#give him a warm tumblr welcome

[professional-termite]

hey everyone go torment @lordohio before he can torment me please

@brediest-littleguy @iceeericeee @five-nights-at-squids @cherrysdeadd @helphowdoiusethis @janeway-lover @violet-yimlat @echosghoast @tujhse-raabta @local-ragamuffin @urielwiththegoodhair @seriously-nobody @kei-maki @prisencolinensinainciusol09 @secretly-larry-daley @istoleyourteeth

[motziedapul]

It's fully voiced and THEY HAVE MATTHEW MERCER PLAYING A SEXY MODERN EUROPEAN VAMPIRE!!!!!!

Hey everyone! This is my lovely friend Cyrus Nemati, who many of you may know as Theseus, Dionysus and Ares from the first Hades game.

He has spent the last couple years developing his very first indie game, Vampire Therapist, which plays with the many vampire character archetypes from across media.

It's been reviewing VERY well but it's not getting very many wishlists, so if you're interested in vampires, fantastic art and clever, funny, and thoughtful writing about vampire mental health, go wishlist it on Steam!

And listen, Cyrus may be too humble to leverage his colorful career as your favourite Hades hotboys, so I'm gonna do it for him 😌 GO SUPPORT FANTASTIC INDIE DEVS LIKE THIS ONE!

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Miss ma’am, hi hello how are you?

I am presenting myself here, very very humbly to ask if we could please get another part of your Nerd Nanami fic?🥹🥹 please please puhleaseeeeeeeee

That was an actual masterpiece, I had to read it very slowly and savour it, making sure to process every single sentence of that fic. You’re so talented it makes me cry

Please offer us more Nanami, pleaseeeeeee

Giving the nerd a chance… part two

Tags: nerd!Nanami x fem!Reader, college au, smut with plot, nsfw, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink, dom!nanami, sub!reader, marathon sex, exhibitionism if you squint real hard, mdni

Synopsis: Your nerdy boyfriend is so prim and proper in real life, but he has big dick energy over text.

An: 4K Follower Special! I got over 20 requests for a part two of this fic. At this time, it is my best performing fic on tumblr, and I fear… I may have peaked with it. I never EVER intended on writing a second part because I was sure that I couldn’t ever follow that fic up with something as good, but this sweet anon request warmed my heart so much that I decided to give the people what they’re asking for. This one’s going to be a long one… pace yourself because there will NOT be a third part… right?

Nanami’s a stoic lover. He doesn’t keep you hidden, but he doesn’t outwardly drag attention towards your relationship. Too much attention meant drama, and Nanami hates drama.

Nanami asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after the first time you two slept together. Of course, everyone in his friend group saw it coming long before you two had even hooked up.

They saw the longing gazes between you two when you pined for each other. They saw the cheeky glances once you two finally started texting. They noticed how their dear friend smiled more — was more laid back and relaxed.

Everyone welcomed you into their small found family with open arms. They simply couldn’t have picked anyone better to balance out Nanami’s far too strict nature.

Things with Nanami were absolutely a dream. You two had great chemistry emotionally and physically. Of course, he just made things so easy for you.

While he is a stoic lover, you never ever feel unloved by him. He’s always there to reassure you with words of affirmation or small touches that just remind you that he’s there.

Like when you two are at one of Satoru’s “exclusive” gatherings, if you’re not in Nanami’s lap, then he’s got his hand on you somewhere. Sometimes he gets so bored during those little get togethers that he spends his time leisurely pressing kisses into your cheek and neck. He never quite understood Satoru’s and Suguru’s affinity with public displays of affection until he met you.

Or there's those times when you need a little extra help with your studies. Kento is right behind you, with you on his lap, his cock is snuggly being squeezed by your warm leaking cunt. He presses small chaste kisses against your temple and ear while you try your hardest to focus on the homework.

"Do you remember this one, sweetheart? We went over it in class yesterday... Aw, don't go all stupid on me now."

When you get an answer right, he'll reward you with small, shallow thrusts, but you have to finish the whole assignment to get him to really fuck you.

Or if you two are walking together in the halls, Nanami holds his arm out for you, letting you latch onto him so he can guide you two through the crowd of people. He knows how you are in crowded areas, so he's keen on not letting anyone get too close to you.

Nanami’s a true gentleman too. His parents made sure they raised nothing less than a perfect man. You’ve never had to touch a door handle, any of your own money, or bags when you two go shopping. Nanami handles all of that for you. He doesn’t let you walk on the outside when you two are on the sidewalk. He’s respectful of you and your time, and he always listens to everything you have to say with his full attention because you deserve nothing less.

Nanami’s parents truly did their best work with him, and speaking of his parents, Nanami’s the type that wants to take you back home to meet them.

It was nearly fall break as you were sitting in your experimental research class — your final class before you’re free from the hell hole of academics for a full week.

You glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your lap. You and Nanami had been planning a trip out to his family’s home in Hakone for a little bit now, and the closer that time gets to you two leaving, the more stressed out Nanami feels.

Nanami: We’ll probably leave out early tomorrow morning and catch the first train. Will you be okay with that?

Yn: Mhm. That sounds fine, Ken.

Nanami: After class, I need to inform you a little bit more about my parents… I just don’t want you to feel shocked or surprised when you meet them.

Yn: I’m not sure why I’d be shocked or surprised, but I’m excited to hear more.

Nanami: Don’t get too excited.

You stare at his message for a bit, pondering what he could’ve meant by that. He hadn’t ever spoke poorly of his parents, but he didn’t necessarily praise them either. Actually… he never spoke of them.

*** *** ***

For the rest of the class, you wondered just what you were getting yourself into by going and meeting them. Maybe you two were moving too fast or..

“Sweetheart.” His steady voice broke your trance. He’s crouched down next to your desk to be eye-level with you, and the palms of his hand is gently caressing your cheek. “There you are. Spaced out on me.”

The entire classroom is empty. Class must’ve ended a minute ago because not even the professor is in the room now. You must’ve been deep in your own head.

You let force out an awkward laugh before nuzzling your cheek further into his palm, seeking out his affections as comfort from the insecure thoughts that somehow always manage to find a way in.

“I was just.. thinkin’ about your parents is all..” You finally give him some sort of explanation, and Nanami softens a bit.

“It’s just a weekend, my love. Then, I’ll make it up to you.” His words are a promise. You know for a fact Nanami doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean.

“I think that was the part where you were supposed to reassure me that they’ll like me-“

Nanami pulls you forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you regardless.”

Gods, his words are so sweet, but they cut deep like daggers.

“They’re… not going to like me..?” You mumble in a tone that makes Nanami’s heart sink. He takes your hands into his as he gets on his knee to better talk to you while you’re seated.

“My parents are… very traditional.” He carefully explains, and his hazel eyes search yours for a reaction before he reluctantly continues. “They want me to marry a girl from a specific family-“

“An arranged marriage!?” You blurt out — unable to control your emotions as it feels like your heart is trying to force its way up your throat.

“Something like that - but not exactly. It’s not arranged, but it’s definitely heavily pushed.” He tries to keep his tone steady, but seeing you so upset like this has him feeling raw with emotion as well.

“So, no, they will not be happy to know that I’m going against their wishes, but they’ll come around eventually.” His eyes focus on yours, and he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“… and if they don’t?” A small sniffle escapes you before you can stop it. The thought of Nanami being with anyone else has your head spinning. There’s another girl out there who might be expecting for him to take her hand in marriage.

“Hey... look at me.” He coaxes softly as his hand guides your face to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m doing this as a courtesy for them — not because I need their approval.”

Chills shoot up your spine from his words. Nanami rarely cusses, but when he does, it’s enough to even make Satoru blush when he hears it.

Your worry instantly flees your body when Nanami’s lips press against yours to seal the deal. This was just a visit to his parents. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“I’m still gonna love you…” He mumbles his words against your lips before seeking out more of your honeyed kisses. “…still gonna marry you one day…” His deep voice groans a little as he gently suckles on your bottom lip. “…still gonna fuck you senseless every night.”

“Ken..” A breathy whine; a whimper; a plea.

“Because you need it every night, don’t you?” His lips are still chasing yours with an insatiable hunger. It just wasn’t enough. If the next class wasn’t coming in the next 10 minutes, he’d take you right here on your desk, but he doesn’t fancy the idea of anyone else’s eyes accidentally falling upon your ethereal body.

“Mhm… need it.” You murmur against his lips quietly in agreement.

Nanami suddenly pulls away, and he reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Come on before I fuck you right here.” He threatens and picks your bag up off the floor for you.

*** *** ***

A gasp flees you as Nanami pushes your back against his bed. His lips are immediately assaulting your neck: suckling soft red marks into your skin and nipping at you gently.

He loves to see the aftermath of his love on you, but he has to be careful this time. Can’t have you going to meet his parents with hickeys all over your neck, can you?

“Mmm~ What about Haibara?” You ask now before you find yourself too hypnotized by his affections.

“He has a class right now.” Nanami answers before his hand trails up your thighs towards your already damp panties. He has had this on his mind all day since he saw you in that cute little skirt you’re wearing.

“Already so wet.” He groans into your neck before biting at your shoulder. The pads of his fingers tease your sensitive clit through the cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck. You’re so good to me.”

Nanami drops to his knees on the edge of the bed, and his strong arms pull you by your legs to where you’re situated at the edge for him to eat you out to his heart’s desire.

He doesn’t even remove your panties before he leans in and presses a sloppy kiss to your cunt. He can already taste you through the fabric, and he needs more.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, carefully placing them on his bedside table. If he can swing it, he’ll definitely hide them from you and claim that you lose them — just so he can keep them for when you’re not around.

He’s not a pervert!! Well… he loves jerking off into his girlfriend’s panties when he’s too needy at night… Feeling the wet fabric that was pressed so unceremoniously against your heavenly cunt is more than enough to get him off quickly. It would be ungentlemanly to wake you up at your dorm for such a scandalous adventure. At least he washes and returns them to you promptly after using them a couple of times.

As soon as your panties are safely discarded, Nanami has his face right back between your legs. He uses his hands to prop your legs up on his shoulder, and he just.. absolutely begins to devour you.

“Ngh.. oh fuck— wait Ken.. I wan..” You can barely get your words out right while his tongue is lapping at your slippery folds.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to interrupt someone during a meal?” His hazel eyes look up at you with such a serious look — you feel like you’re being scolded.

Your face flushes a bright red before you relax back into his bed — accepting your fate. Kento smiles to himself, knowing that it doesn’t take much to pacify you. You’re too much of a good girl for him.

“Mmm~ that’s right. Just lay back and take what I give you, pretty girl.” He hums in satisfaction as his tongue connects with your cunt once more.

He licks up all the sticky wetness that you so graciously leak for him. He’s so messy with it, practically french kissing with your cunt. Your juices are smeared across his chin from him hopelessly lapping at you. His tongue writes love letters to you against your clit, making your body shiver with pleasure and excitement.

One of your hands is clasping at the sheets, and the other hand is entangled in Kento’s blonde hair, giving him small tugs as he gives you the best head of your life.

Your thighs unconsciously press together, trying to run from the weird sensations that his mouth gives to you. Your boyfriend grunts in dissatisfaction — not enjoying the sudden disobedience from you.

His hand press against each of your knees, and he forces your legs back open — spreading you wiiiide open for him.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asks while looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please — please~” You whine. Your hips involuntarily buck up, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Then be good, and sit still.” Nanami orders, and his hand ever so carefully swats at your sensitive cunt — sending shockwaves of electrifying pleasure through your nerve endings.

“‘m sorry.. ‘m sorry.. please.” You’re so whiny and desperate to be stretching by him. It’s honestly so pathetic that he pities you.

“My poor sweet girl.” He chuckles lowly before pressing a more gentle kiss against your clit. His tongue carefully dips into your wet heat. “Tastes too sweet for your own good. How am I supposed to stop enjoying you, huh?”

A glob of spit rolls down your cunt from Nanami’s mouth, and he uses his own two fingers to spread it around, softly toying with your glistening pussy. A smirk curls on his lips as he watches the way your entrance flutters — so enticed by the potential of being filled by him.

You quietly stifle a squeal as he stuffs you with two of his thick fingers. “So reactive, baby.” He murmurs as his tongue darts back out to gently lap and flick at your clit.

“Ken.. fuck, fuck-! Mmmph..” Your hips start to roll against his fingers, trying to force them inside you. Your boyfriend obliges your silent request, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, curling upwards to that spot he knows will make you cry out his name…

“Nanami-!” There it is. His fingers begin to roughly pump in and out, abusing your sensitive g-spot over and over again.

“Better be a good girl and tell me you love me.” He mutters lowly into your cunt. He knows he doesn’t have to tell you anymore — you’re already conditioned to tell him you love him when you cum. Even if he’s not the one making you finish, you’ll text him a quick “I love you” as you clench around your own fingers to the thought of him.

Your hips roll harder, and your moans are way more throaty — interrupted by small gasps for air. He can tell that you’re getting close. His mouth gently begins to suckle on the small bundle of nerves, and he focuses his tongue on swirling circles around your clit.

It’s all so much. It feels like Nanami is literally playing you like an instrument. He knows exactly what to do to make you a whiny trembling mess.

His fat fingers are pummeling into you, slamming into your sweet spot — making overstimulated tears well up in your eyes. “Sh-shit.. gonna cum.. Nanami… ah~ more..” You’re babbling utter nonsense while trying to find your orgasm.

Your stomach starts to clench, and it almost feels uncomfortable. Your breath stutters as Nanami murmurs into your pussy. “Let go for me, darling. Let it alllll out.” He encourages you as if his fingers and tongue aren’t absolutely tag teaming you.

“Ah~ Mmph… I.. fuck- I love you-!” You moan as you finally feel your orgasm suddenly break. Your tight walls clench around Nanami’s fingers, and fluids from your arousal gush out, making a big mess on his face and clothes.

Nanami quietly chuckles as he comes to realization that you just squirted on him. “Oh? That’s how you feel, huh?” He mocks playfully before pressing one last french kiss against your cunt. “I love you more darling.”

For a moment, you don’t know if it’s more directed towards you or your pussy.

*** *** ***

The early morning train ride was spent with your head cozied into Nanami’s shoulder as he had a protective arm around you. The scenery outside was beautiful. Hakone is known for their breathtaking sights of Mount Fiji. Too bad your eyelids were so heavy from getting up so early.

Nanami takes the silence as a time to reflect. He truly can’t remember a time when he was nervous like this. It was as if that emotion left him when he was a teenage boy. His family’s harsh regime for raising him left no room for shy or nervous behavior. Men were strong, confident, sophisticated. They exuded chivalry in everything they do.

Honestly, he’s glad that he was raised the way he was. Every time he bears witness to Gojo’s crude behavior, he can only think of how happy he is to have had a strict childhood.

But right now, he wishes he wasn’t so nervous. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s silently praying that you can’t hear it. Even though he didn’t care what his parents thought of you, he didn’t fancy the idea of seeing you torn down by his parents. Hopefully, they’ll have enough class to take up the issues with him — not you.

*** *** ***

Nanami’s parent’s house had a very traditional vibe to it, and it was easily twice as big as the house you grew up in. It was beautifully decorated, and the lawn was obviously meticulously cared for. It makes sense that Nanami grew up here.

“Just one weekend. Then, we’ll be back to normal.” Nanami murmurs softly into your ear. Though, he doesn’t know if he’s reassuring you or himself at this point. He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door with a heavy fist.

“Oh, Kennn.” His mother immediately ran up to Nanami and gave him a big hug after answering the door, which he returned back to her.

“It’s good to see you, mom.” He responds heartily before he holds out his hand to his dad.

“Look at you. Our son has grown up on us.” His dad gives a sweet smile while gently nudging his mom with his elbow.

“Don’t remind me!” His mom practically wails with her arms still wrapped around Nanami, and you’re awkwardly on standby.

Nanami finally puts his hands on his mom’s shoulders, and he forces her to take a step back. “It hasn’t even been that long since you two saw me, and besides, I brought someone for you two to meet.”

His arm carefully wraps back around your waist, and he looks at his parents before collecting himself briefly. “This is my girlfriend, Yn. Yn, these are my parents.”

His mom’s smile falters almost unnoticeably, but you immediately pick up on her dissatisfaction. His dad seems to just he surprised.

“Ah, yes, welcome to our home, yn.” His dad finally says with an earnest smile, and he subtly nudges his wife. It’s definitely a silent reminder for her to stop looking at you like you’re an intruder.

“Your home is lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami. It’s nice to meet you two.” You try your best to not sound nervous at all, but his mom’s face just makes your stomach turn.

His parents guide you through their home, but they mostly focus their attention on Nanami: asking him about his studies, asking how Gojo’s doing, and asking if he’s contacted some girl named… Allegra. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was the girl who they wanted him to marry instead.

They didn’t ask you very many questions. His dad was friendly, but it seemed like he was tip toeing around all the awkward tension. His mom was just flat out ignoring your presence — clearly in denial about her son having a girlfriend who wasn’t this mysterious Allegra girl.

When it came time for dinner, his dad finally broke the awkward tension and asked about you.

“So yn, you go to the same college as Kento?” His dad seems to be genuinely sweet — just more on the passive shy side.

“Yeah, Ken and I actually share quite a few classes together.” You smile as your utensil grazes along the food they prepared. It smells delicious, but your nerves will barely allow you to nibble on it.

“What are you studying?”

“Oh, I’m in general studies for now. I’m still deciding on what to major in.” You reply as you finally feel yourself beginning to relax in your chair.

“Did you tell your friend that Allegra is studying to become a doctor? Wouldn’t that be nice to have in the family?” His mom finally speaks up, only addressing Nanami and not you.

Your stomach sinks as you realize why Nanami was so apologetic and reassuring this entire time. He knew his mom was just going to take subtle digs at you the entire time.

“One, she’s my girlfriend — not friend. Two, no, I have no reason to speak about Allegra with my girlfriend.” Nanami responds, and he gives his mom a subtle look. It appears they have a brief challenging moment before his mom looks away and relents.

Nanami’s foot gently nudges yours underneath the table, and you try to give him a small smile in response. It’s just hard when clearly you’re not wanted in this household.

The dinner goes silent for a moment, and the dining area fills with the sounds of chopsticks gently touching against plates. You subtly check your phone for an escape.

Nanami: Don’t pay her any mind, okay?

Nanami: I promise I’ll make up for this tonight. I’ll kiss you for every rude thing she says.

Yn: and for every time she says Allegra?

Nanami: I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember her name… make you so dumb until you can only remember my name. That’s all you need to know anyways.

Yeah, that’ll do it. The negative emotions are gone — replaced by a feral need for his cock. You take a subtle breath before putting your phone away, not wanting anyone to accidentally see him dirty talking you right in front of his parents.

“Ah, do you think you can help me out with the car tomorrow, Kento? Your old man is getting too old and worn out to crawl underneath there.” His dad finally breaks the silence once more.

“Of course, dad. What are you needing done on it? I’ll probably wake up early and get it done before day breaks.” Your boyfriend is such a good son. It’s no wonder that his mom is stupid protective over him.

“I just need to breaks changed on it. It’s probably due for an oil change too.” His dad explains, and Nanami assures him that he’ll get it done.

“I didn’t know you knew much about cars.” You take the chance of speaking up, and Nanami’s hazel eyes meet yours. His face instantly softens, and his mouth opens to speak. Too bad his mom beats him too it.

“Of course, he does. He needs to know all sorts of things like that in case his future wife needs her car repaired.” His mom says with a hint of hostility in her tone. “Speaking of which, Allegra just bought a new car a few months ago.”

You sit in silence for a moment, and you feel your stomach twisting in discomfort. You don’t know why you care so much for this woman’s opinion of you. Nanami already warned you that they likely wouldn’t approve of you, but you didn’t know you signed up to practically be bullied all weekend.

“I know a few basic things about cars. Nothing major.” Nanami responds to you — ignoring his mother’s comments. “I can show you too if you’re interested.”

A small smile curls on your lips, and you swallow back your emotions— trying to stay strong for him. “That’d be nice.”

“You definitely have a….”

“Mom.” Nanami immediately warns, staring down his mother before she can even finish her sentence.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything mean.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casually laughing as if she’s been nothing but friendly this entire time. “I was just going to say that your friend certainly has a bold personality… wearing red to meet someone’s parents is definitely… a choice.”

Your eyes look down at the nice blouse you’re wearing, and you swallow harshly. Nanami was actually the one to pick it out for you. He reassured you this morning that you looked gorgeous — unknowingly signing you up to be bullied.

Your face is burning hot with embarrassment, and you wish you could just fold in on yourself and die right on the spot.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Nanami frowns, and he puts his chopsticks down on his plate. “I’m serious. Being a bully at your age is unbecoming to you as a mother.”

“Kento.” His dad warns, but Nanami doesn’t relent for a second.

“No. I’m not going to sit here and allow her to continue disrespecting my girlfriend like that.” Your boyfriend retorts, and he switches back to glaring at his mother. “I’m not dating Allegra — nor do I want to. I’m doing you a favor by introducing you to yn. I figured you’d like to know your future daughter in law.” He gestures to you,

The color leaves his mom’s face as she stares back at her son — as if him implying that he is going to marry you is the worst news she’s ever heard. Her eyes cut over towards you in a vicious glare. “How long have you even known my son?”

Your heart is beating straight through your chest. Confrontation isn’t your strong suit, and to be honest, his mother was terrifying even though she’s literally shorter than you are.

“W-well, we met in college so…” You inwardly curse for stumbling over your words, and Nanami frowns as he looks at you. He hates that his parents are making you so unsure of yourself and your role in his life. He wants to take all your insecurities away and make you forget this ever even happened.

“It’s not even been that long! You don’t even have history with this girl. Allegra was your first kiss.. your first everything!” His mother raises her voice at Nanami, making exasperating hand motions.

His first everything? He told you that you were his first.

Tears prick into your eyes before you can even think to stop him. Overwhelmed by shame and just utter defeat, you don’t even know what to do other than to hide and cry.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he sees you clearly trying to cover up the tears streaming down your cheeks. His jaw tightens as he returns his gaze to his mother.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall you ever being present for any of those things.” His mom starts to speak up, but he is quick to shut her back down. “I kissed Allegra because you were breathing down my neck to. I was barely 15 at that time, and it happened once. That was the first and only time I ever even touched her.”

His mom starts to try to speak up again to probably bring up some other point about why he should be with Allegra. Nanami interrupts her again.

“Allegra and I do not like each other. We hardly tolerated each other for yours and her parents’ sake. You have to get over it. I’m with yn, and I’m happy — happier than I’ve ever been. She was my first everything. My first real kiss, my first girlfriend, and since you seem to want to stick your nose so far in my business, she was my first in bed too.”

“Kento, you’re being incredibly disrespectful.” Her voice is much more strict now as she scolds her grown son.

“I wonder where I get it from. It seems as though we both have a propensity for being rude.” He retorts, and while he’s arguing, his hand slides over to your inner thigh under the table, and he gropes it harshly.

He’s so pissed. He doesn’t even know how to get rid of this anger. His hand squeezes your thigh tightly, making your face go bright red as you look away from everyone.

“I’m not accepting her into this family. You can forget that. She’s changed you.” His mother’s words are growing harsher, and his dad is trying to quietly calm her. She doesn’t pay him any mind though.

“Fine. We’ll just go make our own family.” Nanami scoots his chair back, and he stands up. His hand roughly pulls you up as well — not giving you a chance to even think about what he just said. He bends down and effortlessly throw you over his shoulder, making you gape in surprise. His arm securing you by wrapping around the back of your thighs. “And by the way, I chose the red blouse. It matches the cute bra she’s wearing that I also chose for her.”

His parents stare at him — both completely dumbfounded by what just happened. They didn’t raise him to be like that, but what were they going to do?? Stop him? That’s a laughable thought. You’re not even sure God himself could pull Ken off of you when he’s feral like this.

His footsteps are heavy as he stomps up the stairs towards his teenage bedroom. Nothing has changed since he was last in here. It’s still completely sterile from how he was made to clean it each day. The walls are littered with posters of various science related things, and he has some posters of older video games he use to enjoy.

Your body is practically flung onto the bed, and Nanami doesn’t waste a single second. His heart is pounding in his chest. His mind is fogged with pure anger. He hasn’t felt like this in so long. It reminds him of why he took up going to the gym.

With no punching bag in sight, you’re his only outlet.

His body is unwavering on top of yours — a force to be reckoned with, and his mouth immediately connects with yours in a suffocating kiss. Quiet hums and moans fill the air between you two, and he quite literally steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers wrap around your wrists easily, pinning them above your head on the bed.

No longer satiated from robbing you of your breath, Nanami trails his kisses down to your neck. To hell with not marking you — he needs to see his brand on your neck. You’re his, aren’t you? Who cares if his parents see?

“Ah~” You let out a breathy whimper as he angrily sucks and bites on your neck. Your skin is sensitive - already turning bright shades of blue and purple from his mouth. His dental imprint litters your neck and shoulders.

“K-Ken.. what about..?” You start to ask about his parents. They’re going to hear you two. Wouldn’t that just make things worse?

“Don’t care.” He responds so brashly. If he thinks about his parent’s behavior any longer, he’s going to need to fuck you into next week to get all his anger out.

Riiiip!

Your eyes widen as you look up at your boyfriend’s hulking figure. The blouse that you were just criticized for was now more like a coat, split down the middle, revealing your perfect breasts, so prettily on display in your red lacy bra.

His mouth waters as he looks you up and down. You have almost this panicked look in your eye, provoked by his unpredictability, and for whatever reason, it’s driving him insane.

His mouth is back on you like it never left: kissing and biting on your mounds, painting them so beautifully with his mark. “You’re mine.” He grunts lowly. His jealousy almost makes it sound like his parents were insinuating that you should marry someone else.

“Say it.” He demands before his teeth graze over your collarbone. His warm breath fans over your skin, making you shiver.

“Yours.” You comply with such a small whimper, and your body jolts when you feel his raging bulge rub against you.

“See what you do to me?” He rumbles lowly as he looks down to where he’s now shamelessly dry humping you through clothes like he’s a horny teenager.

“Fuck… Ken..” You whisper as you’re also mesmerized by the sight. His slacks are completely taught, outlining the shape of his cock so well. You can almost see the veins that protrude on him.

His hips rolls slowly against yours, savoring the way the fabric rubs against him and you. His dick is painfully throbbing — begging for the reprieve of being squeezed by your gummy walls.

“Are you as much of a mess as I am, baby?” He asks as his hand dips into your pants. His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out a low groan as his fingers are instantly coated in your slick. He slips his hand back out of your pants just to slide his fingers into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he hums in satisfaction. He'll never get enough of your taste.

“You want this, don’t you? Want me to fuck you where my parents can hear you?” He slides his hand back down into your pants, and his fingers rub tight, firm circles against your clit, making your body squirm from pleasure.

“Nngh~ ah!” You’re already so noisy, and he hasn’t even began fucking you yet.

“Give ‘em a show, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

“Mmm~ Ken…” You moan as your back arches up off the bed. His fingers press down harder on your swollen clit.

“You can do better than that, darling.” He can be so condescending in bed, using that insatiable need for praise against you.

“Ken!” You shout, all logical thought has abandoned you. He tells you to do better? You do better.

“Good girl.” He purrs before sliding his hand out of your pants. He can’t get your clothes off of you quick enough. His cock is beckoning for attention, still neglected from yesterday of just eating you out.

Your hands shakily try to unbutton his shirt, and he chuckles lowly at your pitiful efforts. “Aw, my poor girl. Already so shaken up. Go on. You can do it.”

You huff at his taunting. Usually, he’d just see you struggling and take off his clothes for you, but today he was thriving off watching you so desperately trying to get his clothes off him.

It takes you a minute to get his clothes off him, and you don’t even properly take off his pants. You merely shoved them down along with his boxers just low enough for his monstrous cock to spring out. Nanami merely watches you with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted?” He purrs lowly, and he carefully drags his tip up and down your core, smearing his precum along your lips as if his tip was giving you a sloppy kiss.

“Gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” His other hand releases your wrists, and he lovingly cups your cheek. His hand is so big compared to your face. He loves watching you nuzzle up into his palm.

You nod your head quickly in response, lifting your hips up to meet his with each slow movement. Wet slippery noises from your cunt weeping for him fill the room.

“Use your words.” He demands before he speaks up louder — just to spite his parents who are right below you two. “I said. You’re going to take this dick like a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You whine before your body is completely shell shocked from a quick slap to your cunt. His cock is so heavy — you can feel the weight of it as his rudely smacks it against you again.

“Louder.”

“Yes sir-!” You immediately oblige, following his commands without a second thought in your brain.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, and he carefully guides his sweltering tip towards your entrance, plugging your hole with just his head.

“Keep being a good girl like that, and I might have to give you baby. Do you want that?” He asks while carefully stretching you by fucking his tip in and out of your tight hole. “You wanna have my baby, don’t you?”

“Ffffuck- Ken! T-too much..” You squirm your body against his bedsheets, and he chuckles at your poor attempt at getting away.

“You clearly want this, so why are you running?” He hands latch onto your thighs, and he pulls you back down towards him, inadvertently impaling you even further on his cock.

A smug chuckles bubbles up in his throat as he sees how much of a mindless mess you are. He loves how he can make you all dumb so quickly with his dick. It brings him great joy to know that you trust him and can just let go, letting the more primal urges take over.

“Mmm~ so tight and wet for me, aren’t you darling? Need to just let Ken take care of you, yeah?” His voice is like velvet as he slowly thrusts himself in and out, sinking deeper into you with each movement, splitting you wide open.

“Ah~! nnnnn… so good.” You manage to whine out.

“What a crybaby. I know you can take me better than that, darling.” Nanami gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his large hand wraps around your neck, applying pressure in just the right spots to make you all lightheaded.

"Come on. Show me how good you can take it~" His hips snap forward suddenly, sinking his full length deep inside you. Your eyes roll back into your head as he takes full control over you.

His hips are pounding forward, bumping his tip right against your cervix with every mean thrust. His balls are heavy and slapping against the flesh of your ass — a reminder for how pent up he's been recently.

Maybe it's the lack of an orgasm for the last couple of days or maybe it's his parents being utter assholes to you, but Kento finds himself feeling frustrated all over again. Low grunts and growls escape him, and he uses his grip on your neck to push himself in even further -- harder.

The sound of skin clapping against skin fills the room, and his childhood beds starts to squeak out with each forceful blow. He knows for a fact that his parents can hear every single noise. The thin walls of this house absolutely hide nothing. He may as well have fucked you right there against the kitchen table to really prove a point.

"Fuck-! Kenkenkenken! Ah~" You can't even form sentences much less words other than his name. Before you can even warn him, your walls begin to pulse around him - practically milking him while your orgasm takes you over. "Nnngh~ I-I love you.."

"Mmnn~ I didn't tell you that you could do that, sweetheart." He hazel eyes bore into your very soul as his grin shifts to a more wild one. His hips move with even more vigor as if he's trying to push himself straight into your womb,

His hand lets go of your throat, finally allowing you to get a deep breath of air while trying to cope with his massive size pumping in and out of you as if you're nothing but a senseless fuck toy, but you clearly fucking love it. You're practically dripping all over him, soaking his bedsheets in your arousal.

At this point, his parents aren't sure if he's killing you or fucking you. Either way, they're too afraid to intervene. They didn't raise a gentleman at all. They raised a monster.

"Mmph... Need to give you a baby. Can I? You'd make such a pretty mama. School be damned. I need you." Normally, Nanami is pretty controlled over his pillow talk. He's really good at it, but right now, he's completely lost in you -- just babbling promises of giving you a baby and marrying you.

"Y-yes, Ken! Fuck... give me a baby, please." Your legs are trembling around his waist, and your fingernails are giving him such pretty decorations along his back. Small trophies for fucking you just right.

"Fuuuck- Take it. T... take it all..." His voice is a gravely groan as his cock twitches inside you, spilling all of his seed directly into your tummy. It's so fucking much from holding back for a couple of days - completely filling you up. "I love you so much. Gonna marry you one day."

The house is eerily silent for a moment as both you and Nanami catch your breaths. He stays planted on top of you, keeping your legs hooked around his waist. Small creaks of footsteps against a floorboard fill the air, and you tense up, thinking his parents were going to come in there and raise all sorts of problems.

Nanami gently strokes your face with the back of his hand. "Shhh, they're not coming in here. Promise." He whispers lowly, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You slowly relax in his arms, trusting his words that his parents weren't going to come in there.

You can hear a door open and shut, and it sounds like bickering back and forth between his parents.

"See? They're just going to bed." He presses another reassuring kiss to your cheek.

His hips continue to lazily pump in and out of you, basically fucking his cum back into you as it seeps out. His cock is hyper sensitive, but he can't get enough. You're completely drenched for him. You deserve more of his loving.

"Keennn~" You whine quietly, shifting in the bed slightly as your legs are all achy and sore from him taking out all of his anger on you.

"What is it, baby?" He asks in a hushed whisper against your ear. His breath tickles your skin, making you slightly squirm in response. "I'm just making sure it takes, yeah?" His cock sinks further into you, already growing hard all over again even though he just finished.

"Mmmph~" You hum as your eyes slipped closed. Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, knowing that you're already needy all over again for him.

"Answer me, darling. Want me to stop?" He asks while peppering kisses all over your face. If the last round was about degradation and taking his anger out, then this one was about how much he loves you and can't get enough of you.

"Nonono... don't stop, please." You murmur out quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"That's my good girl... Always needin' more, aren't you?" He hums lowly, and his cock pumps in and out so slowly, delicately smushing against your cervix with each loving thrust.

"Mmn.. I love you." You slur out, completely cock drunk at this point. Kento just smiles and continues to dote on your with messy kisses against your cheeks and neck. His hand is gently massaging your breast, just barely teasing your nipple while he makes love to you.

"And I love you, darling." He responds before he feels you squeezing around him already. "Oh pretty, again?" He asks as his eyes look down to your fluids gushing around his length. "Such a mess. How are we meant to sleep on these sheets now?"

"'m sorry... I c-couldn't help it. 'm so sorry." You whimper as your face dips into his shoulder, hiding you obvious embarrassment.

Kento's arms wrap around your waist, and he uses his hold on you to drag you up and down along his length — still moving at such a torturously slow pace, making you feel every inch as it enters you.

"Aw, that's alright, darling. I'll clean us up. Just take a little bit more for me, yeah?" He whispers into your ear while your pelvis is slotting against his. He's damn near holding you up into his arms. Lucky you for having such a strong boyfriend.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, claiming your mouth as his completely. A few seconds later, his cock is pumping you full again with his cum — still so much on the second round.

Without even missing a beat, Nanami's mumbling breathily in your ear. "Mmm, I know I said I'd clean us up, but you wouldn't hate a third round, would you?"

*** *** ***

Nanami didn't wake you up the next morning to watch him work on the car. He knew your poor little body was put through the ringer yesterday, so he gave you a tender kiss on the temple before making his way into the garage in just his sleeping pants and socks.

His father's car was already propped up on the jack, and his father groaned as he leaned up off the ground. "Well good morning." He says in a knowing tone.

"Good morning. Why are you down there? I told you I'd fix it today." Nanami asks as he shoos his dad out of his way, and he slides himself underneath the car.

"Well, I didn't know if you'd be up for it after your fun ventures last night." His dad hands Nanami a tool to help get the brake pads off the car.

Nanami stays silent. In his new found clarity, he does know that fucking you so loudly to where his parents can hear was a weird retaliation method, but he doesn't regret doing it.

"Your mother cried all night last night."

"Maybe she needs a reality check if she's that damn upset about who I choose to romantically involve myself with." Nanami rolls his eyes, and he grunts as he forces the brake pad away from the car.

"I don't think she was crying because of that. I think she realizes just how far she drove you away from her with her constant pressure over your love life." His dad explains, and he hands Nanami the new brake pad to replace on the car. "I'm not saying you or yn have to forgive her for how she acted today, but I am asking that you try to give her another chance today. I think she understands now."

Nanami takes a deep breath, but he nods quietly. "She's got one more time to say anything rude to my girlfriend, and we're taking the first train back to the university."

*** *** ***

Your eyes darted over to Nanami's nervously when his mother asked you to have a girl's day with her, but your boyfriend gently rubbed your back, silently assuring you that it'd be okay. At least, he hoped it'd be okay.

Nanami: Text me if she says anything rude. I'll pack our stuff up and we'll leave, okay?

Luckily, you didn't have to text him at all that day. His mom took you sight seeing around the town, out to eat at one of Hakone's favorite restaurants, and you two got your nails done.

"You know, I was being a bad person yesterday." She starts off as you two are sat next to each other. Her feet are being massaged by one of the workers, and you're getting your toes painted. "I guess I just had this idea of how I wanted Kento's life to go, and when things started not going to plan, I started trying to grasp onto anything that'd give me control."

You glance over at his mother, and she has a small nostalgic smile upon her face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to act that way towards you... especially after my parents did the same thing to Kento's dad."

"Your parents didn't accept Kento either?" You curiously ask, wondering how similar your stories were.

"No, but they didn't try to arrange me into a marriage either. They just didn't think Kento's dad was manly enough for me. They didn't like seeing me wear the pants in the relationship, but that's just what works for us... I use to beg for them to just let us be happy, but they never stopped criticizing him. I finally just.. stopping talking to them when I fell pregnant with Kento." She explains in a voice raw with emotion. You can clearly see how this still impacts her to this day.

"I don't want Ken to do the same to me... I want to be in his and your life and my future grandchild's life if that's what you two choose to do. I raised him well, and I know he has a good judgement of character. So, I know you must be a good person. If he's happy, then that's all that matters to me." She goes on, giving you a small apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry for how I acted towards you last night. It will never happen again."

*** *** ***

Nanami had spent the whole day checking his phone religiously while his dad kept him employed with random home renovation tasks. He was waiting for the moment to start packing up your stuff and telling his mom that he wasn't going to speak to them again.

When he heard sounds of wailing coming from the front door, he immediately hopped off the ladder that his dad was holding for him.

"Kento-!" His dad shouts as he wobbles around, but Nanami was already speed walking towards the front door to see what was happening.

To his surprise, there was no wailing. It was only hysterical laughter coming from you and his mom. He stood in the door way with a confused look on his face as he observed you two.

"Yes, he was such a cutie pie.." His mom laughs as she shows you another picture of Kento in high school.

"Aww, Ken... you didn't tell me you were emo." You greeted your boyfriend with a fit of giggles from seeing his high school photos. His fringe proudly in view.

Nanami rakes his hands through his shorter hair now, and he lets out a relieved laugh. Seeing you interact so happily with his mom was enough to make him feel full with love. His heart feels at ease now... until he remembers that he has to meet your parents at some point.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[charliemwrites]

Squeeze Me, I Squeak!

While your interactions with Lieutenant Riley started out cold and tense, he's been warming up to your secondary specialty. Apparently, you make for a great stress-toy. (In which Ghost is a brat with authority, but you don't mind. You're a bit of a brat too.)

Original AO3 Link (I posted this a million years ago to AO3 and it was my first ever COD fic, inspired by a Discord chat and Badjhur audios. I figured it's about time I added it to the Tumblr masterlist for ease.)

Content: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Fraternization (therefore power imbalance), Medical Care (non-descriptive), Body Piercings, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy

It starts with one simple catalyst: your cheeks.

You’ve been with the 141 for over half a dozen missions now. Three bullet grazes, two concussions, four sprains, and one nasty cold into your assignment under Captain Price, and quite pleased to be there. He’s a good leader, trustworthy and steadfast, a bastion of experience and skill shielding your unconventional squad from red tape and repercussion.

Time is a little more fluid for you as the combat medic. You’re awake about twice as long as you’re ever asleep. Anxiety tugs you from fitful rest to check on your patients – your boys – if any of them are laid up with more than a dislocation. It makes the days long, nights longer, and you’ve lost track of how many calendar months since you’ve officially been with the task force.

Long enough, though, that you feel like you’ve got a handle on your squad and their personalities.

Captain Price is a grump about medical care. He understands the necessity, but resents the paperwork, time, materials, energy that goes into it. He’s gracious to let you fuss (within reason) and you’re gracious to ignore his old man grumbling. And the cigars.

Gaz is an absolute peach. Sits still, asks for painkillers when he needs them, follows care instructions. The worst he does is whine, but that’s only for the silly little injuries and the occasional flu shot. He’s respectful, sometimes a little bashful, and friendly. He makes you feel welcome, bought you your first drink with the squad after a mission, and generally is a sweetheart.

Soap is fun. A bit rambunctious and fidgety on your table, but he tries, at least. Not as careful as you’d like him to be. He’ll give you a sheepish smile whenever you fuss that he’s pulling his stitches or straining a healing joint. He whines like a banshee over everything except the serious wounds, but paradoxically has to be strong-armed into painkillers for anything. He reminds you a bit of a husky.

His brand of friendliness comes with jokes and teasing, flirtations that he’s careful to never take too far. You’ll indulge him in return sometimes, especially if he’s having a rough go of it, but it’s all in good fun. A lot of your downtime is spent in his and Gaz’s company, chatting about anything and everything, playing video games, or trying (the operative word here) to read. He’s also, unfortunately, the one who came up with your nickname.

Then there’s the lieutenant. You call him “the lieutenant” because you get the impression that he’d toss you out a window if you dared even utter his call sign.

The 141 isn’t your first assignment; you’ve been a combat medic for long enough that you’ve seen the full range of patients in the military. You’re no stranger to the puffed-up hyper-masculine men that practically resent your specialization.

“Like they think I’ll take their Man Card just for getting a plaster,” you’d once commiserated with a fellow medic.

The lieutenant goes a step beyond that. The best you can get out of him on a good day are one-word answers. A good day is if he’s hauling someone else to you. When it’s him that needs the care, well… you two often don’t meet eye to eye. And not just because he’s roughly the size (and build) of a tank.

On your third mission with him, he suffered a knife wound to the hip. You hadn’t been able to judge how deep it was between his gear and his evasiveness and you’d lost your temper.

“Lieutenant Riley, stand fucking still,” you snapped.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” he snarled.

And oh, you regretted every word you’d ever spoken in that moment. Had felt, with some certainty, that enemy combatants were not going to be what did you in. Cursed Price a little too, blaming him for this somehow.

But you were tired and a little pissed and had about a million other things to do that weren’t chase after your lieutenant.

“I said standing fucking still,” you dared repeat, raising your voice.

“I’ll have you booked with insubordination so fast, your fucking head will spin,” he growled.

“Medical treatment outranks everyone, sir,” you snapped back, just as fast. You were already snapping gloves on; he was finally still, after all, even if it was to yell at you. “So if anyone can be written up, it’s you.”

“Lass—” Soap tried, but you were already ducking down, eyes narrowed and gauze in hand.

You were relieved to see that it wasn’t too bad. Slathered it with antibiotic and pinched it closed with butterflies, then straightened. It was done in under a minute and you were even more annoyed than before.

“All that for fucking what,” you grumbled to yourself. Not quietly enough, apparently.

“That’ll do,” the lieutenant barked.

The unholy burning in his eyes informed you that you’d pushed your luck far, far enough.

You shut up and skittered off, had not been written up for insubordination, but received a well-meant ‘cool it’ from Price afterwards.

And Lieutenant Riley was… well, he was himself.

He doesn’t make you bitch at him anymore, though – and you would be lying if you weren’t a bit proud of that. By no means is he jumping to get treated, but he comes to you for the serious injuries and obliges if you manage to catch the non-fatal stuff.

It’s not that you hold it against him. Medics are a sore spot for a lot of people, and Lieutenant Riley is more private than the average soldier. He’s never actively rude, at least, apart from that one spat. Gruff and short maybe, but not mean. And you’re quite happy to have that, at least.

Besides, he watches out for you in the field, where it matters. Has literally hauled you to safety by your straps more than once. Ensures you get into exfil before him. You’ve even caught him giving you a quick, assessing check that all your gear was secure and ready.

You and he bicker at each other still, and you don’t always come out victorious. There have been plenty of instances that he’s just marched away from you, long legs carrying him to some dark corner when he won’t entertain your nagging. Still, there’s growing respect between you two, you sense. He’s a solid CO, if much different from Price, confident and competent without being arrogant. And, well, he can be a bit rude (“abrupt” you demur to Soap, who cackles) but not disrespectful.

On his end, you think things change when he gets injured. Again. You don’t know exactly what’s happened, only that he was a little too close to an explosion. The edges of his balaclava are burnt, one damning edge melted to the skin of his neck. The real issue is the deep laceration that’s sliced through the fabric. From what you can see, it starts behind his ear and slashes around his temple to take a sizable chip from the edge of his hard mask.

His bell has been rung enough that he’s silent when Soap drops him on your cot.

You do a concussion test – thank whatever higher powers there might be that he passes – and reassess the situation. He’s bleeding, he’s burnt, his mask is a hindrance. Most other medics would pry the thing off and treat him regardless of his feelings on the matter.

But you’re not any other medic, you’re the 141’s medic. You have candy for Gaz and fidget toys for Soap and carry nicotine patches or gum for Price. Lieutenant Riley hardly even pulls his mask up to drink in front of you still. He doesn’t trust easily (maybe not at all) but you’ve managed not to fuck up this far and you won’t start now.

“Need to take the skull off,” you inform him, “the balaclava can stay.”

His shoulders drop just the smallest micro-fraction. You’ve made the right choice.

He lets you pull the hard mask away, eyes flickering to yours when you set it within his reach. You blink at him, just once, trying to convey that for all your differences and squabbles before, you’re his squad-mate, his medic, and you’re on his side.

Then you turn to the bleeding.

“Going to cut a bigger hole,” you warn.

You don’t know if he’s listening, if he cares, if he’d prefer you to be quiet. You do this for Gaz and Soap, and you’ll do it for him until he tells you otherwise.

The surgical scissors make a perfect, neat line through the fabric. Blood stains dirty blond hair beneath your gloves, flattening the curls. It’s a nasty wound, deep enough that it’ll need stitches. You tell him as much as you clean it, efficient without being rough. You don’t coddle your boys; they don’t need it. The kindest thing you can do is always to just get it over with.

As you numb his skin and prep the sutures, you begin explaining the care instructions. It’ll cut down the amount of time he’ll have to hang around after you’ve finished treatment.

You fall quiet as you start stitching him up, bottom lip between your teeth to focus on speed and accuracy. On your little rolling stool, you’re trying not to loom over his prone form. Plenty of soldiers have bad reactions to being leaned over like this, and you’d expect it from any of the 141.

Your hand is starting to cramp by the time you get to the sharp cheekbone where the injury ends, but it’s done – possibly in record time. As you sit back to check your work, you catch his eye. His gaze is so heavy that you’re shocked you didn’t feel its weight this whole time. There’s an odd glint to it, the calmest you’ve ever seen from him. Especially on your medical cot.

“All good, sir?” you ask.

“Affirmative.”

“The burn now.”

You don’t touch him, just direct his head at a good angle to treat his neck. You have to numb that too, see more of the tension drain from him when it takes effect. Christ, you hadn’t even noticed. He’s like a statue sometimes, bearing wounds that would have most other people in shambles.

“Burns are the worst,” you agree. “I hate getting them, hate treating them.”

“There anything you like treating?” he grumbles.

You hum. “Common cold. All you big boys get sleepy and nasally and pathetic.”

There’s a little puff of air that you recognize from comm banter with Soap – he’s amused. You’ve managed to get something like a laugh out of him. Buoyed by this, you proceed with the delicate process of treating melted fabric.

“Pathetic, eh? Tell Johnny you said that.”

“I already told him when he got sick,” you gloat. “He pouted. Might have a picture of it somewhere.”

When you chance to look away from your work, you catch his eye again, peering at you from his peripheral. You flash a grin – a little goofy from the high of a positive reaction – and then turn back.

“That legal?” he asks. “Pictures of patients.”

You arch an eyebrow, knowing he’ll see it. “Are you going to lecture me about GDPR, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Not if it doesn’t become my problem.”

You chuckle a little – heartened by your progress and by his unusual talkativeness. “Hasn’t yet,” you point out.

More likely to be Price’s problem, anyway. Probably.

He lets you fall silent again to concentrate. Despite the severity, the affected area is smaller than you initially thought. It’ll be painful and scar like hell, but no skin grafts are necessary. You report this with obvious relief – good news all around as far as you’re concerned.

When you’re finally done, you scoot your chair back and turn to his (heavily redacted) chart, scribbling out the diagnosis and treatment. As you’re signing your initials, he calls for you by last name, tugging your gaze up.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” you ask, already scanning him for other injuries.

“Need one more thing from you.”

You hum in question, folding his chart over. His hand comes up, still gloved.

And then he takes your cheek between thumb and forefinger. And pinches.

Your brain spits static, eyes going wide in shock and confusion. It takes you a beat to respond, and then only because his fingers tighten to the point it starts to ache.

“Ow, Lieutenant—” you complain, still too surprised to really snap, one eye closing to express discomfort.

He releases you, staring at the spot he just grabbed. It’s probably already turning red.

“Anyone ever tell you,” he drawls, slow and measuring, “how round your cheeks are?”

Now you’re red for a different reason. You rub at the skin and scrunch your nose, unsuccessfully telling yourself that you’re not pouting like you joked Soap did.

“No,” you huff, “because most people aren’t dumb enough to say that to their medic.”

Your brain still isn’t working right because there’s no way you’d be implying that Lieutenant Riley is dumb if it was. The most personable you two have gotten before now was him buying you a drink after a mission, but he’d been buying everyone else a drink at the time.

“Not afraid of you, Squeaks.”

“I’m aware, Lieutenant.”

You’re hoping he’ll drop it, a little confused but also a little… flattered? It’s difficult to parse what you’re feeling when he’s still staring at you with those dark, glittering eyes. Not that you’re looking. No, definitely not. In fact, you are doing your damnedest not to look at his eyes. Or his face.

Which is why you notice him tugging his glove off. And then reaching for you – for your face – again.

“Hey—” you start, but he’s already squeezing, just before the point you’d fussed last time.

“Want me to stop?” he asks.

… No.

“Want to know what you’re doin’,” you deflect, brows furrowing.

Why are you letting him do this? You shouldn’t let him do this. It’s not that it hurts. It’s just… principle. Military isn’t an especially touchy-feely cuddly career field. Soap and Gaz are fairly tactile, true, but not… like this. But, well, maybe you’ve missed it. This. Touches like this. Haven’t seen friends you’re close to in a long time, don’t have this kind of relationship with your family. Haven’t had a partner in… a depressingly long time, and even then, it always took a while to get to this level of casual intimacy – if you got there at all.

“Thought that was obvious,” the lieutenant replies.

The other hand, still gloved, finds your opposite cheek and pinches that one too. Your eyes are forced narrow as the skin is manipulated, bunched up. You make a noise in the back of your throat, tilting your head to accommodate.

“’S not,” you mumble. “Who are you, my auntie?”

“’M scarier than your auntie.”

You snort, edges of your mouth tugging up despite how he’s pulling your cheeks.

“Never met my auntie, then,” you giggle.

Noticing your grin, he lets one go, only to gently crush both in his ungloved hand. And god, it’s so big that he could span your jaw from middle finger to thumb. Instead, he smooshes your face until your mouth puckers. You must look like a fish – a dumbstruck, awkward fish.

“Sir,” you slur out. He squeezes a little tighter, cutting off your ability to speak. Good thing, probably; you’re not sure what you would have said next.

“Like a little stress ball you are,” he muses, almost to himself.

That does prompt a laugh from you, the absurdity of the entire situation making you a little light- headed. Here is your huge, terrifying lieutenant, practically more legend than man, squishing your cheeks like a particularly long-suffering but beloved pet. You, the team medic, the person who pokes and prods at them more often than not. The one person in the 141 that you always thought he barely tolerated.

“Next time I’m on the edge of tearin’ my hair out, I’ll just come to you for a squeeze.”

He emphasizes this with one last, extra scrunch that makes you humph in mild discomfort. But when he finally lets you go, you grin and shake your head, somehow more amused than annoyed or offended. It seems like you finally might be growing on your lieutenant. That’s nothing to sneeze at.

“Try it and you’ll lose a finger, sir,” you tease.

“Like to see you try it, Squeaks.”

Your mistake was thinking that Simon “Ghost” Riley makes idle threats. (Not that you think that he was threatening you; if he was you know you’d know it.)

He’s been out training recruits by himself – Gaz and Price on a mission, Soap laid up with a twisted knee – a task that already tends to irritate him. Add to that, the weather is fucking miserable. Hot as hell but also a little rainy, meaning that it’s humid as a swamp. Probably has been making his stitches and burn itch beneath the mask.

When he storms into the common room at the end of the day, you and Soap exchange looks. A lot of assassin-soldier to be barreling into a small room – and making a beeline straight for you.

“Uh, sir?” you yelp. Consider a tactical retreat, but even that brief deliberation is too long. He crowds you against the counter you were making tea at and grabs your face.

He still has his gloves on, rough and uncomfortable on your skin. You wrinkle your nose, try to pull back, but his grip is too tight, so you just submit yourself to whatever is happening.

Apparently, “de-stress” is happening.

His smooshes your face just like he had in the infirmary, and some of the tension in his shoulders drops. You blink as his grip relaxes, then tenses. And then again. And again. Again, again, again. It dawns on you that he’s literally treating your cheeks like his own personal stress ball.

You should be insulted. Outraged. You’re not a toy.

“All good, LT?” Soap ventures. Sounds like he’s defusing a bomb.

“Fine, Johnny,” Ghost replies, almost absently. “Long day.”

“Recruits bein’ idjets, then?”

“Fuckin’ muppets,” he agrees, less heated than he’d normally be.

Huh, you think. Is this… actually working?

You make eye contact with Johnny. He looks more blindsided than you, a bit like he’s witnessing your murder instead of being accosted by your strained lieutenant.

“Couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag with a map.”

He squeezes a little tighter as he says it, prompting a noise of protest from you. It doesn’t hurt yet, but your teeth are rubbing against soft tissue. He eases up again and meets your eyes, half-lidded and a touch warmer than you’re used to. The skin around his eyes eases bit by bit, and the line of his jaw beneath the balaclava looks relaxed.

You settle then, resting your weight back against the counter. Nothing untoward is happening, just Ghost being… honestly, a little weird. It’s a nice thought actually, that your big scary LT is a weirdo. The kind of weirdo that would rather squish his medic than a stress ball.

Makes sense in a way, with how he’s always covered up and keeping a safe distance (physically and emotionally) between himself and others. Probably touch starved. Not sure why he’s picked you, but you’re happy that he did.

After a few minutes you pat his wrist, a gentle double tap. Like sparring. He lets you go.

“I’m making tea if you’d like a cup?” you offer.

“Yeah, Sergeant. Earl Grey, left side of the cabinet.”

“Yessir.”

You can feel Soap squinting.

“Since when are you two so chummy, eh?” he asks.

“Since always,” Ghost replies as if Soap is an idiot.

With your back turned, he can’t see the grin that would surely give you away. “Yeah, Soap, where’ve you been?”

“Och, now you’re taking the piss.”

You hand Ghost his tea and sit down to let Soap rant.

It has become a habit. Ghost gets annoyed at recruits, paperwork, bad intel – your cheeks get squished like it’s a family reunion. He starts removing his gloves at least. Warm, calloused hands are much more comfortable than textured gloves. You’re starting to look forward to it, even.

It’s not a long process. He’ll come find you, smoosh up your face until you wrinkle your nose, and then continues with his day, shoulders looser than when he appeared. You usually complain, whine that you’re in the middle of something, that he didn’t even warn you, that his grip is too tight. But you never push him away or pull back. And he always honors your little tap-taps if you need to be freed before he’s ready to let go.

By this point, everyone on the team has seen it. Soap no longer brings it up, but sometimes informs you when Ghost appears with that Look about him. Gaz floundered the first time he saw it, stuttering and stumbling until Ghost told him to spit it out or shut up. Once after that, he asked if he could squeeze you for stress relief. You had to make Ghost let go from how tight his hand went. Gaz didn’t ask again.

Price, shockingly enough, takes in the situation, then settles you with a nonjudgmental look.

“Solid, Sergeant?”

“Yessir,” you manage around your pressed cheeks, adding a thumbs up.

“As you were, then.”

And that was that.

Of course, with jobs like yours, some days are more stressful than others. Some days are hell on Earth. This mission wasn’t quite that, but it did go to shit in a handbasket, and you’re ragged by the end of it. Gaz dislocated a shoulder, Soap is concussed. Price has a nasty road rash across one arm that he was a bit of an ass about tending – not that you’d say as much.

Even you are scuffed up. A hostile split your lip with a nasty jab that caught you off guard. (Ghost, right behind you at the time, stabbed the guy with vicious prejudice. You’re trying not to be flattered and trying not to think about what it means that you’re failing.) Besides that, you’re exhausted, dehydrated, and you’re pretty sure you hurt your back trying to stabilize Soap at some point.

Ghost is the only one that made it out unscathed as far as you can tell. You also know that that’s more likely to put him in a mood than if he’d suffered alongside you all. Cold and detached as he might seem, he doesn’t like seeing anyone in the 141 hurt on his watch.

You’re beside Soap, making sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the transport back to base, but you can feel Ghost’s eyes on you. You make eye contact across the aisle. His shoulders are tight, arms crossed, hands clenching and unclenching. He’s too disciplined to tap his foot or bounce his leg, but you know he would be if he was anyone else.

When you land, you send Soap to the infirmary for observation. Price decides on debrief after breakfast the next morning and slinks off to his office. Gaz follows after Soap to get painkillers and a sling. You shoot Ghost a long, tired look.

“Can’t be a stress ball today,” you tell him, “my mouth hurts.”

“I know.”

But still, he’s standing too close to you at the armory where you’ve returned your weapons. His shoulders are bent slightly towards you, hands twitching at his sides. In all honesty, you wish that you could do your usual destress routine – because as much as he seems to enjoy having something/someone to squeeze, you enjoy having to sit still for a few moments of physical contact just as much.

And after thinking Soap cracked his skull, Gaz lost his arm, your captain got skinned, you need to decompress. And you need to do it with Ghost, who saved each and every one of you today.

“C’mon,” you say and, taking a chance, grab his hand.

He hums in question, but allows you to lead, careful not to grip too tight. The bones there are too delicate, and you need them in working order as their medic. He can’t be so rough with them.

You practically drag him to the common room and put on the kettle. Understanding, Ghost preps the mugs and sachets of preferred tea. When the water is hot enough, you each make your tea, then tug him to the couch. You direct him into the corner – and it’s only then that you hesitate.

Instinct is to climb into his lap. He’s a big man and you want to be cradled, but you also suspect the weight and warmth of another body would be soothing to him too. Instead, you clamber up as close to him as you can get, wedging your shoulder against his rubs and encouraging his arm around you.

It seems like he hesitates for a moment too. This is the most contact you two have ever had, regardless of how close he usually stands when he’s squeezing your face. Right now, you’re pressed together all down one side, your thigh overlapping his a little. After a moment, though, he releases a long breath and curls his arm around you. His hand settles naturally on your hip. 

It’s not long after that that the squeezing starts.

He's still got his gloves on and the skin on your hip is sensitive, usually hidden under layers of clothes, but you’re too snuggled in to disturb the arrangement now. Between the heat he radiates like a furnace, and your steaming tea, you’re quickly cozy and spaced out. The rhythm of his hand kneading plush flesh is soothing, something to drift back to while your mind goes blissfully blank of anything but safe, warm, comfy, quiet.

At some point, your mostly empty cup is plucked from your hand. You mumble a thank you and curl in closer, both legs over his lap now. His other hand rests on your lower thigh, just above your knee, and begins squeezing there too. Almost a massage, if not for the near-rough way he grips you.

“Like a cat,” you mumble, head lolling onto his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Cat making biscuits.”

There’s a huff of air. You smile faintly and tilt your head away from the suddenly too-bright lights of the common room. Don’t even realize you’ve tucked into his neck until he rubs his jaw over the top of your head.

“’S nice,” you whisper.

He hums. You think it might be agreement. Must be, Ghost wouldn’t be entertaining this if he didn’t. It’s a reassuring thought to drift off with, knowing that no matter what you want, he’ll never do something just to be nice.

You wake the next morning horizontal, something too firm to be a pillow under your head. When you sit up a little, Ghost’s dark eyes are peering at you, heavy as usual, but not as sharp. His chest rumbles beneath your chin in greeting.

“Mine or yours?” you mumble.

“Mine.”

You hum, too sleepy to let the implications of such a big gesture make you anxious right now.

“You’re a bad pillow,” you say instead.

It’s a lie. He’s a wonderful pillow. Jacked as he is, all that muscle is so plush and cushiony when it’s relaxed like this. Helps, also, that he’s still so warm.

“Slept on me just fine,” he grunts. “Drooled a little, too.”

“Did not.”

“Explain the wet spot on my tits then.”

You say the first thing that comes to mind. “Lactating.”

“You’re a freak.”

“Stones in glass houses, sir.”

You close your eyes again for a moment, enjoying the dark room and heat beneath you. The best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long while, honestly. Especially with so much of the team injured.

There’s a tug at your hair, gentler than you usually get from Ghost.

“Get the fuck up, Squeaks,” he gruffs without any heat. In fact, he sounds like he’d rather you didn’t. “Need to piss and eat.”

“At the same time?” you tease. You’d sound more scandalized if you weren’t still half asleep.

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

 He rolls you onto the mattress and pushes himself up.

“Meet back here in fifteen. Fresh clothes, fresh face.”

“Gonna squish it?” you ask.

“Maybe later, see how the day goes.” He pinches one of your cheeks anyway. Still rougher than most people would be, but for him it’s downright tender. You try not to lean into it, not sure if you succeed. Don’t think either of you cares, really.

You lay there for another moment, listening to him bustle around his quarters, getting new clothes it sounds like.

“How copy, sergeant?”

“Solid, sir.”

“Fifteen.”

“Yessir.”

You haul yourself up and trudge out of his room for a shower. Gonna need all fifteen of those minutes.

Breakfast is a quiet but pleasant affair. Gaz is using his sling and sore as all hell, but in high spirits. Soap is exhausted from two-hour wakeups and the sensitivity the concussion has left him with. The painkillers are helping, and despite all that, he’s in a decent (if slightly subdued) mood.

You snatch up a couple of dry muffins and an orange juice for Price before heading to debrief, plopping it all on his desk when you enter his office. Your efforts are rewarded with a fond smile.

Gaz and Soap take the two single chairs, probably afraid of falling asleep on the couch. That’s where you and Ghost end up, you pressed up against the arm and him… right next to you.

Not that you’re complaining. His thigh pressed against yours is a nice comfort. Reminiscent of how he made you feel the night before. A reminder that he’s here, that he’s solid and safe while you all recount the mission from the day before. If Price is shocked by you two practically nested up together, he doesn’t show it.

Somewhere along the way, your hand reaches for something to fiddle with. You’re not as restless as Soap, but you like something to keep busy while you’re thinking or anxious. Usually you tear up the inside of your mouth biting your lips, but you don’t want to aggravate the healing split. Your fingers land on the pocket of Ghost’s cargos. The material is thick, the stitching an interesting texture, and the pockets have snaps that are quiet enough to play with during debrief.

Ghost lets you fidget in peace, only giving you a slight nod when you glance at him to check. His arm is resting along the couch behind you, and you can feel his fingers twisting into your loose hair. Fair exchange, you figure, and settle in.

There’s a brief call with Laswell to discuss next steps. You listen, but not closely. You’re just a medical sergeant after all. Your opinion is considered when offered, but you’re not much of a strategist or tactician. Mostly, you go where you're directed, do as you're told, and keep everyone in one piece as best you can.

When it’s over, Soap helps haul you off the couch while Ghost stands, clipping his thigh pocket closed again.

“Good to see you two getting along,” Price calls as you’re leaving.

You glance over your shoulder, catch the smirk on his face, and stick out your tongue. And then promptly bolt, lest you be reprimanded for insubordination. It’s a common threat in the 141; you’re not sure if anyone has actually been written up for it outside of a mission. You don’t want to be the one to find out, though.

Soap cackles at you, Gaz calls you chicken shit. Ghost ruffles your hair and steers you towards his office.

“Oi, where are you two off to?” Gaz asks.

“Paperwork,” Ghost replies shortly.

News to you, but sure. Some company would be nice while you fill out forms. That becomes mildly more difficult when he plops you into his lap, but you make do. Ghost keeps his office cold – all those layers, you figure – and the chair across from his desk is purposefully uncomfortable to discourage lingering. His broad thighs make a much better, warmer seat. The fact that he circles an arm around your waist, hugging you like a kid with a teddy bear is just a bonus. For all that, you’d figure out how to do reports on water.

You two should probably talk about this, or something. There are regulations or codes of conduct prohibiting this sort of behavior. Never mind that the interpersonal lines (the ones you actually care about) are starting to blur. But well, you don’t have a problem with all this, and you wouldn’t be breathing if he did. So, well, there’s not much to talk about, is there?

“Hey, LT?”

“Mm.”

You watch him sign the bottom of a report, his signature an efficient and jagged thing, somehow still elegant. Like watching him practice with his knives. He flexes his hand when it’s done. You two have been at it for a while now. He hasn’t said a word, but you know Ghost despises paperwork. You could both use a break.

“You ever seen Halloween?”

“The horror movie?” He pauses, thinks about it. “Yeah.”

“The next one is going to take place in the summer. Guess he’ll be Michael Perspires.”

He goes still behind you. “What.”

“He’s gotten a job as an electrician. Michael Wires.”

You keep your face forward and down, pretending to work, trying to swallow back hysterical giggles.

“Squeaks…”

“He’s into arson now as well. Michael Fires.”

His arm tightens around your waist. You wish you could see his face, but you know you’ll break if you look. “Shut the fuck up.”

“He didn’t tell the truth on his resume. Michael Liars.”

“If you make another shitty Michael Myers pun, I swear to god—”

“You don’t like them?” you ask, grin so wide it hurts. “I’m going to Michael Cry-ers.”

“God fucking dammit, Squeaks.”

You burst into laughter that is quickly cut short by his arm constricting like a snake. Even with your air supply diminished, wheezing a bit, you kick your feet in delight.

“G-Guess… guess you’re…” you struggle to get it out between the lack of oxygen and your giggles. “Guess you’re M-Michael Tires of this joke.”

“I’m going to make you regret breathing at our next sparring session.”

And oh, you believe him. Your LT doesn’t make idle threats. But you’re telling yourself that it’s so worth it this time. Soap is going to give you a fucking medal for this. You know, assuming Ghost doesn’t snipe you when you try to tell the story.

You’re still cackling, but it turns to squeals when you feel sharp pressure on your shoulder.

He’s biting you.

“L-LT!” you gasp, scrabbling to push at his forehead without dislodging his mask. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop!”

He growls, the sound burning through you, straight to the pit of your stomach. You choose to ignore that in exchange for the oddly ticklish sensation of him gnawing through your shirt.

Knowing by now that you won’t be free until he’s ready, you just try to sit still and not spur him on further. After a moment, he unlocks his jaw and speaks in your ear, voice low but unmistakably amused.

“Medic, stress ball, comedian, chew toy – anything you can’t do, Sergeant?” he snarks.

You scrunch your nose at this new designation. “I am not a chew toy.”

“Seem pretty chewy to me,” he muses, sinking his teeth in again. You bark out reactive laughter and squirm, but his hold hasn’t loosened a bit and you’re trapped against him.

“LT,” you complain like usual. “You’re going to leave a mark.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but you feel his teeth dig in a little harder. Well, that’s new. You still don’t push him away, a not-so-small or secret part of you pleased by the idea of him leaving a bruise. It wouldn’t even be visible. Just something to remind you of the trust your lieutenant has in you, in the bond you two have formed, unorthodox as it is.

You hand him a bottle of water when he finally releases you, to sooth his undoubtedly dry mouth. There’s a wet patch on your shirt (and probably your underwear) but you ignore it to return to your reports. He seems a little less reluctant to join you now, pleasingly.

You’re not so sure about the “chew toy” thing, but you definitely seem to be an effective stress relief.

You’re having a great day. No one is injured, you’re caught up on paperwork. You pinned both Soap and Gaz during sparring earlier, earning a proud nod from Ghost and Price. There were pudding cups at lunch, and you’ve made plans with the rest of the team to watch a movie in the common room tonight. Even your antisocial LT agreed to come.

In fact, he’s the first one there when you arrive in the early evening. You chirp a hello, heading for the pantry for popcorn. Soap and Gaz can’t be trusted to make it without setting off the fire alarms.

Ghost hums in return, but he seems content to scroll on his phone, saving his energy for socializing. You don’t mind his silence, never do. Not like he can chat when he’s biting you like a teething puppy. And he has been. A lot. His new favorite form of stress relief, apparently, apart from squishing your cheeks like usual.

If there’s privacy for it, his teeth have been imprinting your arms, shoulders, even your hands in perfect pinpricked circles. He’s not any gentler about it than he is smooshing up your face, and a couple times now you’ve discovered bruises later on. You suspect that’s his aim, especially when he’s more aggravated than stressed. A way to release aggression without wasting bullets at the range or beating the stuffing out of someone in the ring.

You don’t mind, no matter how you complain aloud. It was a sudden step up in intimacy, but you like the feeling of his teeth on you. A way to get that soothing moment of forced stillness without losing the ability to speak, eat, or look around. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the mark either. Feels like a claim, one you’re not sure is actually being made – but you’re allowed to dream.

That said, Ghost is a bastard about it. If you thought he was pushy before, pinching your cheeks at inopportune times, the biting could almost be classified as a nuisance. Several times now, someone has walked into the common room to your forearm between Ghost’s jaws. You’ve lost count of how many conversations with Soap or Gaz have been interrupted by your lieutenant’s canines sinking into your shoulder or the meat of your thumb, tongue swiping excess saliva from bare skin.

You’re ruminating on this as your fellow sergeants filter in, joking and laughing about something stupid the recruits did earlier.

Ghost has hardly looked up from his phone, only jerks his head in acknowledgement when they greet him. His shoulders are loose; he’s relaxed. You know better than to mistake it for being unaware of the environment, but… well, if there were ever a time for payback…

You leave the popcorn to finish in the microwave and stroll over to the couch. To your delight, Ghost shuffles a little to make room for you, an obvious invitation to cuddle up. It’s almost enough to distract you from your mission. Almost.

You perch on the edge of the cushion, hook a thumb under the edge of his shirt. The break in routine draws his attention but doesn’t seem to raise any alarms. He flicks his gaze up from the screen to catch your eyes. You lock gazes, tug the fabric up just the tiniest sliver. Then dart down and blow a deafening raspberry into the toned skin of his stomach.

There’s a moment of dead silence. Then you scramble up and bolt, yelping when you hear the heavy thump of boots behind you.

“Squeaks, you little shit!” he snarls, Manchester accent thicker than usual. And he gives Soap shit.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you lie, revealed by your breathless giggles.

“I’ll make you sorry!”

You believe him.

You skitter around Price, calling a frantic “hi, sir” as you stumble to keep your footing. Ghost doesn’t even bother with pleasantries, solely focused on getting ahold of you. Your only saving grace is being able to take corners faster than him, but his long legs eat distance like nothing and it’s only two hallways later that you’re snatched right off your feet.

You squeal, not sure if it’s in terror or delight, as he hauls you up and over one broad shoulder.

“Ghost, wait no, I didn’t mean it!”

“Sure fucking seemed to,” he growls, manhandling a better grip on you.

You put up a bit of a struggle, but there's no question who would win even if you really did fight him. Instead, you press against his chest and arms, laughing as his fingertips dig roughly into your hips and thighs and waist.

“Earning your nickname today,” he mocks as he lugs you back to the common room.

When you arrive, Soap groans in dismay at your failure, Gaz taunts you for thinking you could get away with your stunt. Price just shakes his head, playing at exasperated but unable to hide his fondness. Ghost all but tosses you onto the couch and before you can scramble up, flops on top of you. All the breath is forced from your lungs with a little oof, feeling a bit like those animals that can flatten themselves to squeeze into small crevices.

“LT, I can’t breathe,” you whine. “You’re heavy.”

The cushions on the couch aren’t luxurious by any means, but they’re forgiving enough that you can, in fact, breathe. It’s just a little more difficult than usual. Not difficult enough to tap out, though. You like the weight of him on you.

“Should have thought about that before being a little shit.”

You grumble; don’t really have an argument for that but unwilling to cede the point.

“Oi, you two done?” Gaz calls. “I wanna watch the movie.”

Price snorts. Soap, angel that he is, offers you the bowl of popcorn.

“No one told you to wait, sergeant,” Ghost replies, bland.

“Yeah,” you second, muffled and admittedly pathetic sounding. “Takes you five minutes to figure out the sound anyway.”

“We all know you’re going to put the subtitles on, don’t know why the volume matters,” Soap chimes in.

“It’s only for the Captain’s sake,” Gaz defends.

“Now what are you implying, Garrick?” Price asks, silky and dangerous.

You snuggle in happily, enjoying the moment of peace and companionship. No shooting, no bleeding, no nightmares. Just the five of you, alive and healthy, enjoying this little family they’ve built and brought you into.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until the pressure is gone, Ghost wedging his arms between your lax body and the couch. It’s cold without him as a personal blanket, and you curl into his arms with a discontent noise.

“Atta girl, Squeaks. I got you,” he rumbles.

You crack an eye open to check on everyone else by instinct. Gaz and Soap are leaning on each other, lightly snoring. It looks like Price is about to rouse them as well, but he shoots you and Ghost an especially soft look.

“Taking this one to bed, sir.”

“Be good to our girl, Lieutenant,” Price nods.

“As good as she is to us,” Ghost agrees.

You’re half-sure that you’re dreaming, but you smile at them both before tucking in and falling asleep again.

The next morning starts in Ghost’s bed, a place you find yourself often enough now that you recognize it as quickly as your own. You’re all tangled up in each other, more than usual. There are fingers in your hair, scraping across your scalp. You could purr it feels so good, pressing your face into Ghost’s chest to let him get a new spot.

“Didn’t even make it halfway through the movie,” he teases.

“Seen it before.”

“Gaz is going to be cross.”

“He’ll understand – getting chased takes a lot of you.”

“Don’t make me chase you down, then.”

You snort. If you have any say in it, you’ll be instigating games like that much more. Something about the big scary Ghost dashing after you over a stupid little prank – and knowing that the worst you’ll get out of it is a forceful cuddle – is not the deterrent it should be.

Still, there’s a pattern to this little game of yours. You can’t admit that you enjoy the play.

“Not my fault you can’t take what you dish,” you reply, twisting to nip his chest through his shirt, as if to prove your point.

It’s sharper than you would be with anyone else. Ghost, though, hums low and rough in his throat.

“I’ve never done that bullshit you pulled last night,” he grumbles.

“Lack of imagination on your part.”

He huffs, pinches your cheek and chuckles when you whine in complaint, muttering that it’s too early for his shit.

“C’mon, Squeaks, up and at ‘em. Before Soap takes all the blueberry.”

“Yessir…” you groan.

Ghost has been away. Price sent him and Gaz off on a stealth assignment, something that Soap is less suited to. Not that he couldn’t do it if needed, but it’s more Gaz’s specialty, so Price sent him. Soap isn’t too bummed about it, though. He’s been wreaking havoc around base with you casually egging him on from the sidelines, feeding into his chaos without being directly involved.

Not that Price would see it that way if he caught wind. But he hasn’t, so you’re not in trouble yet.

You might be after this though.

One drink too many, Soap complaining that you always play it safe. And, to his credit, you do. He and Gaz are the troublemakers, you just like to watch and occasionally add your two cents to the explosive mix. Price has joked before that you’re the best behaved amongst the group, even over Ghost.

Not only are you the least experienced with combat, but you’re also the team medic. It often leaves you feeling like you have to maintain a certain level of decorum and responsibility alongside your officers. It’s no wonder that you try to stay on the straight and narrow – the occasional snippy comment aside.

But this is beyond anything you’ve dared.

Soap has had enough to point out the parlor down the street and dare you. You’ve had enough to be goaded into spitefully proving a point. If Gaz were here, he might be clever enough to dare Soap into something else to get him to back down. If Ghost were here, he’d scruff you both like unruly kittens and haul you back to base. If Price were here, you’d be running laps until you puke.

Instead, it’s just you and Soap. Ghost and Gaz aren’t due back for a week and half, Price is probably buried waist deep in paperwork as usual. And there’s no one to tell you not to.

And so Soap gets his nipples pierced and you get your tongue re-pierced, and you both wake up the next day a little hungover and a lot sore.

You consider taking it out but… well.

You kinda missed having it.

And you want to see how long it’ll take Ghost to notice if you use your discreet jewelry.

You give Soap painkillers for his nipples and promise to hook him up with a good jewelry store recommendation. Then you spend the rest of the day trying not to talk. The rest of the week, really. If anyone notices, they don’t mention it. Soap is always happy to talk for the both of you.

By the time Gaz and Ghost return, it hardly hurts anymore. Still healing, yes, but it only aches in the mornings now. You fit the flat-topped, clear ring into the piercing and go to meet the boys on the tarmac.

They exit the aircraft together, Gaz chatting about something and Ghost humoring him in characteristic silence. When the latter sees you, though, he makes a beeline. You let out a surprised but pleased noise as you’re scooped up, mask wedging into the space beneath your jaw to press against your neck.

“Welcome back, sir,” you manage, squeezing his shoulders.

He grunts in reply. You shoot Gaz a questioning look.

“It was slow going,” he explains, “And the guys on the transport back were, uh, chatty.”

Ah. Set on your feet again, his gloved hands rise to squish your face like usual.

“Do the thing,” he gruffs.

You wrinkle your nose. Partially out of embarrassment, and partially because he’ll see the piercing if you’re not careful.

“That captain is—”

“That’s an order, sergeant.”

You sigh. Then poke your tongue out as he smooshes your face further. He exhales like the first hit of nicotine for the day. You keep the jewelry hidden behind your teeth and are released a few seconds later.

“That’s the stuff,” he says.

“Christ, LT, don’t say it like that,” you complain.

Unsurprisingly, he ignores you, turning to Price.

“Debrief now?”

“If you and Gaz don’t need medical.”

They both shake their heads, and you make no secret that you’re pleased by this news.

As you head into the building, you find Ghost’s finger hooked into your belt loop, tugging you along to Price’s office. You don’t mention it, only arch an eyebrow when you catch his eye.

At the door, Price pauses, giving Ghost a long, exasperated look.

“You know she’s not actually a service animal, son?”

“The intel isn’t confidential.”

Price sighs, drags a hand down his face. “Suppose not. Get the fuck in, then, Squeaks.”

You get the fuck in.

As usual, Ghost stands, and you’re obliged to stand with him. In front of him, actually, his chin settling on top of your head while his hands settle on your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at the muscle. You tune out most of the conversation, only here for Ghost’s sake, apparently.

Not that you mind. There’s a large, loud part of you that is glowing with the knowledge that he missed you so much.

When it’s over, he doesn’t even bother to stop at the mess hall. He picks you straight up and strides off to his quarters. You complain that he needs to eat, or at least drink water, but he doesn’t even deign your fussing with a response.

He closes and locks the door when you’re both inside, then tosses you on the bed. It smells overwhelmingly of him: metal, gunpowder, standard issue detergent, and something spicy. It’s a scent you’ve become intimately familiar with – could get addicted to, if you let yourself.

You settle in amongst the crisp sheets and thin pillows, Ghost sheds his tac gear like a second skin. When he’s down to his undershirt and boxers, barefoot on the cold ground, you open your arms.

He climbs over you as you giggle, then unapologetically drops all his weight. You make your usual little oof sound, suspecting that he likes it, and tilt your head so he can press his face (without the skull mask) into your shoulder.

“So how was it actually?” you ask.

“Gaz was antsy the whole time. Said he sensed you and Soap up to something without him.”

You snort, relieved that he can’t see the damning expression on your face right now.

 “There isn’t anything to get up to when he’s not here causing it,” you lie.

“Don’t put anything past Soap, the crafty cunt.”

You grin, patting your hands lightly over his shoulder blades. “Nice alliteration.”

He hums, slowly going boneless beneath your rhythmless tapping.

“Mask,” he mutters.

It takes you a second to realize what he wants.

“You’re asking me to pull it up so you can bite me?” you scoff.

“Telling, not asking,” he grumbles.

“Oh for the love of…”

You do it anyway. It’s not long before you feel his teeth, always sharper than you expect, latch onto the base of your neck. You tilt your chin back to give him comfortable access, staring up at the ceiling. How often does he sit here after nightmares, staring at it? Does he do it even when you sleepover, clinging onto him like a koala?

You lay like that for a while, fingers finding the fine blond hair peeking out from his rolled balaclava and scritching. One of his hands wedges beneath himself to find your hip, squeezing you tight enough that his nails scrape across your pants.

“So what did you two get up to?” he asks, detaching eventually.

Your neck is aching pleasantly, mind drifting in peace, and you don’t realize what he’s asking at first.

“What?” you ask.

You try to suppress a shiver as his tongue drags over the saliva he left on your neck. This is a normal part of the process, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the pleasure it sends down your spine.

“You and Soap,” he clarifies. “What did you do?”

“It was mostly Soap,” you deflect, forgoing any attempt at innocence.

He snorts. “My problem?”

You consider, humming. “Probably not.”

“Probably?”

You shrug. “Don’t leave me unattended if you don’t want paperwork.”

He nips sharply at the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t want to. Price said you don’t have enough experience if things went to shit.”

You don’t know how to feel that Ghost would have preferred you on a mission with him. Even over Soap? You know he’s fond of you, but you didn’t realize it was enough to have you partnered with him on missions. It makes your chest warm and fluttery. The bastard.

“He’s right,” you say instead of something unforgivably sentimental.

“Imagine he’ll overlook that when he finds out about your body candy.”

You squeak, eyes closing in regret. Well, it was a nice life while it lasted.

“That fast?” you ask.

“Saw it as soon as you opened that pretty mouth,” he answers.

“It’s clear!”

“Thought I wouldn’t see a piece of plastic in your mouth, sergeant?”

You sigh, barely even noticing the bite he leaves on your collarbone. When he pushes his chest up to look at you, he’s half-lidded, almost lazy looking. But the corner of his mouth quirks up, just that slightest bit you’ve become hypervigilant of. Your hands slide from his shoulders and curl into the front of his shirt.

“How much trouble am I in?” you venture.

“A world of it,” he replies, voice pitching low and rough in a way that’s just not fair.

“Soap did worse,” you complain, not above throwing him under the bus. This is his fault anyway.

“Don’t care what Soap did. Care that you tried to hide it from me.”

He catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, gives it a little shake like a reprimand.

“Wasn’t hiding it,” you argue. “At least not from you. Would have told you by the end of the week if you hadn’t noticed.”

And you really would have. If Price hadn’t been present on the tarmac, you had half a mind to show it off immediately, excited to be breaking the rules.

Ghost hums, eyes roving your face – apparently to determine the truth of your confession.

“Doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” he warns.

But you know that tone of voice by now. You’re not off the hook yet.

“…Want me to take it out?” you try.

His eyes go from dark to pitch black. “No.”

Oh?

Oh.

“Want… to see it?”

He hums. Not quite confirmation, but close enough. You don’t even think before dropping your jaw, tongue rolling out over your bottom lip. He let out a short, hard breath. You see his jaw twitch.

Then he shifts.

His thumb lands on your tongue, much farther back than you expect but you don’t flinch. He draws a line down the center to the flat top of your piercing and then presses down. You make a protesting noise, a warning because it’s still new and still sore. He doesn’t let up but doesn’t push any harder.

“Squeaks.”

You flutter your eyes open (when did they close?) and meet his eyes. They nearly absorb all the light in the room, twin blackholes drawing you in, inescapable and immutable. There’s a hunger lurking within, one you realize with a jolt you’ve been seeing for a long time now.

Whatever he sees on your face, it makes him run his tongue along his own teeth – pearly white and perfectly straight. Then he ducks down and licks over your piercing, first in neat sweeps, and then in tight little circles around its circumference.

Trapped beneath him and mouth open, you can’t swallow back the whine that peels from your throat. You’d be embarrassed about it; except the noise you make when he stops is so much worse.

“Taste good,” he rumbles.

“This another stress thing?” you ask, dizzy and flushed.

He smirks, chuckles deep in his chest. “If it is, will you let me do it whenever I want?”

You nod, thoughts blurring at the edges. His smirk widens, but he obliges when you tug at his shirt, wanting him close, wanting him to do it again.

It takes a long time for it to evolve into an actual kiss. He spends what feels like a small eternity flicking his tongue over your piercing, around it. It’s an unusual sensation, not quite ticklish, but decadent and erotic. At some point, quiet little noises start spilling from your throat and don’t stop. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing down when the pitch goes higher – or maybe you pitch higher because he’s closer?

Eventually your jaw tires from hanging open, tongue aching at the stretch. You retract back into your own mouth, but Ghost chases after. It’s like he forgot about actual kissing until that moment. And then he has something new to amuse himself with. His tongue explores your lips, the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat. He drags his sharp teeth over your bottom lip, growls when you return the favor in retaliation for the sting.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps, “my medic.”

You hum, reciprocate the thorough exploration he just gave you. He tastes a little metallic, but mostly he tastes like Ghost, like Simon, and it’s addicting.

“Think it’s a stress thing for me too,” you murmur when you pull away for air.

“Yeah?” He trails his mouth down your jaw, teeth scraping. “Anxious while I was gone?”

You nod. You always worry about the boys when they’re away, when you’re not there for a worst-case scenario. But you thought about your lieutenant especially, wondering at his mood, at his feelings, without your usual daily interactions. His absence left you feeling twitchy, a little unmoored. You wonder – hope – if he felt the same.

“Take what you need, then,” he whispers. “Don’t mind returning the favor.”

You sink your nails into his shoulders, rake them down his back and sides, treating him like a scratching post. He shivers, puffs out a hot breath by your ear. Your mouth finds that strong, sharp jaw and latches on, sucking and biting, worrying the skin until you pull away to a dark bruise.

“Go on,” he urges.

You do, making a trail down his neck, then across. Tug at his shirt when it gets in the way. He leans back to pull it over his head. You nearly tackle him, mapping out the swell of hard muscles, licking over the angry lines you clawed into him.

“Easy now, precious,” he purrs. “No rush.”

You make a disagreeing noise, lips never leaving his skin. One hand tangles in your hair, petting and holding, not guiding. His other drifts down to your ass and grips like a vice. It hurts a little; it feels so fucking good. There will be bruises for days.

When your nails scratch across his hip, he bucks, fingers spasming against your scalp.

“Careful,” he growls. “Asking for something you might not be ready for.”

You hum. “Maybe,” you agree honestly. “I’ve never…”

He goes rigid. Worried, you glance up. His bare chest (marked up by your hands and mouth) is heaving. His jaw is slack, lips wet. You can’t distinguish between pupil and iris anymore.

“You swear?” he asks, rough. “You’ve never fucked anyone before?”

“No,” you say, not embarrassed, not with him. “Got close, but never managed it. Things always got in the way. Used to be a joke with my friends, that I was cursed.”

A fire alarm, an oblivious roommate, police knocking on the door, the roof falling in, once.

“You have experience,” he asserts.

“Definitely.” You quirk a wicked smile his way. “Plenty of practice with my mouth…”

He shudders, tilting your head to a vulnerable angle, neck exposed.

“And my hands,” you add, gasping.

“You keep pushing, pet…” he rumbles.

You whine. “Want to, with you. Want it to be you, Simon.”

His lips crash into yours, messy and filthy, licking all the needy sounds from your mouth.

“Strip, sergeant. Now.”

You scramble to obey, wiggling out of your clothes as quickly as you can while still half under him.

“Always so good for me,” he hums. “Always follow my orders, my good little sergeant.”

“Yours,” you breathe against his mouth.

The last scrap of clothing is barely off when he pounces, hand flattening on your stomach and pressing you down into the mattress. It nearly knocks the wind out of you, the force of it, pinning you. His eyes hungrily lock on your chest, on the smooth and unmarked skin of your breasts.

If you wanted to protest, you don’t get the chance to. He descends on you like a starving man, all teeth and tongue, practically mauling you. You squirm, not sure where you want to go, just that it’s a lot of sensation all at once. He captures a perked nipple between his lips and sucks until you keen, knee bumping his flank like you want to kick him off.

He slots his hips between yours, presses up tight to trap you further. His free hand grasps at your other breast. Kneading roughly, then twisting and plucking at the rosy nipple until you’re crying out, nearly thrashing. When he’s satisfied, he switches his hand and mouth, spinning you up and up until your breasts are aching and the best kind of sore. He finally pulls off with a lewd pop, mouth slick, rosettes left all over you in his wake.

“Trying to kill me,” you pant.

He smirks, drops one last soothing kiss on your sternum. Then extricates himself to remove the last of his own clothing. His dick springs free from his waistband, slapping obscenely against his stomach. You freeze when the dim light glints off bits of metal.

“Is that…?”

“Come find out.”

You scoot to the edge of the bed and brush your fingertips over the hypnotizing ladder of studs along the shaft. Which, now that you’re closer and your hand is there for scale, is huge. Like, almost pornographic. You didn’t know that existed outside of raunchy media. That’s been under you, snuggled up to you, beneath your ass – for months now.

“Oh my god, Simon,” you gulp. “Is that going to…?”

“It will if you can be patient for me.”

“Okay,” you say, eyes never leaving the glittering silver row. You trust him. As rough as he can be, he’s never hurt you. Not in any way you didn’t crave.

His hand catches your chin again, tips your gaze back to his. “Another time, lovely. Give your tongue a break.”

You whine but sit back on your haunches, hands planted between your knees. “Then hurry up.”

His thumb caresses your jaw, presses in warning. “Patient, I said.”

“I’ve been patient,” you argue. “Gimme.”

That coaxes a chuckle out of him. He plants a hand on your shoulder and shoves. You land on your back again, stretch your legs to hang over the side of the bed. He lowers to his knees between them, thick thighs flexing. His hands slide under your hips and drag until your thighs are over his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “Simon.”

“That’s it, lovely,” he coos, teeth grazing your hip. “Just lay there saying my name. Let me play with my toy.”

You’re so wet that you can feel it all over your inner thighs, would be embarrassed if not for the absolutely feral noise he makes at the sight.

“Made a mess.” He draws his tongue up your thigh, sucks at the junction where it meets your hip, loud in the quiet room. “You always like this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s true. You can’t count the number of times you’ve gone back to your room just to change panties.

“That’s my girl.”

He spends an agonizing amount of time licking, biting, and sucking your thighs. Your pleading and whining is met with indifference or absent chuckles. The need has long since tipped over into desperation, muscles twitching with little sparks of pleasure at every graze of teeth and sharp suck.

You’re already both understimulated and overstimulated when he clamps down especially hard, think he’s broken skin for a moment. Frustrated tears have been dancing at the edges of your vision for a while now and they spill over at the blissful burn that shoots through your leg.

“Simon, Simon, please,” you sob, “please, want it. Please, just—”

He shushes you, soothing the hurt with his tongue until your babbling trails off into little sniffles.

“How copy?” he hushes.

“S-Solid,” you answer. “Just a lot.”

“Tactical retreat?”

“No.” You take a shuddering breath. “No, please. Want to keep going, sir.”

His breath is also unsteady as it brushes over your sensitive skin. “Alright, precious. Tap out if you need.”

You snake a hand down the bed and find his wrist, digging your nails in as you squeeze. A promise to honor his command.

He groans low in his throat, eyes smoldering as he looks up your heaving body.

“Pretty when you cry,” he rasps. “Will you do it more if I play with your needy clit?”

“N-no,” you lie.

He calls your bluff, pressing his mouth to your pussy and making a long, slow pass up your slit. You shake and whimper high-pitched, almost hurt sounding. He swirls the tip over your throbbing clit, sucks gently every few passes. You press your eyes shut, too gone to try to stop the reactionary tears any other way.

It’s a quirk of sex you’ve always had. Not prone to crying emotionally or from pain, but when the arousal or pleasure gets too intense, your eyes water like rivers. Some partners have found it off-putting, but the louder you wail and hiccup and cry, the more eager Simon gets. Like he’s got a direct line to heaven’s choir with his tongue.

You’re gripping his wrist so tight that you must be close to drawing blood, but he doesn’t do more than flex his fingers on your ass. Keeps you right there against his mouth, so that all you can do is take exactly what he gives you.

He seals his lips over your clit again, rubbing his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves as he sucks. It gets you to the edge so fast that you’re seeing stars, nearly kicking him.

“Close,” you pant.

He eases up just that little bit to keep you from tipping into orgasm. You’re devastated. Afresh wave of tears drip down your temples to the sound of pathetic, helpless moans. Blessedly, he doesn’t stop. Just keeps you right there as he slides a hand from your ass to your cunt.

Just one of his fingers is thicker than any of yours; sliding two into your dripping hole almost hurdles you into ecstasy. He pulls his mouth away as you clench around them, trickling down his wrist.

“So tight. Didn’t you ever get off to the thought of me?”

“All the f-fucking time,” you admit.

“Yeah?”

You nod, tongue laving over your bottom lip. “My hands just… yours are bigger.”

He chuckles. “No cute little toys to help you out?”

“Like to imagine it’s you,” you ramble, shame long gone. “Easier without a vibe.”

“Fuck.”

He dives down to your clit again, tongue almost cruel as it tortures you with quick, rough strokes. You might scream; you don’t care if you do. His fingers curl to pet your walls, find that spot as if he had his sniper scope on it. You thrash as he strokes you, steady and unrelenting. He sucks one last time and you’re gone, coming so hard that your fingertips go numb.

You’re definitely screaming now; his name, specifically. He growls against your pussy, the vibration only prolonging that pleasure, writhing on his hand. You swallow air like you’re suffocating, Simon filling every part of you, drenching your senses. He’s all you know right now, your heart beating to his name.

And he doesn’t stop.

“S-Simon, what are – t-too much. It’s too much, it’s too—” His pins your hips down as he fits a third finger inside you, finger-fucking you so hard that the slick sounds almost drown out your sobs. You’re overstimulated, riding the edge of pain in your pleasure, lower back tight and hot.

But you don’t tap out, just fist the sheets hard enough to pop the seams.

Simon is single-minded, insistent, demanding. It’s a quality you’ve always admired in the field, and right now it’s pulling you apart piece by shivering piece.

“Simon, I-I’m gonna – I can’t…” You shake your head, crying freely and loudly, whimpering as much as you’re moaning.

He presses one of your thighs towards your chest, fingertips digging harsh into muscle. The shift gives him better access to that thrumming knot of nerves inside you. He presses against it hard and incessant as his tongue flicks repeatedly over your abused clit. Your second orgasm drowns you in waves, hips rolling, not sure if you want to get away or get more.

Simon strokes you through it until you subside into pathetic, shuddering noises, pushing weakly at him, pleading for mercy. When he pulls away, slick is dripping down his chin to his neck. The bottom edge of his balaclava is dark where it’s bunched over his nose. He surges up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You stay that way for a while, letting him coax your breathing into something like normal again. A task made more difficult whenever his fingers tease your tender nipples, preoccupied with how your lungs hitch and your body jolts.

Eventually, your mouth strays to clean him up, licking yourself from his jaw and chin, messy but earnest. He captures your mouth again when you’re done, sucking your tongue like he wants to get every last drop. You shake at the thought, almost horrified to realize you’re still ridiculously horny.

He must see something in your face because he smirks a little. “Playtime’s not over, don’t worry.”

His fingertips trace over your pussy, not dipping in far, but the threat of it triggers a new batch of whimpers and tears. He cocks his head at the sight, almost curious, then leans down and follows their paths with his tongue.

A hum, low and pleased, thunders in the heady sliver of air between you. Against your hip, you feel his cock twitch, hot enough to brand.

“Taste good everywhere,” he muses, tongue still lapping at your tears.

“God, Simon,” you keen, squeezing your glassy eyes shut.

“Want you to do it again,” he murmurs. “Cry for me so I can taste how good I make you feel.”

You moan, pussy clenching, feeling horribly empty. The teeth in your neck are an almost welcome reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure, grounding as they bruise delicate skin.

“Want to see you crying on my cock, lovely. Will you do that for me?”

You nod, reaching for him. Curl your arms around his shoulders, wrap your legs around his waist. He shushes you again, cooing when you hide your wet face against his neck. He supports your unsteady body with unfaltering strength; lets you cling as he rearranges you in his lap.

You can feel his cock beneath you, rock hard, the Jacob’s ladder teasing against your pussy. It distracts you a bit, foggy mind obsessing over how it’ll feel inside you, especially now that you’ve come twice.

His hand pats your ass. “Eyes up, doll.”

You emerge from your hiding spot only to stare, wide-eyed and awed, at his bare face. There are scars everywhere, just like the rest of his body, of varying color and size and healing histories. One on his temple, just clipping his cheek, catches your attention. It’s one of the better-healed scars.

You press a gentle kiss, flick your tongue along it. His hands spasm on your hips, but don’t tug you away.

“Handsome,” you sigh, then nip the same spot you just kissed.

You can feel his smile, a small but precious thing, against your cheek. “Can’t even fucking see straight right now.”

“Not that far gone,” you scoff, scritching your nails along his stubbled jaw. You could purr at the way he leans into it.

“Have to fix that, then.”

You prop yourself up with your other hand on his chest. His heart is beating beneath your palm, a little fast, but steady and strong. You adore it instantly.

You make eye contact, the hand on his face drifting to his cheek. Then you stretch to get the other… and squish. Just like he’s done to you countless times.

“Yes,” you agree.

That finally coaxes a proper chuckle out of him, bass deep and a little rough with disuse, but music to your ears. You let his cheeks go, nipping the little red marks your grip leaves behind.

“C’mon, Si,” you whisper. “Want your dick in me.”

And finally, it seems he’s run out of interest in teasing.

You lean your shoulders against him, letting him take most of your weight between his chest and the arm angling your hips. His other hand steadies his cock, drags the flushed, leaking head against your sopping entrance.

He lowers you slowly, encouraging you to dig your nails into his shoulders, draw them down his arms. Even stretched and two orgasms in, he’s big. It’s testing your limits, not quite pain, stinging in a way that makes your mouth water.

And your eyes.

The tears are back and streaming down your hot cheeks. When Simon notices, you feel his cock throb. You choke on a noise, mouth falling slack as he licks at them like a thirsting man in the desert.

“Didn’t take long,” he teases, a little mean. You love it.

“S-sensitive,” you whine, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know, pet,” he croons. “The head’s almost in.”

Just the head. Christ.

The pleasure keeps racking you and so do quiet little cries, your walls clutching every raw centimeter of his cock like he was built just for you. (Or the other way around, a depraved part of you whispers.)

He’s steady and patient as he fills you, keeping your mouth busy with claiming kisses when he’s not drinking up your tears. At the first rung of the Jacob’s ladder, you squeak and have to be held down, gone on how it stretches your poor entrance and grinds against your abused walls.

Each one after that garners a similar reaction, driving you insane as they press against you.

“Can feel your fucking heartbeat,” he groans at one point.

You moan, raking your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. The blond strands are dark and messy, getting messier as you play with them. He grunts and his eyelids flutter every time you tug.

By the time he’s fully inside you, your ass resting on his tense thighs, you’re panting and trembling. He sweeps a hand up your arched spine and curls his fingers around the back of your neck. You lean into his hold, go lax as he guides you through a decadent, devouring kiss.

“There we are, lovely,” he soothes while you whimper. “Hurt?”

“A little…” you gasp, clenching helplessly around the base of him.

“Good,” he growls, teeth on your shoulder.

You moan, falling limp in his arms. He rumbles a pleased hum, squeezing at your hips and ass and thighs in that way you recognize.

“Stressed?” you ask, confused.

He snorts. “I don’t need a reason to play with what’s mine.”

You suck in a breath, the casual (and true) claim making your head spin.

“Relax, pet,” he murmurs. “Just get used to me inside you.”

You mewl, high and soft in your throat. He tilts his head to speak in your ear.

“Your pussy is going to remember the shape of me by the end of this.”

And your lieutenant doesn’t make idle threats.

He guides your head down to his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist. The lewdest hug you’ve ever received. If not for the fat cock stretching you, it would be calming.

“Good girl, that’s it,” he hums, drawing idle patterns along your spine. “Just drift. It’ll be a bit before you can handle a proper fucking.”

He’s so deep and big inside you that you believe it, but a nagging part reminds you of the uneven score.

“What about you?”

He presses an unusually gentle kiss to your temple, though it’s balanced by the tight squeeze to the back of your neck.

“Don’t you worry about me, precious,” he chuckles. “You’ll keep me nice and warm until you’re ready.”

You swallow thickly, can’t help how you flutter around him. It’s a delicious thought, just sitting here with him filling you up for an indefinite period of time, until he decides you can handle how he’s going to fuck you.

“Like that do you?” he muses, too dark to be truly amused. “Like being my personal cocksleeve?”

“’M not,” you mumble, feeling a new sting of tears.

He tuts. “You’re my toy every other way. No point pretending now.”

You whimper into his neck, bite in retaliation but don’t deny it. Well past the point of anything like plausible deniability.

“No more fussing, pet. Be good for me now.”

And you are, settling in with your mouth brushing absent kisses to his marked collarbones. His hands never stop stroking your skin, lulling you into empty-headed bliss. The full feeling of his cock never dissipates, but you become less aware of it, internal muscles accommodating the stretch. You don’t even realize you’ve slipped into a doze, breaths going deep and even, safely cradled in your lieutenant’s arms.

When you wake, watery early-morning light is leaking past the blackout curtains. One of your hips is stiff from sleeping bunched up, but that’s not what calls your immediate attention. No, it’s the absolute puddle that Simon is coaxing from your stuffed hole with his thumb on your clit. He’s hard inside of you again – or maybe he never got soft in the first place.

“Mornin’,” he rasps when he sees you peeking your head up. Calm as you please. Like his cockhead isn’t kissing your cervix right now.

“You bastard,” you wheeze, sinking a mean bite into his shoulder.

“Grumpy thing,” he teases. “Forgot how sulky you are before coffee.”

You grumble incomprehensibly for a moment. Can’t believe he put you to sleep on his cock. More than a little miffed that you didn’t receive the proper fucking you earned yesterday. That you’ve woken up raring to go already, want his cum in your stomach more than breakfast.

“You actually plan on doing anything?” you demand. “Or we going to the mess like this? Risky to have hot tea that close to your balls.”

His laugh is like honey, rich and syrupy. Liquid sunshine when you kiss it from his mouth.

“Remember who’s in charge here, pet,” he warns.

You tilt your head in question, arching an eyebrow.

“You,” he continues, surprising you. Then he keeps talking. “So if you keep acting like a brat, I’ll have to treat you like one.”

You shiver. It should be illegal to be so salacious this early in the morning. To your delight, he allows you to wiggle a little, testing the feeling of his cock inside you. It’s absolutely divine.

“Or, counterpoint,” you say, daring to be cheeky when he’s looking at you like that. Like he’d burn the world just to keep you warm for a night. “I was very good yesterday and deserve a reward.”

“That so, sergeant?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” you chirp. Duck down to bribe him with kisses and nips along his jaw and neck, stubble prickling your bruised tongue. “I’ll even ask nicely.”

He groans, low and rough in his chest. “Yeah?”

You yelp as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, dragging your head back. His teeth scrape over the stuttering pulse in your throat, where there’s a sensitive spot that makes you squirm. His other hand sneaks to your breasts, tweaking a nipple still sore from his treatment the night before.

“Show me how nice you can ask then.”

And, well, not backing down from a challenge is what got you here in the first place.

You straighten up as best you can – have to take a moment when his cock grinds just right inside you – and arch your back. Your nails score lines down his chest, just this side of rough, knowing it’ll work better than any soft petting. Paired with nibbling kisses to the spot beneath his ear, you can already feel the rumble building in his chest.

“Simon, please,” you breathe, “I need you. Need it to be you.”

“Need what, lovely?” he husks.

“Need it to be you that fucks me.” You dare to rock your hips, pleased and distracted that he lets you. His fingers spread your ass wider over his lap. “Need you to break me in. Please?”

Sniper he may be, but his patience must already be gossamer thin from holding back last night and crammed inside your pussy until morning. He snaps at your crooning pleas, rolling you onto your back and grinding into you as deep as he can get.

There have been times in the field that you’ve stared as Simon operates his rifle. It’s his piece, modified and maintained in pristine condition. You’ve watched his clever fingers put it together, dismantle it, clean it, handle it with a deadly competence and precision that you envied. Not him, but the rifle. Probably something wrong with you, that you want to be an instrument, a tool, in your lieutenant’s capable hands, built up and broken apart at his whim.

Now, though… now you know. You’ve got confirmation that it’s everything you imagined and better, his scarred hands on you like he owns you, like you’re his to figure out. You want to be, you are, and you babble as much when he draws his hips back and snaps them forward.

There’s nothing testing or careful about it. Simon knows you’re not fragile, spent all night making sure you could take him exactly the way he wants you. You’ve never wanted him to hold back, don’t want him to now. Crave the way his control seems to slip when it’s you, your body, your voice egging him on.

He rolls his hips every time he bottoms out; his piercings grind deliciously against your twitching entrance with every thrust. You bury your fingers in his hair, tug when he pulls out as if he’s going to leave you empty and wanting. He grunts against your neck, teeth ravenous over skin that already bears their imprint.

It feels like freefall with no parachute, like getting caught in a perfect white-hot explosion. The force of him makes the bed creak, would shove you up the mattress if not for the tight grip on your thighs. His arm loops under the small of your back and angles your hips up.

“Mine,” he growls into your shoulder. “All fucking mine. My sergeant. My medic. My pretty toy.”

You can’t string together more than broken syllables, little noises forced out every time he drives home. He’s not looking for a verbal response though; your body is already singing its agreement, clamping down on his cock like you can’t stand any millimeter not inside you. You’re rocking with him as best you can, knee hitched up by his ribs, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

“I’m right here, doll. Not going anywhere,” he murmurs. Then, almost to himself. “No, not letting you out of my sight ever fucking again. Going to keep you right by my side, within reach.”

You cry out, ridiculously turned on by promises he can’t possibly keep. It’s not the nature of the job, but the fact that that’s what he wants…

“Go fucking crazy when I can’t see you,” he pants, “touch you. Was goin’ fuckin’ batshit all week. Gaz wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Just wanted to get my hands on you. My teeth in you.”

There’s an earnest, desperate edge to his words. Sounds like a sinner praying for salvation, like he’s begging some cruel god for relief. Or, more likely for your lieutenant, threatening to take that god’s place.

You’d worship Simon if he did. Practically do already. Would spread yourself out on his altar and let him devour you mind, body, and soul just to appease his appetite.

“Simon, please,” you cry, head tilting back, bearing your throat. “I’m yours. Your medic, your sergeant, your toy.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “That’s right, love. All mine.”

He pushes himself up, pressing his hand to the wall over your head. It’s gorgeous, the play of muscle and sinew in his arm. A fucking masterpiece of a man, beautiful and dangerous and right now, all fucking yours too.

The new leverage lets him slam into you faster and harder, frantic now. You have to brace your arms above your head to keep from knocking into the wall, pushing back to meet him thrust for brutal thrust. Could swear you feel him in your guts.

“C’mon, love, let me see those pretty tears.”

His hand slides over your thigh to your clit, thumb rubbing vicious little circles over the nerves. It gives him what he wants instantly, you’re near screaming as you cry. It’s rough and ruthless and has you so close to the edge that you’re almost jolting away.

“Lemme cum,” you beg, “Please, please, Simon, want to cum on your cock. So close…”

His grin is more just a bearing of teeth, eyes glittering in the shadows above you. “Cum for me, precious.”

It doesn’t take much more than that, always eager to please your lieutenant. His hips and finger sync up at just the right moment, just the right way, and you’re gushing over his cock, voice breaking. Your nails scrape the wall as you curl our hands into fists, bucking as he fucks you through it.

You’re not surprised when he doesn’t even slow down, though you reach to push his hand off your screaming clit. His hand darts from the wall to capture your wrists, pinning them over your head. The punishing rhythm of his hips doesn’t even falter, bullying that spot inside you relentlessly.

“I didn’t say you could fucking stop,” he snarls.

You whine and struggle, but that just makes you tighter, makes him rougher, makes it better. You’re not even sure if the cresting sensation is pleasure anymore, if it’s another orgasm or your body reaching max capacity. It’s just whiteout intense and you can do nothing but lay there writhing.

“Gonna cum in you,” he moans, head dropping. “Gonna leave my mark inside you too.”

You contract around him helplessly, his thrusts getting messier, plunging into you at a dizzying speed. Not even sure if you’re making noise anymore, or just sucking in air when you can get it. His fingers flex around your wrists, tight and unforgiving.

And then there's a burst of heat as he moans, sounding gutting. He fucks you through his own orgasm before finally slowing, and then stopping buried deep inside you. His thumb eases off your abused clit, hand landing on the bed beside your hip. Your leg flops down to the mattress, stretched out and still twitchy.

“How copy, sergeant?” he rasps.

“Solid, LT,” you wheeze. “You?”

“Fucking fantastic.”

That startles a little giggle out of you, grinning up at him fucked-out and high on afterglow. His returning smile, small and disused as it is, is better than all the orgasms you’ve had in the last twelve hours.

“Gonna pull out now,” he warns. “Brace.”

Even prepared, you still yelp, beyond sensitive and cored without him inside you. The feeling is only exacerbated by the warm cum you can feel dripping down your ass from your used hole.

“Look at that…” he drawls appreciatively, tilting his head for a good look. “There any part of you that ain’t pretty?”

You groan and cover your overheated face, knock your shin into his hip. But you leave your legs open.

“Shut up, Simon.”

“Insubordinate.”

“Fraternizer.”

“Mm. Gonna report me to Price?”

“Only if you report me.”

“Mutually assured destruction then.”

Your mouth is still hidden under your hands, but you know he can see your body shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Or you could help me clean up, take a nap, and we’ll negotiate terms for a ceasefire.”

He chuckles. “Should have you on a diplomatic envoy, Squeaks. Have the rest of us out of a job. No wars, no soldiers.”

You shake your head, dropping your arms to card through his hair. He lowers himself onto you – not his usual full-force flop, but still by no means delicate about it. You like the weight of him on your tingling body. Feels like he’s keeping you from floating away.

“Only way they’re getting me on protection detail for politicians is if you’re there with me.”

He grimaces. It’s stupidly charming how it makes a scar on his nose scrunch up. “The point is to stop incidents, not start them.”

“Shame, then,” you hum. “Guess we’re stuck here then.”

“Guess so.”

He pats your thigh, then pushes himself up. You protest immediately, but he shushes you with a wry smirk.

“Part of the terms, wasn’t it? To clean you up?”

You grumble but subside, thankful that officer quarters come with an ensuite. It doesn’t take him long to return with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He sets the latter on the side table and kneels between your thighs, wiping you down as gently as he’s ever been.

When he’s done, you make grabby hands until he scoffs and climbs in with you again.

“Nap?” you ask hopefully.

“Yeah. Got you up early. Still an hour ‘til breakfast.”

Not for the first (or likely last) time, you are grateful for Simon’s brilliant tactics.

“You’re my hero.”

He snorts, but when you peek up at him, there’s a fetching pink tint to his cheeks. “Go the fuck to sleep, Squeaks.”

“Yessir.”

[highvern]

Work Me Out II

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: simp gyu, car sex, protected sex, dom!gyu, brat!reader, spitting, choking, minor cock warming

Length: 2.5k

Note: happy 1k! i almost deleted this bc i hated it so y'all have to be extra nice to me about it (im joking) (not really) everyone say thank u @cheolism for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“Hi!” 

“Hi,” Mingyu grins, dropping a kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “You look…”

He lifts your hand, encouraging a spin so he can fully appreciate the black slip dress gliding over your curves.

“Wow.”

“Wow?” You laugh as he pulls you closer, goosebumps rising under the palm at your bare spine.

“Beautiful,” he sighs into your lips. 

He kisses you deeper; crowing you against his chest with a hand at your back. The lull of Mingyu’s lips and cologne lower your defenses, mouth opening to welcome his tongue. But he pulls away just when things breach on the edge of more.

“We’re gonna miss our reservation.” He coos through a smile, dropping a consolatory peck to your nose.

“So?”

You try to bring him back but he dodges you easily, tipping his chin up until your only option is to leave a trail of kisses along his Adam's apple.

“I’d like to take you on at least one real date.” Mingyu argues.

He’d be more convincing if he wasn’t leaving fingerprints on your hips. But you think it's cute how he wants to wine and dine you. When you step back, you notice how his eyes glow the way they always do when met with approval. It’s cute, toes on the border of innocence; and it makes your knees crave the feeling of the hardwood floors so you can give him all the validation he can handle with his cock in your mouth.

But there will be more than enough time for that later.

“Wow, so eating Captain Crunch in our underwear after you defiled me wasn’t a date?” You gasp. “Okay. I see how it is.”

Mingyu snorts but plucks your jacket off the coat rack and holds it open to help you in. “Alright, drama queen. Let’s go.”

The drive is filled with chatter. Over the past week, the initial spark of attraction only grew between you; through chats at the gym, texting, or the one night he came to your apartment and ended up passing out on the couch while the movie continued to play in the background. Somehow it was more intimate waking up fully clothed, big spooning him with your face buried between his shoulder blades than having him drill your guts until tears streaked your face.

Since you slept over that first night, you’ve noticed a plethora of things that make you more fond of Mingyu. How he slurs his words when he’s excited, talking so fast you can barely decipher what he’s saying. If you throw a wink his way while walking across the gym his eyes go wide like he’s completely taken aback by your interest; as if he didn’t have a front seat to how much you liked him. Or if he notices you looking he’ll not so subtly flex or make a face that has you laughing so hard you nearly tumble off the treadmill. Or the way Mingyu prides himself on being a gentleman; pausing his workout and walking you to your car, insisting it's too dark out for him to be comfortable letting you go alone (partially because it's his fault your gym visits became a two hour endeavor since the night in the car, he just can’t stop distracting you in the name of getting to know you better).

It’s the same at the restaurant. Mingyu takes your coat and pulls out your chair. He asks for more details on the book you mentioned on the way over, asking if he can borrow your copy once you finish. He feeds you some of his entree off his fork, splits dessert to satisfy your sweet tooth, and nabs the check from the waiter before you can even think of offering to split the bill.

It’s almost too perfect; like he is running a checklist in his head. But Mingyu isn’t that kind of guy. His enthusiasm is just that, enthusiasm for spending time with you, getting to know you, picking your brain like you’re the most interesting person he’s ever met and he can’t wait to know more.

“How did you not know it was a couples class?” You ask, laughing into the curve of his arm as he walks you back to the car.

“It didn’t say it on the flier! It just said ‘portions for two’ and I thought that meant I’d leave with leftovers.”

“Wow. So Wonwoo got you banned and ate your food?”

“Wonwoo got me banned and neither of us gotta eat the food.”

The collar of Mingyu’s shirt flitters when his chest shakes with laughter, watching you down the slope of his nose. Like a flame in a vacuum, all the oxygen in your lungs is sucked up when you notice how good he looks even under the sterile overhead light. The glass of wine you sipped through dinner doesn’t help; turning your insides to mush and your blood to a boil.

Mingyu is so genuinely sweet you almost feel guilty for crowding him against his car and palming the zipper of his jeans. The taste of whiskey clings to his tongue, sucked away by your own until he opens the door and ushers you into the back seat.

“Mingyu,” you gasp, plucking the foil package from his grip. “Did you expect to fuck me tonight?”

“No,” he groans into the side of your tit, thanking whatever power in the universe exists that you hadn’t worn a bra. “But a man should always be prepared.”

You snort, “Okay, ‘Mr. I don’t sleep with girls I don’t date.’”

“I think that's former ‘Mr. I don’t’ whatever the fuck,” he moans as he finds your mouth.

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast. Mingyu’s hip buck into the swipe of your thumb. You’d drop your mouth to suck away the mess  collecting there but the back seat of his car doesn’t provide much room since your date claims most of the space already. Instead, you settle for tracing your tongue across the raised veins webbing across his neck and nipping at the sensitive lobe of his ear.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Mingyu paws at your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and dragging your covered core closer to his cock. His other hand dips beneath your skirt, thumb swiping at your clit and two thick fingers pushing aside the scrap of fabric posing as underwear to stretch you open without preamble.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Mingyu pants.

You meet every curl of his fingers with a whine, face falling into the cradle of his jaw as he works you up. He’s everywhere; all you can feel, touch, taste. Even his cologne floods your nose; the scent of powdery spice and something intrinsically him that you can’t name.

Whether intentional or not, the match of pace isn’t lost on your mind as your fist sinks over Mingyu’s length the same time he stuffs you with his digits; fucking you by proxy while his tongue licks away every sound of satisfaction before it can make its way between your lips.

Before long, Mingyu bats away your hand to use his own. The second the latex is rolled down he holds himself for you, offering his cock like a prize you can’t refuse.

And he’s right.

The initial discomfort trickles up your spine. Eyes closed, chest caved, you take every inch as Mingyu whispers praise after praise into your neck. Twitching in each other’s hold, each clench of your cunt dips his stomach until you pull him back to your mouth and goad him with a demanding draw against his tongue with your own; a wet suckle more obscene than the way he splits you has him returning the gesture with fervor.

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu manages to latch to one of your nipples, teeth razing along the sensitive skin until you nearly collapse from the delightful pain.

Arching into his chest so hard it hurts, your voice cracks, “Oh, Gyu.”

“Good girl,” he groans into your chest.

The hand on your ass pulls you across his cock, forcing you down with each of his thrusts up. Mingyu’s loud but you’re louder and the abandoned top floor of the parking deck doesn’t provide any disguise from what’s happening behind the foggy windows of his SUV. 

As sexy as you are with your head thrown back, desperately moaning his name, the fear of getting caught is starting to suffocate him.

You beat against his chest when Mingyu pins you in place. He crushes you flat against him, pelvis to pelvis, so deep you feel him in your throat. Tight around the stretch, he nearly loses his train of thought but finds it when an involuntary rush of his thighs makes you squeak.

He brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek in an effort to quell the bubbling tantrum behind your eyes. “Shhh,” he whispers. “We can't get caught.” 

Time stops as you come to a crossroads. Eye to eye, you can see him waiting for a signal. If you want to stop, drive thirty minutes back to either of your apartments, and then go at it like rabbits, Mingyu will do it. If you want him to stop, drop you off at your doorstep, and send him home with the worst hard on of his life, he’ll smile through the tears. But if you want to finish what you’ve both started in the discomfort of the back seat, Mingyu needs you to be quiet.

So you can listen without complaint, bury your face in the column of his neck and bite your lip until it bleeds from strain. Or you can let Mingyu decide the best course of action.

“Then shut me up.” 

A beat of absolute silence rattles your shaking confidence. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jumping back like he’s been burned but you fake courage until you spot the way he licks his teeth at the idea.

Whatever permission he’s looking for he finds in the slight dip of your chin. You watch Mingyu’s mood shift in an instant. The playful tilt of his lips melt away, the corners of his eyes freeze over their usual humor. And the arm around the dip of your waist squeezes so tight you fear he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his palm.

The hand on your face falls to your jaw, pinching your cheek between his pointer finger and thumb as he tsks, forcing your head back and forth mockingly before he forces his thumb between your teeth.

“Shut. Up.” 

He punctuates his command with a bruising thrust of his cock; thrilled at the way his thumb digging into your tongue chokes any sound. The hand on your ass nearly rips your underwear as Mingyu uses it to guide your hips, keeping you bouncing in his lap until you're drooling.

Mingyu’s teeth rake against your jaw, “Touch yourself.”

You clumsily snake a hand down, hips jerking under the blind swipe of fingers at your core. Eyes unfocused, ears filled with the rush of blood, you don’t resist the urge to bite his thumb just to see what he’ll do next.

The sting of his palm against your ass isn’t a shock.

But the wet of his fingers on your throat is.

And when Mingyu squeezes, cutting off the blood to your brain for a second in a show of possessive strength, your choked wail is music to his ears.

“Fuck, you like that?”

Nodding like a bobble head, more pathetic whimpers fill the car. 

With a shift of weight, he makes you grind against his lap, the metal of his belt buckle cutting into the back of your thighs. But you’re full to the brink of shredding apart you can’t bring yourself to care. Heat in the pit of your stomach blooms, used and deep.

Mingyu fans his hand along your throat, fingers digging into the jut of your jaw to make you look at his face. His hair is a mess, cheeks rosy with sweat at his hairline. A low rumble in his throat is all the warning you get before he spits on your lips and it glides down your chin; slipping under his palm while he squeezes until stars dance in your vision.

Hips stuttering, everything draws tight; every muscle, every vein, each individual cell contracts and detonates until Mingyu fucks into your so hard your head hits the roof as he flails. Thighs firm against the top of his, you feel each sputter into the condom.

“Mingyu,” you croak, throat wrecked.

Everything feels heavy and worn when he brings you into the warmth of his chest. Somehow, you hadn’t managed to undo a single button beyond the four that let you peek at the dip between his pecs; but the friction of his shirt against your sensitive chest makes you shiver. Sweat and spit leave the fabric clinging uncomfortably but you don’t have the energy to change it.

“Jesus Christ.” Mingyu draws in a heavy breath, and the motion has your legs twitching again. “You okay?”

Nodding into his neck, your eyes slip shut. If he keeps tracing shapes on your back, you’re in serious trouble of falling asleep right there in the back of his car with his softening length still inside you. Attempting to prevent the momentum from taking over, you rise on your knees, only for Mingyu to bring you back down.

“Just…just let me hold you for a second.” he sighs, sounding as exhausted as you feel. “Please.”

Peppering languid kisses across his face, down the curve of his cheek, up the bridge of his nose, you smile when he pouts at the lack of attention to his lips. But when you meet them with your own, it's nearly impossible to call it a kiss from the sleepy grins splitting your faces.

“Wanna come back to mine?” Mingyu whispers into your cheek, leaving his own series of kisses. “We can watch that new horror movie you were talking about.”

“You hate scary movies.”

“Oh no, I guess you’ll have to stay the night in case I can’t sleep.”

“How awful!” You mock. “Did you buy more cereal?”

“Mhm.”

With a monumental sigh, “Then I guess I can come over.”

It takes nearly fifteen minutes to find the courage to unwind from each other. Mingyu distracts you by tracing shapes between your shoulder blades and making you guess his artistic interpretation. Each time you're wrong he demands a kiss. Each time you're right he gives you one back.

When you make him guess what your finger burns into his shoulder he nearly faints before deciding it's time to head home, hands intertwined over the center console the entire way.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[creamflix]

suguru x female reader; dark and 18+ content, minors or ageless blogs do not interact. unestablished relationship. barista!reader, customer!suguru. use of sex doll. unethical and unhealthy obsession. highkey pervert suguru. inspired by my perv, onahole using satoru ramble. — masterlist here ☆ extended fic here. dark content, reader discretion is highly advised.

suguru insists he’s no pervert.

he’s just a god-fearing, woman-respecting man who can’t help that he fell headfirst for the café's prettiest barista — you.

the one who makes his coffee just right, adding that little extra smile at the end. he might’ve told himself, at first, that it was a harmless crush. but it’s so easy to let that slip when he’s already got money to burn and his mind…preoccupied.

so he made a quick little purchase — a sex doll.

but not just any doll, oh no.

he found himself scrolling, one page after another, until he landed on a custom silicone model that could be shaped and molded into an eerily perfect replica of you. the doll arrived with realistic features, down to the soft skin and delicate curves molded just after you. suguru’s fingers skimmed over the doll’s "face," tilting its head this way and that with a dark, possessive fascination.

it’s just for fun, he reasoned, flexing the doll’s joints to make sure the metal skeleton could hold you — the doll, he corrects himself — firm in whatever position he liked best.

but the thrill wore off sooner than he anticipated. the coldness, the quiet — it wasn’t enough.

so, naturally, he upgraded it.

this new model was, in his eyes, a step up to something more perfect. this one came with a full-body heating system, warm to the touch, programmable so he could dial up just the right amount of heat — warm enough to imagine you’re there with him. it made him shudder, setting the control panel with a kind of reverence, feeling every bit like he was crafting his own illusion of you.

and the upgrades kept coming.

on days when he didn’t see you at the café — those mornings when you weren’t there, with no smile, no light laugh, and not even a hint of your voice drifting through the air — he had another fix in place. this time, he added a custom voice feature, programmed with phrases. the voice was robotic, yes, but it was close enough to play with his imagination. it was your voice, lifted from voice recordings he’d carefully taken, just samples of phrases he’d remembered hearing you say, woven together.

"welcome back, suguru," it said, in that sweet imitation of you. "how can i make your day better?" sometimes, he’d press another button to hear it say, "did you miss me?" the doll’s voice, soft but teasing, filled his dim room.

and then he would, with that calm satisfaction, spend his nights hearing just enough to keep him wanting more.

but none of this stopped suguru from showing up at the café, same as ever, leaning against the counter as if nothing happened. as you prepared his order, he'd watch you, hiding his grin behind the rim of his cup. every now and then, you’d catch his eye, and he’d give you that dashing smile, all charm and innocence, with not a hint that just last night, he’d spent hours tangled up with a doll that looked and sounded exactly like you.

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[babyblue711]

Surrender

Aegon II Targaryen (Modern AU) x Reader Summary: Helaena invites you to the Targaryen countryside estate for a relaxing weekend away from the city where you form an unexpected connection with her older brother, Aegon. Words: 4.2K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Aemond being uptight A/N: I just want to give a quick shout out to the authors who have the amazing ability to write well thought out, smutty one-shots and somehow magically keep it under 3K words. YOU ALL are incredibly talented and I wish I could do the same. The smut alone is over half this fic. I tried to keep it short, y'all, I really did. Anyway, this is my first time writing for Aegon. As I said in a previous post, this story is incredibly self indulgent but thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy! 🔥 Update 7/9/24: Welcome new readers! Please don't be shy and feel free to leave me a comment! I'm still around Tumblr, just taking a break from writing at the moment but love reading your comments and thoughts about the fic! xoxo 💙 Beta read by the wonderful: @myfandomprompts

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warm water pours over your head and down your back as you rinse the shampoo out of your long hair; the fragrance of your favorite soap washing away the remnants of the day’s activities. Yet, within the confines of your mind, memories unfold like scenes from a movie.

Each moment is vivid and alive; seeing him atop his grey gelding as he waits for you to mount his brother’s tall, dark bay mare; your knees almost touching with his as your horses walk side by side down the winding trail. 

You recall the admiration in his smile as he looks over at you, observing the way you sway with your horse’s long stride with ease; your mutual love for horseback riding came as a surprise to you both. The brief ride had come to a halt all too soon, as ominous storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Just a mile away from the barn, you jointly decided to turn for home. 

You can still feel the wind in your hair as you and Aegon galloped back to the barn, trying to outrace the storm as thunder clapped in the distance. Laughter spilled from your lips at the thrill of the speed of your horse and your worries seemed to melt away with each leaping stride. It had been years since you had felt so light and carefree.

Luckily, you had arrived back at the barn just as the rain began to fall, giving your horse a grateful pat while reluctantly handing him off to the attending groom; Aegon seemed exhilarated from the ride as well as the two of you began to exchange lighthearted banter about your spontaneous adventure. Among your group, only you had embraced the opportunity to ride with him, given it was your favorite childhood pastime that you rarely got to enjoy as an adult. Everyone else had decided to retire to the house to get ready for dinner. 

Amused, you watched as he bends to pet the barn cat weaving between his legs, wondering why you had never seen this side of him before. Because he is your best friend’s older brother, a small voice answered in the back of your mind. When you first met Helaena at uni, your perception of Aegon was clouded by his reputation for being frequently drunk, arrogant, and unpredictable, and you assumed that was all there was to him. However, after spending the weekend with the Targaryen siblings at their countryside estate, you began to wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. 

Standing together in the doorway of the barn, easy conversation continued as you waited out the storm and you couldn’t help but feel impressed by Aegon's charm and clever banter, more so than you'd like to admit. The rain intensified, accompanied by a cool breeze which caused you to shiver slightly. He moved closer as if to shield you from the cool air, thunder clapping overhead. Heat radiated off his skin, giving you goosebumps as an electric charge zings through the atmosphere and you’re unsure if it's caused by the lightning or his sudden proximity. Your eyes flicked up to his face.

“Cold?” Aegon had said, his full lips curling into a perfect one-sided smirk. You locked eyes with him for a heartbeat too long and suddenly you’re melting into his dark blue gaze.

Flashing back to the present, you feel a blush bloom on your cheeks as you remember what had happened next. Still in the middle of your shower routine, you close your eyes and his face materializes in front of you again. With perfect clarity, you recall his damp blonde hair tousled by the wind, his sun-kissed skin, his warm, soft lips.  

The kiss that had transpired was completely unexpected, but had felt so absolutely right in the moment. It was tender and slow and sweet. You remembered the gentle way his hand cupped your face when he pulled away, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. Your heart pounded in your chest and words eluded you in that moment, lost in the whirlwind of emotions stirred by his kiss.

The rest of the evening had passed in a blur, the storm blowing over just as quickly as it began. Dinner with the Targaryens was always an interesting affair because their personalities were so entirely opposite of one another. The youngest sibling, Daeron, had obviously decided to take a leaf out of Aegon’s book and had already plowed through several beers by the time you walked back up to the house. Helaena immediately took you to the side to show you a picture of a ladybug she had drawn while you had been out riding, and Aemond brooded silently in the corner with a book. 

Meanwhile, you and Aegon seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to mention anything to the others which suited you just fine. The kiss had been too unexpected, too private, just meant for the two of you. His siblings did not need to know about any of his extracurricular activities, especially when it involved their sister’s best friend. 

Unbidden, butterflies had formed in your stomach for the rest of the evening and you could hardly eat. What was wrong with you? This sort of reaction was something you would expect of a silly school girl and you had to remind yourself that you were a grown ass woman and could do as you please without catching feelings. Your last relationship had ended poorly and you were still trying to recover from it. The drama, the heartbreak, the endless cycles of disappointment—it was exhausting. Before today, guys like Aegon were the exact reason you had sworn off dating and relationships, choosing to fiercely embrace your freedom and independence instead. 

Yet here you sat, unable to stop thinking about the perfect shape of Aegon’s lips. When had he changed so much? Or had he been this way all along and you just hadn’t noticed? Gone was his arrogance and, in its place, a seemingly gentle and caring soul. It was the first time in a long while that you felt a genuine connection with the opposite sex. His kiss had reminded you of the excitement of a new fling, the rush of emotions, and the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, of feeling desirable. 

Wary of these feelings, you decided to prioritize your own well-being and enjoy the moment for what it was—a fleeting spark of connection—and you wouldn't let it consume you or lead you down a path you weren't ready for.

Except, you hadn’t anticipated that Aegon wouldn’t be on the same page as you. Although both of you were resolutely acting like nothing happened, subtlety, he offered to clear your plate from the dinner table and then brought you another beer unasked, surprising you with his sudden thoughtfulness. You secretly hope his attentiveness goes unnoticed by the rest of his family. 

Luckily, Daeron is immersed in his own world of revelry, acting as if he’s in competition with himself to drink the most beer, or perhaps aiming to match Aegon’s former partying ways. Helaena, more adept at picking up social cues, pretended not to notice, but Aemond’s intense stare tells you all you needed to know of his suspicions as his eyes flicked back and forth between you two. 

At last, you excused yourself for the evening to shower and go to bed, desperate to find some peace with your inner turmoil by getting away from the group and from him. 

Now, drying your hair with a towel, you finally feel relaxed from the chance to clear your head. Dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and shorts, you emerge from your bathroom and survey the opulent bedroom, grateful for securing one of the best rooms in this expansive house. Your balcony doors are open to let in the warm summer breeze, cooled slightly from the earlier rain. Enticed by the twinkling of the stars that you never get to see in the city, you step outside onto the balcony and gaze up at the night sky, oblivious to someone approaching you from behind. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” His deep voice sends your heart into your throat as you jump and whirl to face him.

“Aegon!” you exclaim, with a mixture of annoyance and relief. “You have to stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” he asks with a wolfish grin and you roll your eyes at his feigned innocence. 

“Surprising me unexpectedly,” you almost growl in response and his grin grows wider as he gives a nonchalant shrug. 

“Oh, I think you like surprises,” he says easily, coming to lean on the railing next to you and observing the sky. 

You roll your eyes again and choose not to comment as you look out onto the dark grounds, suddenly conscious that you aren’t wearing a bra and the air is cool. Quickly crossing your arms over your chest, you contemplate what to say to him for a moment and opt to cut to the chase. 

“What do you want, Aegon?” you say with a sigh, trying to act as if you truly didn't care. His response is immediate and direct, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"You," he purrs, his deep blue eyes seem to pierce you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. There’s a darkness in his stare, a hunger, a need, a longing. Tension crackles like lightning in the air.  

Your heart jolts with delight at his words, just as conflicting thoughts invade your mind. Your breakup was still relatively fresh and you weren’t fooled by what he meant by “you”. Is that something you were ready for? 

Instantly, your doubt is questioned by an opposing voice in your head that counters with, “But you have needs too, as much as you keep denying yourself. If you wanted to have a one night stand then, why not? He was familiar at least. You deserve to have some fun. When was the last time you had sex?” 

Mentally, you think you’ve made a good argument with yourself, until the rational side of your brain reminds you delicately of your choice to swear off men and be happy to live a life free of their soul-sucking ways, remembering the toll your ex had taken on you mentally, emotionally and physically over the years. 

But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore, the opposing voice reasons irresistibly in your other ear. You hold the power. You know your worth. 

This quick mental battle between your righteous consciousness and lustful desires happens in an instant, but Aegon looks like he knows exactly what internal struggle you are having as he steps closer to you, crowding your space without asking permission, tilting your chin up with his forefinger, the glow of the moon casting a soft light on his face. 

“Let me remind you of what you’re missing,” he whispers seductively against your lips, reading you perfectly. He begins the kiss gently, his lips exploring yours before deepening the connection with his tongue. Taking a fistful of your damp hair at the back of your neck, he holds you in place against him as he continues to kiss you passionately. You're enveloped in his taste, his scent, his presence; the musky fragrance of his shampoo only serves to heighten your desire for him.

After a few moments, you feel yourself melt into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you push your chest into his, nipples hard underneath your t-shirt. All rational thought is wiped clean from your mind as you make your decision.

Breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him back inside to stand next to your high, ornate bed. Not one to waste time, lest you change your mind, you grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling it over his head as yours follows suit. His dark gaze drinks in the sight of your bare breasts and he moves towards you as if in a trance, dipping his head to clamp his lips on your collarbone. You move your neck to the side and hum low in your throat as your hands explore the muscles of his broad back.

Within a few moments, you feel him tugging at your shorts, his touch deft and confident as he loosens the drawstrings. They fall to the ground, leaving you only in your thin, silk panties. His large hands slide down your hips and over your ass, and suddenly, he picks you up and throws you effortlessly onto the bed.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Aegon is on top of you again, his body pressing against yours with a delicious weight. You feel his hunger, his desire, as he devours you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for more. Every touch, every kiss, every caress, sends electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your veins. His touch intoxicates you, numbing your mind better than any drug ever could. When was the last time someone had made you feel this good? 

An ache starts to form between your legs and you rock your hips upwards, against Aegon’s erect length through his shorts. He hums while kissing his way down your body, suckling at your breasts, skimming your ribs with his teeth, biting your hip bones as he journeys downward, devouring your curves as he goes. At last, his face rests between your legs where he gently kisses the insides of your thighs. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers fervently as he hooks his fingers into the waistline of your panties. You lift your hips and he removes your underwear, finally bearing you to him completely. 

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs as he gazes at your sex, slick with desire for him. You start to feel self conscious at the hungry way he is looking at you, closing your knees to his line of sight. His eyes flick back up to your face, now dark pools of lust as he removes his own shorts and comes to lay naked next to you on the bed. You glance down at his cock before his lips take hold of yours again and your breath catches in your chest once more. My god, you think, was it a trick of the dim light or is he really that big? 

The thought is quickly swept from your mind as he continues kissing you for several minutes, kneading your breasts and rubbing your sides and hips and you decidedly become more impatient than him, a desperate ache between your legs and you reach for his length but he grabs your wrist firmly to stop you, smiling lightly.

“You first,” he whispers and pushes you back onto the bed so that you rest on your back; his hand trails down your stomach and runs along your inner thigh. Your breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, anticipating what's next. 

Feeling like you burst into flames from all the sexual tension, touch me already! resonates loudly inside your head. Finally, his fingertips brush over your slick folds and he gives a low moan of appreciation. You mewl pathetically and arch your back, needing more friction as he expertly rubs circles around your bud. 

“More, Aegon, please,” you aren’t even embarrassed to be begging so early on. He chuckles lightly in response and blessedly acquiesces as he slips a finger inside you, quickly followed by another. He pumps his fingers in and out for a moment and returns to kissing you deeply. Pleasure begins to overload your brain until nothing is left but him. The smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the stretch of your pussy as his fingers move deep inside you, so much thicker than yours, reaching so much deeper than you ever could yourself. 

With his palm set on your bud, fingers buried deep, he sets a steady rhythm, stroking that sweet spot inside you while his face is buried into your neck. You grip the back of his hair and close your eyes, gasping as pleasure builds deep from within. It doesn’t take long until your breathing picks up as the coil tightens inside, causing you to pant and lose whatever dignity remained to you as you start to mumble incoherent nonsense, willing Aegon not to stop his pace as the pleasure mounts. 

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Aegon moans into your ear and your climax crashes over you in one enormous wave as you soar to ecstasy. You clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your wail of pleasure, just in case anyone else in the house could hear you cumming loudly. Aegon grunts from beside you as your pussy clamps down onto his fingers and you think you hear him whisper “fucking hell” very softly, but you are too lost in mindnumbing bliss to pay attention. He continues his rhythm as the waves crash over you and doesn’t stop until you have to push his hand away, on the brink of overstimulation. You lay panting next to him, trying to catch your breath, realizing it has been years since the last time a man has made you cum so hard. 

Aegon rolls onto his back and begins to stroke his length, covering himself in your slick as he waits for you to regain control of your senses. Recovering slightly, you glance down and realize you didn’t just imagine it, he really was impressively large, bigger than any of your exes. You prop yourself onto your side next to him and boldly take him in hand, causing him to smirk. As if you were drunk from the ecstasy of your peak, you can’t stop the words that tumble from your lips. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” you practically slur at him and his cheshire cat grin widens.

“I think I may have heard that before,” he quips, sounding amused, while running his nose along your jawline, his breath hot against the skin of your neck, “But don’t worry, it’ll fit.” A slight moment of panic flutters in your heart, you were no virgin but you certainly had never handled that before. 

Aegon rolls on top and you cringe inwardly, not from worry about his size but rather remembering this was your ex's favorite position because it gave him a sense of power over you. Dark memories interrupt your excitement as they flash like lightning through your mind. But that worthless fool had never made you cum as hard as Aegon just had; he normally hadn’t worried if you came at all. With an enormous effort, you push the intrusive thoughts out of your mind and focus on the present moment.

Mentally, you completely let go and surrender to Aegon... it felt so good for once. To let someone else take the lead, to let go of control, to not have to think, to not have to do anything but allow him to consume you. 

You spread your legs and welcome him eagerly as his hips come to rest lightly on yours. You squirm underneath him as your nails rake along his back and down over his ass, causing him to shudder slightly as he continues to kiss along your jawline to your earlobe.

“Aegon, I’m on birth control,” you whisper in his ear as you rub your slick folds along the length of his hard, thick cock. 

“Hmm, good,” he hums into your mouth as he grinds back against you, “Because I wanna see your pussy overflow with my cum,” he inserts his tongue into your mouth for emphasis, swallowing your heady moans. 

You lift your hips as you feel Aegon guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, unable to stop your gasp as he pushes slowly inside. The intense stretch wipes everything from your mind and if you were being honest with yourself, it feels like the first time all over again, albeit more exciting now. Holy shit…holy fucking shit! is all you can think as he slides in slowly and you wonder if not having sex for a long time makes you a born-again virgin. 

Aegon, to his credit, doesn’t thrust roughly into you, rocking gently instead, getting a little deeper with each stroke as you attempt to breathe through your nose and will yourself to relax and open up for him. At last, he bottoms out inside of you and you’ve never felt so full before in your life. He rolls his hips into yours and you moan at the sensation as his thick cock dragging along your soft velvet walls. You pant and mewl underneath him, hands wrapping around his biceps that have your head caged in. After a few slow strokes, you find yourself adjusting to his size and you can’t help but beg for more.

“More, Aegon, please - harder,” you whine. 

“Impatient, are we?” he teases and picks up the pace but only a little and you know he’s savoring the moment. He pulls himself almost all of the way out before sliding back in with long, slow, deep strokes. Your hips start to rise to meet his own, willing him to go faster. On the next stroke his hips snap into yours, causing you to gasp at the pleasure that courses through your slick pussy, sending electric currents through your chest as he starts to earnestly fuck you into the bed. 

Unable to control the uninterrupted moans of pleasure, you cover your mouth again, thankful, at least, that the heavy framework of the bed is sturdy and does not make so much as a squeak despite his deep thrusts. He frowns down at you, roughly removing your hand from your mouth in displeasure, squeezing your wrist harshly, but the pain only enhances your pleasure. 

“Stop doing that. I want to hear you scream,” he says gruffly through puffs of his own heavy breathing. 

Suddenly, he pulls out and leans back on his heels, flipping you over and bringing your ass in the air. He re-enters you and grabs your hair, holding your head back as he roughly thrusts into you from behind. You're breathless at the unexpected change in position but moan lustfully as he slaps your ass hard with a large hand, releasing his grip on your hair to take hold of your hips, pistoning even faster. The sound of skin slapping together erotically fills the room as pleasure coils deep in your belly. 

“That’s it, babygirl, taking my cock so well,” he growls as his hands squeeze your ass cheeks so hard you think you’ll have bruises. 

You whine noisily at his praise while reaching your hand down to play with your bud, knowing you can cum again in this position with a little extra friction. Aegon can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock as your breathing picks up again, another climax approaching quickly. He grunts and pants as he nears his own release.

As your walls spasm around him, you cry out again, your orgasm ripping through your core, clenching down on his thick length. He groans as he rides out your peak for as long as he can, thrusting harshly into you one last time as he pours himself deep within. You can feel his thick cock pulsate inside you, milked by your clenching pussy, and find that you love the thought of him filling you with his spend. 

As he withdraws, he pulls your ass cheeks apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, enjoying the sight of his cum leaking from your cunt. At last, you collapse onto the bed, utterly spent but entirely well-fucked, perhaps the most satiated you had ever been in your whole life. 

You lay, breathing heavily, trying to regain your strength, when strong arms come to cradle you as Aegon scoops you up and lays you gently back on the bed in a more dignified position, pulling the covers up and over you.

He slips into bed beside you and snuggles close. In comfortable silence, you both savor the intimate connection, skin to skin, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and the steady beat of your heart. Nestled securely in his embrace, your eyelids begin to droop, and just as you teeter on the edge of sleep, a gentle kiss brushes across your forehead.

Daylight filters through the balcony's glass doors, gently rousing you from sleep. It takes a moment for the vivid memories of last night to flood your mind. You find yourself still unclothed under the sheets, yet the bed is empty beside you. Letting out a soft groan, you stretch your sore muscles, contemplating how you were going to face Aegon that day. Are you both going to continue to pretend like nothing happened?

Automatically, you reach for your phone on the nightstand and see there’s a text, not from Aegon but from Aemond. Confusion swirls in your mind as you tap it open. 

[Aemond]: Look. My bedroom is right next to yours. Could you keep it down next time?

You could practically feel his irritation and you blush, mortified. Fuck, had you really been that loud? You knew the answer to that was a resounding “yes” because you hated being quiet, but you had really hoped the expansive house would have muffled some of the noise. Shit.

Feeling guilty, you start to type back an apology but then decide sex is nothing to be ashamed of and you were going to have fun teasing rigid, proper Aemond. 

[Y/N]: Join us next time, then? 😉

>>>> Part 2

A/N: It was the HOTD trailer that pushed me over the edge for Aegon, but y'all can thank these photos from TGC's IG for the inspiration for this story.

[halfbloodfics]

Hi, welcome on tumblr.

I see that request are open. So. I have one :D. Can you write snape x reader fluff. She is also professor in Hogwarts. They are long time in secret relationship and another man (maybe Lockhart? :D ) trying to him. But it’s ridiculous for Severus and her so sometimes in evening after dinner, they talking and laughing about what he come up with. Thank you very much. And sorry for my English, it’s not my native language.

Thank you for the request, I'm sorry I'm getting to it so late. Uni is starting up again, so I'll be quite busy.. But fret not fellow sev lovers, all requests will be taken gotten too!!

Tropes: Fluff, established relationship, secret relationship

Warnings: none :)

requests are open :) see pinned post xx

~

The classroom was quiet, the students having just been dismissed for the weekend. With your back turned to the door, you began tidying up after them, pushing in the chairs and returning borrowed textbooks.

The afternoon sun poured in from the ancient windows, filling the class with a warm, ambient light. From the back of the room, your partner, Severus, gazed up at you, waiting for you to be done.

A small smile graced your lips, one that he returned. For professional reasons, you kept your relationship private from the other students and staff; giving no clues that you were together. During the week, the two of you slept in your seperate chambers, on opposite ends of the castles. But the weekends? That was your time to finally be together, in your shared home on Spinner's End. Away from the secrecy and obligations of your professional lives.

You continued to clean as he graded, eager to finish, when a familiar voice interupted the silence.

"Ah, Proffessor Y/LN." Lockhart said, standing in the door frame. "Allow me to assist you in cleaning."

You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before you had the chance to, Lockhart invited himself in, using his wand to organize the classroom and tidy things back up the way they were.

"Oh, thank you, Professor Lockhart." You said, brushing your hands off on the sides of your dress. "You didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

Severus stood quietely at the back of the class, in the corner of your eye you noticed his arms cross.

It was no doubt to anyone in Hogwarts but Lockart, that Severus absolutely despised the man. The proud, flirtacious and conceited man was the absolute opposite of your reserved partner, and yet, Lockhart never seemed to catch on to this fact that his presence was far from welcome.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white smile and stepping a little closer until he was about a foot from you.

"Say, Y/N," He started, adjusting the turqouise and gold rimmed hat on his head to show off more of the curly, golden locs, "You seem to be fairly intelligent. I'm sure you have exquisite taste, in extra curricular activites."

Your eyes flicked briefly at Severus, who was now staring at the back of Lockharts head, with an expression that was half amused, half annoyed.

You hesitated. "Umm. Thank you? I thi-"

Lockharts hand raised dismissivly, his fingers gently grazing across your face to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. "No needs for words, Professor Y/L/N. I know, how star struck you are." He says with a wink.

Oh. Yea... Starstruck...

You clear your throat, walking over to your desk to continue collecting your things.

Obnoxiously, yet not surprisingly, Lockhart follows, this time stopping in front of your desk, watching with a smug expression as you gather your things.

"Which is why, dear, I was wondering if you would love the honour, of coming to my book reading this weekend?" He starts, leaning on the desk, "There will be plenty of my admirars there, hopefully you amongst them. Who knows? Perhaps I'll even sign something for you, free of charge."

You paused, bag in hand. "Oh, um.. That's quite kind of you, Professor. I thank you for the invite, but I'm quite busy this weekend... Unfortunately."

Lockharts grin faltered, as if he wasn't used to a woman denying him the pleasure of his company.

From the back of the room, Severus let out a small scoff, causing Lockhart to turn around and notice the man he hadn't seen before. "Oh. Professor Snape." He said, clearly fighting to maintain the confident persona he had put on.

He turned back to you, forcing a smile. "Well, yes. Another time, certainly. I'll see you on Monday, Professor."

You nodded, forcing a small smile, feeling relieved as you watched him exit the class and disapear down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, your head rolled to Severus with an exasperated sigh. He smirked back at you, clearly amused by the whole ordeal as he approached and took the bag off your shoulders.

"A signed book of his, free of charge." He said at last, drawing out the laugh you had been holding in so long.

~

That night, you sat in the kitchen of your shared home in Spinners End, reading The Quibbler as Severus stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of soup.

"Finding any entertaining gossip, dear?" He said, back still turned as he prepared your dinner.

You put the paper down with a scoff. "No, just the regular, boring stuff. Besides, these papers don't even have crosswords at the end. What's the point?"

You watched Severus move around the kitchen quietly, hands delicately chopping vegetables and adding them to the pot. All these years, and he still didn't use magic while cooking. You knew this about him, that he preffered to use his own hands to cook, finding solace in the quiet, mindless activity.

He brushed a sliced carrot off the cutting board and into the pot. "Perhaps you should have taken Lockart up on his offer. Surely his riveting tales would have provided you with such entertainment."

There was a playful edge to his voice, despite his monotone phrasing. It was no doubt he could get jealous, possessive even. Particularily in the beginning of your relationship. But as the years had gone on and his trust in you developed, his doubts and insecurities lessened, finding others flirtations slightly less outrageous. But with Lockhart? It was just laughable.

You snorted, moving your paper to the side as he approached with two bowls of soup, placing yours on the placemat in front of you.

The front, framing pieces of his black hair fell in front of his smirk as he sat across from you on the small table. His left hand reached for the paper, his right one bringing the spoon to his lips and blowing gently on the soup.

"Oh, no," He stated as his eyes scanned the paper, "Certainly no tales of Lockharts bravery in here."

He flipped the pages, the corner of his lips tugging up slightly higher as you scoffed, bringing your own spoon to your lips and taking a sip.

"However will I fill my weekend with enjoyment now?" You sighed.

Severus smirked, taking another sip of the soup and putting the paper down. "I don't know. Now that you no longer have the honour of his company."

That was all it took for you to break out in a laugh, leaning back in your chair and playfully kicking Severus under the table.

"Sev," You laughed, "Did you see the look on his face when I declined?"

Severus smirked, laughing silently to himself as he brought the spoon to his lips once more. "I'll be keeping that memory close in mind the next time I'm lucky enough to have the honour of gracing his presence."

You laughed harder, always amused by your partners never ending sarcastic remarks. It was one of the things you were first attracted to him for, all those years ago. How he could always one up you in conversation, his wit never ending.

"How often do you think he hears the word, no?" You said.

Severus scoffed, sipping the soup again and swallowing before replying curtly: "Not nearly enough."

You giggled to yourself quietly, relishing in the view of his smile across from you. "Perhaps I can help with that." You said finally, stirring your soup.

He smirked as his dark eyes met yours, and for a moment the only sound was the clinging of your spoons against the bowls as you ate, stomachs full of home made soup and amusement.

When Severus had noticed you were finished, he stood up, holding out his hand to collect your bowl. You handed it to him, thanking him and smiling as you felt him lean down and place a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"I must say," He murmered against your hair. "I think your company is a much greater honour."

You smiled as he withdrew his lips. "The honour is yours all weekend, my love."

He placed the bowls in the sink and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck.

Sighing, the stress and obligations of the previous school week began to melt away. You were here, in your shared home. The peace washed over you as you tilted your head back against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Thank Merlin for that." He murmered at last.

~

la fin, xx

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Weekend Loving

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Word Count: 1500

Summary: The perfect way to combat a cold rainy weekend in autumn is by cuddling and keeping warm together.

Warnings: Fluff, Cuddles, Oral (Fem), Smut, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Cursing, Andy’s beard is a warning, Quote: “If you only knew the things I want to do to you" & Prompts - cuddling in front of a fire & cuddling on the couch during a cold rainy day.

A/N 1: thank you to @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo for beta reading this. Also thank you to @firefly-graphics for the divider.

A/N 2: This is for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork & @yenzys-lucky-charm autumn writing challenge.

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It was a cold rainy day in autumn and you were thankful it was the weekend. Both you and Andy had today off which meant one thing cuddling on the couch with a fire going. The fireplace in the living room was currently warming the room thanks to Andy’s quick thinking of trying to get you warm fast. You watched the rain pour down against the colorful shades of leaves on the trees. Autumn has to be your favorite time of the year. 

You wore leggings, fluffy warm socks, and a long-sleeved shirt. Andy came down the stairs dressed in his gray sweatpants and henley. He was built with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His eyes were cerulean blue and his amazing beard made you clench your thighs together.

You were on the couch with a large blanket covering you. It was big enough to cover the both of you while cuddling. Of course, if you had it your way you would wrap yourself like a burrito in the blanket and not share with Andy. 

Andy loved weekends like this where you could spend quality time with one another and relax after a long week at work. Whether cuddling under the blankets or spending time between your legs Andy always considered himself a lucky man. 

After a few minutes, Andy came shuffling into the living room ready to get warmed up. He kissed your forehead and made his way under the blanket. As he gets settled, you whine as he stretches out behind you. Bringing your body against his chest.

“Mmmm… you're so warm, babe.” You try to cuddle closer, your butt rubbing against his crotch causing him to groan into your neck. 

“Keep doing that and you’ll be in trouble, Mrs. Barber.” He seductively whispers against your neck, stealing a light kiss while his beard scrapes against your skin.

“Trouble is my middle name, Mr. Barber.” You rub up against him again but this time you can feel his erection. He lets out another groan as he adjusts his sweatpants. You turn to face him as your hands roam down his chest to his sweatpants.

“If you only knew the things I want to do to you, sweetheart right here on the couch.” 

“Enlighten me.” You whisper against his lips before you give him a quick kiss. 

He grabs your hips and does a dirty grind against you. Pushing you onto your back he climbs on top of you keeling between your spread legs. He pushed the blanket briefly off the both of you and pulled your leggings and underwear off. You squealed by the roughness of his hands on you but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Andy then pulls you into a sitting position and peels your long-sleeved shirt off. You shiver from how cold you feel but instantly warm as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Every nibble and soft bite has you gasping in pleasure. Andy pulls away with a pop and uses his fingers to roll your nipples. You start to let out little gasps and he stops abruptly making you whine.

Andy stands and pulls the henley off revealing his body you swore was sculpted by the gods themselves. Seconds later he pushed his sweatpants and boxer briefs down his legs revealing his hard, thick cock. He smiles down at you as you stare at him, taking in his nakedness. Grabbing the blanket he covers you both up as he kisses his way down toward your wet pussy. Reaching his destination he kisses your inner thighs and rubs his beard against your core. The roughness from his beard has you whimpering until you feel his tongue lick a stripe through your folds.

“Fuck, Andy!” You moan out as you feel another pass of his tongue. Your hands grip the blanket tightly as he makes another pass through your folds. 

Andy buries his face in your pussy, licking and gently suckling your clit. Your breathing hitches every time he plays with your clit. The more he takes you apart the louder your moans get. You feel Andy’s fingers run through your petals getting arousal all over them. He pulls back his face for a minute and slips his fingers inside of you. His mouth is now focused on your clit as he swirls his tongue around it and gently plays with it. You can feel yourself getting closer to your release the faster his fingers work you. Making a come hither motion sets you off as you cum screaming his name from the pleasure he just brought you. As your body twitches from the aftershocks of your orgasm, Andy climbs back up to your face and kisses you. You can taste your release on his lips and tongue. 

Your tongues dance together in a sensual kiss, both fighting for dominance but it is Andy that is taking over. His kiss is passionate and he groans against your lips while he grinds his hard cock against your wet pussy. You wrap your legs around his hips and roll your hips against him. God did he feel amazing against you. Before you can do anything else Andy sits back on his legs as he forcefully turns you over onto your stomach. Lifting your hips for him Andy runs his hand over your butt and smacks it causing you to mewl. Grabbing his cock he strokes himself a few times before he sinks into your cunt. The thickness of his cock stretches you in all the right ways as he slowly starts to thrust into you.

“Oh…my… feels so good baby.” Your hands are holding onto the cushion below you as Andy slowly takes you apart. 

Andy picks his pace up and starts to piston his hips into you over and over again. Skin slapping against skin fills the room while the fireplace continues to keep you both warm. He continues to thrust into you harder and faster as you moan his name to the heavens above. Now and then he slaps your ass causing you to push back into him hard. Andy can’t help but groan as he feels your walls flutter against his cock. He loves the way you feel around him and taking you like this sends a primal groan through him. 

“Fuck…baby…fuck…. Take my big cock.” He groans out as you squeal with every piston of his hips. 

Your hand moves to your clit and starts to rub it to the pace of Andy snapping his hips. His thick cock plunged into you so hard you swore you could see stars. You’re a mess, a moaning fucking mess for him. You feel like you’re going to cum any minute now. 

Harder and faster Andy snaps his hips against you. Just as he feels you start to flutter against him again he pulls out of you and then rolls you to your back again. Before you can say anything he grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders and sinking back into you.

“Andy. I’m so close…” You rake your nails down his chest causing him to groan out. His hips are starting to falter at the pace he is keeping up. Your walls start to flutter and tense around him again as you chase your high. 

With a swipe of his right thumb against your clit you are moaning his name again as you finally fall off the edge into eternal bliss. Andy feels your walls grip him tightly as he now chases his high. A few hard thrusts and he is cumming deep inside you. He groans your name a few times before he finally is spent.  He gently moves your legs back to the couch and all but collapses on you. His forearms are keeping him from crushing you under his weight. You smile up at him with a blissed-out grin and he leans down to kiss your lips. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too Andy. With all my heart.”

Andy gently pulls out of you and goes to the bathroom to clean himself off. Once done he brings back a wet washcloth and cleans you as well. He throws the washcloth into the washer and comes back over to the couch. Grabbing the blanket he lays beside you on the couch and holds you close to him again. With the fire still roaring to life you sigh as you are now warm from both the fireplace and Andy taking you apart.

“Let’s stay like this forever,” you whisper to him as you begin to yawn. 

“Forever my love, forever you and I,” he whispers back. 

Andy kisses your head and snuggles closer to you. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have these moments with you. Thanking the lucky stars above he cuddles you close as the rain continues to pitter-patter on the windows. It may be cold outside but it is warm inside their home. 

Taglist:

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@awkwardgiraffe726

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jtargaryen18

@jvanilly

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@missvelvetsstuff

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

@notyourtypicalrose

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@sarahowritesostucky

@shadowrose13-blog1

@spectre-posts

@sarahowritesostucky

@steviebbboi

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@talia-rumlow

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

@cevansbaby-dove

@mrsnikstan

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@yenzys-lucky-charm

[babyfrogz]

Fundraisers for Gaza

The following are all people who have reached out to me to share their stories and their campaigns. Please, if you can spare anything, any of them could really use your support.

Asmaa Ayyad @asmaayyad - Asmaa is hoping to help her family of eight escape Gaza and has been verified. They’re currently at €11,034/€45,000 and the GFM can be found here.

Mohammed Hussein Ismaeel @m8hammed - Mohammed has already had his blog deleted by staff once, but remains persistent in helping his family evacuate to Egypt. His campaign was verified by ibtisams before they deleted and is currently at €9,666/€25,000.

Bshaer, Ayla & Family @bshaeromars-blog - Bshaer was newly married when the genocide began and has lost her husband, who her newborn daughter never got to meet. Reem, a family member, is sharing her mother's words in their GFM Campaign -- please don't assume it's a scam because of the different names, their campaign has been vetted and can be found on line #231 on el-shab-hussein's list of verified fundraisers. $14,811/$40,000

Ahmed AbuOmar @ahmedabuomar - Ahmed is trying to evacuate himself, his wife, and his three young boys. His campaign has been verified here and is at €2,444/€30,000, less than 1/10th of the way to the amount needed.

Abd Alhadi Aburas @abdalhadiaburas - Abd is asking for help getting basic necessities as well as rebuilding a better future for himself and his family. His GFM has been verified and is only at $3,513/$65,000 CAD.

Imtithal & Family @d-imtthal - Imtithal is raising funds to evacuate her family, mostly young children, from Gaza. Her campaign is new and unvetted as of yet, but the images are original and donations to her GFM are protected, so please don't let that dissuade you from donating. Currently the campaign is at €3,302/€50,000.

Mohiy @mohiy-gaza - This is Mohiy's second account since his first one was deleted, he is raising funds to leave Gaza after much deliberation. He is Wafa's (@/wafaaresh) brother, verified here and by 90-ghost here. The GFM for him is currently at $18,017/$31,000 which is a little over halfway to the goal!

Nour & Family @noorabd1992 - Nour is a family friend of Wafa and Mohi's (check here) and has recently made a Tumblr account seeking help for his family, made up of him, his wife, and his two children, one of whom is a new baby. His GFM is at $8,500/$45,000 and can be found here.

Omar, Jody & Family @omargaze / @jody-family - Omar is another friend of Mohiy's, trying to help his lovely family escape the violence in Gaza. His campaign is verified and is currently at £4,604/£20,000.

Mahmoud Alkhaldi @mahmoud1995 / @mahmoud-1995 (both accounts link to the same GFM)- Mahmoud is trying to evacuate five family members including his wife, his younger brother and his wife, and his little nephew. His campaign was reblogged by 90-ghost and can be found here at $11,611/$50,000.

Mohammad Abujubara @mohammadabujbara - Mohammad is trying to evacuate his family to build them a better future. His campaign has yet to be verified but donations are protected and there is no duplicity in his words or photographs, so please use your discretion and donate if you can. $5,155/$150,000 CAD

Samer Abu Ras @samerpal - Samer's first account was unfairly deleted, but he remains persistent in helping his family, which consists of his wife and his three kids. His campaign is #196 on the list of verified fundraisers. Please note that $1 USD is about kr10 (ten Swedish krona) and his campaign is at 122,649/450,000 SEK.

Thaer Qanoo @savethaerfamily - Thaer is trying to evacuate with his wife and small daughter to Egypt. His account and campaign are new but have been shared by @/mohammedalanqer, currently at only $67/$20,000 - let's give him a warm welcome!

Ahmed Al-Sir & Lubna Al-Shami @ahmadelser / @lobnaalser - Lubna and Ahmed are trying to flee Gaza with their three sons. Their campaign has been verified by 90-ghost and can be found here at only €1,711/€50,000.

Ezz El-Din Salem @ezzaldeens-blog - Ezz is seeking refuge for seven family members, currently all living in a single tent. The campaign is verified and is at only €224/€20,000.

Lina @lina-gaza - Lina is a mother of two children, one of whom was born by C-section during the violence. She hopes to evacuate them and her husband to Egypt. The GFM is being run by her husband's cousin, it is verified and currently has €35,004/€45,000 - less than €10,000 to go!

Sara Hussein @sara-97a - Sara has three young children and is looking after her mother, who suffered a stroke recently. Her GFM and account are new but the images don't appear anywhere else and donations are, again, protected. €517/€50,000

Shaima & Ibrahim Al-Sir @shaimaasblog - Shaima and her husband dreamed of one day having a child of their own, but tragically lost their unborn child due to the violence. Their campaign is very new but their photographs are unique, please use your discretion and donate. €95/€50,000

Hazem & Nisreen Suhail @hazemsuhail / @nisreensuhail - Hazem and Nisreen are brother and sister trying to evacuate their family of eight to safety in Egypt. They are seeking verification but their photos are unique (you can see Nisreen's instagram dating back to 2015 here) so please don't hesitate to help! Their GFM is at €1,813/€50,000.

Ahmed Ziad @ahmed-ziad - Ahmed hopes to evacuate his family, including his mother, to Egypt so they can live safely. His GFM is verified by nabulsi and is currently at £9,484/£30,000.

Mahmoud Ziad @mahmoud-ziad - Last but not least, Mahmoud. He has had his previous account deleted, but hasn't given up hope to rebuild his life and help his family. His campaign has been verified and can be found here currently at $14,123/$30,000. Today is his birthday - I've donated to him and his family and encourage you to do the same, even though he deserves a much better gift.

Choose a campaign and donate if you can, otherwise please share this post so they can reach safety with their families.

[officialdaydreamer00]

Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

[stayconnecteed]

“ㅤcasual intimacy moments.ㅤ”ㅤㅤfeat.ㅤstray kids

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ,⠀ ( none of them, just pure fluff and love from our boys ーfelix's is a bit suggestive at the end𓈒⠀⠀enjoy! )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ,⠀ ( if you saw this post in another blog no you didn't because it was me having a tumblr break down and creating another blog for the fun of it. anyways, i really really love cute domestic moments, even more if it's skz themed hehe𓈒⠀⠀hope you like it! )

⠀ೀ　──── 　bang chan.

for chan it's the almost gravitational way you always rotate around each other, with passing caresses and soothing embraces, unable to separate. it's the way your legs tangle under the sheets at night, when you inevitably end up wrapped in his arms and your minds drift off to sleep in harmony. it's every time you walk outside and your hand finds a place next to his, at first just brushing, but always gently intertwining your fingers. when he invites you to his company events, and guides you through the crowd of guests with the warm palm of his hand pressed into the small of your back, murmuring in your ear a low ‘i'm going to say hello to some colleagues, just give me a second’, waiting for you to give him that shy little smile followed by a quick nod. or at a quiet dinner, surrounded by your closest friends, forever sitting right next to you, his hand drawing meaningless shapes on the bare skin of your thigh absentmindedly. chan carries the weight of the conversation, but he's always paying attention to you. if you even hint you want to say something, he'll lean back in his seat, looking at you as if you hang the stars in the sky every night, sliding his arm around the back of your chair, caressing your shoulders, playing with your hair, smiling at every word you pronounce. it's the way he leaves a kiss on your temple when one of your friends points out what a good couple you make, and you press yourself against him, blushing and embarrassed, but still resting your hand on his chest, cuddling onto him with pride.

⠀ೀ　──── 　lee know.

for minho it's the way the velvety sound of your voice can make the weight of a bad day slide off his shoulders, and he always greets you with a big genuine smile. it's the way he doesn't take a second to plug his bluetooth earbuds into his phone as soon as your personalised notification song starts playing, indicating that a new audio from you has arrived in your chat. you usually narrate whatever has just happened to you as if you were recording a podcast just for him, and minho can't help but listen to every second of it with a smitten, adoring gesture curving his lips. it's hearing you humming in the kitchen when he wakes up, starting his day in a good mood and with a slightly scorched pancake in his hand, or receiving your sleepy greeting when he wakes up first and you can only cling to him as he finishes preparing the breakfast. it's your giggles, his playful whispers, your cranky protests and the voice you make when apologising to him after an argument, even if it wasn't your fault, just because you hate fighting with him. but most of all it's at night, when you watch him chop vegetables for dinner while you go on and on about everything you've done during the day. and when you pause, paying attention to the music playing on the radio, and you miss the comment he makes, something along the lines of ‘you look pretty on my counter’, but it's okay. because you just exclaimed that your favourite song is on and you started dancing in the middle of the kitchen, and he knows it is, but he just smiles. he's always listening to you: that's the song that plays every time you text him.

⠀ೀ　──── 　seo changbin.

for changbin it's the way in which your presence has become his safe space, and you his pillar, always willing to let him carry some of his worries on your shoulders. the way you stand so firm and secure, with a soft smile curving your lips, welcoming him with open arms. it's the way that since he was young he has needed to keep quiet about everything he feels, to avoid hurting anyone who might hear him speak, but it never happened with you. knowing your limits, he speaks with the freedom of one who knows he is in a place he trusts, telling what he has done during the day, but also his private thoughts and deepest longings. it's all those times when he has come home and spent his time talking, sitting in bed, while you make notes or tidy up the room. you listen to him, relaxing, and he always feels better after talking to you ーeven if you haven't said a word. and if he comes in in a bad mood, or even sad, or just doesn't feel like talking, you walk him to your bathroom to put on your gym outfits, and take him with you to release energy. but if you don't feel like it, then he's the one who helps you clean up, selecting a random playlist from his private spotify account and vacuuming, mopping, or even his favourite: doing the laundry. being able to smell the clean towels and sheets, taking your time to fold them carefully and neatly, him holding two corners and you holding the other two, doing it together, and getting to sit on the couch and watch it all tidy up makes you feel satisfied.

⠀ೀ　──── 　hwang hyunjin.

for hyunjin it's the way you look at each other, meeting in a room full of people even almost unintentionally. automatic, at first as a coincidence that made you blush like teenagers, and now as an old habit that never fails to make you smile. it's the way you don't need him to utter a word to know what he needs, to find out what's wrong with him. one look from him, his eyes moist with sadness, and you do whatever it takes to make it right. one look from you, full of loneliness, and you can't get him to leave you for the rest of the day. it’s looking into his eyes and knowing he's the most important person in your life. searching for him with your eyes when you hear something he'd love to know, and discovering his absence. missing the way his eyes curve into a smile when you hear a joke and he's not there. repeating word for word later in the day, knowing he's lost in thought, and his gaze lost on you, certain he'd smile with his eyes even if it wasn't funny. because it's you. it's coming home to find it silent, exhaling all the pent up stress he's been accumulating and being able to lose himself in your eyes. even before you go to sleep, when you meet in the bathroom to brush your teeth, it's that glance. sometimes tired, sometimes clear as a summer night, but always with the glow of the happiness you give each other. is when you make a silly face, and he has to hold back to keep the toothpaste foam from coming out of his nose, or dance in front of the mirror, humming whatever. even later, face to face on the mattress, when you look at each other in silence, tracing every detail you fell in love with, sometimes with your memories, sometimes with your fingers, sometimes with your lips.

⠀ೀ　──── 　han jisung.

for jisung it is the selfless and generous way you love him, as if it were as easy as breathing. the way you make him the centre of your universe at every sign of faltering, even when he doesn't think he deserves it. how you put all your trust in him from the beginning, overflowing so that he learned to trust himself too. how you treat him when he feels like a broken glass, too fractured and fragile, letting him lie in your lap, teaching him how precious he is, reassuring him for as long as he needs, with soft words and slow caresses. it's the way you say ‘baby, i'm home’ when it's seven o'clock and you've only just opened the door, always eager to get to him, and also how you never fail to show up at his late-night studio sessions with home-cooked food for him and his hyungs. you make sure you don't interrupt, and he always works better with you around. because you were the first person outside his circle that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of, the night you asked him how he was and he just crumbled, and you wrote i love you on his arms with the marker you'd been painting with, until he started to believe it. but mostly because that time he decided to be the one to initiate physical contact, resting his head on your shoulder, he noticed how you tensed. he heard your heartbeat quicken, and was aware of the slow, calm way you tried to breathe. and when he heard changbin enter the room, as loud as ever, he had heard you threaten him with very unpleasant things if he made jisung wake up. he will never tell you that he was completely conscious, but he will love you just the same.

⠀ೀ　──── 　lee felix.

for felix it's the way you both drown under each other's skin whenever you can, creating an ethereal bubble around you. the way your bodies seek each other out, taking refuge next to each the other when you want to hide from the world because you've become saturated with emotions. it's him collapsing on top of you when he comes back from a really physical session, letting your fingers dance over his aching muscles. it's how you snuggle into his chest after an argument with your best friend, seeking his warmth, not resuming the video game until he makes sure that all you need is his physical touch to rest. he will get fuzzy to your words, like when you show him how you see him on those days when he's feeling less confident, but he'll leave kisses on your forehead every time he notices you moving and will stop the game as soon as it's over to be with you. or in your routine, bathing together. when one of you goes to fetch the other because you're feeling down, and you intertwine your fingers on the way to the bathroom, tenderly undressing each other, cuddling under the fine line that separates the real world from underwater peace of mind. maybe you lean against him, letting him massage your shoulders, or maybe he has his eyes closed, his head on your chest as you wash his hair. but you are always skin to skin, letting your bones melt, the soft vanilla gel washing away your sadness, leaving only wet kisses and sighs contained in the tarnished tiles of your bathroom.

⠀ೀ　──── 　kim seungmin.

for seungmin it's the way your smile plagues his day to day, your memory constantly on his mind. it's the way that when it comes to you, everything else doesn't matter. it's your chat; plagued by highlighted messages, pictures that have reminded him of you, audios with drafts of tunes, videos he forces jeongin to record when they're on a trip, titles of books you'd once mentioned you'd like to read ーto confirm before he buys them for youー, the review score of the movie you wanted to go to the cinema to see, a screenshot of your favourite artist's concert tickets. it's the way seungmin will do anything for you. from leaving you his hoodie at dusk, when the weather starts to cool down, to letting his phone bill run up, just to be able to hear your voice when he can't be with you. but none of that compares to the day you decided to move in together and he discovered he'd never been too much for you. he sat on your new shared bed, surrounded by packaging, and opened the shoebox that you had treated with the utmost care when you brought it up to your room from the car. every CD he had made for you, every polaroid and ticket, every note and receipt, even that attempted copy of his minho hyung's doodle he had made on a napkin, on one of your first dates. it's the way you've never made him feel like he's too much, matching his energy every step of the way.

⠀ೀ　──── 　yang jeongin.

for jeongin, it's the way you intertwined your lives without even thinking about it, accepting oddities and enjoying every moment. it's the way you started to memorise each other's likes and dislikes by sharing your time, like his favourite order of coffee or your favourite walk from home to work, which always passes in front of his work, so you could go together. it's the curve of your hip against the counter as you stir the food absently while you wait for him to come home, and the way you hang on his neck as soon as he walks in the door, covering his face with kisses. it's how clumsy he is, and all the band-aids you've had to put on, or vases to glue, but also how forgetful you are, and all those days when he's reminded you of important things he's written down on his phone for you. it's those almost nocturnal trips to do the shopping, because he never remembers and you always forget, and how you leave the house together, shoulder to shoulder, with knowing smiles on your faces.  the walk hand in hand to the supermarket that opens later in the evening, taking advantage of the lit pavements to take couple photos or, if there aren't many people in the street, to record a cute tiktok. the way you slide your arms across his chest in a back hug as you wait for the traffic lights to turn green and cross, and the process of convincing each other to buy your favourite snacks at the same time as the food, without going over budget. those quiet moments when he insists on being the one to carry the bags, and then you both place them together in the kitchen cupboards, whispering love songs.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝑡𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.

this is a big i'm sorry for being so out of here rn, hope you guys understand :((

@skzms , @starlostastronaut , @rylea08 , @atinyniki , @jazziwritesthings , @manuosorioh , @hanjsquokka , @linosssss , @babybearcubbs , @kayleefriedchicken , gnabnahc097 , @caitlyn98s , @reignessance , @starlostseungmin , @bbokari711 , @nebugalaxy , @nxtt2-u , @strawberrysworld26 , @catiuskaa , @lyramundana , @jisunglyricist , @jisuperboard , @choixlia , seungminniez , juuh-07 , ayyonoona , @seolarzone , @my-neurodivergent-world

( + ) @katzline , lixxpix

ㅤㅤ© stayconnecteed ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[starmocha]

Bride of the Dragon King :: Prelude

Sylus/Reader | 465 words | Masterlist | AO3 Tonight, the wine tasted so sweet. A/N: I yapped on my tumblr about how I wanted a dragon!Sylus AU…so I willed it into existence. 😊 This is the prelude to a technically 3-part story. The main story will be a 20K+ word one-shot, so I feel justified in a shorter intro. I am still finalizing the main story, so I want to give people time to read the prelude first. While the prelude is SFW, the main story and epilogue will contain explicit adult themes, so it's best for MDNI. Influenced to varying degree by the Vietnamese origin myth, Lạc Long Quân and Âu Cơ, and the C-drama, Miss the Dragon…and probably a whole slew of other period C-dramas I watched in the past. Recommended Playlist Love and Deepspace - Wander In Wonder Shuang Sheng - 流转莹回 ☆ I can do a tag list for the main story once it's up. Just let me know in the replies, and I'll keep a list handy. ☆

Distantly, in the Celestial Realm where the immortals resided, the vast kingdom of the Dragon King was shrouded in nighttime for all of eternity, stuck within an eternal spring. Pink petals from the ever-blooming flowers of the magnolia trees were carried away in the warm breeze across the palace courtyard.

Sylus, the Dragon King, lazed under a grand magnolia tree with red blossoms overlooking a large koi pond, his solemn gaze lingering on the reflection of the full moon in the still water. He poured wine from a crimson porcelain bottle into the matching cup, and he took a swig of his drink, sighing.

The moon is lovely tonight… he thought, The wine tastes so sweet…

Red magnolia blossoms drifted down from the tree, landing in the water and startling the fish beneath, the immediate ripples distorted the reflection of the moon. Sylus kept his own crimson eyes on the floating flowers.

Little Snake, this is not much, but you are welcome to stay with me for as long as you would like!

He huffed in amusement, eyes drifting to a different flower.

You are so shameless. How can you ask a maiden to bathe with you?

He poured another drink, chuckling, but there was little joy in his laughter.

You are not allowed to get hurt! …Promise me you won’t get hurt again...

His cup lingered at his lips momentarily, a look of guilt flashed across his features before he tossed the drink back, sighing heavily.

Sylus…I don’t want you to leave…

He leaned back against the tree, eyes wandering to the moon. On the ground next to him was a necklace, its pendant pure gold with a jade border. Engraved on one side was the image of a dragon with wisps of cloud beneath it. When Sylus picked it up, his fingers caressed the other side, tracing the characters that formed the word, “Beloved.”

Another flower drifted into the pond, spinning slowly before it floated away.

…Who are you?

He closed his eyes, his hand tightening into a fist around the pendant as he made his decision.

He was going to rewrite their story. The red thread that tethered them together was going to unravel and lead her back to him.

All of it was going to be undone, and a new ending was going to replace all of the tragedies that were and were to be.

For her…

Heaven and Hell were going to bend to his will, he vowed.

For us…

As Sylus finished the wine, a white mist enveloped him, swirling before scattering and leaving nothing in its place beneath this red magnolia tree. In the night sky, among the millions of stars, a white dragon flew away, his scales shimmered in the moonlight before he disappeared into the horizon.

[marblepasta-creepyhornet]

Hey, could you do some headcanons for the creepypastas x lonely reader? Thanks, and welcome to tumblr!

———

A/N: Awwww, thank you ❤️

Characters used: Toby, Jeff, BEN, EJ

———

Toby:

he was bullied when he was younger in school by kids his age, so it was hard for him to fit in so he was alone most of the time, not much changing after he was homeschooled.

He understood what it was like to be lonely, so he started to try and spend more time with you!

Despite your initial weariness in letting him in, he proved to be very trustworthy and nice the more time you both spent together

He’d even talk with you about his experiences, y’know, to help you feel less alone 🥺

Taking you on missions, late night walks through the forest, mini-sleepovers- the whole nine yards to make you feel less lonely.

Jeff The Killer:

Now, let’s not kid ourselves! Jeff’s a sadistic bastard and he could care less about how you feel-

But, let’s just say you’ve been at the mansion for a while; barely talking to anybody, not even responding when others need you/are trying to get your attention. Then it becomes an issue with Jeff (especially when he needs something)

What started out as annoyance from him soon morphed into worry then a weirdly overprotective side of him started showing.

A lot like Toby, he started spending time with you and hanging out (minus the extra effort, because, well, it’s Jeff. He doesn’t do anything extra unless it’ll benefit him)

Overall, Jeff starts out as not giving a fuck to then caring a lot (but won’t admit it 😒)

BEN:

Even after being in the mansion for so long, you still isolated yourself from everyone (Bad past issues), rather than joining everyone, you opted to stay in your room.

That was until Ben started to join in, showing up on the screens of your electronics to talk to you!

You couldn’t get this man away from you 😔

You’d be playing animal crossing and his character would show up like “Hey, bitch” and start hitting you with a net 😭

It’d start out as annoying, but just wait till you grabbed an axe and slowly turned to him-

Overall, he’d be smitten with just waiting for you on your own time. But, for now, he was okay with just appearing in your games :)

Eyeless Jack:

He couldn’t explain it, but he felt very overprotective of you.

He wanted nothing more than to talk to you and get to know you more.

But, he knew you struggled with loneliness before the mansion and as a result, isolated yourself.

On the rare occasion you were out of your room he’d have a note pinned to the fridge with your name on it, followed by a dark blue heart 🥺

When you opened it this time, it was a letter from Jack saying to check your pillow.

With confusion written on your face, you made your way back to your room, and when you opened your door you gasped.

Now, I personally headcanon Jack as a guy of many talents and that includes (I’m totally not projecting-) crochet!

On your pillow was a little Jack doll he crocheted of himself 😭😭😭

Next to it was another note, yet another blue heart scribbled on it.

“I know it’s taking time for you to warm up to everything, but if you ever feel lonely, you can talk to him” -EJ

[angelicblondie]

this is a diff anon, but i would loveee a step-cest luke fic. luke spoiling his new pretty little step sister jus to watch her parade around her little pink outfits when they come back from the mall. starting off innocently w just buying her relatively modest clothing, books, or makeup/skincare until she uses him to buy other things like micro miniskirts n victoria’s secret panties n shit. and obvs luke needs a reward for buying all her shit n carrying her bags and half-sipped drink for five hours at the mall, and what better way than a little fashion show until luke gets handsy ? (love ur luke characterization girl, plus im so obsessed w ur tumblr theme oml)

aww tysm angel 🤍🥹 that means sooo much <333 i love this idea so so much oml.

warnings ~ stepcest, manhandling/groping (MDNI)

ೀ⋆⑅˚🎀⋆˚₊ .·:*¨🦢༺

luke liked to think of himself as a good guy. he helped his elder neighbors with their groceries, he helped his mom cook dinner all the time, he even volunteered at homeless shelters every now and then. he had constantly been praised for being a stand up man.

but there was nothing good about how he acted when it came to you.

initially he wasn't fond of the idea of his moms new boyfriend coming into their life, especially with his daughter who was a few years his junior - he quite like it just being his mom and him, he liked being the man of the house. so when you and your dad came in to the picture, it took a bit of warming up.

of course he was ever the gentleman, helping the two of you move in when things got serious between your folks, and conversing politely when your dad. luke admittedly wanted to stay away from you at first - he was worried your parents would want the two of you to act like siblings, and he wasn't looking for a little sister. luckily though, that problem was rectified the first night you moved into his and his mom house.

it was late at night, and luke had gotten up to go to the bathroom. he tugged on the door in the hallway and frowned when it wouldn't open. he huffed in annoyance. great. he couldn't even use the bathroom in his own house now. he heard the sound of running water before the door eventually opened, and he had to look down slightly to take in your appearance.

there was a slight blush on your cheeks, and you were wearing the tiniest pajamas luke had seen. "sorry," you rush out. "i just had to brush my teeth, its yours now." you felt quite flustered by lukes appearance, given he was only wearing basketball shorts and his torso was bare - you had never really been exposed to anyone like that.

luke remembered chuckling. "its fine, kid, g'night."

you mumbled back the words with a sweet smile, and turned around to go back to your room. luke eyes followed your retreating figure, his eyes dropping down to the fullness of your perky ass as you walked away. he swallowed, looking down at his pants. he had a boner - shocker.

from then on he had developed what could only be described as a crush - he was always watching you, always wanting to please and spoil you, always wanting to look good for you - he was obsessed. of course your parents were thrilled, simply writing it off as the two of you bonding and strengthening your new family. luke let them believe this, whilst in his heart, he knew the truth.

luke wanted to win you over, so he did the one thing he thought of - spoiling you rotten. it started off with him buying you a new book you had been blabbering about at dinner one night, and when you had asked the reason for the supposedly impromptu gift, he has causally resounded that he wanted you to feel welcome in his home. you had been beyond grateful, pushing up on your toes to wrap you arms around his neck, body flush against his. he winced, knowing his cock was hardening by the second.

god, he was pathetic.

he then began to give you just about anything she wanted - it was hard to say no to you, not when your eyes got all wide and excited, smile so hopeful - he would have to be a monster to reject that.

you had begged luke to take you to the mall all morning, and whilst luke led you to believe he didn't want to go, of course he did. he could never pass up on any extra time with you, especially alone. by the time you had explored the mall, luke had multiple of your shopping bags hanging off his arms and your cold wet iced coffee in his hand as you walked free of the burden. he didn't mind it though, enjoying the view of your prancing around giddily to buy more and more things.

you had acted bashful when you saw something you like, pretending like you didn't long for it out of fear of wasting lukes money. like when walked by the isabel marant, you had spotted a pair of boots in the window that were divine, your eyes widened in awe, but you looked away after a moment, knowing the shoes must've been very expensive.

luke had noticed your gaze and nudged you, slowing down. "wanna go in?" he asked.

you bite your lip in contemplation but shake your head. "no, no, its ok, i was just looking."

he scoffs a bit, amusment dancing in his eyes, coming to a full stop. "none of that, kid. if you want something from in there just tell me, y'know i'll get it."

you insisted that it was fine, but luke wasn't having it. he dragged you in the store, forcing you to show him what you were looking at. he didnt even look at the price tag, immediately grabbing them and bringing them to the register.

and it was worth every dime spent to see how excited you got, pracially jumping on him once you got out of the store. he himself felt like he got something each time he had the satisfaction of swiping his card.

he usually was so well behaved, really. he only really touched you when you touched him first, he had gone out of his way to not make any overtly sexual comments. but today, he couldn't hold back his flirty comments or his wandering hands, because he had you all to himself.

"your ass would look great in those jeans."

"shit, if i was at a party and saw you in that-"

"that skirts short, so maybe just for home, kid."

it felt natural, and it wasn't like you didn't like it - no, you love it! you blushed bashfully each time, either thanking him sweetly, or hitting his lightly, fauxly scolding him for his raunchiness.

he couldn't help himself, he was nearing his last straw by the time you were at your second to last store. he was in the waiting room, scrolling through his phone when you shoved your curtain to the side, walking past him to stand in front of the mirror. he looked up at you and blinked, taking in your appearance.

immediate boner. like, immediate.

you had on a micro mini skirt, seriously, he wasn't sure you could even consider it a skirt, thats how tiny it was. it just barely covered the fat of your ass, and he was sure if you bent over even slightly you would be completely revealed.

"shit, you sure that isnt a headband or something?" he chuckled, his wors coming out nonchalnt but trust me, he was very chalant.

you rolled your eyes turning around to face him. "isn't it cute?" you had asked, swaying your hips jokingly.

he laughed, and thanked god for the pillows on the couch he was sitting on that was currently placed on his lap. "its adorable, lemme see up close."

he beckconed you closer, pretending to ciritcally look at the fabric. he hands were placed on your love handles, taking advanted of the oppurtunity to touch you. "very cute, kid. you gonna let me buy this for you?"

of course you said yes, and you walked out of the store along with different variations of the skirt, and luke couldn't have been happier.

by the time the two of you got home, lukes excitement had gone through the roof. he knew you would propose to do what you always do after a day of shopping - a little fashion show. so the two of you went upstairs to your room, and you closed the door of the closet, bringing all your bags in with you.

luke waited patiently for you to dress each time, and it was worth it when you came out, a big smile on your lips as you show off each new article of clothing, coming over to press big kisses on his cheek. he would place his hands right under you ass as you gave him a hug, holding firmly on the skin. it was impossible not to touch you, not when you looked like that.

so for the sake of the fashion show, lukes hands roamed your body in the name of "feeling the fabric" and "making sure everything fit right", which was of course was perfect excuse to feel up the curves and contours of you body.

once it reached the end, you came out of the closset in what luke could only describe as something from his dreams, and what could only be from the victorias secret store.

he thought it was wrong that something as sweet and innocent as you was in something so sexy, but boy did it get him going. you were wearing a read lacy matching set, and it complemented your body perfectly. it pushed up your tits ever so slightly, causing them to jiggle anytime you moved. the thong of the panties showed off your plump ass, and you turned around in the mirror, keeping your eyes on your body as you decide.

"what do you think? it feels a bit much, no?"

luke breathes out a laugh. "wow, kid, y'look great." he compliments, and you blush. "really? i feel silly," you admit, looking at yourself again in the mirror.

luke shakes his head, standing up and slowly walking up behind you. "nuh-uh. y'look really hot. like, really hot."

you blush harder, hiding you face in your hands. "luuuke," you whine shyly, and he just chuckled, grabbing your wrists. "what, shy all the sudden? after dragging me around all day and makin me pay for your shit?"

you pout a bit. "but you insisted!"

"i know, but still, i think i deserve some compensation, no?" he taunts a bit, as his hands come up to your waist.

his hands on your body made you feel hot. "what kind of compensation?" you ask, your voice growing quiet.

he sighs. "y'see kid, you got me a little worked up," he says, montioning down to his hard-on. your eyes widen as you follow his movement, lips parting in shock. "and really, it isnt my fault - i cant control it. if anything, its you fault. you've been showing off all day and i cant help it. but, if you really want to make it up to me, you'll help me relieve some of the pressure. how does that sound?"

of course you agree, wanting to do anything to please luke, so not long after your bent over, yours hands on the bed as luke stands behind you, his palms engulfing the globes on your backside, squeezing delicately yet firmly. "shiiiiiit. no idea how long i've been thinkin' bout this," he whispers against your ear, hands sliding to your waist. your breaths are shaky, and you feel the wettness pull in your brand new panties. "luke..." you whisper, hands wrapping around his wrists. "isn't this bad?"

luke pauses, and formulates his answer. sure, it wasnt morally good, or ethical, but it wasnt that bad. "no, its not. m'not your actual brother, and we're both adults. promise your not being bad," he whispers his response, his hands sliding up to lewdly fondle your tits.

your back is now against his chest as he continues to feel you up, and your head is laid back on his shoulder. he places the most delicate kisses on your exposed neck, never sucking (though all he wanted to do was mark up and bruise your perfect skin). you let out the quietest of whimpers, but too bad for you that your lips were right up against lukes ear.

luke tilts his head, hands travelling down your torso as his lips meet your ear. "feels good?" he asks, voice quiet and teasing.

you nod, hiding your face in his neck, hands deathgripping his wrists wherever he went.

he knew you had never been touched like this, it was obvious the way you seemed aflame by his simple touches and gropes. he knew that he couldnt just stick his dick in you, oh no, he had to play the long game.

he had to warm you up to the idea. you still seemed hesitant, worried about doing the wrong thing, worried about your parents finding out - becasuse you were a good girl. he knew it would take more than a little groping session to make you his, so he slowly pulled away, leaving you wanting more.

luke was playing the long game, and it wouldn't take long before he had you right where he wanted you.

[taigarrryen]

In the hallway of Sheriff-2, about twenty minutes after the landing, Skizz is shakily making his way from his cabin back to the main deck, bag on each shoulder. He looks like he was fighting for his life just minutes ago, tired and pale. He really doesn't like having to deal with zero-gravity.

Norman, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered by the mayhem they've been through for the past hour.

From the command room, Jimmy's guiltily smiling face pokes out into the corridor.

JIMMY: There he isss! Look at that confident walk! What a champ. And all packed up already?

SKIZZ: Dude, at this point I'm ready to make a run for it. I swear, if I'll not see land in the next ten minutes...

JIMMY: Alright, alright! Geez. C'mon then, they're already waiting for us anyway. And their stuff. Mainly their stuff.

SKIZZ: Well, hey. I don't know about you, but I'd consider myself anticipated.

JIMMY (looking somewhat pained) : I'd consider you lucky you've never dealt with guys named Grian or Docm not getting their equipment.

Jimmy dissapears in the command room, pushes some buttons, blurts something into his mic and quickly reappears in the hallway.

They go to the main hatch, occasionally throwing one-liners at eachother, and on the way there, from the passing narrow portholes, Skizz sees Minecrea upclose for the first time. Huge, seemingly endless landing pad, pale-green skies and hills, hills, hills with far away mountains... He stops for a moment, mesmerized. There, in the flat field of dark concrete, he notices several unloader bots, parked ELYTRa and a human figure approaching their ship.

Moments later, Jimmy opens a hatch to the entrance compartment. Door unlocks and locks again with a low thump. Entrance compartment fills with greetings. Skizz walks in and smiles.

Smiling back at him is clean-shaved Impulse in an oxygen-filter mask.

IMPULSE: Welcome to Minecrea, man!

Skizz gives him a bear-hug.

SKIZZ: It's so good to see you!

IMPULSE: Yeah, I know! It's been a minute, hasn't it? How was your flight?

SKIZZ: Pfft, fantastic. Easy. When's the next one?

JIMMY: Nah, he did good for the first time!

IMPULSE (with a smirk) : Really? Jimmy, did-

Communicator on Impulse's belt makes a beeping sound.

[???]: Impulse, I'm sorry, but we really need you back here for a moment. It's blinking again...

Impulse shoots a slightly irritated look at it and sighs.

IMPULSE (to communicator) : Got it, we're on our way. Tell X I've turned on unloaders.

IMPULSE: Argh, sorry. You guys arrived in a very... Well, we are kind of in the middle of something here. There's this comet flying by very soon, and all of our scientists are going crazy about it. We're helping them out as best as we can, but... Yeah, a bit of a hassle, anyway.

JIMMY: Oh, that comet? I nearly forgot! Now, excuse me, gentlemen, I was promised a first-class view on this thing three months ago, so let's move.

IMPULSE: Where, at Tango's?

JIMMY: Yes, sir! But I'll come say hi to Grian and Scar anyway.

Impulse reaches and grabs one of Skizz's bags from him. A couple of minutes later, all three of them, equipped with oxygen-filter masks, are making their way to Impulse's ELYTRa, chatting as they go. The concrete under their feet is still warm after contact with nozzles of spacecraft.

Part 1 | AU Intro post

Audio for this post (in a form of a stinky youtube link because tumblr hates fun. Please check it out for full expirience)