will hold you close and roll his hips into you at a leisurely pace as you both wake up. Slow, lazy morning sex is his favorite.

He also wouldn't mind if you wanted to do it outside of bedtime. He's more than happy to have you planted on his lap while he does some sketches.

Vincent turned off the last light in your shared bedroom before he joined you in bed. He removed his mask and placed it on his nightstand so he could meet you in a goodnight kiss against your pillows.

"Vincent…" You mutter against his lips, making him stop so you could speak. "Can we…?"

Before you can even finish the question, Vincent is nodding. He knows exactly what you want, you don't even have to ask. He pulls you right back into the kiss as his hands move down to free himself from his underwear.

You didn't have any underwear in his way, so once you were ready, he slipped in. After the initial gasps left both of your lips, you smiled and kissed him once more before wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest.

Vincent strokes your hair as you drift off to sleep, and he's not far behind. He dreamt about the morning sex that would sure to follow once you both woke up the next morning; it was his favorite start to the day.

#nsft asks #slasher x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #take a shot every time I make Bo say darlin in my writing #thinking of that sexy southern accent saying darlin makes me go awooga sorry guys

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absolutebl · 3 years ago

Text

BEST OF 2021 - BL Edition!

Hella subjective utterly erratic awards of little import and no impact. But I love them, okay? Only includes shows that completed their runs in 2021.

BEST KISS 2021

THE WINNER: TharnType 2

There were some killer kisses in BL this year, but basically no one on earth (let alone in BL) can beat out MewGulf in this category. I’m a big fan of the soft sweet candy kiss in the final TT2 episode, but really any of them were great and there were A LOT. (Episode by episode trash-watching recap here.)

BEST DEBUT KISS 2021

THE WINNER: We Best Love

For first timers, this category goes to SamYu of We Best Love, who did a magical job at first kisses in a short run series. (The shorter the run, the less chance the actors have to establish intimacy and become comfortable with each other. Although, Taiwan is generally better at enabling actor intimacy than any other country, possibly because it’s a queer-friendly culture with good workshopping techniques.)

Anyway, tears running down their faces, post baby’s agro shouty confession, on a bridge (another trope) who doesn’t love this kiss? Plus they breathed into each other (how to act a kiss 101 that so many BLs don’t do.

I have to say, the contentious drunken sobbing kiss Sam gave us in season two almost took this whole category, if it weren’t for the struggle beneath all those tears and passion and consent... But really, THAT KISS (and you all know which one I’m on about) wasn’t so much romantic as it was pained and desperate, and it didn’t take this category because that kiss wasn’t about love, it was about loss and failure and regret.

It was, possibly, one of the best kisses in all BL, but it’s not the right kind of kiss to win a romance trope category.

I hope that makes sense.

I’m gonna throw a little love Thai BL pulps way, they gave us a number of charming kisses this year, but I was most taken with Second Chance’s PaperFah.

To My Star’s very final kiss was also in contention (Korea, who knew?), but We Best Love beat that one out because I’m a sucker for tears and SamYu... just GAH.

BEST DOCUMENTARY 2021

THE WINNER: Absolute BL AKA Zettai BL ni Naru Sekai vs Zettai BL ni Naritakunai Otoko AKA A Man Who Defies The World of BL

Honestly tho, it was also the only entrant in this category (unless you count Call it What You Want and Lovely Writer). Look, this was a work of genius. A meta commentary that can only really be thought of as Japan taking itself to task for its own tropes, pulling them out, examining and gently mocking them, but still bucking under the weight of expectation and history. I hooted with laughter. It’s insightful, charming, and AMAZING. (Full review here.)

BEST THEME SONG 2021

THE WINNER: Light on Me

A.C.E’s song Spark for Light On Me wins OTS. I have to say I also really liked both of Color Rush’s 2 entrants and Wish You’s cute little song, but as a K-pop enthusiast I was really happy to see an actual K-pop song sung by a legit group in a Korean BL. It legitimized all K-BL in a weird way, ya know?

BEST CASTING, DIRECTING & SCRIPT 2021

THE WINNER: A Tale of Thousand Stars

The story and execution were great, but the cast really elevated this show into something special. Everyone seemed to perfectly suit their roles and GMMTV made the most out of its stable. Combined with excellent production (and post production) values, 1000 Stars is without question GMMTV’s most mature, charming, and smart BL series. I think it should go down as one of the top BLs of all time. You should feel safe recommending this one to friends and non BL watchers.

BEST USE OF BL TROPES 2021

THE WINNER: Light On Me

Light On Me who drops multiple BL tropes with its two different seme’s for expert love triangle reasons but also uses them for pristine pacing, plot, and character development. Korea is the most strategic user of tropes and I love that they deploy them explicitly to serve narrative a not just to tick boxes. Light on Me is a master class in this technique. (If you write fanfic or romance you should study this show.)

Their best versions included (but were not limited to:

Minister the Artful Injury (for the love triangle)

Meet Me in the Library (for the love triangle)

Crash Into Me (for the love triangle)

That’s MY BOYFRIEND - Public Claiming (to show character’s seme traits and attractiveness of identity ownership and honesty)

Put Your Head On My Shoulder (to show seme character’s pining traits and softness)

Boys on Phones (to advance plot and tension)

Symbolic Gift Exchange (as a twist to show interest and call-back coupledom)

and Touch My Face (that subverted version of the ADORABLE squeeze thing they did to each other)

2021′S MOST UNEXPECTEDLY SOFT SERIES

THE WINNER: Be Loved In House: I Do

By far Be Love In House: I Do’s best quality was that the tsundere uke’s tsundere-ness was entirely sympathetic, he was utterly likable from the start. This BL cleverly leaned on great acting and beautiful trope execution to carry a rather weak story, but the two leads being impossibly soft with each other in the home absolutely slayed. Grumpy/tsundere is HARD to execute well, so I was impressed, especially from Taiwan who, let’s be fair, doesn’t really specialize in soft or clever BL. BLINID was both.

Honorable mention to Golden Blood.

Only Thailand would DARE be this soft with a bodyguard romance. I didn’t expect SunSky and their side dishes (PitchBank) to be so tender and sweet with each other.

BEST MICROFILM 2021

THE WINNER: A First Love Story

Look I adore Hey Rival: I LOVE YOU! but it was still very Vietnamese and so rather flawed in execution. Korea’s Strongberry, on the other hand, have been perfecting the BL microfilm genre (and, let’s be fair, kind of OWN it) since 2017. They are true masters of their craft and yet A First Love Story is still one of the best things they have ever produced. It’s two episodes of about 8 minutes each that manage to perfectly portray the sweetest friends-to-lovers confession ever. It’s joyful, and gentle with its characters, and a little hot.

How on earth do they manage to leave us yearning for more yet completely satisfied at the same time? It’s like the perfect amuse-bouche, that one finger food at that one cocktail party that you will never forget. You are a ridiculous human if you haven’t spent 16 minutes with these two boys. Go watch it now. Or go watch it again. It’s time VERY well spent.

BEST UNIVERSITY SET BL 2021

THE WINNER: Nitiman

This Thai BL pulp had sympathetic characters, a solid tsundere uke redemption arc, and a fantastic pining seme who yearned without bullying, grooming, or gaslighting. Plus when they were together, they were ridiculously soft. But it also had a realistic portrayal of university life, bisexual awakening, and friendship groups. Bummer about the ending. (Full review here.)

BEST HIGH SCHOOL SET BL OF2021

It’s a tie!

THE WINNERS: Light on Me & Kieta Hatsukoi

Korean BL Light On Me managed to portray the angst of high school, social media, and coming out in a refined almost elegant way with all credit given to the uke character for honestly and brutal communication. It had a great friendship group, good teacher character, and even managed to treat Plot Device Girl with integrity. Also the white blue color pallet throughout was very pleasing and classy.

Japanese BL Kieta Hatsukoi AKA My Love Mix-Up! snuck in under the wire to tie Korea’s gem at the VERY end of the year. It was also all teen angst and dramatic crisis over haircuts and text messaging but it was so Japanese slapstick extreme about it. It was a one-show meme-generator and Aoki’s face was a picture of comedic mobility. It was charming origin yaoi in a way that represented for the manga roots of the genre where as LoM was basically showing us how far we have come. Also Kieta Hatsukoi was so Japan’s style where LoM was so much Korea’s, it’s fun to watch two countries separated by the same genre. These two shows exist in equal, if opposite, flip sides of the same coin. How could I decide between the two? The award goes to both.

BEST QUEER REP 2021

THE WINNER: My Lascivious Boss

While it did have pacing issues and some questionable content at the beginning, MLB’s unabashed queerness carried it though and ultimately elevated it with camp. It never felt like mockery or punching down, it felt joyful, and very new wave BL. It’s as if Vietnam is starting a process of handing out HEAs to all the letters of LGBTQ+ in BL style - I love this look for them. (On YouTube - full review here.)

BEST WARDROBE 2021

THE WINNER: We Best Love: Fighting Mr. 2nd

Mostly I’m classifying WBL as one series aired in two parts, but for this category the second half really takes the gold. THOSE 3 PIECE SUITS on Shu Yi. How Liu Bing Wei always coordinates his tie to Shi Zhe Yu’s suit. It was an absolute pleasure to watch. I never winced once.

BEST HISTORICAL 2021

THE WINNER: Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding

A historical setting allowed this BL to use some seriously old fashioned romance tropes (arranged marriage and evil step-sisters) but also modern BL stylings like fake relationship and secret identity (drag) plus some cute gay panic. It was a lot more gentle than any historical BL to date, which is Korea stamping the sub-genre with its mark and standing up to China’s darker traditions. It reminded me of 12th Night more than anything else which just happens to be my favorite Shakespeare play. For all these reasons, I adored it. (Full review here.)

Most Honest to BL’s Roots

THE WINNER: Utsukushii Kare

Given, Utsukushii Kare, and Kieta Hatsukoi all could have released in 2015 as live action yaoi and absolutely no one would have been surprised. They were seriously old school in a PTSD flashback kind of way (if reading yaoi and watching the first live action versions gave you PTSD, which it certainly could have if you were young enough.)

But Given and Kieta Hatsukoi leaned slightly softer, and therefore felt a touch more modern, because Japanese BL is so rarely soft. On the other hand, Utsukushii Kare was harsh as all get up, angry with us and itself, reminding us about whipping boy, and attack dog, and spoiled prince.

This is what an entirely unreasonable tsundere really looks like.

This is what a weird obsessed stalker seme really looks like.

This depicted the collateral that any relationship involving these archetypes causes to everyone around them.

It was exactly as weird and as messed up as any 2000′s yaoi: emo af and hella warped, entirely true to itself with no attempt made to modify its POV for modern sensibilities or current BL fandom. It didn’t pander to us in anyway, and I fucking loved it for that. This is not just live action yaoi in its purest form, it’s Japanese cinema, uncompromising.

LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD

MaxTul

Starting with Bad Romance in 2016, MaxTul are one of the longest running, funny & game, and apparently healthy actor pairs in Thai BL. Never once did they sail their ship astray, miss a port (or a pun), or fail to raise the rainbow flag to honor the queer community (for queens and country).

We are deeply grateful for their service to fandom.

We of the BL navy salute you.

(I’ll stop now.)

BEST BL THAT WASN’T A BL 2021

THE WiNNER: The Devil Judge

For a show that was meant to be a dystopian court thriller, these two gents got awfully domestic. Is Korea taking its tips from China’s bromance tradition now?

Anygay, these two were husbands by about episode 3.

Everyone agrees.

Even them.

MOST CHARMING BL 2021

THE WiNNER: To My Star

This little series was quirky as all goddamn getup, but so cinnamon roll adorable out the other side I forgive it all my initial confusion. The grumpy chef and neurotic actor (human puppy) pairing really worked for me. Both actors were great, the kitchen and cafe settings were lovely, and the ending was a peach. Utterly charming.

MOST REWATCHABLE BL 2021

THE WINNER: We Best Love

We Best Love is amazing, just the chemistry alone holds up to multiple rewatches, and THAT drunk scene in part 2! There’s some pretty epic pining in BL, but Gao Shi De pines for Olympic gold, and I happen to love watching a seme suffer. Again and again.

The story is weak but the performances are so good they entirely sweep away a flawed plot, thin narrative arc, and time jump character development. It’s rare for me to like a show DESPITE the story, We Best Love stands with To My Star as one of the few. All told this series is GREAT, I am probably rewatching right now. I want a Viki movie version yesterday. (Full review here.)

BEST BL 2021

THE WINNER: Color Rush

In a surprise upset Korea stole the gold from top contenders Taiwan (my beloved) and Thailand (the power house). Under STRONG competition from We Best Love, To My Star, Lovely Writer, and 1000 Stars, Color Rush took the top spot.

What can I say? I absolutely LOVE this BL.

What really won it for Color Rush was the brilliant allegory and the ultra clean concept, not to mention Korea’s pitch perfect production values and a heavy dose of classic yaoi filming technique.

Color Rush managed to be both ground-breaking, nostalgic, and charming all at once. I could write a thesis on it. I kinda did.

Winners based on my definition of BL.

(source)

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sanghyukstattoos · 3 years ago

Text

SF9's reaction: cockwarming

Genre: fluff-fluff-fluff; smut-smut-smut

Characters: SF9!

A/N: None of the images in the collage are mine, refer to here for more; For more SF9, read here, for iKON, read here and for optional bias writings, read here!

Youngbin:

Plays in pairs

When you first present the idea to him, given that the circumstances are of a light atmosphere, you'll fluster him, impeccably. His cheeks will turn pink and he'll maybe giggle a little and cover his mouth out of shyness but he won't be averted to the idea. He loves it but you just caught him off guard ahaha. When it's under a serious circumstance, like you are describing what you would like to try out, he would seriously contemplate your idea. He won't seal the deal if he doesn't like it the first time around. He'll try for a second to give it a chance. During your first time trying this out, it'll be spontaneous. Like you are watching a movie or a documentary and you or him decide that you want to give it a try. He'll firmly hold your waist as you settle onto him. If you are horny, you wait for a few minutes before you think, 'Enough of this' and rock him out of this world. What could he say? If you aren't, it'll be peaceful. But there's a dilemma. If you are sitting on the sofa, you can't see the screen. But you want to watch (sad). He'll say, ''It's okay'' and switch off the tv and it will resume in the bedroom. Just a beautiful atmosphere where you have deep conversations. He'll listen to your insight and internally marvel at how your perspective and compliment them with some of his own. It's like turn-taking, an essential part of a relationship where you go back and forth, speaking about one topic to the end of it where you have nothing to say anymore and then you'll move onto the next. It'll go on for ages, till the two of you are hungry. When the two of you go the kitchen to make something, he'll do what he couldn't do when the two of you were cock warming. The same thing may happen when the two of you are about to fall asleep, the lack of lights appeal to his other side, love-making.

Inseong:

This one is a funny bunny

It's a routine for you to cock warm after sex just like when he's on the laptop, surfing the net at the dinner table and you are sat on his cock, back to his chest, keeping him warm. After sex, it's a gateway to another round, on the bed or in the shower or to sleep in that position but not cock warm. He would love cock warming in the morning if it's cold then, probably in your balcony or in the kitchen, hugging you from behind and trailing his hands to your tummy and chest every now and then. He would love when you capture when you capture his lips in a sweet embrace, beginning a long make-out session when he's in you. If he's horny, you can bet that he's going to tell you about it. ''Babe'', he places a delicate kiss on your neck, ''tell me'' you moan out. His hands have already found your tummy and trailed downward, rubbing your clit but not to just merely stimulate you, to see if you are wet as he imagines you to be. He loves you. He's going to make love to you, to see those expressions on your face and feel you around him, holding you in his arms till the two of you have exhausted yourselves out which could one round or more than one. I can imagine you and him in the kitchen, he's got you pressed against the counter and that's how the cock warming while horny scene may play out. Another one is when abroad, maybe in a hotel or airbnb, he'll have you in his arms but that's not how it starts. He'll be playful about it, surprising you with a hug from behind, kissing the spot near to your ear, whispering some *interesting* innuendo into your ear, it makes you laugh anyway. A couple of seconds later, he's turning you around, kissing your tummy and inner thighs all the way till he's on his knees, he'll make sure to nuzzle his nose against your panties and lick a stripe at the material, slowly pulling them down. Arousal buzzes through you because he's telling you, ''fuck, baby you taste so good, stay still for me'' or something like that, it's a little muffled because he is preoccupied in drawing you to pleasure and pleasure and then release. He'll eat you out multiple times or till your knees buckle, depending on whether you had sex previously and then just maybe, in a moment driven by passion, he'll carry you to the sofa and that's where you'll cock warm, giggling to one another of what just happened, what you want to do afterwards. Wrap your legs around his waist, press him against the sofa and lift your hips again, he'll start the process again, all while laughing. It's just light-hearted.

Jaeyoon:

Absolute sweetheart/ dream husband

In this scenario, let's say that he is your husband. When you suggest cock warming, he's a little uncertain (by his little frown) but also inquisitive (by his questions), *Frowning* ''What is it about?'' would be the situation, he would look very cute when he asks. Presumably the two of you would be cuddling and you happened to stumble onto this conversation, he would not be shy, just like, 'You have an idea, let's hear it then!', also like an explorer, he's willing to try new things even if it means pushing his boundaries a little bit. But, this does not fall into that category of pushing boundaries. Maybe pushing his patience if he's horny. The latter scenario is guaranteed to occur at multiple points of time. You'll be lying on your side with his cock in your ass, it's a little jerk that alerts you or his hands that begin to wander everywhere like kissing your neck, then your lips and his hands have already begin to stimulate your clitoris. You moan into the kiss and then he knows and he smiles into the kiss while rocking his hips against yours. Everything is forgotten in the background. Unless it's life-threatening. Like food can burn or you could watch three episodes on netflix that you aren't truly watching, he's not stopping till the both of you are tired to the bone and have released multiple times. Quite the sweetheart though, he'll get up and shake himself if he's about to fall asleep the next minute and he'll grab a cloth for you like you protest but he says as he's already getting up, ''no, stay there, I've got it!''. You smile and slump and he cleans you, tosses it away and then climbs on top of you, pulling you into his arms. If he can, he'll try the idea of cock warming and spoon you throughout the night but if he can not, he'll definitely do it the next day. He's committed to the plans he makes or what's going on at that moment. Let's say you have an argument, you are trying to smooth things out, ruffle out misunderstandings and you won't talk it out with sex but communicate to him about it. The night will end in cock warming, to bring you closer and then it's all jokes from there, especially about the argument, it's either you teasing him or the other way around and that's how you fall asleep: content.

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

He has his days.

On a day when he's tired, to the bone maybe, he's come back from work and you want to cuddle, using the idea of cock warming to propose the intimacy you want to feel during the night that you couldn't during the day, I'm sure that he'll do it for you. If he does not fall asleep immediately, he'll caress your backside, admiring the way the flesh conforms to his grasp. He loves all of you. He will pepper kisses along your neck, down your collarbone and to your breasts, sucking your erect buds but he won't touch your centre. He likes to go slow, never stopping these moments with you or he'll take you in the morning. At times like these, he loves when you touch him, just your touch on his skin, turning heated. When you are making out, it would be your tug on his hair, like urgency for more or roaming your hands all over him or tracing his hair from his navel to the band of his underwear would be his favourite save for the best of all, when you direct how everything goes. If he does fall asleep immediately, it'll be after he kisses you. During this time, regardless of whether you were cock warming or not, he would love for you to tangle your fingers in his hair, it lulls him to sleep and even to sleep in your chest, being the small spoon, he would absolutely love it. He has trouble sleeping alone but when he's with you, it's not the case. When he stretches you out after days of not having sex, he tries to hold himself back from releasing, the wait and foreplay was enough to spiral his mind, gasping in your ear. But if you are too tired, he'll take it into consideration, seriously and hold back from lifting his hips off yours and filling you up. When he cock warms just to end the day comfortably, it will turn it into sex if the two of you contain some semblance of energy and are away from that playful and teasing mood, with hours on end before you sleep. It will be just the feeling of his cock filling you up, holding you to the bed with your legs wrapped around his waist, whispering how much he loves and that you are doing well, growling and stilling, your release triggering his, holding you when you are tired or in between rounds decorates the night. He holds your hand when you have sex, always, if your hands aren't roaming his body, feeling it. Otherwise, he'll hold you, preferably with all of your clothes off, no material between the two of you, you two speak about your day, the present and the future. It could even be a tickle session that ensues. The atmosphere will be lively, especially with his jokes and teasing and all the loves he has to offer.

Rowoon I Kim Seokwoo:

Prince of visuals, no?

Since he has such visuals, let's imagine that he takes you on a yacht (ya-ch-ht; hard time spelling that folks 🥵 + why do people go on a yacht? I'm struggling to think of a reason?). Seokwoo's marvelling over your amazement at the beauty of the ocean, the clear blue waters and occasional shade of the fish passing by. He even jokes that he hopes ''no shark gets the two of you'' and then laughs at your expression. Please, he's trying, don't throw him overboard :/. You enjoy the heat some more before he's by your side again, the yacht is paused, it gives you ideas. As soon as he's sat by your side, you take to straddle him, therefore effectively cutting him off. The surprise is evident on his face but his hands are resting on your backside, getting comfortable there. He groans out when your lips touch his neck, nipping the flesh to give him love bites which earns those husky groans of his. They send vibrations down your spine, tingling your core with wetness. With such a beautiful scenery surrounding the two of you, it's easy to fix your eyes on two places and think about how beautiful either are. He intimately hugs you, sucking an area on your breast, removing it from your top and placing the perk bud into his mouth, the act itself is hot and you grind down on him, not holding back your moans because of the silence of the ocean, save for the splashing of waves. You ride him, letting out sweet fucking moans, whimpering in his ears for him that it's so good, you can't get enough. When you are all sweaty, you cock warm in the shade, making out. It's a very soft moment, like sealing the deal? He wants to make you happy and he'll do stuff for you to achieve it. Cock warming is bonding for the two of you, to spoon and gossip about the other rich couples that you saw or speak about your day or just lay there, in each other's arms, enjoying the moment. When it's cooler, he would be okay to cock warming in a public space such as underneath a tree on a beach. You may be a bit far from the sea but you can smell it which makes you happy. It's a very calming day when you are tucked in his arm, leaning on his chest with his cock buried deep inside of you, feeling a little chilly but you are covered by a blanket. All in all, it's private for the two of you.

Zuho I Baek Juho

Cat man 🦸‍♂️

He would love to cock warm indoors, when his cats are sleeping, safely tucked in their beds as you are in each other's arms. It'll be quiet, you can only hear what's outside, maybe the train passing by or vehicles or pure silence which is hard to come but not impossible. If something's disturbing you like traffic, heavy honking, he's not for it and he'll move you two to somewhere else like the bed or on his studio chair. If you are tired and want to cock warm while he is producing, he'll hold you close to him and ignore the cramp in his legs. When he sees you sleep, he'll go soft and admire your prettiness, not forgetting to wrap a blanket around you. When it's silent, a relaxing atmosphere in which you can fall asleep easily, it's where cock warming will occur the most. An example could be in a space by the windows in a high-rise building or if the place was in a non-busy area like the countryside. There are occasional noises, some make you perk up while other's make you laugh, all while intimately spooning with him. You tell him: it's an indescribable feeling but you will try explaining. Don't be scared, he'll love your words. Relating cock warming to something and being subtle instead of explaining outright would prompt his chest to blossom with love from you, it's the feeling you've brought out from him and to in expressing his feelings, he may cry a little and kiss you like 'Can you feel this love I feel for you? I love you'- is what he is trying to say through the kiss. It's a very wholesome moment, your confessions to each other, spoken beautifully. He would also love to cock warm bare, without any clothes so that the two of you can be purely intimate and he loves your body. If you don't or lack appreciation for your fine self, he'll initiate cock warming if you aren't already and kiss your body and squeeze the parts he can't reach like his appreciation for your butt/ breasts/ stomach or whichever one it is that you are conscious of/ don't love as much as possible. And the opposite too! If he's not feeling okay or feels conscious of himself (pressure from people telling him how artists should look?), cock warming would be a way for you two speak about it whilst loving one another at the same time.

Yoo Taeyang:

What a precious guy

May be confused about the concept at first, even awkward the first time you attempt this, it takes him a little while to get used to this scenario: laying on the bed in each other's arms after carefully navigating your limbs around, his cock in you, completely. But he warms up, he'll make sure that you are comfortable and will also love to take this concept elsewhere, like the living room when you watch tv. When he's tired, he may not be able to carry it out simply because he has no energy or he may be horny (head) but not (body), it happens~ When that happens, he wakes you up with kisses, all over your body and he'd do this, regardless of what happened the previous night, it's automatic for him. Another scenario would be when he is bored, laying around doing nothing and fumbling for something to do, he'd initiate cock warming, that little sigh when he slips into you, relief. From there, he may definitely not hold himself back, the two of you would end up having sex. If it's you and he's doing something and you want to sit on his cock, he'll set down what he is doing and let you. As you hold onto him, he'll notice your whimpers, softly decorating his ear, letting him know how much you want him. He'll tease you till you are hiding away in the crook of his neck or playfully hitting him but he'll satisfy your desires all night. It's for you. However, when he does want to cock warm, he'll snuggle into you, nestling his head over yours. Little touches, lingering over your waist will be presented to you, as well as his admiration for your body. He'll cock warm in your sex or ass. When it's in your ass, he'll take his time admiring your ass, your breasts, any place he can place a kiss on really but he's not really kissing, he's looking and telling you how much he loves you.

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Resident cutie

He's got you in the palm of his hand especially because of that cute face, cute expressions, cute mannerisms, overall a very lovable guy. Can be awkward sometimes but it's okay because his loving personality makes up for it. Is also a shy little bean at first which makes you want to shower him with lots of love and praise. Glady accepts your kisses and hugs, gets shy when you first do them but eventually reciprocates them. To the point where it's comfort, safety and that you can be vulnerable with each other. *This is quickly turning into a boyfriend! Hwiyoung*. It's something that he suggests, the idea of cock warming. Really your jaw should drop when you hear it from your boyfriend. After a sex session, when the both of you are all sweaty and won't go for another round, he wouldn't mind if you were on your knees, keeping his cock warm with your mouth. He could be leaning back on the seat, going through his favourite sites while you sit in between his legs, ignoring the ache in your thighs. He would have you cock warming naked, bare for him and only him to see while he himself is fully clothed. That session could have potentially included bdsm, in a separate room that you have specially for it and this time, you could have been flogged, denied your release or being used, whatever your fantasies may be. It could also be the opposite way where you are the dom. In that case, it would be a command or a form of bonding where he will be punished if he moves when he is in your sex or you cuddle and speak to one another about the session, respectively. If bdsm is not included, then he would love to cock warm! To him, he gets to be with you and speak to you- whatever it may be about. For example, it could be deep, philosophical conversations or you both cuddle and sleep. Either way, he likes spending time with you especially in such a quality manner.

Chani:

*insert a gulp and a surprised face*

Remember that SF9 was discussing about mature concepts as a part of planning for their Kingdom stages and the editors used a fish filter to emphasise Chani's round eyes or rather, his innocence. ''HUh!??!'' is his brain, whirring away like an air conditioner at an office, rolling round and round when you propose this concept. He goes blank and you just sit back, waiting patiently. It has come to this moment. But his smile grows and it keeps on growing till he's unexpectedly pulling you onto his lap and connecting your lips. He knows that you should discuss it first but first, he wants to have you as close as possible when you discuss this. At first, he's peppering kisses on your face with you giggling, telling him that you want to continue and then he says, ''one moment baby'' before he swoops in for your lips. You reciprocate the passion, the moment is neither heated nor too soft, just in between and you have a make-out session for a couple of minutes. He doesn't know why, it's random but the both of you are loving it, like an initiation ceremony into a new stage of your relationship. And here were all along, navigating blind (👀🚫). It's planned with enough space for creativity. You are on the bed and you squeeze his shoulders when he presses at your entrance and fills you up. You wait to adjust to him. At first he's like, ''This it?'' and you have to laugh at that, quite true that you also though the same thing. Soon he's kissing you all over, sucking your nipple and the area around it, turning it a shade darker: he's teasing you, taking his time till he's done cock warming. He tells you that he would love to try out cock warming in your ass sometime and then it's all giggles from there. You ask, ''did you search-'', cut off by his fingers that circle your clit and press, drawing a gasp or a hitch of the breath from you. Then he starts to rock his hips and you know that cock warming is over, at least for now. He's hovering on top of you and losing control over his thrusts and spilling into you later on. A common scenario would be when he's playing games and you are sitting on his cock, maybe sleeping or doing something else, unbeknownst to his friends that he's speaking with on his headset.

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sweetpxxches · 3 years ago

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✨Hcs or a small one shot, if you write those!✨ Just a cute thing of Tabi and a really good friend (y/n),t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶, engaging in a war or sorts: trying to make each other laugh or chicken out, with dirty jokes and being suggestive..Mayyybe it ends with them deciding to give into their feelings, and there’s a lil sex time? 👀

A moment of grace.

Contains: Smut!

"Tabi, is everything okay?" Was the first thing he heard when he was too busy spacing out when he was gazing upon your face, you unnoticed of his stare up until now. His body jolted, his head immediately jerking away in attempts to try and hide his blush. "Erm, yes. Everything is fine, I was just... out of thought." The two of you were sitting on a bench waiting for a ride home, you unfortunately walked your way home today so you couldn't give Tabi a ride. But this gave him the time to wonder if there was a chance he could at least get closer to you. You saw him grew nervous, you know he was assuming that he was making you uncomfortable, but you reached your hand to his to assure him. "Tabi, it's alright, you aren't creeping me out. We've been hanging out all day, remember?" He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "I know, but it's just... I feel like I'm pushing things too far, you know? I don't want to invade your space, and I definitely don't want you to feel awkward around me. But it's fine if you do feel that way, you aren't the first, and you won't be the la--" You squeezed his hand, brow furrowing. "Absolutely not! I won't let you feel that way around me, one way or another! You're a good man to me, Tabi, so let's just... make this night worth while, okay?"

It was silence, and it was hesitation. But long behold, Tabi sighed in response and nodded. "Of course, of course. I'll stay with you for the night, but please let me know if I'm doing anything wrong." You smiled at him, keeping the grip. "Tab, you're fine. If you were really freaking me out, I wouldn't of let you in my house, would I? Besides, I want to do stuff with you at home." That caught his attention, what did you mean by that? Is there something you're hiding from him?! His head filled up with assumptions, all he could ever connect to was, are you planning to do something with him this very night?! His eyes spaced off again, but you saw the bus driving by and you tugged Tabi to come along. It wasn't long until the two of you went to your place on the bus ride, but throughout Tabi was only assuming what could be happening.

. . .

Tabi saw himself in your living room, invited to play video games with you. There were occasions of you struggling on certain levels, but Tabi knew what he was doing, his hands holding yours as he helped guiding you around the game. Your cheeks lightly blushed in a rose tint as you noticed how careful he is with you. Tabi was rambling along the way of the gameplay, explaining the methods and the game's story, you couldn't help but smile at him being content and being himself for once other than being an anti-social rude jerk that he keeps that mask on for around others. You two weren't tired at all in that late evening, Tabi was only chuckling at your times dying in the game and he took the control from you, and playfully he wouldn't hand it back to you after he died in the game as well. He laughed as he watched you try to crawl on top of him, only for you two to end up realizing the position you were.

Tabi stared, seeing your body pressed up against his on top, and you blinked at him seeing how he was staring at you intensely again. "Tabi?" You blinked. He flinched and lightly pushed you off with the controller on your hands and crossed his arms immediately. "N-Nothing! Sorry, I apologize, I never meant to get that handsy with you." Tabi looked away. "What are you talking about? You hardly touched me, silly. We were just messing around!" You playfully nudged him with your arm, but he was trying very hard to keep himself together. "It's... It's not that." He mumbled. You paused the game, tilting your head at him. "Tabi, is everything okay?" He froze, looking at you. "I'm... fine. R-Really, I am."

"You say that but here you are shaking, come on, you're hiding something from me, aren't you?" You crossed your arms, smiling at him in a smug manner. He immediately grew defensive, sitting up. "E-Excuse me! Why would I?!" He obviously wasn't scaring you that easily, the fact he was trying to be huffy puffy with you was genuinely adorable. "Tabi, you've been staring at me all day, the way you brushed your hands against mine and the fact you tried to be funny and got immediately nervous when you succeeded, Tabi, you can just say you like me." He tugged his hat over his skull, huffing. "Stop, I know, it's embarrassing, creepy, and weird, and--"

"I like you too, Tabi." You smiled.

"... You. Do." He looked through his hat, blinking. "You do?" Tabi repeated. "Yes, I do, Tabi. And you don't need to worry about how you are around me, I love the way that you are. Even if you are a hothead at others, doesn't scare me at all!" You reached to hold his hand, and for once his fingers coiled with yours, the moment of serenity washing over him. "... Right." Was all he could mutter. You giggled, tugging him over. "Tabi, lift the skull up, will ya?" He immediately flinched at that response. "What?! But there's nothing there- I have nothing! How will you even-" You cut him off once more, lifting his skull that he had kept to hide the fact he was invisible, your hands holding his cheeks, to feel them and find his lips. Tabi was silent the whole time, but he was nervous, he didn't want to ruin this moment, but he had no other choice but to let you venture. Your thumb brushed his lower lip, and you leaned in to give him a kiss, a shock of joy and fear filled Tabi, and his only response was to hold your hips. "Y-You really find every chance to get what you want, don't you?" Tabi commented as you held your head back, and you smirked. "C'mon, Tabi. I'll give you some affection I've been dying to give you since we've met."

. . .

This was the first time he's ever done this with someone before, invisible of course. The first time he had intimacy was with Girlfriend, who he regret even giving that sense of trust to ever since she backstabbed him. But this is different, you were different, you never wanted to put him through high expectancy and still hurt him for failing you once. He's messed up so many times, but you forgive him and you worked with him, and that was all he could ever ask for. Now there you were, sitting on top of his lap giving him passionate kisses as your hands gently rubbed his groin, making his legs twitch from time to time in your bedroom. This was the first time you've seen him this way, allowing you to touch him, the way his body warms up as you kiss from his lips down to his neck, he couldn't help but purr. His hands were under your pants, tugging down both the garments with it. You found it cute that he was a bit impatient, but you didn't want to waste time yourself either. "Tabi," you leaned back, hands on his chest to let him get comfortable against the bed, "I'm gonna do most of the work, okay? You sit tight." He looked up at you, nodding quietly. "Of course."

You kissed him once more, your kisses trailing down to his neck, then his chest, and you crept down to his crotch. You can tell he was getting desperate, his bulge throbbing in need of you. You bit your lip, unzipping his pants to let his cock out. He was embarrassed though, because he knew you can't see it, but you don't care. But with it out, your thought to yourself was 'How big exactly is it?' The only way you can find that out was to suck him off. You held his shaft, carefully stroking it. Tabi gripped the bed sheets, trying not to get ahead of himself. He muttered your name, feeling his cock get hard from your touch alone. You smiled, spoiling his cock with kisses, but as your reached for the tip, you've realized something... this man's huge. Your eyes lightly lit up at the realization, but you didn't want to back down now. Swallowing your concerns, you began to put his cock in your mouth, your eyes shut as you felt him throb again from excitement. His hands crept their way your hair, getting a gentle grip on you. Your one eye opened up at him, and you closed it again as you knew he wanted more, your head moving down forward. As you did so, you heard Tabi's breathing grow louder, his hand gripping tighter. You loved how desperate he was getting, the way his body moved up for you, you couldn't help but put your hands on the rest of his shaft, bobbing your head back and forth as your hand stroked along with it. Tabi moaned your name, his hips moving up to have his whole cock in your throat. Your eyes widened as you felt him take control.

Though as you felt him getting rough, you moved along with him, hearing the loud adorable moans he was muttering. His hips thrust one last time, filling your mouth with his cum. Cursing in Russian, he kept your head still, making you gag slightly from his large size taking up your throat. But as he began to calm down, you held your head back to breathe, letting the excess of his cum drip on your chest. Tabi looked down to see you in a mess, and he couldn't help but grow excited again. You giggled at his cock throbbing back into an erect place, you moving back up to level above his lap. "You're fucking cute, you know that Tabi?"

"Please just put it in already." Was all he could ask. You smiled, leveling yourself against his cockhead against your entrance, and the moment you slipped it in entirely, Tabi leaned back up to give you a messy kiss, you felt his tongue slide inside your mouth as he grabbed your rear to make you move your hips. As you did so, he kept his focus all on you. He's in love with you, and that was given. The sounds of you bouncing on him, as his moans continued and your own matching with his, he couldn't help but push you back, him on top of you. You gasped, seeing the glint in his eye changed. He didn't want to waste time, nor did you. You felt him thrust deeper inside of you, hitting your g-spot as he held your wrists up. "T-Tabi, I'm almost gonna cum--!" You squeaked as you felt him reach down to your neck, giving it a harsh bite. From the pain of his bite, you couldn't help but reach your climax, his cock then thrusting harder inside of you feeling your body quiver. He then reached his own ecstasy, thrusting deep within you to fill you with his cum once more, the warmth making you sweat. With a satisfied grunt, he pulled out, flopping on the other side of the bed, huffing to himself.

"S-Shit, Tabi, you did a number on me." You wheezed, sitting up to see him just looking like he did something he never thought would happened. You couldn't help but laugh, coming over to pull him into a hug. "C'mere, you. I think you're done for today." Tabi blinked back into reality, seeing you were hugging him with your head pressed against his chest. He couldn't help but stare again, then smiled softly. His hand gently stroked your head, and his other arm pulled you into a complete hug. "T-Thank you for this moment between us..." Tabi sighed, leaning his head on top of yours.

"Of course, I love you, Tabi."

"... I love you just as much, love."

#oops it was a whole ass fic #asks #anon #tabi x reader #tabi #fnf #smut warning #MY MIND WENT ABOVE AND BEYOND FORGIVE ME ANON

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bibblelevi · 3 years ago

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Just curious (no judgment here!), what makes ss so difficult? Personally, it was the first fic I fell in love with and I love it so much. I’m sorry to hear your struggling with it, its hard to feel obligated to write on something that doesn’t really light creative fires anymore

I feel more pressure on SS because its my most popular/“mature” work, and sometimes my brain gets tired trying to explain what Reader or Levi are thinking in the fic. That’s why there’s so much smut, because it’s literally the easiest way I can convey the intimacy between them 😭 but I actually think smut is a completely valid way to show the dynamic between two characters.

And I may have mentioned this a few times, but when I first started SS, there wasn’t actually a plot in mind. It was supposed to be a series of interconnected one shots of post-war Levi and Reader and their life. It was never gonna be some long story.

I think around chapter 4, the plot slowly started to come to me. It’s a constantly developing story, which is probably the top reason why it’s so difficult for me to write. I have to wait for the next part to come and figure out how to write it and make it make sense. Sometimes I literally force an idea into my head. I’m always rereading chapters because if I don’t, I forget what I write 😭😭 I really should outline but like… there’s nothing to outline because it hasn’t come to me yet, ya know. And as soon as it comes, I started writing, always out of order.

I also write completely out of order. I write on my phone because it takes me twice as long to write on my computer. Some friends on here have been amazing and so so helpful helping me edit the chapters (shout out @levmada and @lammello) but I still always do a once over and make minor tweaks if I notice them.

This is my first experience ever writing a multi-chapter fic, too. So still learning as I go.

I totally went on a tangent but I love hearing about people’s writing processes. Thanks for reading and I’m glad you like the fic.

#silver soul is a bunch of puzzle pieces #I am simultaneously writing chapter 12 13 and 14 #maybe i take this too seriously but It’s fun to take it seriously #silver soul asks #you got mail!#sar writes

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blue-bird-kny · 4 years ago

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This took way to many days to write for absolutely no reason, but I liked it in the end so please, enjoy~Amanda

Warnings: N/a

Words: 2.4k+

↳{Fluffy first baths together are nothing short of what you’d expect with Inosuke}

The gentle pitter-patter of water droplets drizzling down bamboo shoots and swaying green leaves filled the otherwise quiet space. The welcoming scent of dew and greenery danced through the night air as you overlooked the outdoor bathing area, “absolutely perfect” you thought as your muscles cried in despair. You, along with your team of idiots and sweet Nezuko, had walked miles in search of a home bearing the Wisteria crest, everyone in desperate need of some rest, repair, and (hopefully) lots of delicious food. “Come in, young child, as weary as you may be, your body needs food to begin the healing process” a grainy voice beckoned. An elderly woman, just barely 5 feet wrapped in purple with shimmering silver hair, waited patiently beside the open door, “I think my husband was too excited to greet you all because he got carried away and made far too much food” she continued. “Oh don’t worry, my boys are very capable of eating you out of house and home, especially my boyfriend” you giggled while climbing the wooden steps to meet her.

You walked side by side to the dining room, the smell of beef stew and rice already reaching you, “Thanks again, to you and your husband, we’ve spent weeks running around and I know we desperately needed the break” she chuckled, “No need child, my husband misses the thrill of battle even in his old age, so we are thrilled to have you.” your eyes widened slightly but before you could ask the shorter woman of her husband's past, a loud crash could be heard behind the thin sliding door. Behind its papery protection was a scene that couldn’t be anymore hilarious; wrestling on the floor was an older man, thick and burley with round rims sliding down the bump of his nose, hovering over a wailing Zenitsu whose body was being forced into a backbend with his head held tightly in a choke-hold by the man’s hairy arms. Tanjiro stood beside the duo desperately trying to pull his friend out from under the other, trying to talk over the hefty laughter and screaming, while Inosuke stood cheering the man on as if this were some sort of cage fight.

You could feel the twitch in your eye act up, ready to pull them apart but before you could open your mouth the elderly woman cleared her throat, causing the wild bunch to freeze. Her husband's eyes slowly fell on hers as fear overcame them and as for the other three, they couldn’t help but shiver at the dead set look on yours. “What’s going on here?” the women commanded, her steel set tone sending the group scrambling into seated positions as she prowled into the room- you followed slowly behind her. Tanjiro croaked first, “W-well Mr.Shimura was telling us about his days in the force and he just wanted to show us some of his, uh, moves'' Tanjiro's voice wavered a bit at the end, not sure if ‘moves’ was the right way to describe assault. “Y/n! Please don’t let this man torture me anymore, he’s crazy!” the blonde rushed to your side with teary eyes and a tight grip on your arm. The women pulled her large husband up by his ear, “Don’t worry, you children enjoy your food, my husband,” she tugged on the lobe for emphasis, “and I will be off to bed” she turned to you, “I assume you’ll be able to find the bathing area and your room?” “Of course” you assured. The moment the couple became shadows behind the door, you could hear the wife’s grumbling- you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Unsettled by the silence, you turned to find all eyes on you, waiting for a reprimand you had no intention of delivering, “Oh ease up, eat before the food gets cold'' a collective sigh could be heard around the table, your hand gentle releasing the part of Zenitsu that was still clinging your clothes. The spot open next to Inosuke was as inviting as the mouth-watering scent of a hot meal that had been calling your name since further down the hallways. Your fingers faintly fell on the tuft of your boyfriend's hair, ruffling them a bit, before diving into your own bowl of rice and soup. While Inosuke felt your small act of affection and craved it a bit more, he only offered a messy smile as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth.

Ceramic dishes once filled with hand-cooked deliciousness were now cleaned empty, stacked into small towers all across the wooden table in some sort of toppling city. The room was almost empty too, Zenitsu and Tanjiro both eager to wash the wear away and to finally allow themselves to be consumed by uninterrupted dreams, had already taken off for the night. “I’m going to die,” the bloated heap on the floor cried, his duo-toned hair sprawled out around him and his robe strewn on the ground. You laughed, “No, Inosuke, you aren’t going to die” you laid on the carpet beside him, propped up by one elbow. As the man heaved and sighed as if he were going into labor, your nose caught a whiff of something salty and musty and earthy and gross, “I swear if you don’t go shower right now, my eyes are going to melt from my skull” you complained nasally as you pinched your nostrils shut; You were met with only louder moaning and heaving. “C’mon everyone else already-” you stopped yourself short, an idea too good to pass up crossing your mind. “Since everyone else is already tucked away, why don’t we bath together?” before you could even finish the question, Inosuke sat up faster than light, his eyes challenging yours as if saying “Are you playing me?”. “We never get to do anything just us so if you're up for it, I’m down” you concluded slightly smug as he clung to each word you uttered like a puppy waiting for a treat. You stood to leave, crouching down once more to balance your fingers below his chin, forcing him to face you, “But, no funny business”.

You didn’t even have to look to see Inosuke was following, his second set of steps echoing yours as if they were the thunder that follows lighting; two things equally as powerful, yet relied on the other for strength. Again, you were greeted by the soft flow of water streaming into the natural spring, the brilliant moonlight above lighting the large basin carved from polished rock that sat in the middle of the space. “Turn around” you asked, to which Inosuke surprisingly compiled too with only a tiny grumble. You slid your filthy clothes off layer by layer, the black garments piled together as you tip-toed into the warm water, the steam instantly feeling irresistible on your skin. “I-I’ll close my eyes so you can get in, too” you stuttered, the heavy realization of the intimacy that was to come next, an intimacy that had never been shared before. “Whatever you want, we’ll be naked anyways in the water” Insouke pointed out as he too discarded his smaller pile onto yours, however, you didn’t dare peek before you heard the breaking of water as he climbed in, didn’t dare breathe as he groaned in relief. Slowly, you uncovered your eyes, trained steadily past the demon slayer's face; awkwardly and in unusual silence, you two sat five feet apart, waiting to see who dared to move first.

Well of course it was Inosuke who shuffled through the water first towards you, “You can look at me, ya know” he said with a sort of want in his voice, as if your gaze offered an approval he sought from only you. Whether the pink that painted his skin was from the temperature or the heat of the moment, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t dwell on it for long because other things piqued your interest. While the number of times you’ve seen Inosuke wear a shirt was almost non-existent, the steam rising from the water altered his scarred chest into something else; it was more chiseled, more tanned, each dip and mark was more perfect, the reflection below somehow glowed in a way that was more than you had every painted Inosuke to be and it took your breath away. “What are ya looking at?” he asked defensively, fidgeting in an almost timid way; it reminded you that you shouldn’t be nervous around him, “You, ya dummy”. He scoffed at your bluntness, grateful to hear the normal bite in your tongue instead of the disgust he feared you’d feel towards him. His stunning pair of green orbs watched as you leaned closer to him, arms stretched as you grew even closer, “What the hel-” he panicked slightly only to be fooled as you grabbed something that was behind him; two bottles waved in front of his face as you teased, “What? Afraid of some soap, piglet?”. He muttered a string of complaints, ‘tease’ and ‘mean’ being the only two you could work out.

You squeezed the white shampoo into your open palm, setting it down somewhere on the edge of the bath, “May I?” you asked, hovering your hands beside his head. He sucked on his teeth before mumbling a raspy “fine”, easing himself between your awaiting limbs. You worked the suds into his scalp, gently massaging his dark roots with the pads of your thumbs before working your way down to bunch his falling strands, lathering them in the floral-scented soap. As you worked to cover every last inch of his scalp in bubbles, Inosuke struggled to keep quiet; his half-lidded eyes fluttered with every circular rub, his mouth slightly agape as he relished in your touch and had to work at suppressing the purrs that threatened to escape his chest like a cat.

“Bend down a little, will ya” you pushed against his head till he was close enough to the water that when he tipped back, his long tresses would be covered. You rinsed his hair gently, taking your time to enjoy this rare chance with your loved one (along with the funny faces you knew he was making). Inosuke wanted to say something, anything would do really, but he just couldn’t put syllables together as if with every trail your fingers followed, you sucked away his ability to think. You had already rid his scalp from the soap, however, you weren’t ready to let go just yet; you ushered him out of the water so you could use your nails to push the soaked strands back, twirling them into a loose bun at the back of his head. Inosuke was so close, he was sure he’d make it out of this without any weird noises but the subtle scratching against his skin was too much for any man. A low rumble emerged from his throat followed by a relieved sigh, “If I knew all it took to tame this wild boar was a few head scratches, I’d have started a long time ago” you giggled, sliding your palms down the length of his neck to rest on his shoulders, “all done”. His brows furrowed at the weight behind his head and the lack thereof on his back, “It’s a bun” you explained, “Yea, well I feel bald” “Don’t knock just yet, it helps keep your hair from your face when you’re fighting, plus I think you look hot with it” you tightened your hold on him for a second as a blush crept its way onto his skin.

“It's getting late, you can get out if you want, I’m going to wash up” you reached for the same bottle of shampoo, tipping it over to collect its contents, but before the suds could touch your skin, Inosuke’s grip caught your wrist. “I’ll do it” he stated firmly, “You don’t have to-” “I’ll do it” he repeated, already taking the bottle. A glop of shampoo slapped against his palm as he rushed to spread it between his two hands. You closed your eyes, ready to be serenaded by his sweet touch when you were quickly reminded of who you were dealing with here- the furthest thing from sweet. Water splashed haphazardly as Inosuke drilled into your skull, roughly kneading your scalp. “Ouch! Stop it! Is that what it felt like to you?! Any harder and I’ll be the bald one!” you yelled, moving away from his hands still hanging above the water. Inosuke shrunk a little, visibly upset as he looked to his right at nothing specific. Instantly regretting your reaction, you acted to fix the situation, “Here” you gently placed his thick fingers against your scalp once again this time placing yours above his, easing them into a gentle, rhythmic massage. “See,” you sighed, “not everything in life is a race.”

Inosuke looked at the way your face fell at the feel of his fingers gently working against you, he almost had to double-take to make sure it was his touch that was providing you so much pleasure- in fact, it sort of inflated his already bulging ego. Although he spent less time washing and rinsing your hair as you had hoped (you could have sat there for hours) the water was growing cooler and time was nipping at both your ankles, reminding you of the sleep you oh so needed. Washed and feeling refreshed, you reached for his shoulders, using them to glide through the water until your chest was pressed against his, becoming more familiar with the feel of his warmth against yours. Your arms dangled over his shoulders with your head buried in his neck, while his large palms found themselves holding your waist, “this was fun” you whispered into his skin. Inosuke grunted, exhaustion creeping up on him too. “Let go to bed” you yawned ready to detach yourself reluctantly from the strong man when you were suddenly carried above the water, exposed and shivering you wrapped your legs instinctively around him. “What are you doing?” you asked embarrassed and flushed red. A wide grin overtook his face as he held you tighter, “Figured you’d be too weak to walk after I almost put you to bed with my magical fingers” he replied as he trudged through the water and out the bath, two towels already waiting to dry your skin.

Later that night as you both lay covered in cotton robes and silk sheets surrounded by the gentle buzz of the others snoring around the room, together on one futon with eyelids as heavy as stones, something occurred to you. “Hey babe?” you whispered, getting a half grunt in response, “you never took that bun out, did you?” the arm that was holding you securely to his side flicked you gently, “hush women” he breathed. You chuckled low, snuggling closer into Inosuke's warmth, falling effortlessly into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you~

Masterlist

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny #kny x reader #inosuke #inosuke x reader #inosuke hashibira

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wordsnwhiskey · 4 years ago

Text

As It Should Be | Chapter 6: Negotiations in Pain & Pleasure

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: The summary is smut, good, fun, BDSM smut, and aftercare. OR, Frankie needs to let go and hasn’t been able to for months. Jack promised to help and show him the aftercare that his old partners had been neglecting him. He’s making good on that promise.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: M/M, BDSM, Dom!Jack, sub!Frankie, impact play (with a flogger), oral (M receiving), praise kink, dirty talk (it’s Whiskey here), anal, unprotected sex, alcohol, food mention. (I think that’s it but let me know if it isn’t!)

A/N: Y’all, it’s finally here! I have been waiting for this chapter for a while and I am so glad it’s here. These men both need this, especially Frankie and I really wanted Jack to be the person to provide it for him. If M/M isn’t your thing, I’m not sure how you got here, but this probably isn’t the fic for you, and this chapter is definitely not your thing because that is literally all there is. Huge shoutout to my friend Agent Capri Sun and mi esposa @danniburgh for feeding my thots and beta-ing!

For those of you who don’t know, PrEP is a medication that can be prescribed to those who do not have HIV and are looking to further protect themselves against it. Why did I include this? Because on the whole, it’s recommended as a safe practice and it’s rarely mentioned in media/writing. Also, please remember BDSM revolves around SSC and/or RACK. Go learn about these things. So there’s my soapbox moment. Enjoy!

“C’mon, Flyboy, we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Without hesitation, Frankie stood up fluidly and grabbed his go bag from the corner of the room while Jack shut his computer down for the night and collected his keys from his desk. The energy around them was buzzing with anticipation. Jack’s outward demeanor seemed casual, but the way his whitened knuckles gripped the steering wheel as his other hand alternated between tenderly playing with the hair at Frankie’s nape and searing Frankie’s thigh, showed Jack was anything but cool, calm and collected.

Frankie’s breath was coming in shallow, shaky puffs. Funny how he could maintain his breathing while being shot at, while going through combat exercises, and even when he had to crash land their helicopter in Colombia, but feeling Jack’s hand on him as they drove back to the condo broke his composure. That large, warm hand had found its way to his thigh again, fingers pressing, squeezing gently at his inner thigh, and Frankie could hear his blood roaring in his ears.

Mercifully, the drive was short. Frankie grabbed his bag with a shaky hand and quietly followed Jack to the elevator, just a short ride to the fulfillment of a promise Frankie was aching for. The elevator doors shut, and Frankie tried to take a steadying breath. The anticipation was heavy on him, and he wanted nothing more than to lean into Jack, but didn’t want to seem clingy. That had been something that his old partners, Sam and her husband, had discouraged.

Jack could see Frankie struggling, his wants warring with his nerves. With a soft smile, Jack pulled Frankie so his back was flush against his chest, loosely wrapping his arms around Frankie’s waist so he didn’t feel trapped, and pressed soft, teasing kisses along his neck. Frankie was dizzy from the feeling of Jack’s lips, his mustache tickling at his skin, the intimacy of the action, and his embrace. He was so lost in the feeling that Jack had to clear his throat to alert him that the elevator had in fact stopped and the doors were open. Frankie blushed, quickly disentangling himself from Jack, clearing his throat while he stepped out of the elevator.

Jack’s hand appeared, warm and steadying at the small of his back as he guided Frankie to the door. Jack unlocked the door, and Frankie stepped over the threshold. He didn’t even have time to drop his bag to the floor. Jack was on him, pushing him against the door, Jack’s Stetson collided with Frankie’s cap as Jack’s mouth claimed Frankie’s. There was no care for either the Stetson or Frankie’s cap as Jack’s tender kisses from the elevator turned hungry, his tongue swiping at Frankie’s lower lip. Frankie dropped his bag, his now free hand clutching at Jack’s shirt. Jack’s fingers gripped Frankie’s hair tightly, pulling a whimper and a moan from Frankie that was muffled against Jack’s own growl of approval. His knee pressed between Frankie’s thighs, and Jack could feel the other man’s erection, hard and needy against his hip.

“Damn, Flyboy, eager aren’t ya?”

Frankie could only nod as he tried to catch his breath, Jack’s drawl making his cock twitch and his eyes blown with lust.

“Go to my room, strip, then kneel at the foot of the bed. Put a pillow down for your knees.”

Jack’s voice dropped in register and took on a delicious edge that sent a shudder down Frankie’s spine. Any reservations Frankie had about being clingy or too needy were obliterated by the desire in Jack’s commanding presence.

While Frankie did as he was told, Jack shrugged off his blazer, tossing it over the back of the sofa, then rolled up his sleeves and poured himself a drink. He savored the smooth heat in his mouth, rolled his shoulders, then made for his room. His cock hardened at the sight that waited for him.

“Hands on the bed, Flyboy.”

Frankie was quick to obey, glancing over at Jack briefly to admire him. He quickly turned his gaze back to the empty space on the bed in front of him, instinct telling him that Jack would want him to face forward. Jack strode over to one of his wardrobes, opening the doors to reveal an assortment of hanging implements. After a moment’s consideration, he pulled a flogger from its hook along with a pair of leather cuffs.

“Normally, I prefer to use rope, but we did such a number on you in our haste the other night, I’m gonna have to settle for the leather cuffs for now.”

Frankie shuddered as the distantly familiar sensation of smooth leather strips teased his back and ghosted over his shoulders.

“Color?” Jack asked. Despite it being on Frankie’s list of interests, he wanted to confirm Frankie was still ok with the implement being used in this session.

“Green.”

Frankie responded quickly and took a deep breath. Jack hummed his approval, a smile tugging at his lips when Frankie’s body moved of its own accord at the sound, leaning back to seek Jack’s touch. The flogger appeared in Frankie’s line of sight as Jack teasingly ran the leather lightly down then up Frankie’s left arm before giving the other the same treatment. Frankie fought to sit still, goosebumps left in the flogger's wake, and another shudder raced down his spine. Jack switched the flogger to his right hand, and his fingers traced the path of the flogger down from Frankie’s shoulder, over his bicep and to the tips of Frankie’s fingers. He covered Frankie’s hand with his own while he kissed his shoulder and the fading bite mark from two nights prior. Jack’s teeth grazed over the sensitive skin at the nape of Frankie’s neck and hummed at the moan that caught in Frankie’s throat.

“Are you ready, Flyboy?”

Frankie’s breath hitched, and he nodded. Jack tutted and grabbed Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Use your words, Flyboy.”

“I’m ready, sir.”

Jack’s eyes flashed at the honorific, his smile broadening as his grip tightened on the handle of the flogger.

“Good boy.”

Jack hummed his approval, brushing Frankie’s jaw with his thumb before pulling away. The whisper of leather on skin was a teasing promise of what was to come, making Frankie tense. There was a painful absence of sensation for the briefest of moments before the crack of leather filled the air, followed by another; sensation lighting up his back. Both weren’t particularly hard, intended only to warm him up, but Christ, did Frankie want more.

Jack marveled at the way Frankie’s back muscles twitched, aching to see them spasm at his hand, to make him squirm. Another two light flicks of Jack’s wrist before a resounding crack echoed with Frankie’s moan. Then again, two light cracks followed by two slightly harder ones. Frankie clenched his hands, bunching the sheets in his fists and crying out.

“Color, Flyboy?”

“Green!” Frankie keened, his back feeling delightfully warm.

“Good boy,” Jack praised again, smiling at the way Frankie whimpered in response. “Can you do more? Do you want to go harder?”

Frankie nodded, then remembered the rules.

“Yes!”

“Yes what, Flyboy?”

“Yes, sir!”

“That’s my good boy.”

Frankie gave an obscene moan at the praise, breaking off into a whimper as Jack gave him another stroke of the flogger, making Jack smile. The next one was harder, the painful whisper of leather across his back left a stinging ache. At the eighth total stroke of the flogger, warmth enveloped Frankie, a knot caught in his throat at the feeling. By the ninth stroke, Frankie was almost floating, tethered to the moment by the wave of overwhelming emotion threatening to crest in his chest.

He wanted this so badly, he needed it. He needed to let go and not think about all of the shit in his life that had converged on him the last few days. Frankie choked out a sob at the last stroke, the cresting wave of emotion breaking free and crashing over him.

Everything he had buried, his mixed emotions, the drugs, and losing his job, bubbled to the surface all at once. The tears were just as cathartic as sinking into the pain had been.

He let out a shuddering exhale, and before Jack could ask, Frankie called out “Green!”

Jack sighed, the kneeling man’s back was an angry red, stripes forming from the flogger. He adjusted himself in his jeans to get some relief, then set the flogger back on its hook and returned to the bed. Jack sat down and maneuvered them so that Frankie’s head was cradled in his lap. He understood that Frankie needed this, now more than ever probably. It was one of the reasons he had offered to do this for Frankie, to give him an outlet to just feel and let go.

“Shh, you did so well, Flyboy. You were such a good boy for me.”

Jack cooed as he stroked Frankie’s damp, curly locks. Frankie hummed in response, and Jack lifted Frankie’s chin to see his flushed face.

“Can you do more, or do you want to stop for now, Flyboy?”

Frankie blinked, his eyes hazy then he buried his face in Jack’s lap, finding it hard to think and trying to ground himself.

“I-I can do more. I want to do more.”

Jack’s breath hitched as Frankie’s cheek brushed against the cock straining in his jeans.

“Alright, Flyboy. Lean back then, hands behind your back.”

Frankie did as he was told, his back burning slightly from the flogging. Jack stood up, a steadying hand on the sweet, willing man kneeling before him. He took a moment to let his gaze find Frankie’s cock, his eyebrows raising in surprise at just how hard and leaky he was.

“Shit, boy, I’ve never seen someone get as hard or leak as much as you from just the flogger.”

He carefully secured the leather cuffs, making sure they were fixed a bit above his wrists so as to not chafe the already irritated skin, then sat back down on the bed and tugged Frankie forward. Without his hands to stop himself, Frankie’s head landed unceremoniously back in Jack’s lap with a grunt. A low groan fell from Jack’s lips as Frankie nuzzled the large bulge in Jack’s jeans. Frankie mumbled something into Jack’s lap that he couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?”

“Said ‘s not just the flogger.”

“Oh? What is it then, Flyboy?”

Frankie squirmed, and Jack did nothing to stop him.

“S’you, never was like this before.”

Jack’s heart melted at the trust, vulnerability and adoration that was tinged with sadness in Frankie’s words. This was about more than just the clear arousal Frankie had. The look in his eyes earlier, and the way he was nuzzling him now, told Jack that Frankie had been missing the safety and ability to truly let go for a long time now. Jack was honored that Frankie was able to find that solace in him.

“Hey,” Jack’s hands cupped Frankie’s face as he bent down and kissed him tenderly, making sure to place a kiss on each of Frankie’s tear-stained cheeks. After allowing them a moment, Jack pulled back, his thumb swiping over Frankie’s lower lip, nudging insistently until Frankie took it in his mouth and sucked on it eagerly.

“D’you want to put this mouth to some good use, Flyboy?”

Frankie watched hungrily as Jack made to unbuckle his belt until he realized that Jack was waiting until Frankie had consented to go any further .

“Fuck… I mean yes, sir.”

Jack chuckled, then finished unbuckling his belt, adjusting so that he could get his jeans and boxers down to his mid-thigh. He smirked at the way Frankie stared hungrily at his cock. It was nice to know that the hunger he’d seen the night at the safehouse hadn’t been entirely drug induced.

The smirk promptly disappeared when Frankie widened his knees to balance better then leaned in and his lips enveloped the head of his cock.

“Fuck…”

The curse fell softly from Jack’s lips, a moan catching at the back of his throat. It took all of Jack’s strength not to buck up into Frankie’s mouth from the searing pleasure of Frankie bobbing up and down on his cock, moaning as he took more of Jack’s length.

Frankie smirked as best as he could, feeling proud he was able to elicit such a reaction from Jack. Strong fingers gripping tightly and twisting in his hair pulled a whine from deep in Frankie’s chest, and his eyes rolled back a bit as he felt Jack’s hand push him further down his cock until Frankie’s nose brushed Jack’s dark curls. Jack held him there for a minute, getting used to the hot warmth that surrounded his cock. He let out a breathy chuckle when Frankie’s hips jolted forward involuntarily, the feeling of being held down making him seek the sweet tantalizing friction of the bed.

“F-Fuck, Flyboy… S-shit, y’got a hot fuckin’ mouth.”

Jack started to pump into Frankie’s mouth, his other hand on Frankie’s throat to feel his cock move. He could feel the small whimpers and moans Frankie made around him, increasing arousal turning his breathing into shallow pants.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ… Such a -shit- Such a good, cock-hungry… Fuck!”

He felt Frankie start to struggle and pulled him off of his cock. They were both panting, trying to catch their breath, and Jack ran his fingers through Frankie’s hair to help soothe him. Frankie nuzzled into his lap then turned his head and breathed in Jack’s scent, marveling at the sight of Jack’s twitching cock. Smirking, Jack tenderly wiped some spit from the corner of Frankie’s mouth.

“How you doin’ down there?”

“Mmm... good.”

“Yeah?” Jack chuckled, “You sound a little cock dumb, Flyboy.”

“Maybe…” Frankie’s voice sounded dream-like and far away.

Jack put his hands on Frankie’s shoulders and pushed him back gently to see the head of Frankie’s cock flushed a needy red and leaking a small puddle on the hard floor beneath him, just missing the pillow cushioning his knees.

“Do you wanna cum, Flyboy?”

Frankie’s eyes widened at the whine that bubbled out of him, a deep flush taking a hold of his cheeks, and his gaze dropped from Jack’s dark, warm eyes.

“Yes, sir… Please.”

“Do you think you can take me?”

Jack watched Frankie intently, taking his chin between his index finger and thumb to make their gazes meet again. He didn’t want Frankie agreeing just because he thought that Jack would let him cum by doing so. Frankie bit his lip, then nodded.

“Words. I need to hear you say it, Flyboy. We don’t have to tonight if you don’t want to or can’t.”

Jack’s gaze was hard, yet tender, and Frankie felt a little lost in it, but he knew that he trusted Jack completely. He knew that if he wanted, they could stop at any time. Arousal pooled in his belly, and he knew that he wanted to take Jack, wanted to feel his weight pin him down, make him feel safe before sending him over the edge of pleasure.

“Yes sir, I-I can, and I want to, it’s just been a while.”

Jack’s chest tightened a little as he looked down at Frankie, smiling, then leaning down to kiss Frankie before moving down to nibble along the column of his neck.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow, Flyboy, and you just let me know if you need a break or to stop.”

Frankie nodded, then grumbled in surprise when Jack effortlessly hauled him up and bent him over the bed. He turned his head on the bed to breathe a bit better and saw Jack grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand.

“Do you want to use a condom? Me and Bourbon are exclusive, but I get tested regularly and am on PrEP for Statesmen. All my tests came back negative.”

Excitement tingled down Frankie’s spine. He wanted to feel him.

“No condom. I’m on PrEP too, got tested after Sam and haven’t been with anyone since.”

Jack nodded, then walked back over to the bed, his large, warm hand kneading Frankie’s ass.

The cool liquid was in stark contrast to the heat of his fingers. Jack slowly circled Frankie’s hole while he reached around and took Frankie’s cock in his other hand. Frankie’s keening moan turned into a whine when Jack gently pushed a finger inside of him.

Jack felt Frankie clench around his finger and started to lightly stroke his cock while letting him get used to the feeling. After a bit, he coated a second finger with lube and slid it in beside the first. Frankie let out a shaky breath, the muscles in his back rippling lightly.

“Look at you. You’re doing so well for me. Just take it easy, Flyboy.”

He continued to work him gently, understanding it had been a little while for Frankie. Then Frankie began to relax, slowly fucking himself back onto Jack’s fingers and forward into Jack’s fist. Jack let Frankie get used to the sensation again, adding more lube and delving deeper, harder with his fingers.

After they were able to work up to three fingers, Jack pulled out of him and took a step back, drawing a whimper from Frankie at the loss of contact. He heard the shuffle of denim as Jack shucked his jeans and boxers, then felt Jack’s steadying hand on his back.

“I’m right here, Flyboy.”

Jack murmured reassuringly while he gave himself a few strokes with his lubed up hand, he teased the hole with the tip of his cock with a feathery touch then slowly started to ease into Frankie.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Flyboy!”

Jack hissed, then moaned as he slowly worked himself inch by inch inside of Frankie, taking encouragement from Frankie’s keening and ragged breath.

“Fuck… So… -mmmmmfuckme- So full, Jack!”

Jack smirked at the way he had reduced Frankie to nothing but babbling, but his smirk quickly faded when he smacked Frankie’s ass and felt him clench in response.

“Shit, Flyboy, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

Frankie moaned, fingers grasping helplessly at Jack’s shirt. His arms were still bound, and he needed more contact than the teasing drag of the fabric.

“Shirt… off, wanna feel you, Jack.”

He let out a low moan that filled the air as Jack leaned back, pushing himself deeper into Frankie as he unbuttoned then tugged his shirt and undershirt off. Frankie hummed when he felt Jack’s warm body envelop him, giving him the contact he wanted. Jack chuckled as Frankie’s hands sought to feel his soft tummy, fingers brushing the trail of hair that gathered there.

Pulling back, Jack grabbed the leather cuffs for leverage and he started to fuck Frankie in earnest.

“Fuck yeah, Flyboy. Taking me…. So. Fucking. Good!”

Jack’s heavy hand came down with a loud smack on Frankie’s ass, and he steadily increased his pace until Frankie was squirming and whimpering beneath him. Frankie was so close, teetering on the edge, but not quite able to get there. He felt like he was slowly being driven mad by exquisite torture.

“J-Jack! Please… I n-need-”

“Not yet, Flyboy.”

Jack gritted out, getting closer to his own orgasm. Leaning over, so his chest was as flush as it could be against Frankie’s back, Jack growled.

“Ask me nicely, Flyboy.”

“Please!” Frankie cried out, “Jack, please, I want to-”

Jack adjusted his hips, and dropped a hand to wrap around Frankie’s cock again. “Alright, let go, Frankie. Cum for me, Flyboy.” He thrusted again, hitting a different angle, finding Frankie’s prostate and causing him to cry out hoarsely as he came all over the sheets and Jack’s hand.

“Fuck!”

The answering growl that came from Jack’s throat seared Frankie’s soul, and he could feel Jack tense above him, his hips stuttering until he gave one final thrust and stiffened above Frankie. As Jack came, his grunts made Frankie’s chest flutter, the sensation of having been claimed and marked running hot in his veins.

Frankie’s breath hitched when Jack brought his fingers up to taste Frankie’s cum, and he moaned before bringing his fingers to Frankie’s mouth to give him a taste as well.

They both groaned as Jack slipped out. He took a moment to admire the mess he made of his Flyboy, soothingly rubbing Frankie’s hip.

“Alright, gimme a minute, Flyboy.” Jack’s voice was soft, trying not to interrupt the bliss that smoothed Frankie’s facial features.

Frankie grunted as Jack undid the cuffs one by one, easing Frankie’s arms to his side, massaging them gently to soothe the soreness.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Don’t move. I’m gonna take care of you, Flyboy.”

Frankie mumbled in response. Jack cleaned himself up and returned shortly, with a soft, damp washcloth and a glass of water. He set the glass down, then began to gingerly dab the cloth over Frankie’s back, soothing him from the sting left behind by the flogger. Small little whimpers fell from Frankie’s lips at the contrast in temperature.

“Shhh, you did so well. This’ll help the burn a bit, Flyboy.”

Jack cooed, murmuring praises as he went. Once he was finished, he put the washcloth in the hamper, then wrapped the light comforter around Frankie to insulate him from Jack’s body heat. He pulled him in close, tucking Frankie under his shoulder.

“‘M so proud of you. My Flyboy… you were so good for me.

Jack kissed his ear, nuzzling the curly locks atop Frankie’s head, humming when Frankie curled in closer at his words. Frankie couldn’t do much more than that. His mind was still mostly floating on cloud nine, slowly easing back to the solid safety of being enveloped by Jack’s arms and his scent.

“You thirsty?”

Frankie nodded, but as Jack moved toward the bedside table, Frankie’s hand shot out and grabbed Jack’s wrist..

“No leaving, only water.”

Jack broke out into a hearty laugh, harmonizing with Frankie’s own laughter.

“It’s just right here on the night table.”

Frankie let him go. Jack stretched to retrieve the glass for Frankie, who took it to his lips, becoming more and more aware of his surroundings and less in the haze of subspace as he drank.

“Thank you, Jack. That was… incredible. I really needed that.”

Jack nodded and smiled down at Frankie, still nestled into his side, thumb rubbing circles over Frankie’s arm.

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done that, and I’m glad I could do that for you, Flyboy. I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t love every minute of it myself. Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?”

Frankie shook his head, and Jack grunted as he peered over to look at the clock: 20:30.

“You hungry? There’s a biscuits and gravy place that delivers, and I did say I’d take care of you tonight, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s stomach growled in response and they laughed again. Jack got up and placed their order, then turned to find Frankie had retrieved his go bag and was rummaging through it.

“Shit, I barely have anything to wear. I wasn’t expecting to be gone from home this long.”

“Don’t worry about it, you can borrow mine. I know I definitely enjoyed seeing you in my clothes today.” Jack teased and winked at Frankie, pulling a flush to his cheeks. “Besides, me and Bourbon can take you shopping tomorrow.”

Frankie frowned a bit, remembering that he was technically out of a job, and though he was looking forward to a big paycheck from Pope, he had no idea when he’d next be able to get a decent job flying.

“Uh, I don’t really think I could afford much out here. I usually just wear cargo pants and a t-shirt or button down.”

Jack scoffed, “I said we’d take you shopping, not that you’d be paying, Flyboy. Either Statesman’ll pay or I will. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Frankie squirmed. He was not accustomed to such things, but Jack’s voice left little room for argument. Shortly after, Jack went to pick up their food from the lobby, and they promptly devoured it upon his return. Frankie sat back with a groan, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Time to hit the hay, I reckon.”

Frankie nodded and made his way to the guest bedroom. Jack frowned, putting a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“I’d rather have you in my bed again tonight... if you’re alright with that?”

“Y-yeah, I’d like that.”

Jack nodded, then threw away the trash and tugged Frankie along to bed. He smiled as Frankie scooted to curl up beside him, imagining how things would be once you were in bed with them as well.

Frankie thought to himself how easy this felt, how good it felt. Hell, maybe this was something he could do and not have it end up like before. Just in this night alone, Jack had done more for him than his old partners had the entire time the three of them had been together. Despite how easy or how right it felt, Frankie knew that any relationship, especially one with three people, required a lot of communication and effort.

He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather do that work with than you and Jack.

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years ago

Note

Ace fic request if ya feel: Jmart taking a bath together at Upton, w some nonsexual nudity/intimacy? Thank u!!

“Ahaha, I’ll ask for some ace fic prompts and do drabbles for it!” I said, naively. 3K words later. Thank you Gwyn for reading over this and fixing my typos because it is. now coming up to 5am because I decided to write 3K in one sitting

CWs for talk of nudity but no one ever gets full nakey. Jon also has a brief panic about not being able to protect Martin without the Eye.

Ao3 version too

They’d probably been awake for an hour or so by the time the feeling of grime coating his skin became intolerable.

It felt wrong, really, the juxtaposition of the soft, clean cotton under his head and the greasy knots his hair had woven itself into over the course of their journey. Like it was insulting to the pillow, the case of which, Jon guessed absently, was worth more than his entire bed back in his flat, if it was still standing.

And wasn’t that something? To have to guess that and not just be aware. As it normally was, the Beholding would inform him that that wasn’t quite true, as while the sheets on this bed were certainly nice they were more chosen for display purposes than with the intent of anyone truly sleeping in them. The house was a museum. The curators had not supposed upon the current scenario.

The current scenario being that there were two men lying in it, half asleep, lying still and just staring at each other with an eye-watering fondness. They had spoken, when they first awoke. Got out all the words they wanted to say. The “Where are we” and the “How long were we asleep?” and the “Is it finally safe to rest?” and the “I love you so, so much.”

Now the thing to break the silence was the sound of Martin’s stomach making its discontent known. This, of course, sent them both into peals of laughter, because when was the last time they’d felt mundane hunger?

“Do you think they even have food here?” Martin asks, still buried up to his neck in duvet.

“Perhaps? Salesa surely has to eat, if we do.”

“Yeah, but Annabelle though,” Martin chews his lip in mock contemplation. “What if we go downstairs and open up all the cupboards and it’s just… Flies as far as the eye can see, all wrapped up for eating. There’s one in the fridge all done up on a platter like a Christmas ham. Cloves spiked into it and all.”

Jon winces. “I’d really rather not picture that right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, course,” Martin says, looking slightly sheepish as they lapse into silence again. “Should probably go check though. Don’t exactly want to have gotten through all that just to starve. Though I’d happily let this be my death bed, honestly. Don’t think I’ve slept that well in… Ever.”

“Mmh, now that you mention it, I’m quite peckish as well… Odd, that. Had almost forgotten what it felt like.” Jon heaves himself into a sitting position, and takes stock of the door to his left. “Probably the bathroom. Ensuite. Very nice.”

“You want to get cleaned up before we go scavenging?” Martin asks, prying the duvet away like he’s pulling teeth. Jon feels bad that they can’t just stay in bed all day. He hadn’t been able to sleep, in the safe house, but Martin had chosen to dream. He might be biased, but Jon figures that that was probably worse. Martin seemed now to be relishing the opportunity to relax.

“I think we rather need it. Not keen to embarrass ourselves in front of our hosts a second time, so I’d rather not appear downstairs looking like something the cat dragged in.” Jon shoves the duvet away and gets, somewhat shakily, to his feet. Damn. No Beholding means the pain from- Where- The wound… His leg hurts. It means his leg hurts something fierce. He hopes he can stand in the shower.

When he makes his way over to the door and swings it open, it turns out not to be a concern. The bathroom, in the fashion of the rest of the house, has no shower. Instead, a comically beautiful bathtub sits against the opposing wall. It’s a clawfoot, gold varnish painted over its feet where porcelain turns to antique wood.

“You want to go first then?” Martin asks, slowly pulling the duvet around himself again.

Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll go on ahead. You enjoy the extra time.”

Martin gives him a smug look and burrows down again. God, Jon really, really loves him. Which is why, when he puts his hand on the door handle to close it behind him, he freezes.

Statement readings aside, this will be the first time Martin has been out of his sight in… However you choose to categorize the indefinite amount of time they spent roaming the hellscape. And even then, Jon had his powers. If anything threatened Martin he’d be there to help him. To save him. The Eye offers no such comfort now. Jon doesn’t want to close the door. He doesn’t want Martin out of his line of sight. Not with Annabelle here. He won't leave him alone, not now.

“... Jon? You okay?”

Jon realises he’s been standing in the doorway for at least a minute now, hand frozen in indecision. He blinks a few times, trying to bring his eyes back into focus. He opens his mouth, and finds himself gaping slightly, looking for the words.

Martin shifts, sitting back up again. “Jon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

It comes out like a croak. “I- I don’t Know.”

Martin’s tone is gentle, placating, two hands gently offered out in Jon’s direction. “You don’t know what’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t Know,” he can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes and tries to push down the lump in his throat. He’s gone this long without crying, why does he have to go and do it now, ruin the peaceful moment that he’d watch Martin lapse into like a drowning man with air.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Martin hushes, sliding out of bed and walking round from his side. He brings his arms around Jon and just lets them stay there, not pulling him against his chest in a restrictive grasp, but just laying his hands against his back, letting him know he’s there.

Despite his best attempts, Jon lets out a hiccup. “And- And that should be a good thing. It should. I don’t want to Know. But it’s… I’ve spent so long with this constant presence at the back of my skull and now it feels… It’s raw and it’s vulnerable. Annabelle Cane could be a wall away and I’m vulnerable and that means you are too. If I’m in another room, I can’t Know if something is wrong, and more importantly, if something does go wrong I can’t save you.”

The right wrapped around to hold Jon’s left hip, Martin’s free hand has been tracing soothing patterns into his back through his shirt. It stills when Jon finishes. He takes a moment, before breathing out heavily through his nose. He leans back slightly so he can look down and match eye levels.

“Jon,” he says, and his voice is as soft as that duvet felt. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m so sorry. I thought being free of the Eye would be a good thing, I didn’t even consider how it would feel for you. I can’t promise nothing will go wrong, because… Well, our track record speaks for itself. But I can try and ease your fears.” He brushes Jon’s fringe out of the way, and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Tub seems pretty big. How do you feel about taking a bath together?”

Jon feels his face, flushed from tears, pale. And oh what a relief, to feel a fear so comparatively… Mundane. To not be afraid of the cosmic monstrosity in the back of your brain, or the spiders with motives that scuttle across the ceiling, or the fact that you are responsible for the suffering of billions. Oh to be afraid of… Intimacy.

Martin must feel him tense, because the hand on his back drops away, and the one at his hip loosens its grip. “I’m sorry, if that’s too much, we can just-”

“No,” Jon cuts him off, and is surprised at his own voice. “No, I… I would like that. That sounds nice.”

He knows it’s from his earlier anxieties, but Martin must still be able to feel Jon trembling slightly under his hand, because he continues to give Jon a sceptical look.

“Forgive me for being blunt, but you really don’t seem up for that. If that’s not in your… Intimacy wheelhouse, I get it.”

“I’m just a little shaken, is all,” Jon says, but he knows there’s a truth to Martin’s words. He knows Martin respects him and his orientation, they’d had long discussions about it in the safe house, about boundaries and desires and how Jon wanted to spend his days glued to Martin’s side but he under no circumstances wished to have sex with him. He knows that this isn’t what that is, that Martin means it in the most innocent fashion imaginable, but there’s still something about the idea of close, physical proximity while naked that makes the hairs on his arm stand on end and his stomach churn.

It’s not that he was bashful about it. He’d seen Martin naked before, gotten changed in the same room most mornings and evenings in the safe house, but that was just a symptom of existing in the same space, never something actively done with the intent to exhibit. It had, predictably, stirred no feelings in him. The idea of them so close while not clothed… No, that wouldn’t be happening.

“I- Can I make one request, though?” Jon asks, tilting his no longer watery eyes up to meet Martin’s.

“Anything,” Martin replies, no hesitation to be found.

Jon feels his face flush again, and the rapid pooling and draining of blood from his face must be doing terrible things to his circulation. “Can- Can we keep our underwear on? Please? God, sorry, that must sound horribly childish-”

“No, no that’s okay. Whatever you need to feel comfortable,” Martin says and his voice is not so much laced with sincerity as built from bricks of it.

They break apart and Martin ambles through the doorway and over to the bath, turning the water on. It sputters, clearly struggling after years of disuse, but after a few seconds it flows clear. Martin waits for the brackish residue to be cleaned away before popping the plug into place.

Jon preoccupies himself with looking over the shelves. They were well stocked, likely by Salesa, as Jon has a hard time believing that plastic bottles full of opalescent purple liquid were considered period appropriate set dressing. He pops the lid open on one and is met by a strong whiff of lavender. He tucks it under his arm before swiping a shampoo and matching conditioner.

“Find something you like?” Martin asks, leaning against the edge of the tub. Jon hums a response before joining him. The tub was filling up quickly now, almost half way full and the water is pleasantly warm when he drags his fingers through it. Jon deposits two of the bottles where they can be grabbed when needed, before taking the lavender body wash and drawing swirls into the water until a layer of foam and bubbles begin to build on the surface.

When Jon turns back to face Martin, his fingers are twitching at the hem of his t-shirt. Whoever was responsible for transferring them from cold marble floor to warm bed had also seen to it that their shoes were removed, as well as their bags and coats, which Jon had seen folded and placed over a chair in the corner of the bedroom. They were both down to their now ripped, muddied and bloodied trousers, and two v-neck t-shirts from the same set, Jon’s of which was tucked into his jeans to disguise the fact that it was several sizes too large. What possible conclusion could be drawn from that?

Martin cleared his throat. “Do you mind, then, if I…?”

“Yes, of course, go ahead.”

Martin pulled his shirt over his head.

It’s not that Jon didn’t find him attractive. He did, very much so, just in the romantic sense. So seeing Martin shirtless was similar to seeing him in a particularly flattering outfit. It didn’t change the way he felt about him, just intensified it. He was very handsome and Jon enjoyed getting to look at him.

He pulls his own shirt over his head, before turning back to trail his hands through the water again, trying to gage the temperature and encourage more bubbles. When he turns back to face Martin again, he’s fiddling with his belt, eventually getting it undone and letting his trousers drop. Jon does the same. And then nothing more happens, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not that he hadn’t trusted Martin to keep his word and not fully strip on him, it was just.. It was a relief.

“Shall we?” Martin asks, gesturing towards the water.

“Let’s,” Jon responds, hooking one leg over the edge before stepping fully into the bath, and letting himself sink below the water.

He’s just about acclimated when suddenly the water is rising slightly as Martin joins him, placing himself at the other end of the tub. There’s not enough room for his legs, so he ends up with his knees close to his chest, sticking out of the water. Jon’s just about fit, stretching down to the other end of the bath and bracketing each side of Martin’s hips.

If the bed was heaven, this is absolutely blissful. The warm water surrounds his aching joints, slowly massaging them as it laps around him. The water, just seconds earlier clean and pure, is already starting to take on a stale quality as the dirt begins to slough off of the two of them, but Jon can’t bring himself to care for relief that it’s no longer coating his skin. He thinks the lavender may have been a bad choice, because between it and the warmth he’s finding it hard not to fall asleep again.

“This okay?” Martin asks, because he’s still worried about Jon and his comfort and that makes his heart ache with affection, that someone would care that much about him and his boundaries.

“Far more than okay,” he responds, dragging one hand down the other arm in an attempt to get some stubborn filth off. Martin is doing the same, except he’s wisely taken a sponge from somewhere and is scrubbing at a spot on his ankle where his trouser and boot hadn’t quite met and the Buried had decided to leave a crusted circle in its wake.

They sit in silence for quite a while, each taking care of their own needs before Jon reaches one arm out of the bath to make a swipe at the bottle of shampoo.

“Here, let me,” Martin says, breaking the quiet. He shifts forward slightly, on instinct, before pausing and rocking back slightly. “If you want, that is. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you want me to do your hair? It’s just- It’s probably easier, y’know, than you trying to do it yourself.”

“And far more romantic,” Jon adds, smiling as he leans over to press a kiss to Martin’s freshly cleaned cheek.

“That too. Do you want to turn around?”

Jon answers wordlessly by shifting until he’s facing away from Martin. He’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so, when Martin’s arms wrap around him and gently pull him backwards until his back is just shy of flush with Martin’s chest. It’s very intimate. It’s very nice.

“That okay?” Martin asks again, and more than ‘I love you’, that’s a phrase Jon will never grow tired of hearing because it means Martin truly cares for his comfort.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” Martin says, as he uncaps the shampoo and pours a small puddle of it into his hands. Even turned away, Jon can smell the wafts of artificial apple scenting in the stuff.

When Martin starts to gently drag his fingers against Jon’s scalp, he can feel himself almost melt under the touch. His spine loses all tension and he lets himself fall back entirely against Martin’s chest, and it’s only the knowledge that he needs to keep still for Martin to actually do his job that stops him from turning and burrowing his face there.

“I really hope that was a positive thing and you haven’t just fainted on me. Like, literally on me,” Martin says from behind him and this close, pressed up against him Jon can feel it reverberating in Martin’s chest.

“Still conscious, don’t worry. That’s just… Very nice.”

“Oh! Well… Good.”

This continues for a few minutes, Martin slowly making his way from the scalp down to the roots of Jon’s hair, untangling it with his fingers and then repeating the process with the conditioner until his hair ran smooth under Martin’s hands. Even when Jon knows he’s long finished any actual hair care, Martin continues to run his fingers through the hair, just because. Jon loved him for it.

Eventually, both of Martin’s hands come to rest against Jon’s torso. “This okay?”

“Yes. I don’t mind any of the touching, as long as it’s… Nowhere previously established to be out of bounds.”

“Gotcha,” Martin says, pressing a kiss to Jon’s shoulder that makes his brain fizzle like fireworks.

It takes Jon a minute to fully realise what Martin is doing. Two hands trace lines along his ribcage, one on each side, thumbs gently drawing and redrawing a pattern. His scars.

Then, the hands travel upwards. Again, two lines along his chest, traced with as much tender care, and Jon’s brain has gone a little fuzzy. He’s unused to such casual touching. There is nothing hurried about it, no urgency, no purpose other than to make him feel good. To make him feel loved and cherished, and if he’s being honest, it’s working. No ulterior motive. This isn’t the lead up to anything. It just exists on it’s own as an experience he gets to have without worrying about what comes after, because he knows the answer is nothing.

After, Martin shifts slightly, leaning forward. One hand cups Jon’s elbow, raising that arm out of the water as one by one, from shoulder to palm, Martin makes his way down pressing a soft kiss to each and every circular scar. He repeats the process with the other arm. As if to finish it off, he presses a slow, soft, close mouthed kiss to the line that stretches across the front of Jon’s neck.

He’s perfect. Martin Blackwood is perfect and Jon doesn’t know what he did to deserve… This. This quiet barrage of love, the consideration and care poured into it something Jon never thought he would be worthy of, let alone have become a reality.

Jon twists to lie sideways, pressed against Martin with his head tucked under Martin’s chin. Martin’s knees bracket his shoulders on either side and he feels safe. He is in the eye of the storm, a brief respite from the dreadful horrors that ravage the world outside their bubble, but with Martin Blackwood he is safe.

#My Post #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #My Writing #dickwheelie

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cunningambitousdetermined · 3 years ago

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i need a plot for this

yall so ive been trying really hard to get back into writing and i went to a writing camp this summer. im going to post a poem that i wrote there later bc im super proud of it but right now i have something else i need help with. SO basically there was a prompt about someone finding a letter or a note. that’s the prompt. so i wrote something, really liked it BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO TAKE IT FROM HERE. my basic ideas involve the two characters meeting each other again to do SOMETHING WHICH I DONT KNOW and slowly arcane (youll see when you read the story below) thaws and falls in love with kalon and kalon has always been in love with her and its like best friends to enemies to friends to lovers ya know? ANYWAY if you dont hate me for being inactive and needy, please read this and help me.

Dear Arcane,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 10 years. Wow. I don’t even know if you’ll ever get this, you could’ve moved. You could be dead. Oh god, that’s dark. You’re not dead, someone would’ve told me, I’m sure. So that must mean that there’s a good chance you have this, but I’m not even sure if you’ll read it.

He was right, as he most often was. Arcane had not planned to read the letter from the moment she read her name on the envelope, written in a neat sort of messy handwriting that could only come from one person. The letter had been sitting at her desk for a week before memories began to drown her and she knew she had to open it.

That’s not the point though, I’m sure you’ll read this. You’ve always been a sucker for the intimacy of written letters. Maybe that’s why I wrote to you instead of calling.

Arcane closed her eyes, the pounding of the memories at the door slowly consuming her. She took a deep breath and let them in. The whispers started to fill the room, every word echoing off the walls, like her past had become a living, breathing thing in her room. How could he write her now? After all these years. Anger reared it's small head in the back of her mind. How could he be so casual as if he wasn't the boy who ripped her heart out and tore it to pieces.

Maybe it’s because I did read all the letters you wrote to me. Even after the voicemails stopped filling my phone and the emails ran dry, your letters kept coming.

She remembers writing those letters, the pen shaking in her hand as it hit the paper. She remembers wondering what you said to someone like him, a friend who left you behind. The squeeze in her chest that tightened each time he didn’t reply. The break in her heart when the last letter she ever wrote was returned to her doorstep.

If you’ve read this far without tearing my letter to pieces, then I would say this is a good start to our reunion. I’ve missed you. Your stubborn ways, always trying to keep me safe. But you always came with me wherever I went anyway. I miss your secret smile, the one you saved just for me. The treehouse we built in your yard. Do you miss that? I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder if I can even ask that of you.

She did miss them. But, those things that she missed were long gone. The treehouse was overgrown with vines, Arcane was sure you couldn’t even get into it anymore. She went with him on his stupid adventures because what would she do if he left and met new people? He would leave her and she would be alone. So she desperately followed him blindly, hoping it would keep him close. Arcane missed her secret smile, the genuine one she had always saved for him. He missed it. How could he miss something that he destroyed. With his one and only letter to her, he demolished any leftover love for him that hid in her heart. He couldn’t ask if Arcane wondered about him. That wasn’t fair. That night, ten years ago, was still a raw wound in her soul that she was pretty sure would never heal.

The rain was relentless that night, banging against every edge of the house, but a little girl was waiting by the door, not even flinching as the lightning and thunder clapped furiously. Arcane peeked her head above the window frame to find the mailman running through the storm, his frantic steps pounding through the floor of the house. Her eyes lit up with a hope that was slowly fading with each mail drop. She opened the door and hid the small smile that started to spread up her face with a cough.

“Hi, Dan!” Arcane’s voice gave away the excitement that was flooding her system.

“Hey, Arcane.” Dan couldn’t help the pitiful grin that he gave her. She waited by the door for him every day and each day there was no letter for her. It must be soul-crushing, he thought, waiting for a letter that never comes.

“Is there…?” Arcane was practically on her tiptoes at this point. Dan rifled through the letters, dread settling as her name wasn’t there. Again. And then there was a squeal. “Oh, Dan! I found it! I knew- I knew it- I told them!” Her sentences didn’t even come out fully as she beamed, her smile brighter than any ray of the sun.

Arcane had run into the house, a breeze following in her wake. Plopping down into the soft plush couch, she ripped open the envelope, not caring about the paper that flew everywhere in the room. A paper fluttered out, floating toward the ground. Arcane grabbed it, hands shaking, she could practically feel the sweat dripping down her face. Words were the easiest way to break someone. The letter only contained eleven words, yet they would stick with her for the rest of her life.

Stop writing me. None of it was real. You were nothing.

Eleven words. And they shattered her. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces breaking. Sobs racked through her whole body, her chest shaking and trembling with each broken breath. She caught her face in the mirror hanging off the pale wall and didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. You were nothing. A scream tore through her, the ache of her heart so raw that even the sun seemed to cry, rain dripping onto the panes of the windows. And slowly, so very slowly, Arcane buried the ache and gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and encased them in an impenetrable cage, never to opened again.

The ache was still present now, ten years after the letter had arrived. The dullness of her buried hurt made her clench her fists around the letter that sat in her hand now, the same lopsided handwriting adorning it.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing this with an actual purpose, if you can imagine that. I didn't just write to rehash our friendship.

Arcane could feel her eyes narrowing, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the inanimate piece of paper. An actual purpose? To break her heart all over again? This time she did roll her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. But, it wasn’t the fact that he wrote her after all these years or that his tone was friendly throughout that made her body freeze. It was the last line that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

In all the years that Arcane had known him, he'd never been very dependent. He often just struggled in silence and figured them out on his own. Not once, not ever, had has asked for help. But, there the sentence was inked in his slanted, loopy writing.

I need your help.

Love,

Kalon

~~everything below here is stuff that doesnt have to be a part of the story but i still liked it and where it was going (idk please give me ideas)~~

The quiet, shock of the room seemed to weigh on Arcane. She flopped back onto her bed, the soft pillows cushioning her landing. I need your help. Those few, simple words, tugged at the strings that bound her heart. He needed her. The thought was fleeting as just as quickly as it came, it left. In its spot was anger. Now he needed her? After all those years when she needed him? What did he do then? Nothing. And that’s what she was going to do now. She huffed in satisfaction, tossing the envelope to the side. Her fingers reached into her hair, massaging her head. There were too many things to think about right now. Arcane squeezed her eyes shut as memories stung her eyes in the form of tears.

“Please, don’t leave me.” Arcane had whispered, her small breaths filling the one room of the treehouse.

“I don’t have a choice. You know I don’t want to go.” Kalon’s voice broke and he looked away so Arcane couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. It was silent.

“We’ll still be best friends right?”

“Yeah.” Kalon’s reply didn’t hold much conviction, causing Arcane to look over at him, confused, glossy eyes narrowing.

“To the moon and back, Kal, remember?” She said, her tone desperate. It was a promise they made one night as they were watching some cheesy movie on the old television set. The boy had told the girl that he loved her too ‘the moon and back’. Kalon had then explained that the two characters said that so that they would never be apart. They could meet at the same moon, always and then they could go back. And then, they would never be fully apart. Arcane had liked that. So naturally, she had grabbed Kal’s face and made him promise that they would go ‘to the moon and back’ if they were ever apart. It became a goodbye for them, a way of saying ‘I’ll see you soon’.

“Yeah,” Kal had replied, a smile barely curling through his lips, “I’ll race ya there.”

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, letting her memories flow down her cheeks and into the bedsheets, but eventually she had to get up. She pulled herself up and off the bed, limbs protesting at the use. She just needed a few days is all, then she wouldn’t even remember what she was crying for. Kalon didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

thank you for reading this far, i love all of you. just throw out ideas please. or give me some advice, i would love that. whether its about my writing or the plot i would love to have tips and constructive criticism on how to get better! tagging some moots who i hope dont hate me after this below the cut:

@natashxromanovf @pad-foots @griffxnnage @voidmalfoy @flxss-bxbblxs @alwaysreading @herondalesunsetcurve THANKS YALL I LOVE YOU MORE THEN I EXPRESS AND I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR LOVE

#my writing #a book?#writing a book #plot ideas #please give me some ideas #writing #original characters #and an original storyline #found letter prompt

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yoon-kooks · 4 years ago

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The Devil Writes Romance | myg

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, college!AU, fuckboy!AU, fanficwriter!Yoongi

Summary: When you’re assigned to work with Min Yoongi on a final project for your Writing Fiction course, you stumble upon the fuck boy’s secret identity as a sappy fanfic writer. With the heart and soul of an aspiring editor, you’re somehow convinced by the boy himself to help make his fictional romance more realistic and heartfelt. Before you know it, you’ve made a not-so-innocent pinky promise with the devil.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mentions of sex :-)

A/N: this is basically a pilot that sets up a lot of plot for a potential series so lmk if you like the idea and would continue reading it as a series! also special shoutout to @chewymoustachio for the love & support 💖

As spring semester comes to a close, your only goal is to make it through finals week unscathed. Like many of your fellow English majors, most of your finals are extensive papers rather than traditional exams. Normally this would not stress you out, but your Writing Fiction course has thrown a curveball your way: half of your grade is dependent on your partner, Min Yoongi.

Personally, you’ve never been a fan of partner or group projects because you always somehow end up with incompetent teammates who either do a half-assed job or ghost you until the day before it’s due. Either way, you’ve learned and become accustomed to relying only on yourself.

However, as your Writing Fiction class has taught you, a writer’s world is not built upon independence. Rather, it’s built upon the opposite. Writers depend on others for support, feedback, and revision. That’s where your final project comes on.

For your final project, everyone in your class signed up for the role of either a writer or editor, and you’ve been randomly paired up with someone who chose the opposite. It’s no secret to anyone that you dream of becoming an editor in the industry. You love the idea of reviewing other writers’ works and providing them with as much feedback and constructive criticism as possible. Naturally, you signed up to be an editor.

As fate would have it, you find yourself paired with the boy who’s pretty much slept with the entire class, including the TA, and allegedly the professor. The only person left unchecked on his list is you. Somehow, you’ve heard more gossip about his sex life than his skills as a writer, which is why you believe you’re fucked for this final.

“Hey, Partner,” Yoongi catches up with you in the hall after class. His signature cedarwood cologne is too heavy to ignore as he strides beside you. “Are you free tonight?”

“To brainstorm some story ideas?” You tilt your head and add an innocent tone to mask the skepticism. Truthfully, you know what he really wants. It’s not your first rodeo.

“I actually already have a story in mind,” he says. “But I was thinking you and I could-”

“What’s the story about?” Because you’d much rather hear about that than one of Yoongi’s many excuses to get in your pants.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he shrugs as the two of you walk out of the building and into the beaming afternoon sun. You lift an arm to block the light out of your face, only to realize the boy’s shadow blocks it for you. Apparently, there are perks to walking with a buddy after class. “I’ll send you the draft tonight.”

“The professor literally just assigned the project and it’s not due for another week,” you raise an eyebrow. Weird, you’ve never seen a college kid so proactive and eager to get a head start on their final project. Something tells you the boy is just spouting bullshit and telling you what you want to hear. “You don’t have to rush and write all ten thousand words in a single night…”

“Well I don’t have any other plans tonight,” he says. “Unless you want to-”

“Nice try, Yoongi.” You start walking further ahead of the boy. You’re forced to squint as to not be blinded by the sun. “I guess you can have fun writing your story, then.”

“You really know how to play hard to get, Y/N…” Yoongi whines in that raspy voice of his, eliciting the tiniest smirk on your face. You might not approve of his fuck boy tendencies, but you’re also not opposed to teasing him a bit.

“If you really want to impress me, keep your word and send the draft tonight.” You spin around and wave farewell as you battle the sun. “Your editor will be waiting.”

As soon as you arrive home, you realize Yoongi isn’t the only one without any Friday night plans. With nothing to do, a large part of you hopes your partner keeps his promise so you can at least try to be productive over the weekend. But ten thousand words is a lot to write in one night. It’s more than likely that he won’t be able to pull it off.

In an attempt to wind down, you scroll through the blog feeds of your favorite writers. Many of them, such as @suga-fix and @jk-seagull, are college students like you, so you can appreciate all the time and effort they put into their craft on top of their school work. While the fan in you loves to shower them with sweet and supportive messages, the editor in you hopes to one day be able to also provide feedback on a professional level.

At the very top of your feed is a short post from @suga-fix, a romance fanfic writer whom you recently found while scouring the #jiminscenarios tag for something free of smut.

“Does anyone else struggle to ask their crush out or is it just me? Asking for a friend.”

You giggle at the innocent question. In addition to writing the sappiest Jimin fanfics, Suga is known to post snippets of his own nonexistent love life on his blog. From what you understand, he’s a boy who’s never experienced true love firsthand. Recently, however, he’s been gushing over his pretty classmate. You’re waiting for the day when he builds up enough courage and finally lands a date.

Until then, you’re satisfied with reading his ongoing fictional love story featuring the popular idol, Park Jimin, as a struggling romance novelist who finds inspiration in a skeptical wedding photographer. You absolutely adore the story, the characters, and the underlying narrative, but the editor in you can point out an area for improvement: his romance game.

You notice the two main characters lack a certain level of chemistry to get the readers quaking and itching for more. Most of the time, the intimate scenes end with poor Jimin getting friendzoned, which certainly has its charm and humor. But truthfully, you expect a little more love from a romance fic.

You suspect that, to some extent, this is intentional as the characters are the type to dance around intimacy and have pessimistic views on romance overall. However, you also wouldn’t be surprised if Suga’s own personal inexperience with romantic scenarios is what holds him back the most.

After catching up on your socials, eating dinner, and hopping out of the shower, you sit in the darkness of your room and check one more thing before calling it a night. No email, no text, no draft from your partner. Not that you were actually expecting anything, but it would’ve been nice for the fuck boy to prove you wrong.

To be fair, you know how long and painful ten thousand words can be. If Yoongi is in fact sprinting through those ten thousand words and gets them to you by the time you wake up, you’ll consider him a man of his word.

[4:56AM] Yoongi💋 “I emailed you the thing”

[7:24AM] Y/N “Ooh, I’ll take a look 👁👁”

[7:25AM] Y/N “Btw I don’t appreciate you adding an emoji to your contact info on my phone”

After changing Yoongi’s contact name to something more appropriate, you go into your email and find the story draft that the boy had sent at exactly 4:55AM. The word count on the document says 10,382. Not too shabby, Min Yoongi.

You grab your morning caffeine and crack open your laptop to read your partner’s story on the big screen. Right away, you notice the document is titled “Untitled1” which is never a great sign, but you’re willing to forgive him if its content is stellar.

The first thing that puts a smile on your face is the main character, Jimothy. His name reminds you of your favorite idol, Jimin, with a playful touch. He’s the romance novelist who attends his friend’s wedding where he has a chance encounter with a pretty wedding photographer-

Wait. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard this story before. In fact, you know exactly where it came from. You pull up Suga’s Jimin fic and put it side-by-side against Yoongi’s version. While it’s not exactly a copy-and-paste situation, the romance novelist x wedding photographer premise is too similar for it to be a mere coincidence.

At first glance, you find it funny that Yoongi took the time to reword everything to not be caught by the plagiarism police. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he did a quick search of Jimin fanfiction and picked one that was moderately popular but not viral enough for anyone to notice. Jimin fanfic just so happens to be your guilty pleasure, so there’s absolutely no way you’d let a plagiarist slip one past you.

But upon further review, after digesting the entirety of the fic, you find that Yoongi’s flow and choice of words are eerily similar to Suga’s style without recycling a single line. Likewise, you notice the same lack of chemistry in both versions of the story. You suppose this can only mean one thing, and you need to confront him about it in person. Because the last thing you want is for him to ghost you like everyone else you’ve ever worked with.

[8:42AM] Y/N “I just finished looking it over”

[8:43AM] Y/N “Wanna get coffee & discuss? ☕️📖”

[8:45AM] Yoongi🐍 “Oh? I thought you weren’t interested in a date with me 🥺”

[8:46AM] Y/N “Let’s meet in about an hour at the coffeehouse on campus?”

[8:46AM] Yoongi🐍 “See ya there, my editor”

As you stir the oat milk into your second dose of caffeine for the morning, you wonder how you can bring up your suspicions in an appropriate and professional way. Should you confront him about it immediately, gently coax him in that direction, or take a more passive approach to see if he’ll mention it on his own? Because if you’re going to be this boy’s editor, you want to do it right.

“Thoughts?” Yoongi enters the chat with slightly damp hair and an iced Americano in hand. Your only thought in that moment is about how fucking good he smells, even in the presence of the rich aromas of your favorite roasted coffee beans. But you’ll leave those thoughts to yourself.

“My first thought was that you sent me a document titled Untitled1,” you say.

“I have a working title,” he assures you. “But I’m curious to hear what clever titles my editor has come up with after reading through the whole thing.”

“Pink Cheek Syndrome sounds appropriate.” Because that’s the title of Suga’s original fic. It’s also the term coined by Jimothy to describe couples who aren’t as in love as they’d like to believe. It’s a facade to fool everyone, including themselves.

“Great minds think alike after all.” Yoongi leans in to give you a high-five, but you just throw a balled up napkin at his palm. Confess. Just confess already.

“Can I ask what inspired the concept?” You bite your lip. “You don’t strike me as the romantic type.”

“Don’t you ever feel like people get into relationships just for the sake of being in a relationship?”

“Yeah.” All the time, in fact.

“It’s pretty shallow if you ask me,” he says with a nonchalant chuckle, as if he’s not the shallowest person on campus when it comes to established relationships. “PCS is just a commentary on people like that vs people like you and me.”

You and him? You’re not sure you have anything in common with someone who breaks hearts and sleeps around so casually.

“Sounds like something a fanfic writer would come up with.” Because it is.

“Sounds like something a fanfic reader would say,” he throws back at you.

“In fact, there’s a Jimin fanfic I read once called Pink Cheek Syndrome,” you say. The dose of coffee moving up Yoongi’s straw suddenly freezes. “You’re the original writer, right?”

He swallows hard and raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The writing style matches even though you didn’t copy and paste,” you scroll back through Yoongi’s version for reference. “And besides, scrambling to write ten thousand words in one night is typical fanfic writer behavior. A true plagiarist doesn’t know what it means to put those hours in.”

“Nothing gets past your sharp eyes, huh, Y/N…” Yoongi sighs, failing to hide behind his Americano. “I’m equally impressed as I am scared.”

“Wait, so you’re really Suga?” Your eyes widen. Suddenly you’re overcome by a wave of emotions. Excited, nervous, star-struck. But most of all? Confused. “How?”

“Just don’t tell anyone.” He picks up his phone and starts typing away at something.

“I won’t,” you say, also pulling out your phone to check up on the @suga-fix blog. Sure enough, there’s a stream of several new posts from a few seconds ago.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK”

“I feel so exposed 😔”

“Quick, everyone act like this isn’t a fanfic blog.”

“We can pretend to be like a porn blog or smth”

“I can read everything you’re posting, you know.” You show your blog feed to Yoongi, who’s still busy keysmashing. When he finally glances up from his screen to yours, the look on his face is both flattered and distressed.

“You follow me, too?” The boy takes a long sip of his Americano, shifting his beady little eyes and plotting his next move. “What’s your URL?”

“You’re totally going to block me,” you frown. “I already told you, I’m not going to tell anyone…”

As you continue to scroll through Yoongi’s blog, you notice his post is gone from the day before. Perhaps that’s what the boy is desperately trying to hide.

“By the way, is it true that Min Yoongi, resident fuck boy, has a crush on someone?” You get excited because that’s not something you hear everyday. In regards to Yoongi, it’s always been sex, sex, and more sex. He’s notorious around campus for having one-night stands and breaking hearts the morning after. You’d never imagine a boy like him having an innocent crush on anyone.

“Where’d you hear that?” The boy across from you gradually sinks deeper and deeper into his seat every time you open your mouth to expose him further.

“You made a post yesterday about not being able to talk to your crush properly,” you giggle. “It was kind of cute.”

“I was talking about my friend.”

“You can’t fool me, Yoongi. I’m not that oblivious.” You take a sassy sip of your coffee and lean forward. “So who’s your crush? Is it someone in our class?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he shoos you away and slides a hard copy of his draft in your direction. “Let’s not get distracted from why we’re really here.”

“Hold it, I’m not just being nosy for the gossip, you know,” you say. “From an editor’s perspective, I think the romance in your story could benefit from you interacting more with your crush.”

For a moment, Yoongi just gives you a look. You can see the wheels spinning in his head. “Well, that person doesn’t seem very interested in me, so…”

“Unrequited love?” you gasp. The plot thickens.

“Yeah,” he chuckles at your enthusiasm. “But you did give me an idea just now.”

You examine his handsome face for a hint of what’s to come. His signature Fuck Boy Smirk tells you he’s up to no good again. “I’m listening.”

“You’re my editor, right?” he asks. You nod. “And your main critique is that I should up my romance game, right?”

You nod again.

“What if you help me make the romance scenes more believable and realistic?” The boy watches as you blink your wide eyes, stunned at his suggestion. You know he doesn’t just mean that from an editorial standpoint. Surely there’s an ulterior motive here. “And before you jump to any conclusions, no, this does not include sex.”

Oh.

You’re reminded that Yoongi doesn’t write smut, despite how much of a fuck boy he is in real life. Because you’re sure he has the capability and personal experience to write some steamy and wild sex scenes. And yet, he chooses to focus on hardcore romance instead, something he himself is much less familiar with. It’s mind-blowing to think that a boy as experienced in bed as Yoongi could be so inexperienced elsewhere.

Why does he write the opposite of how he lives?

“I don’t think that’s how editors work,” you finally respond to Yoongi’s proposal, flipping through his draft and writing in the margins. You have to admit, the boy has a gift. His stories would no doubt skyrocket in popularity if the lovey-dovey scenes could draw out true, raw emotions as though you were there living in those moments. As a reader, you want him to pull at your heartstrings, smash your heart into a million pieces, and slowly put it back together. All of that can be achieved if the writer gets some hands-on experience in the love department. “But I get what you’re saying.”

“So is that a yes or a no?” He sips down the rest of his Americano as you continue to think your decision through.

Given what you know about Yoongi’s track record as a fuck boy, you’re hesitant. But at the same time, the ambitious editor in you knows what you want.

“It’s a yes,” you sigh. “But only if you promise me a few things.”

“Go on.”

“One, you’ll come to me if you’re struggling and need suggestions, advice, or someone to talk to.”

“Easy. You can be my editor-in-chief.”

“Two, if anyone asks, we aren’t dating.”

“Got it.”

“Three, help me study and prepare for the rest of my finals.”

“We can have study dates.”

“And lastly, please don’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this thing. Because that would be awkward.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were the possessive type, Y/N,” he smirks.

“Not trying to be That Controlling Bitch who forbids you from sleeping around, but I think it would defeat the purpose of what we’re trying to accomplish.”

“But what if this goes on for a while?” Yoongi strokes his imaginary Santa beard. “You expect me to practice abstinence forever?”

“It won’t go on forever, Yoongi,” you giggle at the boy’s silly remark. “Because eventually, you’ll find someone who can bring out those romantic feelings better than our faux intimacy ever will.”

“But you’ll still be my editor-in-chief?”

“If everything works out, then I don’t see why not.” You want to be optimistic about a long-term deal, but you can’t seem to rid yourself of the doubt stuck in the back of your mind. Because humans, not just fuck boys like Yoongi, seem to have a hard time keeping their promises. “I only ask that you don’t break my trust.”

Before responding, the boy meets his eyes with yours. You suppose tender eye contact is a skill he acquired from his flirty lifestyle. You, on the other hand, blink away. Eye contact longer than a glance has always made you feel vulnerable.

“I won’t, Y/N,” he says, coating his raspy voice with a layer of honey. It’s almost as intoxicating as his cedarwood cologne, but that’s another thought you’ll keep to yourself.

You watch as he slides his pinky into view, over the draft and coffees to make it official. After cracking a smile at his childish gesture, you wrap your pinky around his, thus marking the beginning of your deal with the devil.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #btsboulangerie #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts college au #bts #bangtan #yoongi #suga #suga x reader #suga fanfic #the devil writes romance

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