#mar.writes

[boneblanket]

worthy to be held down

dnf | explicit | 3.1k words

abo dynamics, alpha dream, beta george, mating cycles, knotting, edging, established relationship

written for @dteamomegaverse

[kalimarinus]

offerings from the unnamed.

[ summary : a mystery person is leaving gifts for 141? ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 3rd person & 2nd-ish pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , unedited & not proofread , i know nothing about the military once again ]

[ word count : 2,392 ]

[ notes : back after another long while , yeah!!! this was fun <3 i can't believe this is 2k words what ?!@?!>@/ that's longer than my previous fic & this was just like a spitball idk..., also the 141 might just have memory loss why is everyone forgetting everything!! (y'all idk why i got so into it w gaz and price's section like why is it so long and soap and ghost's are so short???. but more the merrier, right...?) ]

John Price:

he was pretty surprised at first, he did not expect to see a bouquet of roses on his desk. though, he doesn't question it? 

—until he walks up closer to examine the flowers, just to see a little tag with a note on it that reads: 'for my favorite captain. -a/n.'

now he's a little confused. could it be one of his sergeants? his lieutenant? hell, it could be so many other people.

the only hint is the handwriting. he swears he can recognize it. 

but suddenly price reminds himself he actually has work, so never mind the flowers, for now, he needs to get back to doing his paperwork and such. 

as he works away and whatnot, the thought of the roses is lingering in the back of his mind and slowly creeping up to the front, and he can't seem to ignore the questions.

"why roses?" "whose handwriting is that? i swear i know it." "for me? why not anybody else?"

he's utterly perplexed at this point, so he quickly finishes up whatever he needs to do and turns to the bouquet he left sitting on the other side of the desk long ago.

after many, many minutes of just trying to grasp the mysterious person whose handwriting looks the same as on the tag, he gives up.

gives up on trying to figure out this anonymous roses bullshit by himself, anyway. the captain goes to his two closest buddies, unsurprisingly nikolai and laswell.

he questions them, he tells them everything. to the point he walked through the door and saw the bouquet and to the point where he was now asking them for 'help'. but it just ends up being just a lot more questions and inevitably no answers.

he goes to his lieutenant. his two sergeants. nothing.

now he gives up fully. nobody knows anything about this or who it might be. not him, his best friends, or his own task force.

time passes quickly until it's the end of the day (and he's surprised he's almost spent hours trying to figure this puzzling gift out), and he's trying to come to terms with this.

'it's intended to be anonymous, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out, and he shouldn't lose sleep over this.' is what he tells himself when he gets back to his barracks.

he looks down at the mysterious bouquet in his hand that never had left him alone since he'd come across it, like a fungus that had grown on a damp and and won't let go, and he lets out a sigh.

but john supposes he doesn't mind keeping it. if it really is someone he's friends with (which he's sure), he shouldn't just throw it away. he'll keep it.

which is what he does. preparing and cleaning a random glass jar big enough to fit the flowers, found somewhere around his barracks. it's now put to better use instead of just collecting dust, now filled up with water, the stems of the roses inside.

he sets it on the nightstand next to his bed, and for some reason the room feels a little more homey. oh and don't forget the tag, which he sets next to the jar of blossoms, just in case he does remember who's handwriting that is, he'll be 100% sure who it is and won't be doubting himself if he checks it.

he has come to terms with it now. he's comfortable in bed and he won't be asking himself or anyone else questions that'll lead to nothing. he's sure the one who gave him the bouquet will reveal themselves soon enough. like he told himself, 'he won't lose sleep over this.'

and he is about to drift off into sleep— until suddenly he remembers, and he jolts, sitting up.

he turns his head to look at the roses as his brain is overwhelmed with inquiry. price knows who it is. it's c/n. it's y/n. and now he just has more questions, some the same as previous ones but with the added confusion that it's you that got the flowers for him.

he is going to lose sleep over this after all.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

when soap first heard about the captain's situation, he thought it was hilarious. he got roses from an unknown individual? that's silly. he almost even started laughing seeing price so frustrated and baffled over a bouquet of plants.

though, after he said he didn't know anything about any flowers and price walked away in disappointment to go question his other sergeant, perhaps he was a little jealous. don't look at him like that. what's so wrong about maybe wanting a secret admirer?

unbeknownst to him, he would get a gift of his own in no time. when he got to the mess hall, he immediately spotted a box of something right on his table. he quickly went to the seat he always sits at, because of course he has a specific place to eat every day— and he hopes it isn't too obvious to the other soldiers nearby that he's resisting the urge to dash over and admire the supposed present.

when he finally gets to see the gift up close, he practically has stars in his eyes. the note on top of the box catches his eyes first before anything, a simple sentence of 'heard you had a sweet tooth.' typed on the printed out paper.

he has to resist a giddy grin creeping onto his face as he carefully slides the note aside, looking at the box of assorted chocolates in front of him. ultimately, he breaks, and a smile is instantly plastered on his face, already taking one of the sweets and plopping it into his mouth, humming contentedly.

he has the urge to dig into all of them because the candy is remarkably delicious and has his body tingling with dopamine, but fights it and chooses on savoring the gift, taking time to relish in each pieces' flavor.

he enjoys the way the first layers of chocolate slowly melts on his tongue and the taste of the equally chocolate-y syrup inside hits him like a freight train— it makes him appreciate the person who gave him this even more so.

don't worry though, johnny isn't too greedy. he saves the other half of the box for later.

eventually, he does lift his glued-on gaze from the gift to around the mess hall. though, he's met with the other soldiers giving him weird looks. and it does look kind of odd to be fair. a grown man, another soldier, in the mess hall eating a randomly fancy box of chocolates by himself.

despite the little awkward situation and the slightly unpleasant, silent walk out of the mess hall with the box in hand, you know he's walking around with a broad grin on his face for probably the next few days.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

to him, the similar occurrence between his captain and sergeant friend was strange. he'd heard identical stories from both of them now— the same concept of a mysterious offering given to them by a mysterious person.

he was wondering if the lieutenant got one too, and just hadn't told anyone. he was also questioning if he would get one as well. was this individual giving gifts to everyone in the task force?

well, he'd find out soon enough. the answer is most definitely yes.

he'd been dragged away by soap just right after a briefing, into a mostly empty hallway. and after a measly, short conversation and or slight argument about why gaz had been dragged here in the first place, and also why soap looked like he was holding in a giggle fit, the latter pulled out a box from his pocket. so he is getting a gift as well— same note and everything.

soap explains that he'd been requested by this 'anonymous person' to deliver him one as well, like a damn messenger pigeon.

so gaz takes the container carefully in hand before soap snickers and scurries away to do whatever.

he's pretty interested in what's inside as he properly takes a look at it. the box is flatter than your average box, black and sleek with of course, a small, yellow sticky note taped on top. 'this is one of our favourite memories. -unknown.'

he glances around the empty hallway for a moment, feeling a bit weird standing in a quiet hallway, opening a present by himself, alone. but nevermind that— he opens it, and kyle is met with.. a necklace. a silver necklace with a heart locket attached to the bottom.

he moderately cocks his head at the sight of the locket, then picks the necklace up with his right hand, the box still resting on the surface of the other. he opens the heart and squints, a mini photograph of himself and.. another recruit, wearing a mask, so he couldn't see their face. his hand was slung over their shoulder and they were doing the same to his, and despite them covering their face, he could still see a small smile on their face and his own.

he can remember this. he thinks he knows this. it was a group photo of the whole task force. there's the other soldiers in this photo too, but the photo is cropped in a way that you can only see him and the other comrade.

but he doesn't seem to.. remember who he was next to? something in his memory is bugged, like when you forget that one word but you also somewhat remember at the same time, or you forget what you were going to say while having a conversation with somebody.

it almost makes him as frustrated as price when he got his gift, but he wants to push those other emotions aside and just focus on the gratefulness he feels. to be honest he adores the necklace. he's sure he would think it suits him if he wore it and looked in the mirror.

and the picture.. he's still thinking about it. still looking at it. he finds the memory charming and sweet, even if he can't remember this soldier properly. he likes the way he can still see both of the happiness and smile in their eyes despite how tiny the image is. he likes the way he can see the shine and colour in their eyes in the dim light where the photo was taken.

the more he admires the jewelry the more he falls in love with it. the more he wants to cherish it and the mysterious fella who has gifted it to him.

after a lot of staring, and smiling at the present in hand, he finally closes the locket and slips the necklace on, briefly feeling the cold silver around his neck before it turns warm from his body heat.

and then he just walks off casually just like soap, who's probably waiting around the corner to ask "what'd you get?"

he now holds the box close to his chest as if he might keep that too, nearing the end of the hallway.

kyle's mind goes to the photo again, and his brain starts whirring with the thoughts of who it is.

but he's sure he'll remember later. he'll know who the person is soon enough, maybe if he sees them walking through the halls with that same mask. but either way, he knows he'll remember, and he'll thank them for this gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

now, he already knew he was going to get a gift as well, seeing as everyone in the task force but him has gotten at least something. he's heard price's predicament, johnny entering a briefing a little too happily with small bits of chocolate syrup near his lips, and kyle proudly walking around base wearing a necklace.

but he has some assumptions that the person didn't get anything for him. he's.. well, simon 'ghost' riley, after all. spooky, intimidating to most, tall dude.

but it seems his assumptions were incorrect, because he came back to his barracks after somewhat of a rough mission just to notice a a small, dark box oddly left on top of one of the shelves near his bed.

after easily retrieving the container, he examines it— and there's the typical 'note' from them, a few words written on top of the lid with a white marker. it reads, 'saw this and it reminded me of you. from a soldier friend of yours.'

.. but what if this 'soldier friend' has actually left a bomb inside of this? will it explode right now? a spy camera? is anybody watching?

you can't blame him for the skepticism. a strange box randomly appearing on one of your shelves? you would be hesitant to open it too.

after a few shakes he gives to the box to hear if anything suspicious is inside, he decides that it isn't a miniscule explosive or a secret camera or any other funky gadget.

simon opens it, and one of his eyebrows raises as an automatic response. a bracelet? specifically, a bracelet made of small, shiny, white pearls with a single flower charm.

but he's not ungrateful or doesn't like it, per se, he's just.. confused. as everyone else was.

confused that somebody thought to get him a gift. bought something for him that he never asked for or mentioned or even thought of himself.

it's not what he was expecting at all. a bracelet. really? for him? but why? he stands in that spot for a good minute, trying to make sense of this. but he's also trying to tell himself he doesn't care about this.

but there's a little creature in his heart or in his brain or something whispering to him that he actually kind of likes it.

he won't admit any of this— but he does end up keeping it, box and all. and he does like the gorgeous glossiness of the pearls and the intricate details and carvings of the charm.

he likes the way it feels on his wrist when he slides it on. it has a nice, cool feeling, but not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. like the way a cold pillow feels nice against your head.

and from that day forward, if you look closely enough, you can always see a glimpse of a shiny piece of jewelry peeking through the bottom of ghost's sleeve.

[s-shinichirosgf]

The type to make you hump a pillow to get yourself off

answer: ran, rindou, izana, takeomi, wakasa, mikey, sanzu

tw. f!reader, pillow humping, dirty talk, masturbation (m and f), guided masturbation (m to f), sub!reader, dom!character

an. a short little idea that came to me randomly

minors dni (18+)

He would make you do over facetime/video call when he has to go on a longer business trip. The conversation would start normally but it would shift quickly, his words going from how much he misses you to how much he misses your pretty little pussy, how he woke up that morning with the hardest case of morning wood, all because he dreamt about your velvety walls sucking him in so well, like they always do. And before you know it, you get rid off all your clothing, hands following his commands until your nipples are hard and sensitive, and your pussy is a drooling mess, thighs and lips shiny and clit puffy and throbbing, all as he watches you still fully clothed, hand palming the tent in his pants. And when he sees you on the verge of tears, whining to please please let me cum after making your hands stop multiple times, he smiles, but his darkened eyes make a shiver run down your spine. His next words only intensify the heat in your cheeks, telling you that if you wanna cum, you're gonna have to put your hips to work on the pillow, otherwise, you're not cumming at all. And he plays his cards well, because after being denied for so long, the little reserves you would have on a regular day are quickly overshadowed by how bad your clit is throbbing. So you get on your knees, grabbing the pillow that was previously resting next to your head, his pillow. But just as you're about to straddle it, he stops you, saying "no no, princess, spread those pretty folds with your fingers first....yeah, just like that...now I want you to press your messy little clit directly onto the fabric." You do just as he says, jolting once you feel direct contact again where you need it most. And when you slowly start rocking your hips, whines and mewls escaping your lip, he finally gets his cock out of his pants, stroking it slowly, eyes completely wandering all over your figure as if he can't decide where he wants to look more—and then the warning that leaves his lips send a jolt through you "you better make a fuckin' mess under you, doll, otherwise I'm not lettin' you go until you can't cum anymore."

[sichengtual]

— summary: you and jaehyun are not just friends, and as he looks at you under the bright stadium lights, he realizes you never really were. 

— pairing: jung jaehyun x reader.

— au: 90's, college, football player! jaehyun. 

— genre: fluff. 

— word count: 1,380 (1.3k)

— warnings: none.

— song: friday i’m in love — the cure. 

for @nct-writers​’s neo’clock event! 

it’s super short but had a lot of fun writing this and now i can’t stop thinking about 90’s football captain jaehyun hehe. 

Friday night lights are blinding. 

You walk into the stadium with your heart beating wildly against your chest, hearing it pounding loudly against your ears over the cheering crowd. It’s a warm night — the first of the summer, and the stars shine brightly in the night sky. There’s a soft breeze, so light you can barely feel it crashing against your skin, carrying both scents and sounds as you let yourself become immersed in your surroundings. The air smells like pretzels and candy, scents reaching your nose as you walk deeper into the forming crowd. There’s loud rock and roll playing the background, probably coming from one of the many speakers, setting the atmosphere ablaze, tying everything together into one cohesive scene. 

The timing isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t have to be. Your feet walk like they have a mind of their own, moving like following an invisible compass, pulling from an imaginary thread that leads you directly to him. And it’s almost as if they do, and as if he too had been a participant in the strange game of push and pull, because his eyes find yours in the midst of a sea of people. 

You refrain from gasping, because as you rest your eyes on him, you’re sure Jung Jaehyun has been pulled out from some romantic comedy, somehow way too good to be true. Standing in the middle of the playing field, under the bright lights illuminating the entire stadium, with his football uniform made a mess of dirt and grass and his hair disheveled from taking off his helmet, he’s a dream in and out of himself. It brings a slight tingling to the tips of your fingers, goosebumps running down your back when he smiles, eyes shining brighter than any fire in the starry sky. 

Smiling at him, you let your feet resume their way as you forget about everything else that isn’t him and the way he’s looking at you, blocking everything out but the way his smile grows wider with every step you take in his direction. He looks happy, happier than you’ve ever seen him, looking at you as if it was you who put the stars in the night sky or who composed the force of the sun. As much as for you there’s only him, standing front and center in a still frame, for him there’s you, and he’s sure everything else in the picture is only but a background image. 

“Hey,” he says as you finally reach him, surprise laced into his tone. He’s smiling wide, one hand holding his helmet on the side while the other has a tight grip on a plastic water bottle. “I thought you wouldn’t come.” 

“Yeah, me too,” you respond. You stick your hands in the front pockets of your jeans, trying to conceal the shaking of your fingers. “For a second, I really wasn’t going to.” 

Jaehyun takes a step closer. There’s cheering in the background, laughter and hollering. He can hear his friends singing loudly, celebrating a victory in the same way he would if he hadn’t seen you. Having you there, in front of him, is victory enough. 

“What convinced you?” He asks, nerves almost completely masked by his excitement. “Was it the thought of me in a uniform? Johnny has been saying I look like a Vogue model with my hair all disheveled like this, so I really wouldn’t blame you.” 

You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your hand. 

“No, you idiot,” you say, voice breaking in between the laughter. “But I really couldn’t miss this, not when me being here meant that much to you. You don’t look bad with your hair looking like that, though.” 

His smile seems to soften at your words, though you’re not sure if you’re seeing it correctly or if it’s merely a trick of the light. Your heart swells, beating rapidly at the thought of having such an effect on him, and a part of you really wants it to be a mix of both. As much as you’re trying, there’s no way you’re feeling about him now. 

“Not bad?” He laughs, and you see him blush under the reflectors. “I think it looks really sexy.” 

“Okay, now you’re just letting it get to you,” you joke. “At least you have your trophy now, right? That’s what’s sexy.”

He takes another step closer, and you’re close enough to touch. People walk past all around you, forcing you to get even closer, hands flying to his chest on instinct alone. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to notice, or ignores it if he does. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Yuta smiling at him, but it all becomes background noise as he sets his attention back on you. 

“It’s because of you, you know,” he says, voice soft. You hear a small thud, and when his hand comes to rest on top of yours, you can tell it’s his helmet finally falling to the ground. “The plays, the trophy - it’s all for you. Every single thing I do, I do thinking of you. I simply can’t get you out of my head.” 

You smile. “I thought we were just friends.”

“We’ve never been just friends,” he smiles. He pauses for a second, looking up to the sky and pursing his lips, as if deep in thought. “We were also roommates. And we were teammates that one time in Ethics class.” 

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, rolling your eyes and feeling his fingers lacing with yours. He tightens his grip, softly squeezing your hand. His hair falls against his forehead, pressing against the damp skin. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, a blush rising to his cheeks as he looks at you. “Okay, and, to be fair, I was also in love with you, and I think you might have also liked me back this entire time, with you occasionally eating the food I made for you and all.” 

“That’s the only possible explanation when I kept doing it despite getting food poisoning that one time you made spaghetti and meatballs.” 

“You’re just exaggerating,” he laughs. Neither of you have noticed you’re leaning closer to each other with every passing minute. “You loved my special spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I did not!” You smile. And you’re sure your world stops still in its tracks when your nose touches his, everything around you disappearing and your entire surroundings becoming the warmth of his touch and the tenderness in his smile.  “But I did love you… I guess.”

“I hope you still do,” he whispers, and you hear him, loud and clear, despite all the chaos unfolding all around you. “Because I’m crazy in love with you, and I just can’t hold it in anymore. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you looking so fucking beautiful in the morning and not being able to kiss you as soon as I saw you? I’m about to take matters into my own hands, this can’t just stay as it is!” 

“Probably as much as it was for me to see you with your hair like this, looking like a goddamned Vogue model and not being able to kiss you as I walked into the stadium.” 

“Fuck, you really are way too good to be true.” 

And he’s kissing you, softly and gently, a small and quick kiss under the blinding lights, holding you to his chest and pressing you against his form. Your eyelids flutter closed as you kiss back, a thousand lights going off on your head, just as part of your imagination as of reality, a perfect mirror of the ones shining bright all around you. You can feel him smile against your lips, giggling so softly you don’t get to hear it; you feel it, vibrations traveling down your body as you smile right back, feeling your heart beat so loudly you’re sure it’s about to go out of your chest. 

“Hey, could you possibly repeat the Vogue thing around Johnny before we leave.”

“Anything for you, stud.” 

“God, I love you.”

It’s 1996 and you finally know love.

[boneblanket]

high away to heaven

dnf | explicit | 11.7k words

light angst, slice of life, non-sexual intimacy, explicit sexual content, developing relationship, hopeful ending

[boneblanket]

laugh about it, shout about it

snf & background dnf | mature | 4.9k words

“Hey, would you say you’re into MILFs?” Innocent enough, but Nick should know better. “Huh?” “MILFs, you idiot. Hot mums. Beautiful older women.”

In Houston, George landing on Nick’s mother on a hook up app becomes an ideal opportunity to torment him. Nick has a hard time resisting beating George up. He has a harder time resisting George. 

written for @dreamteamafterdark

[kalimarinus]

rest.

[ summary : captain price gettin' all worried because reader is overworked. ]

[ relationships : john price x gn!reader (romantic) ]

[ warnings : 2nd person pov , gn reader 🤍 , reader is around price's age , reader is a stay at home worker , working inaccuracies lol ]

[ word count : 446 ]

[ notes : how'd this do for my first actual fic? heh. ]

John would come back from a fairly okay mission, sighing contentedly as he took in the atmosphere of his flat. But, when he came into the faint-lit living room, he stumbled upon you, who was sitting on the couch, a bit hunched over. Piles of paperwork were beside an open laptop, both which were set on a large coffee table, empty coffee cups in the trashcan next to it.

You looked heavily focused on your work, not even noticing him. You continued dragging the tip of your pen along one of the documents, writing quickly but also trying to make it look professional and neat enough for work.

John frowned when he noticed the dark circles under your eyes, half-lidded from pure exhaustion.

"You shouldn't be working so late, dear." John said, kicking his boots off to the side before walking over to you.

You perked up at the sound of his voice and looked over to him, now realizing John was back home.

"Ah, darling." You paused, lifting your pen from the paper. "You're back home already."

"Yes.. But I didn't wanna come home to see you overworked again." His eyebrows furrowed, glancing over all the unfinished papers you still had yet to complete. "You should take a break."

"The deadline is tomorrow morning, I need to finish these tonight." You went back to your main focus, overviewing the graphs on the laptop screen before going back to writing on the lines of the paper.

Price sighed. He knew finishing work before deadlines was important, he would probably say the same thing if he were in your position right now. But also, your mental and physical state was in higher importance.

"At least take a small break? A little five minute nap?" He said, trying to convince you.

You thought about taking a rest for a few moments. You were tired-- exhausted, your dominant hand almost falling asleep from fatigue and the overuse of it.

"Please, love?" John added, his frown deepening.

".. Maybe." You said, but let out a sigh of your own as you looked over to his expression. "Fine." You decided to just take a rest and listen to him, setting down your pen and turning off your laptop.

John's frown turned into a soft smile when you agreed, and he sat down on the couch next to you. You grinned when he subtly leaned his side on yours, and you leaned back on him as well.

...

That night you slept in each other's arms on that very same couch, sinking into the new cozy ambience the dimmed light coming from outside the window and the distant noises of passing by cars created.

[kalimarinus]

(ask) something with poly soap and ghost maybe? like a valentines date? idk, im also sleepy

stargazing.

[ summary : stargazing with your 2 lovers. ]

[ relationships : simon 'ghost 'riley x gn!reader (romantic) , johnny 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader (romantic) , simon 'ghost' riley x johnny 'soap' mactavish (romantic) ]

[ warnings : 2nd person pov , gn reader 🤍 , reader is around the age of 26-29 (around soap's age basically) ]

[ word count : 374 ]

[ notes : ahaha this was requested on my other blog in early february but didn't feel like writing (sorry!)— but thank you for the ask luv , 💐 ]

Ghost never expected to date anyone. He never expected anyone to even love him like that. He never expected to date one of his colleagues. Let alone two. Yet here he was, lying down in a grassy field in the middle of his two partners.

The night's moonlight and the glow of the milky white stars bounced off the patches of foliage and onto them, creating an ambient atmosphere that almost seemed distant, but almost comfy at the same time.

“Y'think we're gonna see shooting stars tonight?” Soap asked, breaking the silence.

You shrugged, continuing to stare up at the many orbs twinkling in the sky. “It isn’t likely.”

“Then why’d we come out here then? Thought it would be cooler than this.” Soap half-joked, turning over on his side to raise an eyebrow at you and Ghost, a slight blue shine in his eyes.

“Are they not pretty enough for you, Johnny?” Ghost raised an eyebrow back at him and you chuckled at the minor sassiness, the fabric of his mask straining slightly from the movement of his face.

“Well… Not as pretty as you guys, and not as neat as shooting stars, either.” He responded with a wink, a smug smile appearing on his face.

“That’s a bit cheesy.” You say, letting out a soft laugh and Ghost just shoots him a slight disapproving look at Soap’s remark.

“I was trying to be sweet, love!” Johnny fake-pouts, sitting up and crossing his arms, eyes still on both of you and Simon.

A few more sentences of playful bickering, teasing banter, and quiet laughter fill the air until the peaceful silence slowly comes back, you and Ghost sitting up in unison to accompany Soap. Simon’s arms wrap around the shoulders of the both of you and Soap huddles up to his side as you lean on his other.

You all take the rest of the night pointing out made-up constellations you spot and sharing small glances, silent and brief gestures of adoration. But soon enough, you and Soap doze off with you both buried into Ghost’s sides, the latter quietly watching over the pair as he lets out a contented sigh.

And after all, you guys could head back home in the morning.

[python333]

JUST SAW THIS BECAUSE I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE FOR THE PAST FEW MONTHS BUT??? THIS IS SO GOOD EVERYONE GO READ IT NOW. I AM PUTTING THE (PEER) PRESSURE OF A THOUSAND SUNS ON ALL OF YOU. GO READ THIS!!

close call.

[ summary : reader gets trapped, their fellow soldiers save them. ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 2nd person pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , (leg) injuries , more than needed description of the injuries & pain , a lot of writing about reader , many inaccuracies whoops sorry! ]

[ word count : 1,930 ]

[ notes : i really need to stop procrastinating,!! but wow a proper fic this time around.. also!! i'm so sorry ghost lovers he's barely mentioned + thesaurus my beloved <3 i swear i proofread this 100 times if it still has ONE mistake i'm so sorry but i'm gonna cry now. > ver inspired by the AMAZING WONDERFUL WRITER @python333 < please please please go check their lovely works out or else ill break your ankles coryxkenshin style (EMMM IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO TAKE INSPO FROM YER WRITING JUST LMK !!! I'LL TAKE THIS DOWN!!,,..) ]

This was a predicament. Just some minutes into a mission, you had gotten separated from the rest. You can barely recall how or why, besides the memories of running for safety. You just knew you were trapped now. Trapped in some rugged building, not even sure how far you got from your comrades or your objective. It’s quiet inside, not silent, but much less noisy than a few minutes ago. You’re far enough away from everyone that you can’t distinctively hear the shouting of soldiers and the sounds of gunfire. And just like in some stupid action movie, of course some random heavy objects fell on you and got you stuck.

As a result of dashing away from the danger into a building and also stupidly looking back just to check if you were safe, you barely noticed a concrete pillar in front of you. In a split second, you ended up on the creaky, wooden floor, and you swear you can somehow feel a bruise forming on your forehead. However, the ringing in your ears and the throbbing pain in your head felt like nothing when a sharp pain suddenly surges through you. Your instincts immediately make you shout, and there’s a moment where your voice ripples throughout the room until you bring yourself to finally focus your eyes on the gaping hole in the ceiling and then the pile of rubble piled atop your right leg that seemed to have just materialized on you.

The jagged edges of the rocks ripped through your uniform, and there was a prominent burning but somehow cold sensation right around your ankle and thigh, but to you, you could feel the ache everywhere. You attempt to shift your leg around to get more comfortable— more comfortable than you are right now at least, but you can feel the sharp edges of the rocks dig deeper into your skin. To you, it feels like a thousand giant hornets stung you and then got pounded by a sledgehammer— but all the pain is just focused on those two spots. You try not to panic but you swear you can feel something piercing a tissue of muscle or something, just the grotesque thought of skin, your skin and muscle getting ripped open by a slab of stone makes you want to throw up— but you’re sure you’re exaggerating. That thought is pushed aside by the reminder of the agony your nerves are enduring, making you almost cry out again— but you’re able to push it down enough that it just comes out as a deep groan.

“It’s not that bad. Just stop thinking about it.” You mumble mindlessly, like voicing your thoughts out loud would make it better. You try to calm yourself down— to remind yourself you’re still alive and breathing, despite the fact there are parts of rock buried deep in the flesh and some of your bones have probably snapped in two from the weight dropped onto you. A few deep breaths later and you think you’re composed, at least relaxed enough that you can figure out a way to get your leg dislodged and yourself out of this building safely.

“Just need to… push this off.” You try to reassure yourself as you prop your body up, reaching an arm over in a struggle to push some of the debris off your leg, but it’s no use. Attempting to shove the rubble to the side. Lifting some up and then pushing it. Using both arms. Trying to kick one of the bigger ones off with your other leg. Adjusting your lower half again regardless of how much it hurt to move last time— then doing everything all over again. Nothing. The mound is too heavy. 

Again, you inhale in and out a couple more times, trying not to stress and drown yourself in hysteria. Once in a state of enough calm again, your mind scrambles to search for ideas to get out of the situation despite the pounding in your head from earlier. Your earpiece. Your hand immediately shoots up to grab where your earpiece should be, but your fingers don’t feel the cold material. Your eyes widen and your stomach churns at the chance it somehow slipped out of your ear when you were running. You survey the area, but the floor just consists of dust, other sorts of clutter, and no earpiece. ‘It has to be around here.’ You look around you multiple times, over and over again, like the small device is going to suddenly appear in front of you.

The realization that you don’t have your earpiece has you fearing for your life again— you don’t even know how you didn’t notice that there was no familiar voice of your captain saying, “C/N, do you copy?” Or maybe your lieutenant randomly saying some corny jokes. Probably your only chance of getting out of here alive was gone. You know you shouldn’t give up so easily— to keep trying, but you felt like there was already zero hope. You’re going to bleed out and die right here, you’re sure it’s the end. You think you should accept your fate and just wait here patiently to die, but still, you’re holding on to the probably last shred of energy and life you still have in your body. Just in case, maybe with some miracle, you’ll get out, somehow.

And so you wait, and it feels like hours. It feels like days, years, but it’s probably only been thirty minutes you’ve been sitting. Sitting there, the pain in your head wearing off but the throbbing in your leg getting worse by the second. The heft of it all just makes your entire nervous system scream in pain. Now you feel like you should’ve appreciated that adrenaline a lot more because now that it’s worn off, your ankle feels like it’s being crushed by an anvil and your thigh feels like it's been penetrated by a huge nail.

You kind of regret the decision of not yelling— calling for help, so maybe someone would find you. That should’ve been your first option, but now you can’t seem to say anything, like someone had ripped your vocal cords out and on top of that duct-taped your mouth shut. You’ve lost enough blood that you’ve lost all of the energy you thought you had earlier, and you can slightly see the bottom of the large rock on your thigh being tainted with a deep red. And you’re sure the one on your ankle has been bloodied too.

“C/N? C/N!?” Suddenly a recognizable voice yells out your callsign— tone frantic but somehow still gentle, and glazed with a British accent. It interrupts your thoughts and in a dire attempt to let them know you’re here, trapped, you try to use all the power in your body to try and call back, but only a quiet, almost silent whimper comes out but you don’t think they even heard it. “Y/N, are you there?—” They cut themselves off and you hope it’s from shock, surprise as they see you, disheveled and bruised. And now you’re sure they have because whoever it is comes running to you, shouting for other people. “Guys, they’re in here!” They say, and you can feel them grab and squeeze your hand tightly, so tight now you think the bones in your legs aren’t the only things that are broken.

“Did -ou call th- p-ra-edics alre-dy, Gh-st?” “-ou’re g-ing to be -kay, -eah?” You can barely pick up anything now, but you can tell there are multiple voices now, one gruff and the other having a heavy Scottish accent. You feel like you’re going deaf, the noise around you going muffled and you finally realize you’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness. When your head lolls and you can briefly feel your chin against the in-between area of your collarbones, that definitely makes it apparent, to yourself and to the people around you. Your vision turns foggy almost every other second, and you see black and white dots dancing around your eyesight until it fully turns dark. All the commotion around you goes faint and you want to stay awake when you feel your hand get squeezed again, but oh god you can’t because you feel so nauseous and dizzy like you’re going to vomit and—

In just a flash, you wake up with a small and quiet gasp— your sight blurry and all you can see is white along with some slight movements, and a consistent beeping noise in the background. You slowly sit up, grimacing as a brief pain radiates from your right leg again, but then let out a relieved sigh as you can feel it dull down again, which your assumption for that is medical drugs, thank God for those. Your eyes finally focus just enough for you to know what’s around the room— and you grasp the fact that you’re in a medical bed, your body from the waist down covered in thin, pale sheets. The bright white lights of the med bay shine down on you, an ECG monitor to the right of your bed, and there's an analog clock hung up on the wall in front of you. You think it reads somewhere around 11:30 P.M. You're also kind of grateful now that you didn't stay conscious when your legs were freed from the rocks because they feel almost mangled in spite of the bandages.

Never mind your injuries for now— because your eyes land on the men to your left, all four of them sleeping sitting up in blue metal chairs. You recognize them, you know them. There's no mistaking that out-of-place skull mask, that silly-looking mohawk, the person wearing sunglasses inside of a hospital, and lastly, the man with the boonie hat that he never takes off. “Cap?” You quietly say, your voice (thankfully) restored now. “Johnny?” You call out to your sergeant instead, and he mumbles something under his breath as he starts to wake up, but his grogginess almost instantly fades away when he realizes you’re conscious. “Y/N?” Soap responds back, and you barely have any moment to respond with another word because he practically dashes and pulls you into an embrace. You almost wince at how tight he’s hugging you, but you grin and squeeze him back.

A throaty voice breaks the silence, saying, “Stand down, sergeant. They’re still hurt ya know?” You assume it’s your captain— who you didn’t know had already woken up in that short span of time. He gets up from his chair and walks over to you until he’s at the side of your medical bed, right next where Soap is still hugging you. You can tell Price is relieved you’re okay, but you also know he’s trying to keep his composure and not reveal all his worry. “You alright, soldier?” He asks you, attempting to pry Johnny off your body, huffing when he just latches on harder. You answer with a simple, “Aye, sir.” As the man clinging to you finally lets go. “I almost bled out there, damn. That was a close call.” You finally say after a few moments of silence, and you’re sure Price and Soap have the same exact thought in their minds. “And so would the others, if they were awake.” Price adds with a chuckle, turning his head to glance over to the other two, still sound and sleeping.

[kalimarinus]

tags & emoji key

tags:

writing tag - #;;mar.writes spitball(s) tag - #;;mar.spitballs headcanon(s) / rambling / text post tag - #;;mar.rambles askbox answers - #;;mar's.asks other - #;;mar's.shenanigans

emoji key:

personal favorite(s) - 🦈 male - 💙 gn - 🤍 fem - 💜 other gender - 💗 reader not present - 🖤

[masterpost]

[s-shinichirosgf]

A little taste (of heaven)

ft. Shinichiro, Wakasa

cw. f!reader, bi!wakasa, bi!shinichiro, mmf threesome, shin and reader are in a established relationship, handjob, fingering (m and f receiving), oral (m receiving), anal (m receiving), nicknames, teasing, body worship, soft, unprotected sex. very waka centric. not proofread

an. this is a continuation of this fic and I highly recommend you read it if you haven't already done so to understand the context. not much to say here, just waka getting that good fuck he deserves after all that 😌 not sure how we ended with 3.2k words but here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️ enjoy, I guess lol

tagged. @scandalous-writing @harujuku @kazuwhora

minors dni (18+)

"You know you can walk out of this at any moment, right?" Shinichiro asked, his knee lightly knocking against Wakasa’s as they both sat down on your bed, waiting for you to finish a sudden work-related call.

“Yes, you’ve made it very clear the first 5 times.” Wakasa rolls his eyes, even if he was a bit touched by how much you two cared for his comfort.

Shinichiro shrugged, a hand absentmindedly rubbing his neck as he let out a small laugh. “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to make sure, we really don’t want you to feel pressured or anythin’”

Wakasa fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Really? You say that after the little stunt you two pulled?” He wasn't truly upset about it, but you two had put him through hell and he refused to let you forget it.

“Call it an interest survey,” Shin smiled, and the mirth in his eyes just confirmed to Wakasa that he didn't need to feel bad about being a little petty.

He snorted and shook his head, his hands sinking a bit into the mattress as he shifted his weight a bit. “Because you couldn’t just ask? Y’know, like normal people would?”

Shin gasped, loud and exaggerated, with a hand to his chest. “No respect left for your leader! None!”

“You’re not my leader anymore, though,” Wakasa points out, dry to most, but Shinichiro could see the amusement swirling in his lilac eyes. So he pouted, puppy eyes shining in mock hurt, and his friend rolled his eyes in exasperation.

At that, the pout only grew more pronounced and Wakasa’s gaze couldn't help but linger on it, on the pink flesh that was asking to be bitten. Shin noticed, lips spreading into a small smile as his tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip. Waka's eyes followed the movement, his own tongue mimicking the motion on his suddenly all too dry lips, the weight of why they're here settling once again at the bottom of his stomach.

Shin reached up to cup the side of his neck. His fingers felt rough, calloused, against the skin of his jaw. His pulse quickens at the touch. Shinichiro's face was closer now, eyes seemingly taking in each of his features as his thumb gently swiped at his cheek. He opened his mouth again to remind him that they really could stop at any time, his words sweet and careful, but behind it Waka could hear a new edge, a longing, a want, that he hadn't heard before, but it made the heat in his gut coil. It snapped something in him and it urged him to surge forward, swallowing the end of Shin's words with his mouth.

Shinichiro stilled for an instant when their lips met, the surprise making his fingers twitch. As soon as Wakasa’s fingers entangled in his shirt to bring him closer and he took a moment to suckle on his bottom lip, only to then bite and lap at the reddening flesh, Shinichor woke up from his momentary stupor. He’s quick to match Waka’s intensity, mouth eager and impatient, borderline sloppy as his excitement shone through. His lips were slightly chapped and he could feel a slight burn as the stubble he hadn't bothered to shave that day pressed against his face. Wakasa took it in stride, quickly controlling the pace and basking in each little sound he could pull out of Shin's throat.

So absorbed in the moment, they didn't notice your arrival until you sat down on Wakasa's left, hand resting on his thigh. He felt you closing in on his side, the warm puff of breath hitting the shell of his ear as you asked him with your sugary tone if you could join in. He could barely let out a breathless "yes" before Shinichiro rushed to capture his lips again. He heard your small giggle against his ear before your lips were on him, each small peck like a brand against his skin. He was already feeling hazy, the attention sending pleasant shivers down his spine, but then your kisses grew sharp, and along the nibbles and accompanying soothes of your tongue, your hand started to move along his leg. Fingers slowly massaging and caressing the flexing muscles underneath the fabric, closer and closer to his crotch, successfully sending blood rushing down that much quicker.

But your hand didn't stop there, no, it continued its path up, under his shirt, soft fingers brushing over his abs with a feather-like touch. And then you started to circle his nipples, back and forth, pinching from time to time, and he could hear the smile in your voice when you asked if he's sensitive, as if you couldn't hear the small gasps or feel the way his body had started to twitch in response. The simmering heat under his skin added to the mirth painting your tone made him restless, finally detaching himself from Shin and biting back a groan at the dazed look in the other man's dark eyes and the string of saliva that connected their red-bitten mouths.

Instead, he turned to you, long elongated fingers grabbing your chin and tugging you towards him, wanting to erase that smug smile off your face. He kissed you like he wanted to swallow you whole, like he was trying to get the oxygen straight from your lungs. And you opened so beautifully for him, lips parted with a little moan that he chased down to make you do it again. In contrast with Shin's eagerness, your kisses were unhurried, deeper, like you wanted to take your time tasting him. The faint taste of strawberry lip balm clung to your lips, so similar to Wakasa's favorite sweet treat that it just made him hunger for more. Then a bigger hand finally palmed the straining tent in his jeans, just as Shinichiro's mouth sucked at his pulse point. Wakasa couldn't hold back a choked gasp, and you swooped at the opportunity to shove your tongue into his mouth, the muscle wet and warm exploring each crevice and leaving him keening as he was assaulted with an onslaught of sensations.

It drove him mad; it was not enough, not nearly. Having gotten just a little taste of you two, the greed grew in him, screaming and demanding more. So with great reticence, he pulled back, and with a tug at both Shin’s shirt and your dress, he drawled out “Off” with a small frown between his eyebrows. You two exchanged smiles before quickly following his request, all of your clothes promptly discarded until the only remaining garment were your pretty lace panties. Not out of hesitation but because Shinichiro insisted on taking them off himself, kneeling to drag them down your legs. And he didn’t get up immediately, no; before doing that he leaned forward and before Wakasa's widening eyes, he spread your lips to place a small kiss to your clit, giving one quick lick that made a beautiful mewl leave your soft smile. Once back up, you dragged him back down by his neck, covering his mouth with yours as your other hand sneaked down, gripping Shin’s cock, which was standing proud, the pink tip glistening as your fingers worked low groans out of his chest in harmony with the growing squelching sounds of pre-cum over skin.

Waka groaned, a deep and frustrated sound, as his own hand went to his own leaking cock. He was happy that he didn’t have to stop himself now when faced with the lewd display in front of him, but he had been riled up for too long to be satisfied with just watching or with the service of his own hand. Thankfully, you two heeded his call, separating with a grin before walking back to him.

"Did you decide how you want us?" you asked, hand back on his thigh making the muscle flex involuntarily.

Wakasa nodded, shame completely out of the window now that you had reached this point.

"Yes, I want you both at the same time."

Both of you only blinked at him, a few beats of silence passing as you digested what he had said.

"L-like," Shinichiro is the first to speak up, "…at once? Are you-are you sure?" he stammered out.

Waka threw him another unimpressed look, hand gripping his chin to bring his face closer. "Yes, Shin. I want you to fuck me while I fuck your girlfriend's little pussy." He enunciated each word carefully, never breaking eye contact, and took pride in the blush that dusted his friend's cheeks and nose. "Would that not be okay?" he still double checked, even if you two had mentioned that you wanted to 'make it up to him' after what you had subjected him to. But after stealing glances at the both of you, he saw how fast you shook your head as Shin yelped out a "No! It's more than okay!", making a lazy smirk tug at the edge of Waka's mouth.

So that's how he found himself here, lying down on your mattress, hips slightly raised on a pillow as you kneeled between his parted legs. Shinichiro sat beside you after handing you the lube, hand lazily stroking his length as he watched you prep him for what was to come. And god, your mouth alone already felt sublime, lips pressing wet kisses and suckling at the tip, tongue lapping at the prominent vein that ran down the underside. All that paired with the doe-eyed look you gave to his cock as you whispered how pretty he was, only made him twitch more in your hold, low groans escaping his parted lips as his fingers dug into the soft pillow and the fresh sheets below him.

He was thankful when he felt your middle finger finally circling his rim since it gave him something else to focus on so he wouldn't bust too early. The lubed up digit teased at his entrance, slowly pushing in, testing his limits. Your other hand didn't stop its gentle ministrations on his cock, keeping a steady pace to distract him from the intrusion as your finger carefully thrusted in and out, opening him up with a gentleness one reserved for precious things, and Waka couldn't help the way it filled his chest with warmth.

With your attentive and patient touch, two fingers slipped in with no issue.

"C'mom, baby, relax for me," you hushed, kind and sweet, when he hissed as you pushed in with three fingers.

He exhaled shakily, trying to even out his breathing and willing his muscles to relax. Shinichiro leaned down briefly, pressing slow kisses to his parted lips, and just as he tugged on his bruised bottom lip, you deliciously curled your fingers just right, soft pads pressing on his prostate and making him keen, hips lifting from the bed in search for more. Shin's smile widened as he pulled away, a mirror of your sparkling eyes as you rejoiced with a smug "found it."

Said smugness didn't last very long, though, not when Shinichiro moved, going around until he settled himself behind you. You let out a surprised questioning yelp as he grabbed your hips, raising them from your previous sitting position and making you bend forward, enough so that the hand that was holding Wakasa's cock now rested on his hip so you could keep your balance.

"Someone's gotta prep you, too, angel," he said in way of answer, cheerful tone not doing enough to cover the impatience that lay underneath.

Waka couldn't see what was going on behind you, but the way your eyelash fluttered pretty and your mouth opened in a whiny moan, he could get a pretty good idea.

And you could feel your face heating up a bit as Wakasa's half-lidded gaze took in your figure and your quickly dissolving composure. But how could you even try to keep it together when Shin's own digits were now prodding at your warmth, two fingers already plunging and curving oh so fucking sweetly as his other hand clawed at the flesh of your ass, squeezing to his heart's content? How could you even try to hold your moans and mewls back as he rubbed his cock in between your slippery pussy folds, head bumping your little clit right before he stretched you open on his big cock for you to keep him warm, grunting as he reminded you to focus on your own task? It was impossible, so you let yourself loose, trying your hardest to focus on the feel of Waka's walls as you opened him up, pride swelling in your chest each time you managed to hit that bundle of nerves and each time his leaking cock twitched in the air when Shin would shallowly thrust in response to your pussy clenching around him, whiny moans escaping both of you

So when Wakasa grasped at your wrist, rasping out that he was ready, you couldn't feel more relieved.

Now, with your legs on each side of him as the pillows beneath lifted your hips and with Shinichiro kneeling behind him, Waka felt his mouth dry up, almost wanting to pinch himself to make sure this was real. Shin got closer and rested his chin on Waka's shoulder, the heat of his chest enveloping his back as his hands found his hips, warm cock flushed against his ass.

"Angel, can you spread yourself for us?" Shin asked, a needy edge to his voice. "Wanna show Waka how pretty you look, yeah?"

You bit your lip but didn't hesitate to comply with your boyfriend's request. Wakasa had to bite back a groan when you do, hands gripping at the plush flesh of your thighs. What else was he to do when your fingers reached down, parting your slick-coated folds and exposing your drooling pussy for their greedy eyes, little clit throbbing as your hole clenched around nothing?

"Gorgeous, right?" Shinichiro hummed from behind.

Wakasa nodded immediately, entranced, bending forward until his hips were pressed against yours and a low groan left his lips. He wasn't even inside you yet but the way your arousal was coating his cock as his dick glided between your spread lips, mixing both of your fluids and making even more of a mess, already had the heat in his lower stomach fanning dangerously.

"Prettiest little pussy for the prettiest princess, huh?" Waka rasped out, eyes fixated on the point you two were connected at, barely registering the way your thighs clamped around him at his words. "Gonna be so good for me, yeah? Gonna let me make a bigger mess, princess?"

You nod frantically in response, a breathless "yes, please" being all he needed before lining himself at your entrance and pushing in. The groan spilled out freely this time, he couldn't event consider to hold it in with the way your velvety walls sucked him in so perfectly, warm and wet and so fucking snug around his cock. He gave a few slow experimental thrust but you didn't need too much time to adjust thanks to the prep Shin had done earlier, your hips quickly lifting up to meet his thrust, showcasing your own need. He couldn't give in just yet, though, and the lube-coated digits against his rim were a reminder of that. With a shaky exhale he gave Shinichiro the go-ahead, biting the inside of his cheek as he feels the tip prodding at his hole. Wakasa's eyes rolled back into his skull, low moans coming out of both men as Shin carefully sank all the way to the base.

"Good?" you asked, clenching and unclenching rhythmically around Waka as he gets used to the intrusion, hand on his neck and thumb caressing his jawline.

Wakasa nodded but it's Shinichiro the one who spoke up, "So good-," grip on his hips bordering on bruising. "So fuckin' thight." And the way his voice tapered off into a whine had Waka's abs clenching, hips canting forward into your heat and dragging even more moans out of all of you.

The hand on his jaw redirected his attention back to you. "You should probably control the pace, Waka," you smiled, your eyes then meeting Shin's behind his head. "We will try to match it once you get comfortable." Shinichiro quickly agreed, thumbs rubbing against his hip bones.

So Wakasa moved, slowly and carefully, feeling the slow drag of his cock against your walls, feeling the sopping heady heat cling to him. And he moved, slowly and carefully, feeling Shinichiro's stiff cock stretching him open, twitching every time he clenched down on him, the slight burn making his toes curl. And he moved, fast and desperate, hips hammering with renewed strength as the coil in his gut tightened more and more, making him chase the mind-numbing pleasure that was just out of reach. And that was the queue you two needed, for your own movements to grow into a crescendo, hips grinding and thrusting with a vigor matching his own.

"F-fuck," Shin whined from behind, blunt nails digging into his hips. "'m so close, 's too good," he slurred, fat tip hitting Waka's prostate with scary accuracy, making him thrust harder into your dripping pussy in turn.

You smiled at them, eyes dark and hazy as your fingers dipped down into your folds, pads circling and playing with your cute little clit.

"Let go, baby," you moaned, hand speeding as your velvety walls clenched down harder and harder around him. "C'mon, cum all pretty for us, mkay?"

And as if a thread had snapped at your command, he hammered into your welcoming heat just one, two, three more times, until he came with a low growl as his vision went white. And amongst a lewd chorus of squelching sounds mixed with low moans and high whines of his name and curses, his foggy brain registered you two quickly falling down with him, your walls and his both being painted with ribbons of white as your hips and Shin's milked his orgasm for all it was worth.

Harsh pants filled the air as you all came down from your highs, Shinichiro being the first one to step back just as overstimulation was starting to set in. Wakasa could hear him move around the room but he couldn't bring himself to check, limbs heavy as he lay there, head resting on your chest and feeling your pussy spasm around him as your hands gently kneaded the muscles on his sweaty back. Before he knew it, Shin was back, damp towels on hand to wipe them down, first Waka, hushing him softly when he hissed at the sensitivity, and then you once he helped Waka lift his hips to separate you two. A shaky groan left your boyfriend's lips when he saw the mess his best friend had made of your already messy pussy but other than that, he finished cleaning you up without trouble. Nevertheless, Wakasa was glad he hadn't looked down as well; his traitorous dick would probably jump at the sight but he felt way too spent and tired to even consider moving right now.

And so, among soft words and sweet tones, with soft fingers playing with his hair, a strong arm draped over his waist, and matching kisses on his forehead and nape, Waka was lulled into the best sleep he had had in a long while.

[s-shinichirosgf]

ft. Shinichiro

cw. f!reader, sweat, suggestive themes, horny shin, a lil bit of jealousy, use of "mine", soft.

an. not proofread. this is very self indulgent. i know this won’t be relatable rn for a lot of people, but this is for me and the people who are dealing with summer and trying not to melt rn, okay?

tagged. @scandalous-writing @s-nzu @kazuwhora

minors do not interact (18+)

Shinichiro hates summer. If you were to ask him why, he would say he hates the heat��the damp heat dragging him down and making his movements heavier as he works on different bikes from morning until evening with only a few fans to give him some solace. His displeasure is palpable, the broken air conditioner a mocking fixture in the shop, one he can't afford to change at the moment.

But there's also you. You, who agreed to help him out at the shop at the counter, dealing with clients and an array of paperwork. You, who are also suffering due to the intense heat but choose to deal with it in a way that makes Shinichiro's suffering a hundred times worse. Because now not only he has to deal with the blistering heat, but also with trying -and failing- to not pop a semi while you stroll in with whatever combination of small clothing your evil evil mind picks that day. Crop tops, tank tops, shorts, skirts, dresses, the list goes on and he feels his sanity hang on by a frying thread, his professionalism and his surprisingly busy schedule being the only things that force him to get back to work.

But whenever he has a small break or has to go out front to check something with you or to talk to a client, his eyes can't help but wander. And who can blame him, poor thing, when there's so much for his eyes to feast on. The way your skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat, delicate neck arched as you close your eyes in front of the fan, top of your breasts peeking over the hemline of your top, smooth legs crossed one over the other, lips sucking on a straw or a popsicle—he can feel the flush on his cheeks brightening whenever he glances your way and it's the only moment when he's thankfully he can blame it on the heat.

And the thing is, he also is very much aware that he's not the only one feeling this way. He sees the lingering stares and widening smiles, the flickering gazes and stuttering blushes his clients throw your way. And he feels the green little monster stir in his chest, but a lot of the time it is easily squashed down with a sense of pride and smugness, because a lot of them know that you're his. He may not be the leader of the Black Dragons anymore, but his reputation certainly preceded him, earning him a lot of clients that would never dare to try and get what's his out of respect.

So he smiles and lets them stare at his pretty little thing, looking at her like an out of reach treasure that they can only dream to touch. But of course there are others who don't know any of this, that don't know him, nor you, and only see in you something to get their greedy hands on. Like the guy you're currently talking to, his latest client. Greasy, slicked-back hair, slimy grin and leering stare, the man gloats about his newly modified bike, saying how now he just needed a beautiful girl to sit behind him, his implication obvious as you count the money he just handed to you. His hand tightens on the water bottle, irritation swirling in the pit of his stomach. But before he can say anything, you look up at the sleazeball, eyes crinkling at the corners as you smile, voice sweet as candy but with an edge Shinichiro has learned to identify.

“I can see that, Shin did such a great job with it, after all, you would want to show it off.” You rest your chin on your hand, manicured nails gleaming in the fluorescent light. “What a talented boyfriend I have, don’t you think?”

Your grin widens ever so slightly when you notice the way the other man flushes red, shock, embarrassment and a tinge of badly concealed irritation clinging to his features. Shinichiro almost feels pity for the man, but he’s too busy hiding his amusement and basking in your praise to even do that. His client quiets after that, finishing his transaction a lot quicker and shaking his head when Shin offers to help him roll the bike out of the shop, haste clear in his steps.

A laugh finally bubbles out of your lips when he’s out. “What a creep, he was staring at my chest during 90% of our conversation.” He can hear the way you’re rolling your eyes in your tone as he starts closing up the front, closing the door and the shutters. “Sorry if he doesn’t come back, though. It did seem like he had money to spare.” The apology softens your voice, you would never really want to damage his business after all.

In way of an answer, after making sure everything is in order, Shinichiro briskly walks to your side. Before you know it, his hands are on your waist and his lips are on yours. Your startle slightly, but your eyes are quick to close, hands finding purchase on his nape. The kiss is soft and unhurried, a gentle pressure on your lips before he pulls away, barely a hairbreadth apart.

“Mine,” he rasps, low and warm against your mouth as his dark eyes bore into yours, fingers toying with the ring that dangled from your silver chain—a matching set with his.

You smile, knowing, giving a small kiss of your own. “Mine,” you echo back at him, legs spreading more to make room between them for him, as your own fingers tug on his chain in response.

He swoops down once more, pressing a flurry of wet kisses—on your lips, your cheek, your jaw and your earlobe, down to the side of your neck, to your collarbones, and down the center of your chest, until he reaches the ring, which sits pretty atop the middle of your cleavage. “Mine,” he groans out, tongue peeking out and lapping at the salty skin around the ring, before he starts to decorate your skin with marks, hand now kneading at the fat of your hips while the other grabs at the plush skin of your thigh . Your gasps and mewls start to fill up the air as he desperately pulls you closer, and you can’t stop the pleased hum that tumbles out once you wrap your legs around him, and feel the hardening tent underneath his overalls.

[s-shinichirosgf]

A little peek (of heaven)

ft. wakasa, shinichiro

cw. f!reader, bi!wakasa, accidental voyeurism, male masturbation, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, reader and shin are in a relationship. not proofread, just horny thoughts.

tagged. @scandalous-writing @harujuku @kazuwhora

edit. part 2 can be found here

minors do not interact (18+)

It's early. Way too early since his shift at the gym did not start until 9am. His room is still cloaked in a veil of darkness, of the hours not yet realized, as the red numbers of his bedside clock glare mockingly at him in the form of 3:58 am. Faintly, he can hear the noise of occasional cars passing by, but that barely registers in Wakasa’s hazy mind. No, the only sounds that flood his ears are that of his quickening breaths and the squelching that comes with each slow up and down motion of his hand over his hard cock. A frown adorns his delicate features, his regularly half-lidded eyes are darker, a heaviness in his gaze that reflects sleepiness and frustration in equal parts.

The vestiges of his dream are still fresh in his mind, the edges hazy but the main stars of the show still very easily recognizable, even to his sleep-riddled brain. That’s right, not one, but two people were haunting his subconscious. Usually, he wouldn’t feel guilty about it; there’s nothing shameful about fantasizing and he enjoys destressing with some very much needed me-time, but when the protagonists of said dreams (and daydreams) were one of his best friends and said friend's girlfriend, well, it does make Wakasa wish he had the ability to kick himself in the head to knock the tantalizing images out of his mind.

But even then, his hand doesn’t stop. He can’t bring himself to stop. He had tried to ignore it, to go back to sleep and pray for a nicer, pg-friendly dream. But the thoughts don't stop, they never did once his mind started going down this route. Running a hand through his hair, a low hiss escapes through his clenched teeth as he runs his thumb through the slit, which had already started to leak with pre-cum. He lets out a low groan of frustration, cursing his dumb luck and his shitty timing since they’re the two things that got him into this situation.

The first time it happened was one time he had gone to Shinichiro’s bike shop. When no one had come to greet him, he let himself in, knowing that his friend sometimes got too caught up with work in the back rooms. He was about to knock on the barely opened door when he heard it, a low mewl that made him stop dead in his tracks. He recognized your voice immediately and felt the heat rush to his face when he realized what he had walked in on. He honestly should have left then, he should have, but his legs remained frozen in place. And he would later make excuses to himself, about how he was just so shocked that he hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was too late, but deep down he knew those words were nothing but empty lies.

So now, peeking through the small crack on the door, and seeing you sitting on Shinichiro's lap while he looked very much at home playing with your tits, Wakasa could feel his tongue dry up inside his mouth. Your shirt was halfway up and your bra had been tugged down, both pieces of fabric moved just enough to have access to the pretty mounds of flesh. It looked like he had been at it for a while, judging by the way little moans and gasps would leave your lips in a continuous crescendo with each grope at your tits, each tug and pinch at your nipples, which were hard and perky as if asking for a mouth to latch onto them to grant you some sweet release. He couldn’t hear whatever it was Shinichiro was whispering against your skin, sound muffled since his mouth too preoccupied with biting and sucking at the skin of your neck. But he most definitely heard the groan that was ripped from the other man’s throat when you arched your back, pressing your ass against his crotch with a hushed whine of “please.”

He walked away when he saw Shinichiro slide his hand under the hem of your skirt, cheeks ablaze and pants tighter, not knowing which one of you he envied the most.

He also remembers one time at a get-together you two had excused yourselves to go get some air, and he had found you in one of the more hidden and unlit corners where Shin had parked his bike. He was resting against his ride with you pressing close to him, in what seemed to be a hug. Wakasa was about to approach the two of you to ask you if you were gonna come back inside for more drinks, but the question got caught in his throat when he noticed exactly where your hand was—that is, inside of his best friend’s pants.

Well, he couldn’t really see it, since your body partially obscured it, but the up and down motion of each flick of your wrist and the tremble that was coursing through Shin's body as one of his hands tightened in fabric of your jacket were unmistakable. And then, of course, was the expression on Shinichiro’s face -eyes dark, red bitten lips, eyebrows slightly scrunched in pleasure-, which made the long-haired man lick his lips subconsciously. You wore heels that night, he had noted how they elongated your legs in a sinful way when you had walked in. But not only that, it also meant that right now you were at the perfect height to meticulously adorn your boyfriend’s neck and collarbones with bites, reaching so far down as the collar of the deep v-neck of his shirt.

Once again, he could not hear what was said; and once again, Wakasa walked back with his pants just a bit tighter and the image of you swallowing down Shinichiro’s groans with your mouth as your hand sped up its ministrations burned into his mind.

Those were just two of the most memorable instances and Wakasa could feel his self-control slowly being chipped away every time it happened. Even now the memories do nothing more than add fuel to the fire already burning that suffocates him and threatens to burn him from the inside out, his cock throbbing in his hand as he tries and fails to not picture you two while he jerks off. But he’s tired, he’s so tired, and with one more frustrated groan, he closes his eyes and lets his imagination run wild.

His own hands move and the imaginary hands in his mind follow suit. There are two pairs, one soft and one rough, but they’re both so attentive in their touches. They trail down from his lips, down his neck and his chest, teasing and tugging at his nipples, and running down across his abs, the muscles tensing in response to the soft caresses. Soft gasps and low moans start to fill the air, and when the hands reach his cock his hips lift from the bed, a breathless please rushing out of his mouth. His patience is running thin, so the hands in his mind are benevolent, taking turns stroking his cock and lightly tugging at his balls. And then there are your mouths, pretty and spit-slicked with tongues pink and eager, and he swears he can feel them at his neck, sucking marks on his chest and down down down…

And it’s the image of you two down on your knees for him, sloppily lapping at his cock and taking turns to suck at the head what finally has him keening, head thrown back as his hips furiously thrust up into his fist, pace raw and desperate, until a growl is ripped out of his throat, and his hand and his stomach are coated with the translucent white sheen of his cum.

He lies there for a few moments to catch his breath, bleary eyes finally opening and taking in the scene before him. Using his index finger, he smears the cum that had landed on his stomach, abs flexing with the light aftershocks that shook his body. Wakasa shakes his head before looking up at the ceiling, long multicolored strands fanning over the pillow and some still clinging to the sweat on his forehead. He is satiated, for now, that’s true. But deep in his gut sits a sense of longing, and he knows that it really hadn't been enough.

It was unfair, really. How was it that he was the one to find you two, every single time? It was as if fate was mocking him, a cruel hand dangling a delicious feast in front of a starving beast.

Truly unfair.

If only he knew that you two had been doing it on purpose.

[s-shinichirosgf]

First time

ft. shinichiro

cw. f!reader, more experienced!reader, reader has nipple piercings, virgin!shinichiro, very fluffy and self-indulgent because I feel soft :(( not proofread and also didn't feel like writing proper dialogue this time around.

tagged. @scandalous-writing @harujuku

minors do not interact (18+)

Your first time with Shinichiro happened unexpectedly.

You hadn't planned for it to happen that night. You had hardly been able to spend alone time together for a while now, either being busy with your own responsibilities or being tugged around by the little band of small children that had warned their way into your heart the moment you and Shin had met. So when he suggested crashing at your place for the night, it was a no-brainer. His tone carried nothing more than exhaustion and longing, the soft kind that came out in a soft hushed whisper against your neck as you sat next to eachother on his porch, watching as the street lamps started to light up the darkening sky.

You had been laying on your bed together, legs intertwined, head resting on his left arm, absentmindedly playing with each other's fingers. You had caught up over dinner, so this instant was more permeated with quietness. What was lacking in small talk was instead filled with sweet, tired smiles, small pecks interrupted by muffled laughter and soft gentle words meant only for your ears this late at night.

Soft pecks lingered more and more, still gentle, still kind, a slow even warmth spreading through the both of you. Your hands tangled in his raven locks and he rose, resting his weight on one arm to cup your face, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek while also moving your head slightly just so he could kiss you properly. And that same warmth kindled, growing, rising, lapping at you, burning you from the inside out and rising to the surface through your lips. As if the fire were trying to set the both of you ablaze.

Your hands under his shirt sent a shiver running down his spine. Your touch always managed to light every one of his nerves on fire with an ease that should worry him but instead just drew him closer and closer to you, like a moth to a flame. His weight shifted until he was fully on top of you, tongue teasing the rim between your lips, asking you to give him more of your taste, more of you. And you give it to him, how could you not, when he asked you so sweetly.

And he took it, all that you're willing to give him, tongue taking his time exploring your mouth. There's eagerness behind the languid locking of lips; it made your kisses just a tiny bit more bruising and your touches bolder. One small tug at his shirt was what got him to separate himself from you, quick to heed your request as he reached back to pull his shirt off over his head. You did the same before lying back down, but instead of swooping back down to you, he remained kneeling between your legs.

There was a small blush starting to dust his cheeks as he drank in your figure, thumb gently caressing the clothed thigh in his grasp. His eyes flickered back and forth between your face and your breasts still covered by the soft fabric of your bra. His bottom lip was trapped between his lips and one look at the tent that had formed in his pants gave you the answer to the unspoken question in his eyes.

You two had fooled around a bit before, sneaking wanting touches here and there as things got progressively more intimate—but underwear had always been the limit. And you had been content with it, you had been more than happy to let Shinichiro set the pace he wished to explore you and himself at. Now, however, the heat in his eyes spoke of more and you could feel the warmth spreading in your chest as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. And so, you sat up, finger hooking through his chain to tug him down and press a slow kiss against his lips. He responded in kind and you reached back to unhook your bra before swiftly discarding the garment.

A low hum left his lips at the same time you felt the grip on your legs tighten. You couldn't stop the grin that graced your lips as you saw the way his dark eyes took in your breasts, and in particular the piercings that glinted faintly in the low light, as if beaconing attention to your pebbled nipples.

His hands were careful, tentative, a contrast to the rough skin of his fingers. Your eyes and your smile softened when you felt his slightly sweaty palms. He touched you like you're precious, like you're a priceless treasure that could break if he moved too quickly. You wanted to tell him that you wouldn't break, that he could be harsher, move faster, but you couldn't bring yourself to. How could you, when the mix of tender touches and gentle sucking and tugging quickened your breath and fanned the heat that had been steadily building in your core, when the awe on his face bordered on reverence.

You let him continue his ministrations, the hand tugging at his hair and the soft moans leaving your parted lips being his guiding light in midst of his quiet exploration. And you wanted to let him keep going, keep at his own pace, but the moment his hips started grinding against yours and you felt the pressure of his clothed dick against your throbbing clit, you could feel your patience running thin. One leg wrapped around his waist, you reached down with your other hand, grabbing at the flesh of his ass to push him even closer. His hips stuttered, a broken groan escaping him as he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours.

Shinichiro felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the want, the longing, the love, all swimming around your orbs behind that half-lidded gaze. Your hand pushed against his chest, and he was fast to give you space sitting back down on his knees. Your reach down to unbutton your jeans and with slightly shaking hands he helped you pull them off. Your panties followed suit and he had to bite back a moan when he noticed the wet patch that had formed near the center.

Now also on your knees, you leaned forward to kiss him again, the hunger you had been trying to keep at bay rising to the surface. His hands flew to grasp your waist—the skin-to-skin contact sending his thoughts into disarray. So preoccupied with the way your mouth had found its home in his neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, he didn't notice your hand slid down until you palmed at his clothed cock. His hips jerked forward, seeking more of your touch, and when you asked him if he wanted to keep going, question low and warm in a hush against his ear, he felt his pants grow impossible tighter, reminding him that why was he still wearing them??

He rushed to get them and his boxers off, almost tripping in the process, which earned him a small stifled laugh from you. He turned to mock-glare at you, all clothing finally discarded, before both of you broke out in a soft bout of laughter. With amusement still swirling in your eyes, you asked him to sit back down against the headboard to which he replied to a little mock salute and a short yes, ma'am. You rolled your eyes in turn, reaching up to pinch his side as he was sitting down. A surprised giggle left his lips and you could feel your smile widening when he threw a pout your way.

He had never been particularly self-conscious about his body, he had always thought himself fairly attractive. But god if the way your eyes ranked over his form only to linger on his aching cock didn’t send a jolt through him and dry out his mouth. A sharp hiss escaped his clenched teeth the moment your soft hand grasped his length. Feels good? you would ask with an innocent smile, as if you couldn’t see the way his hands were grasping onto the sheets bellow as you took your time to meticulously spread the pre-cum leaking from his pretty pink tip at a torturously slow pace, as if you couldn’t hear the little groans that were trapped in the back of his throat. And then you leaned forward, small pink tongue lapping at the slit and sucking at the head, and Shinichiro wasn’t very strong but he honestly thought he would end up ripping the fabric below him. You just felt too good, too perfect, it was like you knew exactly which button to push to have him crumbling under you. But then you moaned, the vibrations traveling right through his dick, and that's he noticed what you were doing, what your other hand was doing—touching your little pussy, preparing yourself for him as the squelching sounds echoed in the small room.

His cries to stop stop stop rang in the air, immediately making you detach yourself from him. Your worried gaze swept over his form, hand reaching to hold his face, only to receive the sweetest pleas that could have grazed your ears, pleas for more, please, more, I need it now, which made you clench around nothing, desperate to feel full, slick starting to run down your inner thigh. You quickly fetched the condom from one of your drawers, and after rolling it down for him, you straddled him, lining his cock with your entrance.

Slowly, inch by inch, you sank down his length, nails biting into the skin of his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but he wasn’t small by any means so you needed a moment to get used to the stretch and feel of him. Clenching and unclenching around him, you were rewarded with a string of curses muffled against your chest as his hands moved to grasp at your hips, holding you for dear life when you finally took him all the way to the hilt. And then you rose up again, almost making him slip out of you, only to grind back down with a deliberate roll of your hips and Shinichiro felt his eyes roll back into his skull. How was this real, how were you real, he couldn’t understand how much better your pussy would feel in comparison to his hand. The wet warm heat of your velvety walls sucked him in again and again and again, and he felt lightheaded, barely hanging on by a thread of sanity as he fought to not cum on the spot.

You noticed, though, of course you did, so you leaned down, lips gliding against his pulse until you reached the sensitive little spot where his neck meets his jaw. Your hips ground down even harder, clenching with every up roll, and moaning oh so sweetly every time the curve of his cock hit your spot. Honeyed words were whispered against his skin, about how good he feels, how perfect his cock is, how much you want him to cum all pretty for you—and as if controlled by the hypnotic command of your voice, he did. Grip bruising against the plush flesh of your hips, head thrown back, and your name tapering off into a series of whines on his lips, his hips thrusted one, two, three more times before he stilled inside of you, muscles locking in place as the warm cum filled up the condom.

You milked him through it, praise falling from your lips as you felt him twitch against you. Ignoring the ache between your legs, you bring his face up, mouth seeking his to taste him one more time, wanting to swallow up the tiny noises that kept forming in his mouth.

You would have been fine with ending it here, satisfied with making him sing so prettily for you, so you couldn’t stop the surprised moan that escaped your parted lips when you felt a rough finger circling your clit. You clamped around him involuntarily, drawing another groan out of the man below you. He looked dazed, flushed, almost drunk—flush dusting his features and spreading down his neck, eyes impossibly dark as his dilated pupils swallowed the black abyss of his eyes, mouth red and slick with spit. But his finger didn’t stop nor did he pull you off of him. Instead, his hips rocked up, cock throbbing in overstimulation inside the used condom as the rough pads of his fingers brought your face down to his level, only three words brushing against your mouth in a warm puff of breath,

more, angel, please.

[s-shinichirosgf]

Okay but Souya would be so needy

He always thought you were pretty but the moment he realized his feelings for you, it was over for him. Everything you do would put him on edge. And he doesn't want to be like this, he doesn't want to act like such a horndog around you, you deserve so much better than that... But he can help it. Every smile you sent his way, every brush of your hands together, every time you showed up in clothes too short or too tight, every hug that lingered a little too long and let him take in the scent of your perfume—every little thing about you would sent his body into overdrive, dick hardening in interest. And he tried to hold back, he tried so hard to be good, to not touch himself whenever this happened. But then one day you both get caught up in the rain together and it's just game over.

The moment he's in the safety of his home, he doesn't even wait to reach his room, his hand is inside his pants right there against his closed door. A hiss leaves his lips as soon as he makes contact and he feels the blush spreading across his cheeks when he realizes that he doesn't even need any lube since his tip was already leaking so much. And as he spreads his precum all over his shaft, the only thought in his head is of you, of you and the way your wet clothes clung to you, how your white fucking shirt did nothing to hide your lacy black bra underneath, how your hair stuck to your face as you panted because you had to run to find shelter. And Souya had never felt as jealous of something as he is right now of those raindrops that clung to every inch of your skin.

With a groan he finally lets his mind wander, recalling the warmth and softness of your skin, your scent, the way his name rolls of your tongue, and he wonders how all of that would look in a different setting, in a different world where he had the courage to act upon his feelings. Would every inch of you be just as soft? Your breast, your stomach, your thighs, your pretty pussy lips? "Fuck," he whines, thumb swiping the head of his cock and toying with the slit as more precum leaks out. He's sure you would have the prettiest fucking pussy, it's just fitting for the prettiest girl there was, and just thinking about getting to touch, to feel your velvety walls and to taste your cream has mewls and whines tumbling out of his red-bitten lips. What he would give to just have the chance to dive between your legs and have you crush his head with your thighs, all what you call out his name in ecstasy.

And just like that his legs start shaking and his back slides down the door. Now on the floor, his pace quickens even more, as the only sounds that accompany his moans are that of his heavy breathing and the squelch of his arousal as his hips buck with every flick of his wrist. His cock looks red and angry, and his balls so full of cum that they look ready to burst—it doesn't take much, the image of you is so vivid in his mind that the moment his other hand sneaks under his shirt to tweak and flick at his nipples, it only takes one, two, three more desperate bucks into his fist before he's spilling his seed all over his shirt and stomach with your name on his tongue tapering off into a high pitched whine. Some of it even lands on his chin, and just the thought of you catching him like this –pants unbuttoned, shirt rumpled, cock out and covered in his own cum– has him throbbing in his own hand.

[s-shinichirosgf]

First time making out turns into something more

ft. shinichiro

tw. f!reader, virgin!shinichiro, more experienced!reader, established relationship, making out, dry humping, a bit of dirty talk

an. what came about after i learned that shinichiro was rejected 20 times; honestly, i'm baffled and this man needs to be taken care of, that's all. might do a following part to this, we'll see

minors dni (18+)

Shinichiro still found himself a bit at a loss whenever your kisses deepened. Not for lack of want or enthusiasm on his part, no, he had proven to be a very quick learner once you two had begun getting more intimate. It was more so that he was still in awe of the fact that he could actually call you his, that you would want to do all of these things with him. It was overwhelming but in the best way possible.

He now had you perched on his lap, your thighs —soft and warm under your skirt— bracketing his own, and his hands resting on your waist, all while trying not to lose himself as you seemed determined to slowly take him apart with your mouth.

He was trying and failing to conceal the noises he was involuntarily letting out as you suckled on his bottom lip, asking him for permission to let you in—permission he granted eagerly, letting out another soft groan from the back of his throat. But you didn't indulge him instantly, no, you took your time giving a few more fleeting kisses and bites to his mouth, devoting both the top and bottom lips with all your careful attention. It's only when Shinichiro himself chased your mouth with his own that you finally dove in. And as you licked into his mouth, massaging his tongue with yours and then giving it a slow purposeful suck to the tip, more of those pretty sounds escaped from him and he knew that was your goal when he felt you smile against him.

He could feel the blush spreading across his cheeks and neck the moment your kisses deviated down, as if lured by the heat radiating from there. Your touch was light and teasing, your lips gliding from his jaw towards his collarbone, back and forth and from side to side, all while peppering soft pecks along the way.

He was feeling proud of hanging on for so long; that is, until your kisses grew sharp and he felt the scrape of your teeth right where his jaw met his neck—a weak spot of his you had been quick to find on a previous occasion. A gasp quickly turned into a surprised moan when you sucked on the skin there, keen on leaving a reminder for him to look back on.

Instinctively, Shinichiro had gripped you tighter, flushing you against his body and on top of the quickly hardening bulge in his pants. You exhaled sharply in response and he could feel his blush intensifying, the apologies burning on the tip of his tongue—but then you shifted your hips and lifted your head back up and he had to fight to not swallow his own tongue. The grinding motion had been too purposeful to be an accident and the smouldering look in your eyes was enough confirmation of that. However, behind that cloud of heat, he could also see the unspoken questions present in your gaze—is this okay? Should we stop? And that lit another kind of warmth inside of him, reminding of how lucky he felt to have you and ridding him of any remaining apprehension.

He was still a bit tongue-tied, but Shinichiro would be damned if he let this opportunity go to waste. His hand slid down to your hips, pushing yours bodies even closer together and with his remaining courage he rasped out a low "please" that had your mind swirling. He didn't know exactly what he was asking for, he just knew he wanted more, more of whatever it was you wanted to give him.

He got his answer quickly. After he gave his consent, you wasted no time in swooping back down again, prying open his lips with your tongue. But this time, as the wet muscle thoroughly explored his mouth, he could also feel you gently grazing his scalp and his nape and just as the hazy feeling had begun settling in his mind, you started rocking your hips against his, oh god.

It's slow, deliberate, and good god it shouldn't feel as good as it did. Those little sounds he was trying to keep at bay started to spill out but Shinichiro couldn't help it—it's like you were engulfing him from every direction and he was all too willing to let himself drown. One of his hands slid down to your leg reminding him that you were wearing a skirt, and as he gripped the supple warm flesh he realized that the only thing separating your cunt from his sweatpants was the thin barrier of your panties. The thought itself was enough to heighten the pleasant heat that had started to build in his gut.

"Fuck," he groaned out, throwing his head back, knocking it on the back rest of the couch. You didn't give him a second to rest, though, because your lips immediately attached themselves to his neck, nibbling and sucking the delicate skin, ready to continue your previous work. The wet pop your mouth made when you detached yourself from his skin was already messing with his head but then you hummed out "fuck, you look so pretty all marked up like this," and the delight on your tone made his eyes roll back into his head, even while the redness on his face grew more pronounced.

Your hands, your mouth, your skin beneath his hands, god, the heat of your clothed pussy grinding against his aching dick providing stimulation but also not enough to tip him over—it was overloading his senses but he wanted more, he needed more. So he moved, his hands now grasping at the plush globes of your ass, so he could push you that much harder against him while also starting to match your thrusts with his own and oh, oh, there you were. Those little gasps and pants you had been letting out grew heavier and one strong thrust that pressed his cock right against your clit sent a high pitched whine tumbling out of your kissed bitten lips.

Your foreheads now pressed together, breaths and moans intertwining as your hips rolled with more force, each of you chasing a high so close that you could almost taste it in your tongues. With half-lidded eyes, Shinichiro took in your form—the flush adorning your skin, your clouded stare and the way you were biting your lower lip to muffle your new sounds. But no no, he couldn't have that, so he grabbed your face with one of his hands, pressing his thumb against your lip to make you release it.

"Let me, f-fuck, let me hear your pretty noises, angel, please," he rasped out and basked in the momentary surprised that colored your features. His smugness was short-lived, however, because you were quick to recover and the next roll of your hips was paired with you sucking his thumb into your mouth, promptly followed by one of the most heavenly moans you had let out yet.

The feeling of your wet warm tongue swirling around the pad of his thumb went straight to his already throbbing dick and he was so close, so fucking close—and then you gripped his hair, tugging at the roots and closing in on him again, lips a hairbreadth apart and you whispered so fucking sweetly for him "c'mon, shin, you're close, right?" with another purposeful roll of your hips, "can you cum for me, baby, please?" and the way your sugary words tapered off into a whine while you took your turn to now open his mouth with your thumb was the final push he needed, hips moving erratically as he desperately chased his high, a chorus of curses mixed with your name resonating in the quiet apartment until finally he stilled, hands gripping your hips with bruising strength, and a high moan stumbled out of his open mouth signalling his climax.

He felt hot all over, his hair and shirt were sticking to his skin, and his boxers were completely soiled, but the way your hips kept grinding down, milking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm while whispering what good boy he had been made it all worth it.