#maybe if u curl into a tight enough ball u can squeeze out all the worries

[tawnysoup]

[AGESWAP AU] smitten with the poor thang unfortunately 8_8

[jesuistrestriste]

art being ur boyfriend and u somehow find out he humps his pillows.. maybe you walk in on him or he forgets to wash his pillow case and it’s just fucking covered in cum… you make him put on a show for you

art’s too busy now to hear anything you’re saying. he’s trying so desperately to cling to your words and respond, but he feels too good.

being watched by you feels too fucking good.

you’re sat on the edge of the bed while he lays over his pillow and ruts wetly into it. his hips rocking urgently and desperately as he gasps and keens, blinking blearily over to you as your voice swirls incoherently in his head.

“that’s it, baby… this is so hot, oh my god… can’t believe you couldn’t wait till i was home,” you smirk, “couldn’t wait to rub your greedy cock against something, so now you get your pillow instead of my tight hole.”

he can’t make out anything you’re saying, his own whines and groans filling his ears, but the way you’re looking at him does enough. it spreads an itchy heat through his entire body that pools in his balls and then slides to his tip.

“unnngh—!” he moans, his lips parting as his brows knit up. he grips the pillow tighter.

you chuckle.

“good god, artie… you look like a pornstar… come on, that’s all you got? put your back into it…

fuck it like you’re fucking me.”

and holy hell, he hears that last bit. it rings through his head, and then he can’t help it. he’s pounding into the plushness trapped under his pelvis and picturing that he’s being squeezed by your squishy inner walls.

“ohh, hah— haah! i’m gonna come, i’m gonna come for you— can i come inside you?”

he’s babbling, clearly losing his head.

but you take pity on him. he looks like he’s too lost in it to hold back anyways if you wanted to deny him. so you nod, and reach out to stroke a hand through the back of his hair. “yeah, babe. let go.”

uffff he’s gone in an instant !

eyes rolling back before he squeezes them shut and curls in on himself, shallowly thrusting as he dribbles his hot load over the already-soaked pillow. he nearly mewls.

his body jolts here and there with the aftershocks until he feels your hand over his back, and then he’s reaching out for you with a look on his face that tells you he needs you. he’s sorry. he’ll be good now. he’ll wait.

[gubler-me-up]

Pegging for it

Request: PEGGING SPENCER PEGGING SPENCER PEGGING SPENCER

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! On everything this submission made me gasp, it’s so wild, but very interesting request. Hope you enjoy it and for anyone reading, I hope you’re ready for some S M U T. Yes, the title is a pun. Sue me.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: SMUT (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Swearing, pegging, female masturbation, mention of anal sex, mention of penetrative sex, fem!dom, male!sub, oral (female and male receiving), slapping, rough play, anal fingering, sex toys  

Word count: 2.3k

--------------

Finding someone as sexually adventurous as you were was a hard task to succeed in. Countless partners of yours were often turned off by your dominating role in bed. By no means were you dominatrix, but if your partner wasn’t satisfying you, you had no choice but to take the wheel. Men can be oh so boring and stiff when it comes to sexual acts outside the realm of ramming themselves into you for a few seconds before calling it quits.

Not Spencer Reid though. He did everything and anything you both were comfortable with. To be honest you didn’t think your standoffish genius would be into the things you were, but he was. Maybe even more. It also took you as a surprise he was so demanding and dominant when he wanted to be. He knew how to get your blood pumping all the time.

Tonight, however, was your turn to play the dominant role. You both had agreed to let you take the reins this time around. He only requested one specific thing for you to do to him. With your eagerness, you guessed what he wanted. To be handcuffed? No. To be blindfolded? No. What he told you he wanted made you even more excited.

He wanted you to peg him.

He said it with such a nonchalant tone you thought he had it done to him before. When you asked if he had been pegged before he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. He just thought it would be a thrilling experience.

Well, if he wanted a thrilling time you were willing to give it to him. He had given you so much wild, unforgettable nights. You thought it was only right to show him you were capable of giving him the same satisfaction back by being the over dominating person you are.

You walked up to his apartment door and gave it two firm knocks. You didn’t want him to think you were too eager. It would ruin your cool, calm and collected demeanour. You didn’t want to risk any chance of him seeing you break.

He answered the door, still fully clothed in his work clothes. You saw his eyes wander up and down your exterior. The only thing you were wearing was a brown trench coat, black heels and a black bag. He smirked as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Welcome,” he greeted.

You stepped in, looking at him unamused. He closed the door and looked back at you with his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what he did. You crossed your arms as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to be stripped down to your underwear by the time I got here?” You said.

“I thought-”

“No thinking tonight, doctor. Tonight you only obey,” you said.

You walked towards his bedroom. You looked behind you to see Spencer still standing there. With a curl of your finger telling him to come to you, he started walking your way. Maybe he did listen to instructions better than you thought.

As you both entered his bedroom, you closed the door. He had lit a few candles in his room to create a source of light. How considerate of him. You didn’t want your outfit to be put to waste with the darkness engulfing everything. It was as if he knew you wanted a spotlight to show off. He was such an excellent profiler.

“Strip,” you demanded.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and then his pants. You watched as his clothing fell to the floor and he was left with nothing on besides his underwear and socks. For someone so lean, he stood strong. His aura just radiated confidence. You kind of wished he would throw you on the bed and fuck you senseless instead.

He shrugged with an emerging smirk on. “I’m all yours.”

God, could he get any hotter? You placed your bag on the ground and then untied the fabric belt to open up your jacket. As your jacket fell you saw Spencer’s eyes light up as he saw your matching black lace bra and panty set. He licked his lips as his eyes stayed focus on the bottom part of your panty which should have been concealing your desirable lady part. Instead it left it exposed, leaving you ready to jump into action any time.

“You like what you see?” You asked.

He looked back up at you and nodded. You smirked at his silent answer. He already knew he wasn’t supposed to speak unless you told him to. Who said men couldn’t be trained to obey?

“Well, lay on the bed, so you can get a closer look,” you demanded.

He quickly placed himself on the bed, excited to see what you had in store for him. You crawled over him until his eager mouth and your dripping wet part met. Just his breathing on it sent tingles down your spine.

“Now, eat me out like the starving dog you are,” you demanded.

He didn’t waste another second as he plunged his face all in your folds. You felt his tongue glide through from top to bottom. He soon started to hungrily suck on your clit and repeatedly flicked his tongue over it. You moaned heavily as you felt a strong sensation run through your body. He was too good with that tongue of his. You knew right away from all that talking he did his tongue and mouth could do a lot more.

You lifted yourself off of his face before your orgasm hit you. As you looked down at him you could see all your juices covering his mouth and nose. He smiled up at you as he licked some of your juices from his lips.

“Did that satisfy my little pet?” You asked him.

He nodded his head. You smiled at his response, but you didn’t truly believe he was satisfied. You took two of your fingers and stuck them inside yourself. You pumped your fingers in and out of you a few times to get your fingers covered in your juices. When they were soaked enough, you took them out.

“Open,” you said.

He opened his mouth and you stuck your fingers inside.

“Suck them bone dry.”

He did just as you asked, sucking on your fingers as if his life depended on it. You smiled at him enjoying the taste of you. You stroked his long brown hair as you admired his obedience.

“That’s a good boy.”

You removed your fingers from his mouth and inspected his work. He did an amazing job of cleaning your fingers for you. You moved back a bit so you could lean down and kiss him. You only planned to give him a quick peck for doing such a great job, but the force Spencer kissed you back with moved you. It was hot, heavy, almost needy.

You leaned back up and roughly grabbed his face. Your face was unimpressed by the desperate nature of his kiss, but inside you loved it. Whenever he made out with you it was always such a powerful experience. The way his tongue would move in your mouth with such a force and the depth he would with his kiss would nearly floor you.

“Did I tell you to kiss me back?” You asked.

He shook his head.

“Speak up,” you demanded.

“No, ma’am,” he replied.

“Then why did you do it? Is this some sort of act of desperation?” You asked.

“Maybe.”

You smacked his face before grabbing it tightly again. He bit his lip as he looked back up at you, obviously enjoying your extremely dominant nature. You almost broke by smiling at him, but you managed to keep it together, so neither of you left the fantasy.

“It’s a yes or no question. Try again,” you demanded.

“Yes, ma’am, it was an act of desperation.”

You let go of his face and made your way off the bed. You peeled off his underwear and was met with his dick springing up from underneath it. He was extremely hard. It was a shame he wouldn’t be using his dick on you tonight.

You tossed his underwear aside. Taking your hand you started massaging his balls which let out a moan from Spencer. You squeezed them tight and yanked on them when you heard him moan.

“You’ve become too vocal. If you stay quiet for the next minute, I’ll reward you with what you really want,” you said.

He nodded, making sure not to even breathe too loudly. You lowered your head down and wrapped your mouth around his dick. You bobbed your head up and down, viscously sucking him off while still playing with his balls. Taking your other hand you used it to go up and down his shaft. Your saliva dripping down made your hand easily glide on his dick.

The laboured breathing coming from Spencer made your heart pump. You had him right where you wanted him to be before the real fun started. He deserved it after he lasted the full minute of you sucking his dick without a single moan escaping his mouth.

You stopped before he reached his peak. It was time for the main event of the night. You took off your panties and kicked them aside as you walked over to your black bag. You reached in and pulled out the strap-on dildo and then a bottle of lube. Spencer looked at you and you saw the fire spark in him.

You smiled at him. “It’s even in your favourite colour: purple. Now, I want you to get up and lean over the bed. Make sure your legs are apart.”

He hopped off the bed and did what you demanded immediately. You walked over behind him. His ass was so nice and toned for someone who never worked out. You ran your hand over his ass as you admired it. His muscles tightened under your touch which got you even more excited.

“Beg for it,” you said.

“Please, ma’am,” he quietly said.

You slapped his ass. “Please, ma’am, what? I said I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please, peg me, ma’am,” he said with more bass in his voice.

You slapped his ass a second time. “Again.”

“Please, peg me, ma’am.”

Another slap. “Again.”

“I want you to peg me, please, ma’am. I want it.”

You finally stopped slapping his ass even though you were thoroughly enjoying it. He had begged enough for your liking. You squeezed a bit of lube into your hand and lubed up the dildo. Then you took some lube and lubed up his crack. You stuck a finger in his ass to see his reaction. He let out a moan and you felt his muscles clench. Perfect.

“Are you really ready for this, pet?” You asked.

“I want it so bad, ma’am,” he begged.

You took your finger out and properly positioned yourself behind him. Slowly you eased the dildo into him and a remarkable sound of pleasure left his mouth. It excited you and gave you the reassurance you needed to keep going.

Gently you pumped in and out of him, making sure not to put too much force into it. He continued to let out deep, needy moans. You watched the dildo go in and out of him and thought this must be what it looks like for him all the time when you two engaged in anal or even when you were in doggy. The view was definitely a thrilling experience and the sound of his moans echoing the room made it even better.

“Faster,” Spencer moaned.

“Oh no, you don’t demand. You beg. Try again,” you said.

“Please, go faster, ma’am,” he begged.

He didn’t have to beg you twice for it. You pumped in and out of him faster which made him uncontrollably moan. It made you happy he was enjoying himself. You had a feeling he would want to do this more often after this experience.

He was shaking and quivering which only meant he was about to orgasm. You nearly broke into excitement. You were proud the first time you’ve both done pegging it was going extremely well. You remained collected though because you wanted to say the line he always says to you when you’re about to orgasm.

“Come for me,” you demanded.

With no pause he let out a loud moan as you saw his muscles clench. You slid the dildo out and stepped back to admire the now limp Spencer face down on the bed. It was such a weird perspective to not be the one laying limp on the bed after orgasming, but you loved it.

You quickly took off the strap-on as you excitedly hopped on Spencer’s back. You didn’t care anymore about being a dominant in the moment, you were just overly happy he had enjoyed himself. You gave him a big hug from behind as you kissed his head.

“How was that for you, baby?” You asked.

He turned his head sideways to reveal a smile. “It was a great experience.”

“Does that mean we can do it again sometime?” You asked.

“Definitely,” he said.

You squealed and planted a kiss on his cheek. He laughed as he started to get off the bed with you still on his back. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he fully got off the bed.

“How about we take a shower together?” He suggested as he piggybacked you to the bathroom.

“Only if you promise we can have shower sex,” you said while burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Promise. I’ll for sure be a better dominant than you. I won’t break character at the end,” he joked.

“Talk is cheap. Why don’t you just prove it to me instead?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—–

MASTERLIST

[ming-yu-hao]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 2

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader, some wonwoo x reader

Word Count: 6k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: cyber sex lol, angst, CHEATING, grinding, oral (female receiving and male receiving), fingering, mingyu is just sweet and it makes me sad, kinda fluff?

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: i really self indulged on this one... man i just wanna fuck frat boy mingyu is that too much to ask... anyways PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS CHAPTER I PUT A LOT MORE TIME INTO THIS ONE so feedback would be very appreciated <3

Chapters: Previous | Next | Masterlist

Sunlight peeked through your blinds the next morning, stirring you awake. You opened your eyes and snapped them shut again as the glare of the sun blinded you. Yawning, you reached for your phone and squinted at the pile of unread messages from Jisoo that had built up over the span of last night.

Jisoo: omg what u were here for like 2 seconds :(

Sent at 10:49 PM

Jisoo: i hope u feel better babe

Sent at 10:49 PM

Jisoo: wait

Sent at 10:50 PM

Jisoo: did something happen with wonwoo

Sent at 10:50 PM

Jisoo: i swear if he's mad at you for being a normal college student...

Sent at 10:50 PM

Jisoo: bitch answerrrrr :(

Sent at 10:53 PM

Jisoo: i'm staying the night somewhere i hope ur feeling okay <3 pls update me when u wake up

Sent at 12:06 AM

You laughed under your breath as you realized that it was 10 AM and Jisoo's side of the room still remained empty. From how last night was going, you could only assume that she was somewhere with Seungcheol. Classic Jisoo, you thought to yourself.

Just as you sat up in bed, your phone vibrated with another notification. You glanced down, expecting another text from Jisoo, but your eyes lit up as you saw Wonwoo's name on the screen instead.

Wonwoo: good morning :) do you wanna facetime?

Sent at 10:27 AM

Without replying, you quickly opened up your laptop and called Wonwoo. He answered after a few rings, his face filling the screen for the first time in a month.

"That was fast," He laughed. He must had just woken up because his voice always had a distinct rasp in the morning. His glasses also still rested on his nose and you could see his bare chest at the edge of the frame.

You smiled warmly. "I've missed you," you said, leaning closer to the camera.

"I missed you too," he gave you a toothless smile and ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry I kept ditching you."

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. I understand."

You stared at him for a moment, neither of you speaking; you almost didn't know what to say. After all this time, you felt like you didn't know anything that was going on in his life anymore. It was tearing at you slowly. You were watching your own boyfriend become a stranger to you.

Luckily, Wonwoo broke the silence. "What are you doing?" He asked.

You shrugged. "I just woke up. I need to shower."

He raised his eyebrows at you suggestively and chuckled. "Oh?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you snickered. Wonwoo rested his arm behind his head and smirked at you.

"Can you blame me? I haven't been inside you in so long." He groaned. You felt your face burn at his bluntness. You looked down at your hands, and he must have noticed your embarrassment because he quickly asked, "Your roommate isn't there, right?"

"No," you replied, gazing back up at his face.

"Why're you so shy?" He grinned devilishly.

"I'm not," you protested. You began to toy with the bottom of the big tee shirt you were wearing.

Wonwoo sighed loudly. "I'm horny."

"I can tell." You replied with a chuckle. You slowly pulled the hem of your shirt up farther until your underwear could be seen. Wonwoo noticed this, biting his lip.

"Fuck," he breathed, "I miss your tight little pussy." Your skin heated up with each word he spoke. You watched as he removed his arm from behind his head; your mind instantly filled with images of him stroking himself. "Touch yourself for me." Wonwoo demanded.

Without a word, you leaned back against your pillows and slowly spread your legs for the camera. The wetness between your thighs was so intense at this point that your underwear was clinging to your folds.

Wonwoo let out a deep groan as he touched himself off camera. Your skin flushed even further as you watched his face contort in pleasure. "Take off your shirt," he muttered.

You obeyed, pulling the fabric over your head and leaving yourself mostly exposed. Your breasts bounced in view of the camera as you leaned forward and pulled your underwear down your legs. Wonwoo moaned, his head leaning back and exposing the veins in his neck. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum already."

You giggled and leaned back against the pillows again, this time exposing your nude body to him. You dragged your hand down to your heat and began to run your fingers through your folds. You let out a whine at the long-awaited contact. Your other hand squeezed at your breast, stimulating your sensitive nipples.

"Shit," Wonwoo hissed, "If I was there I'd be fucking you so hard. Making you moan my name for everyone to hear." You felt yourself clench at his filthy words. You bit your lip and rubbed your clit in circles.

"Mmh, shit." You moaned. "I miss you so much. Miss feeling your cock inside me." You heard Wonwoo's breathing grow heavier on his end of the line. You could tell he was going to cum soon. You pushed two fingers inside you, desperate to release.

Curling and scissoring your fingers deep inside you, intense pleasure began to take over your body. You threw your head back and whined loudly as you felt your orgasm approach. "Wonwoo," you moaned.

Wonwoo let out a choked moan at the sound of you moaning his name. "Fu- I'm cumming," he stuttered as he finally released.

You continued to pump your fingers inside of you while Wonwoo started to slow his breathing again. "Cum, baby," he said. You brought your other hand down to your clit and rubbed it in figure eights. Your legs twitched with pleasure, your walls clenching and pulsing around your fingers.

You cried out as your orgasm finally washed over you, your head falling back against the pillows behind you. You kept your eyes closed for a few seconds as you basked in the pleasure. Your heavy breathing began to calm.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Wonwoo wiping his hand with a tissue. He glanced at you and smiled. "Now that," he whistled as he laid back down against his mattress, "was unbelievably hot."

Your cheeks burned and you reached for your shirt to pull back over your head. "We should do that more often," he said.

You laughed. "Maybe."

Wonwoo sat up after a moment. "What time is it?" He asked.

You glanced at the clock. "Almost 11."

He groaned in frustration. "Fuck, I have to go. I have a group study soon."

"Oh," you replied.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly as he rose out of bed. "I'll call you Saturday, okay? I love you." You nodded silently.

"I love you too," you said right as he ended the call.

And then you were left alone, with sweat sticking to your skin and your soaked underwear balled up next to you. You shut your laptop and sat in silence for a few moments, staring out the window as you felt disappointment settle over you.

That was the first time you had seen his face in a month. Hell, that was the first full conversation you two had shared in so long. And it was over as quickly as it had begun.

Anxiety coursed through your veins. Was that all you had become to your boyfriend now? Just a number that he could call when he wanted to get off? Were you no longer someone he confided in?

You shook yourself out of your worried thoughts. Finally, you stood and walked over to the bathroom, your legs still a little weak beneath you, and turned the shower water on.

You stared at yourself in the mirror while you waited for the water to heat up. Your mind flashed with images of last night—of Mingyu staring down at you, his lips nearly brushing against yours, and the sound of you moaning his name.

You had told yourself that it had only affected you because you missed Wonwoo. Then how were you still left feeling unsatisfied after what just happened between you two?

Things were not the same as they once were, you noted as you stepped under the stream of hot water.

When you walked into your digital media class on Tuesday morning, you were hyperaware of each little movement you made. You kept your gaze fixated on the ground and carefully trotted up the stairs until you reached the row you always sat in. Glancing up, you saw Mingyu through the corner of your eye, his attention captured by his phone.

The sound of you setting your bag down was enough to pull him away from his device and look over at you. You sat down and stared forward, refusing to make eye contact with him. Your face started to burn in embarrassment; you didn’t know how you were going to make it through this class.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Saturday,” he paused, “I was drinking and I didn’t know what I was doing.” He said, breaking the silence. You forced yourself to finally look at him. He was back in his usual state: clean, pushed back hair and muscles concealed by his hoodie. You could see genuine remorse in the shine of his eyes and in the slight pout of his lip.

You shook your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” You reassured him. His troubled expression seemed to lighten up a bit at your words. He gave you a small smile and nodded his head.

“Good. Otherwise this class would’ve been a lot more awkward.” He chuckled and returned his attention to his phone.

You observed him for a minute, noticing the way he chewed on his bottom lip in concentration. Your body flushed again as you thought about his lips: how close they were to yours, the words they whispered to you, how you imagined they would feel against you skin. You tore your gaze away from Mingyu, your heart beating a little faster than before.

You needed to get a grip. There was no way you were going to make it through the rest of this semester if you spent every class getting flustered while reminiscing your half-asleep-wet-dream-fantasy of Mingyu.

Sighing and choosing to ignore the pressing thoughts in the back of your mind, you pulled out your laptop and buried yourself in your notes until the professor strolled into the room and began the lecture.

You managed to successfully ignore Mingyu’s presence for most of the class, despite him sitting only a few feet to your side. You were only reminded of his existence again when your professor announced: “We will be working on a project for the next week. Everybody needs a partner.”

You and Mingyu glanced at each other, as the two of you normally collaborated on assignments in class. He nodded and gave you a thumbs up before you returned your attention to the professor.

“You will write two articles on events or people in the community. For the first, one of you will write and the other will be responsible for photography. For the second, you switch.” He explained briefly.

The lecture came to an end a few minutes later, and the room instantly started buzzing with conversation as students stood up and scrambled to find partners. You turned to Mingyu and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“I guess I should get your number so we can talk about the project?” Mingyu suggested, pulling out his phone.

“Uh... yeah, okay,” You replied awkwardly as you typed your number into his phone. You cursed yourself internally for letting this happen. This class used to be fun: you and Mingyu casually talked and exchanged answers and cracked jokes with each other and that was that. You didn’t know much about his life, and you didn’t need to. Hell, you didn’t even know he was part of a fraternity. But now that was all ruined. You couldn’t even look at him without feeling small and awkward. And all of this was to blame on some cheap alcohol and your stupid hormones.

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts as you handed Mingyu’s phone back to him. “So, do you have any ideas?” You prompted.

Mingyu’s face contorted as he thought for a moment. “Um, my frat’s doing some charity event this week,” he said. When you didn’t respond for a moment, he panicked and added, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. We can just-“

“It’s perfect.” You cut him off, snickering at his uncertainty. “Since you know more about it, you can write that one, and I can come and take pictures.” Relief flooded his features and he let out a breath. “When is it?” You asked.

“Thursday.”

“I’ll see you there, then,” you smiled.

The next day passed quickly and before you knew it, the evening of the fundraiser had arrived. You and Mingyu had texted casually the past couple of days; he just gave you details on the fundraiser and tried to come up with an article idea for you.

You strolled through campus on that Thursday afternoon, wrapping your denim jacket around your torso a little tighter as a chilled breeze blew through the air. The brisk atmosphere of late autumn was finally starting to settle in. You quickened your pace, wanting to reach the university quad before you froze.

As you neared the quad, you could hear distant chatter and laughter. You rounded the corner and took in the view of the surprisingly large crowd that gathered near the booth the SVT frat had set up. They were having a raffle for a voucher for free textbooks. Whoever came up with the idea was genius; you couldn’t think of a better way to get broke college students to participate in something.

You walked up to the booth, camera bag in hand, and immediately recognized the boy sitting behind it. It was Seokmin. His eyes lit up as he saw your familiar face. “Hey! Y/N, right?” He greeted you. You told him yes and smiled before greeting him back.

“Do you know where Mingyu is?” You asked, scanning over your shoulder for the tall boy.

Seokmin squinted as he stood up and looked around the quad. “Uh, he was somewhere around here earlier.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “He’s probably off being an idiot.” You laughed and fiddled with the camera in your hands.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a picture, someone shook your shoulders from behind. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” Jisoo bounced in front of you, Seungcheol by her side.

“Jisoo? I didn’t realize you were a member of the frat now?” You joked before holding up the camera. “I have to take pictures for a class project.” You explained.

Seungcheol wrapped his arm around Jisoo’s waist and said, “You can take a picture of us.” She agreed excitedly, already posing and smiling before you even pulled out the camera.

You stepped back and looked through the lens, making sure that the booth was visible in the background. “Okay, say cheese!” You said as you snapped the picture.

A pair of hands then poked you in your sides, causing you to yelp loudly and nearly drop the camera. You whipped your head around and saw Mingyu’s taunting face smirking down at you. “Hey, Y/N.”

“God, you scared me! You’re lucky I didn’t drop the camera.” You cried, playfully smacking him in the arm.

Mingyu held his hands up next to his face in defense. “Woah, sorry. My bad.” He chuckled. Jisoo and Seungcheol approached you two, butting in on your conversation.

“You know Mingyu?” Seungcheol asked, glancing between you two and raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, we’re partners for a project.” Mingyu explained briefly while checking over his shoulder. He turned to you. “Let’s go take these pictures fast, yeah? It’s kinda cold.” Before you could even respond, he linked his arm with yours and walked you away from the booth and into the small crowd of students.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him. “We got out of there fast.” You noted.

Mingyu sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Cheol’s just weird about certain stuff.”

You were even more confused now. “What do you mean?”

“He just like- he tries to set me up with people all the time and I don’t want him the get the wrong idea of us.” He dismissed quickly before saying: “Why don’t you get some pictures of the people standing around here? Just take a few. We don’t need that many.”

“Oh... okay.” You responded hesitantly. You lifted the camera up again and snapped a couple more pictures of students conversing and walking up to the booth to buy raffle tickets. Mingyu stood next to you with his arms crossed over his chest, impatiently tapping his foot. He flashed you a relieved smile when you turned to him.

“All done?”

“We should be.” You replied while placing the camera back in the bag.

“Okay, we can go back to the house and work on the article together,” he said, “there’s gonna be some people from here hanging around there later but they shouldn’t be too loud.”

You agreed and began walking with him towards the SVT frat house. The sun was beginning to set now, and the air nipped at your exposed skin as the temperature continued to drop. You stared down at your shoes while you walked, your mind still fixating on Mingyu’s strange behavior.

Finally, you mustered up the courage to ask: “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s eyes met with yours. Confusion overtook his features in response to your question. “Yeah?” He chuckled.

“Sorry,” you spoke, “you were just acting weird earlier.”

Mingyu sighed and stared ahead silently for a moment. “I don’t know,” he started, “I guess I just still feel bad about last weekend.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you revisited the memory once again.

“Sorry for bringing it up again. I know we should probably just move on already cause it wasn’t that big of a deal. I just... feel like I overstepped. So... I’m sorry.” He rambled.

You looked up at him again. “You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not mad at you.” You exhaled. “But you’re right... we should just move on.”

Mingyu gave you a small nod before changing the subject. “Did you figure out an article idea yet?”

You shook your head. “No, but it’ll be fine. There’s so much that goes on around campus.”

Your conversation slowly died out, but thankfully you arrived at the SVT frat shortly after. Mingyu opened the front door and allowed you to step through before walking in behind you and shutting it. The house was warm; you shivered as your skin adjusted to the change in temperature. You slipped your shoes off and stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to guide you through the house.

Mingyu led you to the dining room, crying out as he rounded the corner. “Seriously, Seungkwan?” He huffed.

A boy sat at the head of the table, textbooks sprawled across the surface. A few other people sat at the table with notebooks and laptops in front of them, watching Mingyu with confused expressions on their faces.

The boy—Seungkwan—stood up from his chair with his jaw dropped. “What do you mean ‘seriously, Seungkwan’?” He mocked Mingyu’s deep voice. “You know I have group study every Thursday!” He cried.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He responded.

Seungkwan sat back down and calmly resumed his studies as if nothing had happened. You assumed that this must be typical behavior between the two. Staring at Mingyu with wide eyes, he turned to you.

“Is it fine if we go work on it in my room?” He asked, his voice lowered.

You felt blood rush through your ears. You swallowed. “Yeah,” you exhaled.

Mingyu led you up the stairs and down the hall. When he opened the door to his room, you were surprised by how clean it was. Everything was organized neatly and the room smelled fresh.

You heard the door click shut behind you, and your heart started beating faster.

“We can just sit on the floor,” Mingyu spoke. His deep voice startled you a bit. You walked further into the room and sat down with your legs crossed, resting your back against his bed frame as you set the camera down next to you. Mingyu sat down, his knee only a few inches away from yours.

Reaching behind his head for the laptop sitting on his bed, he pulled it into his lap and opened up the article.

“I’m not completely done yet.” He smiled sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine. You’re farther than I am.” You reassured him while you took the camera out of the bag again.

He laughed, “That’s true.” You placed the camera in his hands. “Alright, let me just get these pictures pulled up on here.”

You nodded and looked down as you played with your hands. You began to wonder what Wonwoo would think if he knew that you were in some other guy’s room right now.

You frowned and pulled your phone out of your pocket. You opened up your messages and went to send a text to Wonwoo when you realized that the message you had sent him last night was still unread. A dark, heavy feeling settled over your chest. Why did he act as if you didn’t exist anymore? Why would he suggest doing long distance when he couldn’t even commit to it?

You shut your phone off and set it on the floor next to you, staring forward. You exhaled, trying to stop the tightness growing in your throat.

Mingyu was leaned over his computer, his lips pursed in concentration. The definition of his triceps was visible through his sweatshirt. “These pictures actually didn’t turn out too horrible.” He said after a few moments of silence.

You laughed and playfully hit his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He brought his gaze to meet yours, a teasing smile on his lips. “No, they’re actually good.”

“Thanks,” you squeaked, the intensity of his gaze making you nervous. You felt blood rush through your veins. You broke eye contact, glancing down at his nose, and then at his lips that were parted slightly. You quickly looked up to his eyes again, but now they held a knowing look in them. He knew exactly what thoughts were going through your mind.

You inched closer to him, your breath getting caught in your throat as you noticed him bringing his face closer to yours. Your heart raced as you fluttered your eyes shut. His lips brushed against yours and you leaned closer, but then you felt him pull away.

“Do you really have a boyfriend?” He asked.

You sighed, opening your eyes slowly and looking into his concerned ones again. You pressed your lips into a line and looked down shamefully.

“I do,” you admitted. That tight feeling in your throat began to come back. Mingyu was silent. “I’m sorry.”

As you spoke your voice cracked and tears began to spill from your eyes. You felt Mingyu’s warm, soft skin caress your cheeks, holding your face in his hands. You looked up at him with teary eyes.

“Hey. Shhh, don’t cry.” He whispered. His brows were furrowed in concern as he ran his thumb over your cheek. “You can talk to me about it. I’ll listen.”

God, how you hated that he knew exactly what to do and what to say. You hated that he was giving you everything you had craved the past two months without even realizing it. You hated how he made it so easy to confide in him when you had a boyfriend that was supposed to be there for you instead—a boyfriend that was becoming a stranger to you.

You closed your eyes, causing more tears to fall down your face. “I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice a broken whisper.

You inhaled a shaky breath. “We’re long distance. But he barely talks to me anymore.” You explained. You brought your hand up to hold the wrist that was still caressing your face. “I just feel so alone. It feels like he’s given up on me.”

Mingyu was silent. The only audible sound in the room was your uneven breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “you deserve better than that.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his sweet words.

“What do you want?” He questioned.

You opened your eyes. You were no longer crying, but your face was still wet with tears. Mingyu was staring at you with that same concerned look: eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide and conflicted, lips slightly parted.

“I just want someone to care.” You muttered.

He brought his face closer to yours again. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and his eyes were half shut as he whispered: “I can take care of you.”

Your breath hitched.

“Do you want that?” He asked.

“Yes.”

Mingyu finally brought his lips to yours, kissing you hard and passionately. He left slow, open-mouthed kisses against your lips. The hand on your face gently squeezed, puckering out your lips as he continued to kiss them.

You brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks as he pulled you into his lap. Your hips rested on top of his, straddling him, and you felt his tongue dart out against your lips. You parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss.

You ground your core into his lap, feeling his length begin to harden beneath the fabric of his jeans. He groaned into your mouth as you continued to move your hips back and forth.

This is all that you had wanted: someone to care for you, to touch you, to pay attention to you and make you feel wanted.

Mingyu brought both of his hands down to your hips, pushing you down against him as he lifted his hips up towards you. “Let me make you feel good,” he muttered against your lips.

You exhaled shakily, feeling the growing wetness between your legs. “Okay,” you whispered.

He placed his hands on your ass, roughly squeezing the soft flesh between his hands. You circled your hips again, letting out a quiet moan as his hard cock brushed against your clothed clit.

He pulled his lips away from yours. “Stand up,” he said quickly. You obeyed, peeled yourself off of him, and stood expectantly as he stood up from the floor himself. You could see the outline of his cock in his jeans as he rose. He towered over you now, making you feel small beneath him. He pushed your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and his fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered into your ear. You nodded silently and he pressed a soft kiss beneath your ear. He lifted the fabric up, pulling it over your head and exposing your body to him. His hands brushed against your waist, making goosebumps form on your skin. “Lay down,” he demanded.

You sat down at the edge of his mattress and laid on your back, bunching your legs up at the edge of the bed. He leaned over your body, caging you in by resting both of his forearms on either side of you, and placed another kiss to your lips. Just as he began to kiss down to your neck, he pressed his hardness against your center. You let out a whimper at the contact.

He nibbled and sucked at the soft skin of your neck, causing your entire body to tingle. You leaned your head back, exposing more of your neck to him, and your eyes rolled back into your head at the pleasure.

“Mingyu,” you whimpered. He pressed his clothed length against you again.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He placed more open-mouthed kisses against your neck as he ran one of his hands down your stomach. He brought his hand up again and squeezed your breast through your bra.

He pulled away from your neck, looking down hungrily at your chest. You noticed this and complied to his wishes by arching your back against the bed. He brought his hands behind you, unhooking your bra before pulling it off of you slowly. He exhaled as he stared at your bare chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. You felt heat rush to your face at the compliment. Before you could say anything, he brought his mouth down to your breast, sucking and flicking his tongue against your hardened nipple. You gasped. At this point you were so turned on you were sure that your arousal had already soaked through your leggings. He squeezed your other breast with his hand, and you arched your back again as you moaned.

Mingyu pushed himself up, staring into your eyes with his lust-filled ones. He kept eye contact with you as he pulled away, nearing your core. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your leggings. He looked to you for approval, and you nodded your head rapidly.

He tugged your pants down quickly and slid them off your legs, leaving you in only your underwear. He could see the wet spot on the fabric; he brought his fingers to the cloth and pressed it against your clit. Your legs twitched and you gasped quietly.

Mingyu chuckled. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet for me.” He licked his lips, and you could see the pride in his gaze as he slipped his fingers beneath your underwear and pulled them down your legs.

He brought his face close to your center, smirking before finally bringing his tongue to you and licking a strip up to your clit.

You let out a choked moan and your legs shut naturally, but Mingyu placed both of his hands on your knees and spread you open for him again. He placed a soft kiss on your clit before sucking on it harshly. Your hips jerked up and you cried out.

He looked up at your from between your thighs, an alarmed look on his face. “You have to be quiet, baby. There’s people downstairs.” He went back to sucking on your clit right after.

You pressed your lips together, trying to contain your moans, and they came out as heavy pants and muffled whimpers instead.

Mingyu brought his fingers to your core, teasing your entrance. He flicked his tongue against your clit as he pushed a finger into you and curled it deep inside you. You arched your back and cried out, “Fuck!”

As the pleasure continued to grow, you brought your hands down to his hair again, tugging each time he pumped and curled his finger in you. He moaned against your core, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head.

He pushed in another finger, scissoring them deep inside you. You could hear the filthy sounds of his fingers pumping into your wetness.

“M-Mingyu,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum.”

He smirked against your core before resuming his ministrations of his tongue against your clit. He pumped his fingers into you faster and curled them with each thrust.

The pressure in your lower stomach was growing fast. Your legs began to shake as the pleasure built, and when Mingyu pushed his fingers deep into your core, you felt the knot snap.

You threw your head back as intense pleasure washed over your entire body. Your legs convulsed and you couldn’t hold back a particularly loud moan. Mingyu continued to pump his fingers into you slowly as you rode out your orgasm.

When the pleasure subsided, he pulled his fingers out of you, keeping eye contact with you as he placed them in his mouth and sucked them clean. The sight was so dirty that you whimpered softly. He leaned over you again, kissing you one last time, allowing you to taste yourself.

He rolled over, laying next to you on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “How was that?” He asked.

“Good,” you breathed, “really fucking good.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’m glad I could help.”

You sat up, glancing at the obvious boner that still strained against his jeans. “What about you?” You prompted.

“I’m fine. It’ll go away.” He dismissed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Just lay down with me.”

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before palming him through his jeans. “But I wanna make you feel good. It’s only fair.”

He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking up a bit. “Shit,” he muttered, removing his arm and placing it behind his head.

He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you fumbled with the button of his pants. You pulled them down, reaching your hand into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It was big. Really big. You were honestly worried if you were going to be able to fit it in your mouth. You stared at it for a moment, wide-eyed.

Mingyu looked down at you and giggled. “Well? Do something.”

You pumped your hand up his shaft, swiping over the tip and collecting the pre-cum that was leaking out. You pumped him a few times before situating yourself between his legs and bringing your lips down to his tip.

You rubbed your lips against his leaking head of his cock before pressing a soft kiss to it. Finally, you wrapped your mouth around him and sucked on the head. He groaned and lightly jerked his hips up, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. You glanced up at him while you continued to suck, pushing more of him into your mouth.

He stared back at you with his mouth hung open. “Fuck. ‘M so hard.” He moaned before leaning his head back against the mattress. “I’m not gonna last long.”

You swirled your tongue around him while he was in your mouth. Then you pushed your head down further, taking him deep into your throat. You struggled to inhale through your nose, almost choking on his dick.

You pulled yourself off him, catching your breath, and continued to pump his length. You brought your head back and sucked him into your mouth, using your hand to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Mingyu was panting and jerking his hips up each time you swirled your tongue around his tip. You looked up and saw his head thrown back, the veins in his neck prominent as he clenched his teeth. He hit the back of your throat and you moaned against him, the vibrations causing him to gasp.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m cumming.” He cried. You kept him in your mouth as the strings of hot liquid met your tongue.

You kept sucking on his length until you swallowed around him. You pulled yourself off his cock with a pop and stuck out your tongue to show him that you swallowed everything.

He pushed his softening cock back into his boxers and motioned for you to come up next to him. “Let’s lay down.”

You laid down on his chest and he pulled a blanket up to cover your nude body. You closed your eyes and listened to the softness of his breathing and the faint beat of his heart beneath his ribs.

“Shouldn’t we work on the project?” You asked after a few moments.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just rest for a minute.” He said, running a hand gently down your back. You leaned into his soft touch.

The two of you laid in a comfortable silence, just basking in the calmness and in each other’s warm presence.

“Mingyu?” You broke the silence, looking up at him.

“Hm?” He hummed, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

[oftenderweapons]

Hard and Mellow – Hoseok

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Genre: smut, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Hello everyone! Stopping by to deliver this quick drabble. It’s been a while since I wrote something because sudden inspiration struck me, so I thought I could follow the mood and this came out. 

I’m thanking the best beta reader of this whole galaxy (that I will never thank enough), @joheunsaram​​. Becoming friends has never been as easy as it is with you. Lob U. I also want to thank a very specific Silent Princess. This is all for you, baby. You’re more extraordinary than words will ever say. You’ve been through so much and I’m so proud of you. I hope this will give you a good time, and someplace you can go back to when you want to escape from the real world. I’d be honoured to call you friend. I’ll wait for you in my next life 💜💐

Do NOT open the “read more” if the following topics trigger you: Sir!Hoseok, Sub!reader, multiple orgasms, vibrator, masturbation and oral sex (female receiving), face fucking and hair pulling (male receiving), squirting, cumplay and cream pies, general messiness, cum eating, heavy breast play (slapping, gripping, squeezing, nipple pinching and tugging), exhibitionism, impregnation/breeding kink, heavy dirty talking, biting, mentions of impact play (spanking and whipping with belt), bruising, mention of blacking out.

Here is my complete masterlist!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Tell me how it feels.”

You simply arched your back and stared deep into his eyes.

“Tell me,” he repeated, curling his fingers and moving the vibrator closer to your clitoris.

“Too good.”

“Too good what?” He teased you.

“Too good, Sir.”

You were barely coherent at this point.

Five orgasms were taking their toll on you. More than that, you had also squirted with the previous two, your body and mind growing increasingly vulnerable.

The fact that he was so clearly going for the sixth, and that he could keep going after that — you knew he could and would — made you grip his hair and shove his face against your crotch.

“So naughty,” he growled with a deep laugh before getting the toy inside you, switching the vibration pattern to a pulsating one that always made you wild for him, his tongue titillating your most sensitive spot with hard, quick flicks.

You tugged at his hair naturally, planting your heels on the mattress before your hips shot up; his hands came to your breasts, gripping them hard before his fingers delivered a sharp, burning slap to your left mound.

He sucked your clit harder, his fingers pinching your nipples while the feeling of the vibrations inside you became way too much for you actually survive his assault.

“Sir, please, stop.”

He hummed and kept going, the growl so deep in his throat that it felt almost minacious.

“Oh, please. No, no, I can’t— Sir!” You screamed, letting sobs fall from your lips just as tears began rolling down the sides of your face.

With a grin in his mouth he kept going, overstimulating you until he felt your release wet his neck and chest.

Nothing pleased him more than feeling you gush for him, over and over.

You could barely believe that the same man who was obsessed with cleanliness and spotless rooms was the same one making you drench the sheets at least once a week — usually with a timing perfectly calculated with the changing of the sheets.

And there was such a deep, bone-melting pleasure in showering while barely alive and falling asleep in his arms with your body brainless, soft and clean against the fresh crisp sheets.

But tonight you were far from that.

You were far from being done.

At least, he was.

He watched your body grow entirely limp underneath him, your eyes closed, your legs shaking as they tried to close, only to surrender to his unfaltering will.

He was hungry.

He was desperate.

He was all things he’d never dared be with anyone else.

He wanted things he never thought he could have.

But now there was you, and even though he was afraid he would lose you to someone who could be reliable in ways he couldn’t, he was ready to tie you down to him in any way he could.

He felt stupid. He felt dumb and reckless and absolutely insane.

He abandoned the slightly sour and salty taste of your cunt, not before lapping at the creamy wetness coating your folds, making them part with a squelching, sticky sound.

He took the vibrator out of you and slipped it into his mouth, eating and licking and sucking at all the sweet release he’d coaxed out of you before letting it rest on the sheets — they were messed up already anyway.

He silently grabbed your ankles and dragged you all the way to the edge of the bed, your body still too tired for you to actively notice anything but the friction of the cotton burning against the bruising skin of your ass and the back of your thighs.

You barely remembered if it had been his hand or the belt — it was a remote memory. Maybe two or three hours ago.

Too much had happened to your body for you to hold on to such fickle facts.

“On your knees. Now.” His order was stark and cold, getting a piercing, squeaking whimper out of you, your legs dangling from the bed before he settled behind you, his thin and strong arms shaping you into the position he required you to be.

You were now sitting close to the edge of the bed, your legs bent underneath you as you finally found enough strength to cooperate.

With your back to his front, straddling him, you felt his throbbing cock against your core, lifting your hips just enough for him to place his tip against your entrance and slide inside once you gave in to the firm, hot fullness of him.

“Yes, my love. Ride it,” his voice came from over your shoulder, one hand coming down to your clit, already looking for one more orgasm, his other palm cupping your heavy breast, bouncing with the needy rise and fall of your hips and with your heavy breathing. Your nipples felt too delicate, too sensitive.

You cried out loudly and shamelessly once he pinched one, tugging at it before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger in a poor attempt at soothing your skin.

His breath was too cold against your sweaty skin.

He managed to bite your shoulder, sucking briefly at the curve of your neck before you felt his rough voice.

“I wish I could fuck you like this on a stage. Show everyone how good I am to you.” He slapped your breast once more before he started meeting your thrusts. “Show them how I make you cum. How I make you squirt all over me.” He bit and growled as he felt you get tighter. “I’m gonna show all of them how my sweet, delicate strawberry turns into the loveliest cumslut for this cock.”

You shook your head and cried out, imagining a thick crowd in front of you, watching in silence, waiting for your orgasm like football supporters wait for a goal, ready to cheer.

“My sweet strawberry. Bet no one can get you half as dirty…” He chuckled. “Such a  cute little fuckdoll. Aren’t you hungry for my cum? Don’t you wanna be filled up?”

You sobbed and nodded.

“Say it with your words, Giggles.”

“Sir, please,” you managed to squeal before both his hands grabbed your breasts.

“Please what?”

“I want your cum. I need your cum. I’m empty and cold without it.”

He felt pleasure grow almost too much, ready to overthrow him.

“That’s right. You’re only mine to fill up.” He tortured your nipples some more. “Aren’t you eager to be bred, like an expensive fine pet?”

“Please, gimme babies. I’m your pet. I’m only yours to be filled up, please Sir.” You felt more tears roll down your cheeks.

“That’s right. But this won’t work.” He murmured, helping you on all fours before grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back, making your whole torso collapse onto the bed, your face meeting the spot where his cock was laying earlier as he ate you out. You could tell by the heavy scent of his sex.

“This is the right position for you to get all those babies. They’re gonna stay deep inside. Like this.” He said, driving his cock all the way inside you, humming at the increased depth and tightness.

“It would be so fun to let everyone see how we make babies, don’t you think? Almost a shame we didn’t film this.”

His giggles were evil and taunting, “I’m gonna cum. Would you like to, Giggles?”

You nodded and immediately felt his hand between your legs, touching you with expertise.

“You’ll get so round and soft. It’ll be so lovely.” Hoseok was reaching the very edge. “Everyone will know you’re getting fucked to be bred.” He bent down, closing his eyes and breathing deeper to control himself. “Being too horny when you’re ovulating, walking around the house in nothing but an oversized shirt.” He slapped your ass once, twice, three times, trying to last at least one more minute. “You’re really begging me to put a baby inside you.”

“Please, it’s all I want, please, Hoseok!”

“Such a good girl. You earned my cum so well, my sweet berry,” he managed to coo before he gave irregular, violent strokes.

“Oh, please!”

He lost himself once you squeezed him as tight as you could, forcing him to spill all his cum inside you, the hot spurts shooting against your oversensitive inner walls while his mouth opened wide, letting a few seconds go by before he actually managed to make a sound.  

He rammed inside you with animalistic force, fucking his cum deeper inside you, letting your tight cunt milk him until his balls didn’t feel heavy and uncomfortable anymore.

His sweaty forehead hit your nape, but you barely registered that. Pleasure crested and your body became numb to everything, finally giving in to exhaustion as your vision blacked out.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you managed to come back to reality; Hoseok was quiet behind you, your bodies now resting on your sides.

“Giggles,” he called gently.

You hummed and nodded.

“Are you doing okay, honey?” His voice was raw and concerned.

“I’m okay. Tired.”

He kissed your shoulder, where he could spot a bite mark darkening. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head. On a second thought, you changed your mind. “Stay inside,” you whispered.

He did as you told him.

“I really want kids, Hobi.” Your voice was shaking and fatigued after all the heavy breathing and crying and screaming.

“We’ll have as many as you want,” he replied, drawing a line of kisses. “Whenever we’re ready.”

You nodded and scooted further back into him.

“You’ll be so beautiful, with a big round belly, glowing in happiness.” His hands caressed your body reverently. “You’ll be so sweet, breastfeeding our child on a rocking chair. And you’ll be the best at lullabies. Your voice is so nice and soothing,” he was getting emotional. “You’ll make the prettiest, gentlest of babies.”

You caught his hands in yours. “And you’ll spoil them rotten.”

“How can I say no to a mini-you?” He took in your scent, the smell of him and you and sex so deeply interwoven with every fibre of your being. “I hope they look like you.”

You tried to cuddle him as you heard him sniffle. “You’ll be the best dad in the universe.”

He gave a small laugh. “For now I’ll focus on the idea of getting all them babies inside you.”

You chuckled and wiggled your hips against him, squeezing around his half soft cock. “I second that.”

[satendou]

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟝: 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕖𝕩

⇀ shirabu kenjiro

⇀ includes: dubcon ;; alcohol, degradation

that dress should have been illegal.

shirabu shifted again, watching you dance with some of your friends a few feet away, occasionally making eye contact with him. the tight tube dress you were wearing was riding up your thighs where your friend’s hands kept wandering. there was a drunken light in your eyes, no doubt mirroring the one in his own and he could stand it no longer.

tossing the last of his drink back, he stalked over to you, apologizing to your friends as he took your hand. they laughed and nodded, wiggling their eyebrows at you when you waved goodbye. stumbling in your heels, you struggled to keep up with shirabu’s fast pace, giggling when you slammed into his back because he stopped short on the sidewalk.

“baby,” you said, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. “are you okay? are you mad?”

“shut up, _____,” he snapped, hailing a taxi. it was a miracle he caught one given the number of people around you vying for one as well. maybe it was the chilling aura around him, but no one argued when he ripped the door open. “get in.”

his tone brooked no argument and you fell into the seat, almost rolling your ankle while shirabu rolled his eyes. his head was spinning and he cursed himself for drinking too much. distracted by you, he forgot to keep track of his drinks and he had even less idea how many you had had but judging by the way you squirmed in your seat and giggled, it was at least as much as him.

crowding you in the backseat, he gave the driver the address and hoped he didn’t sound as drunk as he felt before grabbing the back of your neck and squeezing. his breath ghosted over your and he felt you tense beneath them, a shiver rippling up your spine as he said, “do you know what you’ve been doing to me all fucking night?”

“n-no, jiro,” you squeaked, staring into his glossy eyes. the usually sharp brown eyes were unfocused but no less heated as he scowled at you, irritation evident. his free hand landed on your knee, sliding up your thigh quickly to cup your heat through your thin panties. “u-um--”

“shh, princess,” he whispered, fingers grazing your clit through the cloth. just as you whimpered, he claimed your lips, keeping a controlling grip on your neck to guide the kiss. “don’t make a sound, you hear me?”

you nodded, hiding your face in his neck. the smell of his cologne was intoxicating to your already spinning senses and, when he slipped his fingers past the thin barrier of your panties, you bit into his skin to stifle yourself.

“already so wet,” he hissed, dipping one finger into your slippery hole. he could hardly feel the pain of your teeth, too focused on the feel of stretching you around his fingers. “can’t believe i’m dating such a little slut.”

“ken-- jiro,” you breathed, breath hitching when his thumb swiped your clit. “feels good.”

he chuckled at that, guiding you up for another kiss before saying, “i know, pretty girl. we’ll be home soon.”

he edged you all the way home, pulling away each time you came close and relishing in your breathy whines in his ear. you begged him the whole time to let you cum, but he was furious with you for all the teasing all night.

the car pulled up and he pulled out, paying the cab driver before helping you out of the car. if he thought you were wobbly before, it was worse now, half carrying you up the stairs as he tried to maintain his own balance. the car ride had made him forget you weren’t the only one who was far too drunk, and his hand shook as he tried to slide the key into the lock.

he barely had time to flick on the light in the hall before you were crowding him against the wall.

“slow down, princess,” he whispered, turning you quickly around-- bad idea, he thought, as the room started to spin-- and hoisting you up. “hope you don’t like these.”

the flimsy fabric covering your cunt tore and fluttered to the floor, immediately forgotten as he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out. your fingers dug into his hair as you moaned, trying to pull him closer even though his arms were hooked beneath your knees, immobilizing you.

“kenjiro, kenjiro, hurry up,” you whined, curling your toes in your heels. you had forgotten to kick them off in your dazed rush at shirabu. “i need you.”

he smirked at that, an almost callous look as he slid his cock against your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit. “you’ve been such a tease all night, letting your little friend put her hands all over you. you knew i was watching, didn’t you?”

“y-yes, ‘jiro. i like when you watch me, like when you get jealous,” you admitted, tugging ruthlessly at his hair. he winced and had no choice but to let you pull him forward.

he forgot how strong you were when you were drunk, how uninhibited.

“that’s what i thought, you little slut,” he said, and sank to the hilt inside you.

all the teasing in the car had made you so wet he slipped in with ease, giving you zero time to adjust before his hips met yours. a part of him had hoped you would cum immediately and that part of him was annoyed when you didn’t. 

his name fell with ease from your lips as he bounced you on his cock. sweat dripped down his temples, the air in the hallway stifling as he did all the work, but the way you clung to him as you pleaded for more made it all worth it. 

pushing you harder against the wall, he fucked into you, snarling into your ear, “if you don’t come soon you won’t come at all, princess. why don’t you tell me how good i make you feel?”

“so good, ‘jiro, so fuckin’ good,” you babbled, twisting your fingers in your tangled hair. “no one fucks me like you, please let me come.”

chuckling, he captured your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth to get a taste of the alcohol lingering on your tongue. he was drunk not just from the alcohol now. all his focus was on you-- the way you squeezed around him every time he sheathed himself inside you and the way your hot walls clung to him every time he pulled out, trying to keep him in. you were crying out his name loud enough to piss the neighbors off and he didn’t care.

“come on, come for me dammit,” he snarled, grinding his hips into yours and listening to you keen for him. “i wanna feel you do it, come on.”

he was so demanding, fucking into you with almost bruising force and your orgasm slammed into you, your back arching into his chest as you squeezed down around him. he grunted as he slid back into your clenching cunt and came, his head spinning ferociously as you scrabbled at his shoulders.

“good girl,” he whispered, voice shaky as you went limp in his arms. he grimaced at the mess sliding down his balls and pulled out, carefully adjusting you so your legs were locked around his hips. “let’s get cleaned up and then...we can go to bed.”

you nuzzled into his neck, nipping and kissing gently as he made his way carefully into the bathroom. he sighed, smiling fondly as you grinned at him like a dope, making grabby hands at him.

kneeling down in front of you, he cupped your spinning face. “i love you, you idiot.”

giggling, you kissed the tip of his nose.

“i love you too, ‘jiro.”

⇀ masterlist

⇀ @keijiskitten​ | previous: edging | next: cuckold

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[avintagekiss24]

All Alone | Ransom Drysdale{

PAIRING; Ransom Drysdale x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 3,172

WARNINGS; NON-CON, RAPE FANTASY, ROLE PLAY, BREAKING & ENTERING, SMUT, ROUGH SEX, FORCED ORAL SEX (MALE RECEIVING), FORCED VAGINAL SEX, FORCED ANAL FINGERING, SLIGHT DADDY KINK, PRAISE KINK, DOM/SUB UNDERTONES, DIRTY TALK/NAME CALLING

REQUEST; Can u write dark Ransom fics.. or maybe role-play where Ransom pretends to be a burglar and breaks into your house

NOTE; This is an anon request I received for some dark!Ransom and I couldn’t pick a better time to post since Paper hit 1,000+ notes last Monday, (thanks again guys). I am also aware that I promised this last week, BUT, better late than never, right?

!! PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS !!

If you’re going to ignore the warnings that I’ve literally capitalized and headlined above, then don’t come in my inbox after it’s all said and done with any crap. I’ve done my part, so PLEASE do yours. You control what you consume.

You hum along with the radio as you dry the plate in your hand. You pull open the cupboard door and have to push up onto your tiptoes to sit the plate on top of the stack. You plop back down on your heels and move on to the next dirty dish as your mind begins to wander aimlessly. 

The digital clock flips to 9:22pm just as you dunk the last glass cup into the warm water. You wash it gently between your hands, dunking it again to rid it of the soap suds. You lift it to your eye line, squinting slightly as you inspect it. His standards are impossibly high, but you’ve always been up to meet his challenge. Every plate, every utensil, every cup will be museum ready, just how he likes it.

You pick at the edge of the cup with your fingernail, not even noticing the shift in the house. The sliding glass doors in the living room push along the track as you dunk the glass again, giving it another once over. The radio and your humming drown out the sound of soft footsteps against the carpet and then the hardwood floor.

A masked man stands behind you, watching you silently as you stand at the sink, dressed in nothing but one of your husband’s dressy, button down shirts. He flexes his fingers as you lift the glass up to inspect it again, his eyes scanning down your bare legs. 

You gasp suddenly when two arms wrap around you suddenly, squeezing you tight. A leather gloved hand covers your mouth, stifling your scream as you drop the cup to the floor, the sound of it shattering into pieces filling your ears. 

His free hand wrangles both of yours and yanks them behind your back, holding your wrists tightly. Your eyes are wide, darting around the kitchen as you struggle against the much taller man behind you. You continue to scream into the palm of his hand as he starts to drag you through the kitchen. You kick your feet against the hardwood floor as you try but fail to push away from him. 

You manage to pull one of your hands free and reach for one of the chairs at the kitchen table, pulling it with you as you’re pulled towards the stairs. The sound of the legs of the chair scuffing against the floor adds to your dampened screams before it crashes to the floor with a loud thud. 

He gets you to the stairs and wraps his arm around your waist to lift you effortlessly from your feet. He turns and starts backing his way up the staircase as you kick and fight wildly against him. You shake your head back and forth, shifting the hand that covers your mouth slightly. You bite down onto his fingers as soon as you get the chance, drawing a loud, gruff scream from him. 

The bite makes him loosen his grip around you just enough for you to slip out from his grasp. You turn quickly and push him back into the wall with a thud before taking off up the stairs. His fingers grasp at you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into him. He lifts you again but you elbow him into the stomach, dropping him immediately. 

He falls against the wall, pulling you down with him. You scratch and claw at the steps, grasping onto one to pull yourself up. You scramble over top of him, feeling his hands reaching and grasping for you as you try to get away. Your legs slip through his grasp as you stumble up the wooden stairs.

You reach the top step and are about to sprint toward your bedroom when your ankle is grabbed, tripping you and sending you crashing to the ground. He pulls you down the stairs to him, your back and butt thumping against them. 

He presses his fingers into your flesh roughly, pulling your body into his once more he stands. You feel his hot, heavy breath against your cheek as he presses his face into the side of yours, “You’re gonna pay for that, bitch.”

He moves quickly, pulling you up the stairs and through the hallway. He pushes you violently through the slightly open bedroom door and you fall through it, stumbling and falling again to the floor. He slams the door behind him as you scramble to your feet and turn to face him. Your breath is heavy and fast, your lungs burning. Your body shakes with fear and adrenaline as tears slip down your cheeks.

The masked man stares back at you from a few feet away, his head cocked to the side, his eyes menacing and sharp. His fists are balled at his sides as he blinks slowly, just daring you to make a move. 

Your chin quivers as you start to whimper. You blink furiously as your eyes cloud over with tears, “Please,” you whisper, your voice shaky. 

His lips quirk in a soft smile. 

He lunges at you, his agility taking you by surprise. You don’t even have enough time to react before he’s got you in his grasp again. You scream as you slap your hands against his chest and arms, pushing and fighting against him with all the strength you have. 

He struggles with you for only a moment before he pushes you back onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He grabs your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks to pucker your lips as he straddles you. You continue to slap at his face and chest, but it doesn’t faze him in the slightest. He just smiles down at you as you struggle underneath him. 

He leans down and smacks his lips to yours, quick and loud, before pulling away. He slaps you across the face before grabbing your cheeks with his large hand again, “Let’s have some fun, hmm?”

He reaches over you, his heavy body pushing into yours as he pulls open the drawer to the nightstand and rummages around until he pulls out a silk tie. He pulls you up and yanks your arms behind your back before tying your wrists together tightly. He pushes you back down before grabbing another tie to bound your ankles. 

You squirm underneath him, digging your feet into the sheets as you try and buck your hips to get him off of you. You scream as loud as you can, your voice starting to strain and tighten the longer you go. It doesn’t even bother him. There isn’t a neighbor for miles, your house shrouded by mature trees. You’re all alone. He knows it, and you know it. 

He rips open the expensive button down shirt that covers your torso, sending buttons flying to the mattress and floor. You sob as he grabs your naked breasts in his hands, fondling them boorishly - pushing them together before squeezing your flesh harshly. He pinches one of your thick nipples until you’re squealing from pain. He slaps each of your breasts, sending more sharp pains through you as you wail. 

He moves up your body and sits up on his knees as he starts unzipping his pants. He pulls himself free and lets his dick fall onto your face. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls hard, craning your head slightly to push your chin toward the ceiling. 

“You bite me, and you’ll regret every moment afterwards, you hear me?” your lips shiver as you stare up at him, “Do you hear me?” He repeats louder and more forceful when you don’t answer. 

“Yes.” You push out quickly.

“Yes what?”

You take a quick breath, “Yes sir.” You whisper. 

Without warning, his dick is stuffed into your mouth. You moan and grunt as he fills you, almost choking as you try to breath through the intrusion. You go limp, completely giving in to him as fear courses through your veins. You slam your eyes closed as tears continue to leak from your eyes, making your mascara run down your face. 

He moans loudly as you wrap your lips around him. He pushes his hips back and forth, fucking your mouth roughly as he grows hard and stiff. You gag as the tip of his dick tickles the back of your throat, but he doesn’t relent; in fact, it makes him fuck your face harder. 

He keeps a tight grip on your hair, pulling harder and harder as the minutes pass, your scalp prickling with pain. The sweet tinge of his spunk stains your mouth and throat as quick, warm spurts leak from him slip. You gag again and feel him shiver - he’s loving this. He slaps you across your face again and a muffled cry pushes from your chest. 

You feel him shudder again, feel his hips falter as he slows down, “Fuck baby,” He groans as he pulls out of your mouth, resting his wet, slippery cock on your face again, “That pretty little mouth almost made me cum.”

He grabs your face again, shaking it lightly back and forth as he smiles down at you, “You’re a mess, look at you.” He mocks, tracing his finger down your tear and mascara stained face before he smears his fingers over your wet, sloppy mouth,  “That’s a good girl. Real good girl.”

He rolls off of you and rummages through the nightstand again. He moves to the end of the mattress and grabs your ankle to pull you towards him. He shoves his thumb into your mouth and pries it open before stuffing it with a sock.

You continue to scream and cry, squirming all the while as he flips you over onto your stomach and props you up on your hands and knees. You feel his hot breath on your naked cunt seconds later. His tongue darts out and slips through your folds as you jump from the unexpected sensation.

You lunge forward as he inserts his fingers, curling his fingers to scratch at your g-spot. You hear him moan as he slips his other hand along your clit and through your folds as his other fingers start to push in and out of your heat. He rubs your flesh, kneading your clit and pulling at your folds as he pounds his fingers into your pussy. 

You let your head fall to the mattress as a dull ache begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Your cunt begins the throb as he strokes your spot, igniting a fire within you. You sob openly as your body starts to defy your mind - reacting to him, wetting for him, aching for a release. 

You quiver around him, your wet muscles tightening against his digits, making him chuckle again. 

“Dirty little slut.” He mumbles through a smile, “You’re just begging for it, aren’t you, whore?” 

He withdraws from you, only to replace his fingers seconds later with his cock. You lunge forward again, gritting your teeth as your body stretches to accommodate him. His thrusts are hard and unforgiving as he grips your hips in his hands. His nails scratch against your skin as he pushes into you, pulling your hips back to meet his. 

You grunt sharply when his palm slams against your ass, the sound of the slap bouncing off of the walls around you. You slam your eyes shut and bury your face into the sheets as you sob into the mattress. 

He slaps your ass again before squeezing your flesh in his hands, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself push in and out of your sex. He pulls out of you and pushes his cock between your cheeks slowly, teasing your tight hole with his tip. He slips out from between your ass and returns to your cunt, pushing his cock through your folds and along your slit until he pushes at your opening again. 

“You like that, baby?” He grunts as he slams back into you, hearing you grunt with pain. He skips his fingers along your stomach and up to your breasts, gripping and squeezing them again with his long fingers. He pinches your nipple roughly again, drawing another squeal from you, “You don’t learn so well, do you whore?”

“Yes,” You squelch through the sock in your mouth. You nod furiously to not anger him further, “I like it.”

“Goddamn right you do.”

You start to lunge forward again, each thrust pushing you up the bed as he fucks you with long, hard strokes. He spreads your ass apart and circles your hole with his greedy fingers, before pushing his thumb into you. You squeak from the sudden intrusion, and start to pull on the restraint around your wrists.

Your arms are shaky and sore from being bound so tightly behind you as they bounce against the small of your back with each of his thrusts. He slaps your ass again and the sting radiates through your body as your flesh starts to warm with pain. Your head pounds, both from crying and the force he used when pulling your hair. You could puke from the adrenaline and fear, but you’re growing close.

Your pussy tightens as a shudder rumbles through you. He starts to rub your clit again as he fucks you, his right thumb pushing ever so lightly in and out of your asshole all the while. Your head starts to whirl, fogging over with lust and pain and terror as you feel his dick in your guts. 

You shiver and let out the smallest moan as your heart leaps into your throat. Quick flashes of your orgasm start ringing through you as he hits your spot over and over again and the fullness of your cunt and ass starts to consume you. Your back caves and your breasts and sensitive nipples rub along the soft sheets beneath you, adding yet another layer of arousal to your impending release. 

He grunts deeply from behind you as he feels your body starting to close around him, “Shit, baby,” he slurs, completely intoxicated with your hot, wet cunt, “I feel you shaking, baby. Don’t fight it. Just come all over this cock like the good little whore you are.”

You let out another shaky moan as the waves of your orgasm start to crash against you. You tense as your body gives in to it natural impulses and releases instinctively. You start moaning impulsively -quiet at first but growing into loud, long, stifled groans as you cum. Your toes curl and you ball your hands, digging your nails into your palms as your orgasm infects every inch of your body and mind. 

You feel him fall against you, resting his weight against your ass as his own moans start to mingle with yours. Hot ribbons of his spunk spew from him - spurt after spurt, filling your cunt before slipping out and down your folds. He slams into you, making sure you take every inch of him as he forces his hips against yours. 

You breathe hard as it all comes to an end. You keep your eyes closed as you let out shaky hums with each breath. He pulls out of you unceremoniously and slaps your behind one last time as he moves around behind you.

You jump when you feel his fingers skip along your spine. He grabs your hair again and yanks your head back, causing you to grunt in pain, “Look at me.”

You shake your head as the tears start to flow again.

“Look at me.” He says again, that low, menacing tone piercing you right to your heart. 

“Please,” you beg, “Just go. Please, I won’t… I won’t tell anyone. Please.” You struggle to get the words out as sobs have wracked your body again and you try not to choke on the cotton in your mouth.

He grabs your chin and forces your head to the left. You feel his breath on your face, “Look. At. Me.”

You whimper as you slowly open your eyes to reveal his clean shaven face. You gasp lightly as your eyes wander his boyish, handsome face. His hair is messy, his lips pressed in a hard line as he eyes you. He’s taunting you, wanting you to know every detail of his face - just daring you to say one word about tonight.

“You be a good girl and don’t move until I’m gone, understand?”

You nod, “Yes Sir.”

He kisses your lips again with a smack, “Good girl.”

Without another word, he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him, his heavy footsteps down the hallway and stairs grow distant until you can’t hear him anymore. You’re a good girl, so you don’t move - just like he said. You sniffle as you rub your fingers with your right hand. 

You focus on your breathing as the clock in your bedroom clicks softly. Your eyes are puffy and sting with pain. Your cunt is sloppy and sore as his cum slides down the backside of your thigh. Your mind races as shock starts to set in, not allowing you to feel the aches and throbs.

You hear footsteps again, this time fast and hurried. The air shifts in the room as the door opens and within seconds you feel soft hands slip up your spine. 

“You okay, babe?” He asks as he pulls at the tie around your wrists. 

You nod and sniffle again as he rubs your hands and wrists once they are untied, calming your skin. He removes the tie around your ankles before he pulls you into his lap. He pulls the sock from your mouth and tosses it to the floor before he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks softly as his now soft blue eyes search yours, “Answer me.”

“I’m okay,” you answer quickly and softly as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I wasn’t too rough?”

“Ransom, it was perfect.  You were perfect.”

He smiles at you, “You’re such a good girl. You know that? You’re daddy’s best girl.”

You turn in his lap and throw your legs around his waist as you hug him, “I love you.” You whisper in his ear.

“I love you too baby girl.”

His hands are warm and gentle as he rubs slow circles into your back, “You owe me a new shirt, girl.”

You laugh gently as you rest your head against his chest, “Then you owe me a new set of glassware. You made me drop one.”

He places a kiss on your forehead, “Deal. Ready for your bath?”

You don’t have the energy to speak. You just nod and he lifts you in his arms to carry you into the bathroom. You’re going to be bruised to all hell tomorrow, your muscles and limbs stiff as a board, but all of the undivided  attention you’re going to receive from Ransom is totally worth it. 

It’s one of the reasons you love date night.

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

THANKS FOR ANSWERING MY PROMT I LOVE IT CAN'T WAIT FOR PART 2!!

The Biggest Idiot of All Idiots: A Miya twins sickfic (Part 2)

Characters: sick Atsumu, caretakers Osamu & Mama Miya (lol)

Word Count: 2,418

Warnings: swearing, vomiting, and Miya-family fluff

Part 1

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I’M SO EXCITED THAT YOU LIKED IT!! YAY!

I’m back with Part 2 a lot sooner than expected. So yay me. I did this instead of working. Oops.

————————————————————

Osamu was lulled into a sense of false security.

Atsumu slept for over an hour. With how out of it and overheated Atsumu was earlier, it was no surprise that he zonked the minute his head hit the pillow.

So Osamu thought, maybe there was no other shoe. Maybe his twinstincts were wrong this time. He even felt good enough about this deduction that he told his mom to stay out and finish her errands. That he had things under control.

It only took another twenty minutes for him to fully regret that decision.

The video game he was playing, mindless though it was, kept him distracted from the fast devolving situation on the top bunk right above him. It wasn’t until Tsumu called his name weakly that he registered that the whimpering he’d been hearing for the last 20 minutes was his brother and not the video game.

“Samu,” Atsumu wheezed. The sound of his ragged breaths dropped a small rock of worry into Osamu’s stomach, but he tried to remain calm; to ignore his gut. Maybe if he did, things would be fine. He didn’t need to blow things out of proportion when it came to Atsumu, the self-titled Biggest Drama Queen.

“What?” He called, continuing his game.

“Too...too loud,” Atsumu moaned.

“The volume is barely loud enough for me to hear. Don’t be so dramatic,” Osamu replied.

“No…” his voice shook, “it’s pound-pounding.”

Osamu rolled his eyes, but turned the volume down nonetheless.

“Anything else, Princess?”

“Hot...s’hot… les go go insi-inside,” Atsumu whimpered. At that, Osamu immediately went on high alert. They were inside, had been inside for a couple hours now. He should know that.

In one swift movement, he paused his game and hopped onto his bed to check on Atsumu. The rock of anxiety quickly turned into a boulder at his twin’s appearance.

Atsumu was panting, his breaths shallow, and his face was an almost ashen grey color, save for the red flush spread across his cheeks. He was curled into a tight ball, his arms wrapped around his stomach protectively. Worse than anything else, the unmasked pain that was etched into every inch of his face made Osamu grab at his own stomach, suddenly very sick with worry.

“Tsumu,” he said gently, because Atsumu was dramatic, yes, but those theatrical tendencies stemmed from an obscene amount of anxiety that he shoved deep into the locked safe of his mind. Calm, soothing, gentle, those were the things Osamu needed to be right now.

“Hey, Tsumu, look at me,” he demanded as softly as possible. He reached for Atsumu and put a hand on his cheek. Atsumu winced away, but not quickly enough for Osamu to miss the heat radiating off of him. He cursed under his breath.

“Samu, wanna go inside,” Atsumu nearly slurred. Osamu bit his lip. Slurring was absolutely no good.

“We are inside, Tsumu,” he tried, putting a comforting hand on Atsumu’s quivering shoulders.

“‘S too hot,” came the reply. Osamu jumped off his bed and crossed the room to turn on the ceiling fan.

“Can ya tell me what else is wrong?” Osamu asked when he got back to Atsumu’s side. He ran his hand through Atsumu’s hair like their mom did. Like he did when they were kids.

Atsumu shook his head, “I feel ba-bad.”

In that moment, all Osamu could see was his stupid, sniveling little brother upset and in need of consoling because some jackasses on their elementary volleyball team called him mean names. The trembling, crying, whining teenager before him resembled nothing more than that little kid who hadn’t learned how to ignore other people’s opinions yet. It brought every ounce of protectiveness that Osamu held for his brother flooding forward with full force.

“Okay, alright. Hey, it’s fine, Tsumu. ‘M gonna help ya. Just hold on,” Osamu got off his bed and grabbed his phone. He needed to get his mom home to help. He also needed to bring down Atsumu’s fever. His brain told him he needed to get the sweatshirt off his brother and try and get him into a cool bath.

As he climbed the ladder to get to Atsumu on the top bunk, he called his mom.

“Hey, sweetie! What’s u—“

“Ma, come home now,” Osamu interrupted, trying to convey the urgency of the situation quickly.

“Osamu? What’s wrong? Is yer brother o—“

“No, Ma. No. He’s got a wicked fever and he’s hurtin’ but I don’t know why. I can’t help him because I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s hurtin’ him,'' Osamu reeled. Talking to his mom, he noticed, for the first time, the knot in his throat and the burning of tears behind his eyes.

“Okay. Calm down, Samu. I’ll be home as quickly as I can. In the meantime, just keep him calm and cool, alright?”

Osamu nodded, took a centering breath and squeezed himself between Atsumu’s back and the wall.

“Alright. Okay. See you soon.”  He hung up and turned his attention back to his brother. The warmth coming off of him was palpable. He steeled himself and put a hand on Atsumu’s arm.

“Tsumu, I’m gonna pull ya upright, okay? Gotta get this sweatshirt offa ya,” he said as steadily as he could. Atsumu only whined in response.

He took that as a go ahead though and gently eased Atsumu into a seated position. As soon as he was upright and before Osamu could even blink, Atsumu’s stomach gurgled, his cheeks puffed out and he forcefully vomited all over his bed.

(Osamu thanked every god ever that he sat adjacent to Atsumu, and not in front of him.)

“Shit, Atsumu!” He exclaimed. If Atsumu heard it, he didn’t register it. He only heaved again, wheezing and hacking. Sympathy pains rattled Osamu’s chest at the sight and his stomach turned over itself.

“Sam—“ Atsumu tried, grasping at his brother’s arm frantically. He was cut off by another mouthful of green puke exiting his mouth violently. Osamu grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed.

“It’s alright, Tsumu, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to. Just get it up, okay? I’m here,” he soothed. The hand not holding Atsumu’s found his twin’s sweaty, shivering back and rubbed calmly between his shoulder blades.

Atsumu gagged again, his whole body shuddering and Osamu’s face contorted in sympathy.

“Fuck, Tsumu. How’d you get so sick so quick?”

Atsumu belched wetly in response. Nothing more came up, thankfully. His head hung limply over his lap, which was unfortunately covered in puke, and he panted, catching his breath.

Osamu let him calm down for a minute or two and surveyed the mess in front of him. Almost the entirety of the top bunk was covered in vomit and there was absolutely no way that Osamu could get his brother off the bed without dragging him through the mess. Not even he was that cruel.

Atsumu whimpered and Osamu returned his attention to him.

“Samu, ‘m sorry, I didn-- it jus--,” he cut himself off with a whimper. Osamu heard that subtle crack in his twin’s voice that signaled a bigger break down on the way. He needed to prevent that  meltdown, or it would just make things worse.

“Hey, no it’s fine,” Osamu reassured,  “Obviously it wasn’t on purpose, ya idiot. Don’t cry or it’ll make things worse.” He hugged Atsumu, trying hard to ignore the vomit that was inevitably going to get all over his shirt.

Atsumu shook his head and whined again.

“Tsumu, really. It’s alright, okay. ‘S not even that bad.” Atsumu inhaled shakily, whimpered as he did so. This wasn’t working.

“For real. ‘Member that time I puked all over the living room? We were watchin’ a movie with the team and I was already sick, but insisted that I wasn’t? Then I got squeamish durin’ the gorry part and threw up everywhere. You and Kita-san had to drag me to the bathroom. That was way worse than this,” he offered, cringing at the memory. Maybe his own embarrassment would lessen Atsumu’s.

“Here, it’s just me and I already know yer a disgustin’ piece of crap. This ain’t gonna change my opinion at all,” he finished. Thankfully, Atsumu chuckled a little and Osamu knew that he was in the clear. At least for now.

He pulled his brother away from his chest and used the bottom of his already ruined shirt to wipe off his face.

“Got quite the fever, there, Tsumu,” he sighed.

“I really don’t fee-feel good…” Atsumu muttered, breathless and hoarse.

“No shit, idiot.” Atsumu only frowned deeper in response.

“I need ya to sit here for just a sec, okay? Just gotta get these nasty ass sheets off the bed and then I’ll help ya down. You should take a cool bath to get yer temp down.” Osamu carefully gathered the blanket and took it down the ladder. He grabbed the trash can in the corner of the room and handed it up to Atsumu before taking the soiled material to the guest bathroom where he plopped it in the bathtub with a sickening splat.

Before he went back into his room to face his sick brother, Osamu took a second to collect himself. He dropped down to his knees, holding onto the bathroom sink for stability and inhaled slowly.

Atsumu was really sick. It wasn’t a usual occurrence (usually it was Osamu who got hit first; Atsumu cared too much about missing volleyball and was a borderline germaphone because of it) but it’s not like it’s never happened before. It was just so…shocking. Osamu needed to find some sense of grounding and push aside his worry for a little to be more effective at helping his brother until their mom got home.

When he felt calmer, he went back to their room, only to find Atsumu heaving into the trash can.

“Tsumu…” Osamu frowned.

“Samu,” Atsumu cried, “I feel-feel so bad. I just want to-want to sleep.”

“I know,” Osamu said, crawling back onto the top bunk. He rubbed Atsumu’s back again and waited for the spell to pass.

“Let’s get ya cleaned up, okay?”

It wasn’t a fun process and Osamu would have punched Atsumu more than once if he wasn’t so sick, but eventually and after much struggle, Osamu got himself and Atsumu cleaned up. At some point, their mom got home and started gathering all the necessities for the Certified Atsumu-is-a-Whiny- Baby-When-He’s-Sick package in their room (it included the latest manga, his baby blanket, those nasty green sports drinks, and a few other things that the Princess desired).

Osamu sat in the bathroom with Atsumu while he cooled down in the bathtub, though his twin told him he could leave. He made up some excuse about making sure that he didnt drown and sat against the wall of the bathroom.

With the curtain shut and Atsumu currently calm and not puking, Osamu allowed himself to relax for a bit. He didn’t realize how much tension he held in his shoulders and jaw until then and slowly loosened everything up. He scoffed at himself. Atsumu was the only person in the world that could make Osamu that tense with worry and yet still pissed him off to the point that he was practically begging to get punched in the face.

About half an hour later, Miya-san and Osamu settled Atsumu into the bottom bunk (“no freakin’ chance you can sleep in yer own bed, Tsumu. We ain’t cleaning up the top bunk again”). A thermometer hung out of his mouth limply while he pouted.

Even before the thermometer beeped, Osamu could tell his fever was lower. Not gone, but at least lower than before. It settled more of the tightness in his shoulders.

“No volleyball fer ya fer a few days, Tsumu,” Miya-san declared after she checked the thermometer.

“Figured as much,” Atsumu huffed. He was putting on a tough bravado, but Osamu didn’t miss how he was already half-asleep again.

“Gee, thanks Tsumu. Now I’m gonna have to play setter and wing--” Their mom cut Osamu off with a hearty guffaw.

“As if yer goin’ to practice, Samu. You think yer safe from this? If I have learned anythin’ about bein’ the parent of two boys as close as you two, it’s that when one goes down, the other goes down right after him.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? I hate this guy.”

“Mhm, sure. I’ll go ahead and call yer coach. Good thing it’s summer break and ya don’t have classes!” Miya-san said smugly as she left the room.

Osamu glared at Atsumu who only smirked tiredly back. A second later, he closed his eyes and groaned, squirming around in bed.

“You okay?” Osamu asked before he could stop himself. Atsumu smiled lazily and peered up at his brother.

“Yeah. Thanks, Samu. Fer bein’ my brain and catchin’ this before I did.” Osamu blinked at him. If he wasn’t an asshole himself, he would smile and say it was no big deal.

But they were twins after all, and so Osamu was indeed just as big of an asshole as Atsumu.

“Ya better be,” he scoffed. Atsumu opened his mouth to protest, but closed his eyes suddenly.

“Tsumu?”

“Just got dizzy. It’s fine.” He exhaled and opened his eyes again. They were still hazy and half-lidded with fever.

“Just go to sleep, dumbass,” Osamu muttered and sat on the bed by Atsumu’s ribs. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, just like he did when they were kids. Even if Atsumu no longer looked like that tragic, pathetic child, a part of Osamu would always feel the need to shield his brother from the harsh world. Deep down, he hoped Atsumu felt the same way.

(Sometime later, their mom walked in the room to find her two sons sound asleep together on the bottom bunk. Osamu lay across Atsumu’s middle, one arm stretched by his face and the other stretched towards Atsumu’s hair. She laughed to herself at the fact that, no matter how old they got, they always seemed to fall asleep in this exact position if they were near each other.

The next day, Osamu cursed out Atsumu as he threw up in the bathtub. Atsumu swore at him from his position over the toilet. Their mother secretly delighted in getting to take care of her baby boys again and brought them their blue and green sports drinks.)

[midnight-writ3r]

Video Games

YangYang x Gender Neutral Reader

Inspired by: My country is facing another lockdown and I never feel very good through those, so I wanted to cheer myself up (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

Summary: Quarantine has you and your boyfriend YangYang locked in together. But you know without a doubt that there is no other person, you would rather spend it with.

Genre: Fluff… just pointless, tooth-rotting fluff

Warnings: Mentions of explicit content

A/N: My first YangYaaaang, yaaay!! About time I write for my WayV bias <3 I had soo much fun making this moodboard, even though it was hella difficult matching all the colours, but I kinda like how it turned out <3

Also, first time writing in past tense haha… so, sorry if there´s some time-switching, I´m very used to writing in present :’D

Hope you enjoy this, love u so much! <3

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Ever since the first day, quarantine has you and YangYang chained to your boyfriend´s apartment. However, unlike most of the people you have heard off, the two of you seem to be of the rare kind that enjoys the withdrawn lifestyle of social distancing. Maybe, though it was just bound to be nice, since you got to spend that time together.

In the beginning, you had been anxious. Hearing about all the statistics of couples breaking up and divorces being signed, had gotten you worried about the same thing happening to the two of you. In the end, you realized that the you worked too well for that to happen. Your communication was good – when one needed space, the other would give it. You shared more common interests than you could count on both of your hands, always leaving you with something to do. And the sex, well… reoccuring enough for the two of you to never run out of passion.

One of your favourite pastime activities though, were video games. YangYang had a large collection of them, quite similar to the one you usually kept at your own place. Sometimes, you´d spend hours, wandering virtual realms together and chat about god and the world, while gathering magical items and battling rare bosses. He made you laugh, you made his heart flutter. A pair, bound to stick together through thick and thin.

“If you keep buying those dorritos we´ll have to up our workout-game.” You laughed, watching him from your spot on the floor. In his hands, he carried a bag of said dorritos and a bottle of water.

Shrugging, he settled down beside you and dumped the food in your lap, “I could do a few more crunchies, if it means I get to enjoy my favourite food. Besides, we already burn so many calories with other… activities.”

As he wiggled his eyebrows, you pushed his face away, unable to conceal your laughter, “Gross.”

“Not what you said last night.”

“Oh god, can you stop?” You squeezed out and he finally complied with a laugh. He knew how much embarrassment you could take, before you´d just roll into a ball and pretend you didn´t hear him. But, the opportunity to tease you, was just too good to pass up. Especially, when your reactions were always so oscar-worthy. “Alright, what will it be today, captain?”

He hummed, skimming through the several titles, “I´m feeling Halo, to be honest.”

“A classic.” You nodded, “Let´s go.”

As YangYang moved to slip the CD into the Xbox, you made work of the dorrito package, trying not to spread all its contents on the floor. Half-succeeding, you held out a chip to your boyfriend, as he returned to your side and he opened his mouth happily. For a good while, you spent your time ganging up on a poor soul you met in the online-mode.

“Y/N, I think I´m going through a crisis.” YangYang suddenly muttered into the silence, as he shot another enemy right in the head.

You raised a sceptical eyebrow at him, “A crisis, huh?”

“Yeah”, releasing a dramatic sigh, he adjusted to sit with his legs spread a little wider, “I feel like you´re just too far away. My heart is twisting in my chest.”

A snort left your nose, “Wow, didn´t know I lived with a drama queen.”

“That´s not true!” YangYang pouted, before grinning, “You knew what you signed up for. Now come here.”

There was little you could do to resist, once he pulled out the puppy dog eyes. You had always been weak for them, almost as much as for his smile. That slightly curled grin with slightly pointed teeth, which made him almost look like a kitten. Sighing, you shuffled, until your back was pressed against his chest and you could comfortably resume playing. It worked for a while, with your boyfriend´s chin against your head and soft puffs of air hitting your hair every now and then.

However, you had never been a very strong person, when it came to affection. His arms wrapped so tight around you, just so he could reach his controller with both hands, had you feel more and more greedy for the boy´s touch. Sometimes he called you insatiable, whether it be with sex or simple cuddling, yoou never seemed to get enough. You knew though, that he liked nothing more than to indulge you. That, whenever you asked for a bit of closure, he was happy, because he felt like he had done something right.

It was the exact reason why you didn´t hesitate to voice your wishes right away: “I´m having a crisis, too.”

“Ah yeah?” You could hear the little grin on his lips.

Humming, you paused the game and put down your controller. As you turned in his arms, to sit in his lap instead, he did the same. It was flustering, but mesmerizing as well, how his eyes seemed to be unable to leave you entirely. You cupped his jaw with both hands, a small smile playing with your lips. A wave of gratitude washed through you – gratitude, that he was the one sitting here, no one else.

“I feel like I´m showing withdrawal symptoms.”

YangYang lifted a brow at you, but his hands settled on your waist anyways, “Withdrawal symptoms? Are you in a sugar rush?”

“Not quite, but close.” You giggled at yourself, “I feel like I´ve been without a good kiss for too long.”

It wasn´t difficult to see the exact moment his face twisted into realization, “I see. That sounds like quite a tricky situation. Where the heck are we supposed to get you a quick fix now?”

Rolling your eyes, you shuffled a little closer, “Just kiss me, you doofus.”

When he leaned closer, hands on your waist pulling you in, you felt reminded of how lucky you were. How this could have been the worst time for you, but you were here, healthy, happy and with your arms full of this boy, who loved you. You could have agonized over all the days, still to come, but what good would that do? When you had YangYang in your arms, his lips chasing yours eagerly and his scent of warm baked goods wavering around you, what use was there in worrying?

You smiled into the kiss, eyes closed and revelling and you could feel him do the same.

-*- FIN -*-

[takachirou]

nsfw hc’s w/ tsukishima, matsukawa and oikawa

including: tsukishima, matsukawa, and oikawa.

summary: just random nsfw hc’s

warning/s: nsfw, choking, slapping, master kink, daddy kink, degradation ?, edging, pain kink

wc: 1.5k+

a/n: this was very self-indulgent… also an excuse to write some smut, 

nsfw under the cut!

˗ˋ .*ೃ✧₊˚.❁ ↷

tsukishima kei

HE CAN USE ME LIKE THE CUM DUMP I AM

 calls you a whore and his little puppy and god it is so hot

master.. he loves it when you call him master. (i had a hc that he LOVEs being called senpai too but thats a whole other thing)

HARD DOM. will slap the shit out of your ass and throw u into the next dimension type shit.

he LOVES making you cum over and over and over again until you cant. and he forces it from you.

 it’s either he overstims u or EDGES u SO much. 

he just wants to break you and he will he wants you to cry and drool from cumming too much.

also loves face fucking and im for all that.

“please master, let me cum.” you whimpered against the restraints. you were blindfolded and tied to his bed that was wet, fluids mixed with sweat, tears and his cum. you were shaking, chasing your high as you felt the familiar hot feeling in your stomach again. when he saw you were close to your release he removed the vibrator from your clit.

you cry out in frustration, “please, please. i want to cum. i’ll be a good girl for you!” you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing your neglected yet sensitive bud. as he pushes in his cock, you feel his lips right against your ear.

“be a good little whore for me and maybe i’ll let you cum,” he whispers before he pressed the vibrator against your clit and buried his cock deep in your wet cunt, feeling every inch of him against your walls moving painfully slow in and out of you. as he felt you pulsate, he picked up the pace, you moan feeling your high come closer. he changes the vibrator to the highest setting, you cry out due to the overwhelming pressure. “i’m gonna cum, behave for me baby.”

you feel his cock twitch, painting your walls white. he turns off the vibrator, taking out his cock out of your sopping cunny leaving you begging for a proper release. he kisses your forehead softly as a sign of reassurance before you feel his fingers pressing against your clit. you shuddered at the feeling, finally, you think. he starts rubbing it in circling motions, making you gasp out due the stimulating feeling.

“i’m cumming, i’m cumming.” you breathed out making him rubbing your clit faster. and then your orgasm hit you harder than you expected, waves of pleasure run through your body, making your legs shake.

when your high came down, he ordered you to lay on your stomach. you felt him rub him ass before smacking it, most likely leaving a mark, “hmm, do you think you can squirt puppy? let’s see how much you can take whore.”

matsukawa issei

horse cock mattsun yes

he knows his dick is big and loves that you like the pain !!!!!!!!

im like tiny and this man with his horse cock CAN BLOW MY BACK OUT AND USE MY PUSSY (and he WILL).

100% would spit in your mouth while you’re literally so out of it cause he’d fucking you so well.

loves fucking you with your clothes on

would also slap your face.. yknow what im tb? like you’ve came so many fucking times and youre so fucked out so he gives your face a little slap slap and goes “look at me, slut” 😻

issei’s cock was huge, both thick and long, and no matter how many times you’ve fucked or how much he’s prepped you, you’re barely prepared for the way your pussy stretches just for his huge cock to fit. the way you were positioned, on your back with both of your legs above your head, his cock was able to go deeper in your sweet pussy.

his mouth always made you satisfied but god, his huge cock, fills you up so well. the way his cock feels inside you is always painful when he firsts put it in but it’s such an enjoyable feeling. and when he pulls out from your your pussy, he slams his hips into yours, his cock so deep in you, the tip of it touching your cervix. you moaned, “i-issei, f-fuck daddy,” he looks at how your slopping pussy takes him, throwing his head back at the view. now you, you were lost in the pleasure and pain, all you can hear are the skin slapping and your own moans.

“look at me slut, open your mouth.”

he slaps your face in attempt to get your attention, squeezing your cheeks so your mouth opens, sticking your tongue out, knowing what comes next, he gathers some of his saliva and spits in your mouth. “swallow,” he said. he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, “swallow baby, every last drop of my spit.”

and you did, the erotic face you made, your tongue out with excess saliva, face flushed and your eyes rolled back turned him on even more. “fuck b-baby, you’re so hot,” he stutters out, you feel him getting closer to his orgasm as his hips started stuttering, his thrusts becoming slower but the feeling of his cock slowly going in and out of you is what pushes you to the edge. you feel his length in you, every inch, you feel how your pussy takes his huge cock. he then adds a finger in your cock filled pussy, “i can take another one”, you managed to say. the overwhelming pleasure then builds up, your orgasm slowly washing over you, you hold your own orgasm trying to push yourself deeper and deeper. you let go, your pussy contracting around his cock, feeling waves overwhelming pleasure and relief.

“issei, issei! f-fuck.” you cried out loud as he cums in you, his warm cum filling you. you stayed there for a while before he pulls out of you, slowly. he got up from the bed, his foot steps a little fainter before it was loud enough again. you turn back to see issei holding up a dildo and a butt plug.

“you think you can cum again for me princess?”

oikawa tōru

fingers

thats it. just his fucking fingers down my throat after he finger fucks me.

youre the one who cleans up your own cum from his fingers

while he’s fucking you, one hand rubbing your clit and one hand around your throat.

he squeezes it lightly and you moan… god he fucks you harder and his dick goes deeper.

he is balls deep in your pussy, and he crumbles at the sight of you. youre a moaning mess, holding his hand, telling him to choke you harder.

one of his hands travel down your neck and down to your breasts, softly caressing it before attaching his mouth to your nipple. you sighed in content as his tongue drew circles, sucking and nipping at your hardened nub. he left soft kisses around your chest before one of his hands slowly travel to your throat, tightening its grip. your breath hitched when he kissed you with so much fevor the feeling left your cunt aching, tongue slipping in your mouth lazily.

he hands slowly traveling below your waist, he looked at you for consent, “yes,” you breathed out. peppering soft pecks around your neck as his fingers found your covered slit avoiding your clit. “can you take these off for me princess?,” you slowly got out of your underwear and bottoms, leaving you completely naked. you looked up at your boyfriend who was now shirtless.

he kissed your legs before pressing his finger in your pussy causing you to moan in content. he added a second finger before curling them inside you. he holds you down as his fingers reach the spongy spot in. “found it,” he whispers into your ear.

you moan in bliss, his fingers curling and his palm pressing against your clit. he kisses you while his fingers continue to work your tight sopping pussy. his tongue softly slips into your mouth, groaning when he felt you palming his cock. you whimper into his mouth when you felt him remove his fingers from your cunt.

“suck.” he demanded as he shoved his fingers in your mouth. you swirl your tongue around his fingers, tasting yourself. he shoved his pretty long fingers down your throat, causing you to gag. “that’s my good girl.”

taglist: @miki-snake @yaoyoroxu @drabblily @bearri @ukaiscigarette​

join my taglist!

general masterlist

[hansoulo]

your heart wears night armor

part 9 of ain’t it a gentle sound (the rolling in the graves)

pairing: Horacio Carrillo/f!Reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: cursing, discussions canon-typical violence and blood, descriptions of religion, catholic imagery, and praying (it’s 2 paragraphs before the first break and you can just scroll past if you’re uncomfortable/don’t care to read it) uhh…, i think that’s it?? light angst but we kinda been knew at this point

gif credit: my soulmate @pascalplease​

A/N:  @1zashreena1 i owe u and that first day of school ask my life god bless 🙏🙏 set in like 1991 idk time isn’t real

masterlist carrd

Domesticity during war is a curious thing. You’d left your old apartment years ago and a man had moved in beside you, in your new, promoted house, with his young wife and her stomach swollen by pregnancy. You’d smiled and been neighborly. Teased about play-dates and dinner parties and tight-lipped husbands, the way you used to. Had actually gone to a dinner party and admired their blue-edged china, pouring out the woman’s sparkling water as Isabella grabbed at your wrists.

She’d moved out, alone save for her child and one gifted medal. He was very brave, apparently.

You weren’t surprised when a new couple came by a few months later.

So you lived your life, a good life, a happy one, shielded by shoulders and smiles and rough-hewn hands clasped in prayer. Receiving the good favor of a virgin mother, wearing a painted clay veil and balming men’s conscience. Good Catholic boys, who died in the name of a “something” and looked Saint Peter in the eyes when they met him again. Your good, Catholic man. Rosaries and holy water. Unholy blood. Stained cherry glass and crimson hands. Prayers and prayers and prayers, made by mothers and fathers and wives.

You had prayed, once. Had knelt at an altar and let the wood dig into your knees like a penance for a sin you didn’t remember committing but felt guilty for enjoying anyhow. You pleaded for one promise to keep him safe and thanked a nameless saint for your fortune, sated when you heard the slap of your sandals on marble and the echo of all your thoughts in the high, vaulted ceilings.

Guilt is strange. “Healing” in quotation marks is strange. You always hated the way people phrased it, as if one day you’d arrive someplace and get a lacquered button pinned to your shirt pocket reading a congratulations. Dr. Reyes hated it, too, and you’d smiled when she made some long-winded metaphor about journeys and life and cat posters. For now you were content with walking, one hand held and one hand holding, with white-knuckled palm promises and the warm, curled grasp of a child.

⫸ ——— ⫷

You gripped the car keys, feeling them dig into your palm as you tried to brush off the hand on the doorknob. “Horacio,” you let out, frazzled with all the rush of a January morning, anxious and tired from the previous day’s shift. You didn’t need to work today though, thank god . “I can take my own damn daughter to her first day of school.”

His hand left the door, only to snake loosely around your waist. When you only sighed, not pulling away, a rough thumb came to rub at the curve of your jaw and bid your gaze to meet his. She has your eyes, you’d once said. Dark and sloping, edged by black lashes. Bright. Gentle.

“No,” he said, apologetic but resolute.  “You can’t.”

“I can,” you repeated weakly to yourself, your own hand starting to loosen its hold around the cold rings of metal. “Horacio,” you whispered, shaking your head as his arms wrapped a bit tighter. “The guards, the- the guns. They scare her.”

His brows knitted together while you spoke, quiet as to not alarm Isabella - now a few months shy of six - sitting by the kitchen counter in a blue school skirt. She didn’t look up from her the contents of her backpack, so you continued. “I’m just- I’m tired, I guess,” you admitted with a small hitch in your voice, examining the angry red indents left in your palms. You let him shift you until you faced away from the door, tucked closer into his chest, and reached to fiddle with the silver buttons of his uniform while you spoke.“It’s bad enough that they’re always outside.”

You looked up to see Isabella clambering off of her chair with a scrape of its legs against your kitchen tiles. It’s first grade, she’d reminded you the night before in hurried Spanish while you brushed her hair, chiding her to sit still. She’d set out her uniform carefully, insisting on brightly colored hair clips and two tight braids. We can’t be late.

Your now-husband squeezed your shoulders and his lips were pursed - not in annoyance, but in concern. “Mi amor,” Horacio began, cupping the base of your neck and squeezing softly. Mi amor, he called you. A love. His love. Saccharine, maybe, to foreign ears but to him, to him it was doctrine.  You let out a shallow breath. “It’s too dangerous without them,” Horacio reminded you, the rough pad of his thumb tracing over your lips. “You know that.”

You closed your eyes, nodding into the lingering kiss left on your forehead. “Yeah, I know.” Smoothing away the pretend lint on his collar, you pressed your nose to his jaw before moving to step away, inhaling the soft scent of laundry and sandalwood soap. The arms around you loosened to let you go. “Doesn’t mean I like it though,” you mumbled, attempting petulance but failing when another kiss was placed on your cheek.

“We’ll be with her,” Horacio reminded you, his voice placating in your ear. “And it’s just Trujillo,” he assured. You perked up at the name and laughed when Isabella did likewise, her steps towards the both of you quick and echoing her new school shoes.

“Is he coming?” she asked, repeating the question in English and then Spanish again when neither of you answered quickly enough for her liking. Bouncing on the balls of her heels, Isabella tugged on the fabric of your pants with an urgency that seemed unfit for the slightness of her body. “Is he here? Is he going to drive us?”

You reached to smooth down the loose curls escaping from her braids and looked back behind you for confirmation, pleased to report in the affirmative when Horacio nodded.

She didn’t wait much longer for you to open the door, bounding down your front steps to meet the man now standing by a shelled vehicle, a tanned hand resting on the holster at his hip.

“The Jeep?” you asked, incredulous.

Horacio shrugged. “It’s bulletproof.”

“Right,” you answered slowly, watching Trujillo bend down to give the girl a hug. “And they couldn’t bulletproof, say, a minivan?” Horacio only chuckled, walking you down to the car, and you grew more serious.  “Thank you, though. For bringing him, and not the… cavalry, I guess.”

In sunlight, Horacio's eyes were lighter - edged by shadowed rings but pooling in deep, fractured amber. Apologetic. “It’s the least I could do,” he said.

Isabella glanced back towards the both of you and you caught the flash of a cellophane candy wrapper, accompanied by a no le digas a tu mamá when Trujillo slipped it in her pocket. Waving at you with an impish smile, the officer slid into the passenger seat.

“I heard that,” you called out. He raised his eyebrows, declaring his innocence, and said nothing more.

The weather was slow with its languid breezes, blanketing everything in the soft smell of baked clay and clear mountain air. In the distance, the first swells of morning traffic began their course.

Isabella climbed into the car (or tank, depending on who you asked) and helped you buckle her seatbelt. When you turned to meet the back of the man behind you,  you heard the girl plead, “Don’t kiss.”

When you asked why, she wrinkled her nose. “It’s gross.”

“You see us kiss all the time,” you replied, handing her her backpack. Horacio’s hand came to pass gently along your waist, a quiet reminder of the openness of the road you now stood on.

Isabella shook her head, the dark braids tumbling beside her rounded cheeks. “It’s still gross.”

“How ‘bout you close your eyes,” you offered, leaning out of the car and hearing your husband’s quiet laugh. Catching Trujillo’s face in the reflection of the side mirrors, you grinned. “I can count down if you want.”

“Promise?” Isabella asked, raising her hands to cover her face.

“Promise,” you answered. “Are they closed? Good, okay on three. Ready? One… two… thr-” but your count was muffled, turning into a soft mmph by a pressing mouth. Horacio’s hands curling around the Jeep doors as you reached to steady yourself on his shoulders. The kiss was chaste, quick and barely a peck, but you still smiled when he pulled away.

Running your tongue along your front teeth, you could taste the slow dilution of orange juice.  “You can open them now,” you assured Isabella. The girl peeked out between her fingers and sighed in dramatic relief, letting her arms fall to her sides. “You too,” you said to the officer in the passenger seat. Trujillo only rolled his eyes in mild amusement, his gaze fixed firmly on a point far, far off in the distance.

Horacio pressed his lips against your temple once more before you moved to sit down, waiting until you’d done your own seatbelt to close the car door behind you. His boots scuffed heavy against the stoned street and you spoke to Isabella as he walked to the driver’s side. “One day, y’know, you might actually like kissing.”

She shook her head emphatically, her expression one of exaggerated disgust. “Never. Never ever.”

“Suit yourself,” you responded, moving to face the front windows to see your husband now at the steering wheel, his expression fighting to keep itself stern. “Y’know,” you added in a stage whisper, “your dad’s a very good kisser.”

“Gross!”

⫸ ——— ⫷

“I didn’t cry,” you said, shaking your head as Horacio opened the car door for you a few minutes after the first school bell rang. When he only hummed and Trujillo (now on the driver’s side) let out a barking laugh, you protested. “I didn’t!”

Horacio hid his unconvinced sincerity with a slow nod. You leant against the edge of the door when it shut, its hollow metal hot from the sun underneath your temples. Orange starbursts swam across your vision when you swiped quickly at your face with your knuckles. “I didn’t cry,” you maintained, feeling the rising stuffiness of your throat. “It’s allergies. I’m very- I’m very... pollen-sensitive.”

That was technically true - he'd bought you enough pink antihistamine tablets and tissues enough times to prove it - but you knew it wasn’t the cause of anything now. The reason for your swollen eyes was sitting in a real, grownup chair after two years of preschool and one year of kindergarten, a pencil case filled to the brim with bright, sparkly markers. At school.  

The car floor shifted under your feet when your husband turned back towards you, offering the polaroids he’d taken just moments earlier. “Do you want-”

“-yesthankyou-” you exhaled, grabbing the stack of photos from his hands. Spreading them out across your lap, you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. There was one of her getting out of the car… then her walking up to the front entrance... then another of her backpack, then of her shoes and Jesus, how many were there?

You flipped through the rest, scatterbrained and trying to commit every single picture to memory until something prompted your pausing. It was a picture of you.

He must’ve taken it while you weren’t paying attention, oblivious to the camera and turned away, but you were smiling. A bright, blinding smile that seemed to seep pure sunlight through the waxy white paper, up through your fingertips and back towards the swelling of your quickening heartbeat.

“That one,” Horacio said, taking the photograph from you and tucking it into the front pocket of his uniform. “Is for me.”

⫸ ——— ⫷

The engine rolled as the men parked. “Are you sure he’s here?” Javier asked, taking off his aviators to examine the row of terracotta houses, with their red-tile roofs and stucco walls. It was quiet in the mid-morning, temperate and warm. Medellín, the city of eternal spring,  was living up to its name.

Steve stuffed his government I.D (the only way they’d gotten through the gate) back into his pocket and adjusted the belt on his hips. “S’worth a shot. Wasn’t at the office, was he?”

“No,” Javier hummed, scanning the street with his arms crossed, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirtsleeves. “No, he wasn’t.”

Neither of the men seemed to notice the officer parked beside the street, waiting for his colonel to retrieve some forgotten files before returning to the embassy.

They walked closer towards the house, stepping over a small tricycle that lay forgotten on the front lawn. Steve lowered his sunglasses. “You think it’s his?”

A low laugh escaped Javier’s chest and he shook his head, his steps meeting the front door. “Nah, he has a little girl. From his first wife.”

Somewhere in the house footsteps echoed with a soft voice, too muffled to make out anything beyond the fact that it was a woman. Steve looked back towards his partner, perplexed.

“Second wife,” Javier explained before ringing the doorbell. “Never met her, though.”

The steps grew louder until a pause, with the small peephole of the door waxing their reflections. Steve held up his badge again and stepped back when various locks unlatched until the door was opened, creaking quietly on its joints.  The first thing they saw was your arms, balancing a precarious stack of plastic toys while you nudged the door farther open with a struggling foot. Steve rushed forward to take some from your hands and you smiled back at him, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that,” you breathed, setting the brightly colored books and toys on the floor beside you. “Caught me in the middle of cleaning up.” The men shared a quick look at each other, schooling their expressions from the slight shock created at your appearance. You were pretty and barefoot, sporting marker-stained jeans and a loose t-shirt. If they were expecting anyone, this definitely wasn’t it. “You’re DEA, right?”

Javier cleared his throat, elbowing the man beside him. Steve spoke up after a moment. “Yes ma’am. My name’s Agent Murphy, this man right here is Agent-”

“Oh!” you interrupted with a soft slap of your palm against your forehead, chiding yourself and opening the door farther. “Murphy? And Peña, right?”

They both nodded, albeit slowly, but you seemed impervious to their surprise, asking them if they wanted to come inside. The men declined and remained on the stoop, Steve realizing he still held a small rubber ball in his hands while Javier tried to keep his eyes above the scooped neck of your top.

“Was there something you needed?” you continued, bending down to kick out a rise in your runner carpet. “Horacio’s talked about you sometimes, y’know. It’s nice to actually put a face to the name.”

“Horacio?” Steve mumbled to Javier, his lips curling back in an amused, Southern cadence. A man - Colonel to them, or maybe just Carrillo, but Horacio to you - loomed near the edges of the hallway and turned closer when you spoke, his face and his voice familiar as it called out your name. “Speak of the devil,” the blonde agent whispered.

When you leant back into the man’s chest, both men quickly cleared their throats. Javier’s hands rested at his hips in a cocked stance, watching curiously as the colonel turned to whisper in your ear. The words were too quiet for anyone else to hear but you cast your eyes down, smiling to yourself before he pulled away.

You looked back up, the open brightness of your face only magnified when it was placed beside your husband’s stern posture. “I think they need you,” you reminded him. Javier confirmed this with some big lead about a “La Quica” and you bit back a snort at the nickname, pressing your lips together to hide your laugh. It must’ve been kismet, Javier thought, that brought someone like you to someone like him. Someone, he suddenly remembered, who worked in a hospital, witness and mender to the very things Carrillo caused. The man’s eyes were marginally softer here, though, and his hand lingered light on your waist. So maybe it worked.

“You’ll call later?” you asked, catching a soft grip on the colonel’s wrist when he moved to cross through the door. Steve glanced upwards when lips pressed quickly against your forehead, a quiet “of course” spoken into your hair before he walked away down the front steps.

“Surprised someone like that puts up with you,” Javier ribbed, bemused when Carrillo rolled his eyes.

Steve chuckled as they walked in steady tandem towards the parked cars. “Jealous?”

Javier hummed a casual maybe, catching the faint edge of a smile on your husband’s face when you looked out the front window, your silhouette a shadow through gauzy yellow curtains.

⫸ ——— ⫷

You leaned down to whisper in Isabella’s ear, encouraging her to take the few steps forward through the threshold of the office as she held a tall, disposable coffee cup. The rest that you’d brought were quickly put down before being taken by grateful men, their thanks muffled by the sound of lips on crinkling styrofoam. A man, the man you’d come to see, looked up to see you standing beside his desk, your frame edged by the evening light fracturing through the windows.

“You didn’t walk here, did you?” Horacio asked, his voice and his brow drawn over with concern. You lay a hand on his arm, a quiet placation as you rested your hip on a rounded wooden edge.

“I didn’t,” you glanced at the cluster of men on the other side of the room. You heard Isabella laugh, her small legs swinging back and forth as she was placed in a newly-emptied seat. “Hugo drove me.”

Horacio’s thumb traced over the slope of your wrist. “Hugo?”

“Pimienta,” you finished with another look towards the mass of dark green shoulders. “The new recruit.” Horacio nodded with a quiet I see and you give another smile, too observed to do much more. “He’s very sweet,” you assured your husband, offering a small wave when the man (or boy, more like) looked back towards the both of you. Hugo’s returning  grin was awkward, endearingly so, and you bit back a laugh when you caught the embarrassed ducking of his head, his dark skin hiding any rising blush.

He was young, barely out of training and still learning to hide his fear. They all were. Stoic, maybe, when they opened your doors and carried your groceries, but young. So, so young.

You picked up a stray pen, twirling it in your hands as you surveyed his desk. It was annoying neat, and you huffed as you tried to find something more interesting than typed field reports and stacks of manila folders. “No pictures?” you teased. He only pointed to the top corner and your eyes followed, falling on a small frame holding a color photograph. It was mostly of you, but you could see Isabella’s face peeking out of its bottom edge, intruding on the shot with a goofy smile. Her hair was short, curling in dark loops around her ears, so it must’ve been from a few years ago. ‘89, maybe. Yeah, ‘89, when he took that week off in Panama City and spent the whole time trying to teach Isabella how to swim. “That one?” you asked, curious. “I thought you’d want something more… I don’t know… official? Looking?”

He raised an eyebrow, adjusting the frame to its proper place. “Would you like to pose for another one?”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, remembering the day you had to pin what seemed like fifty military badges to his uniform. “No,” you said, examining the photo and shaking your head. “No, that one’s good.”

Horacio pulled you into the slight alcove of the office, the one filled with high-backed chairs and radio equipment that lay partially hidden from view. “They’re looking,” you mumbled, suddenly more conscious of the officers standing a few feet away. “They think we’re up to something.”

 “Are we?” he asked, smiling. A laugh bubbled up in your throat and you shook your head.

“I...” you began, your voice trailing off. He looked tired, and you were reminded of before, when infants used to cry in hallways and walls were thin. “I probably shouldn’t have come but you said you wouldn’t be home and I just- I just wanted…”

He slid his hands up your arms until they rested at your shoulders, hushing you quietly before speaking. The soft skin of your lips fell from between your teeth and you swallowed, the words resting unfinished beneath your sternum.

I just wanted to see you.

While I knew you were here.

While I knew I still could.

 His fingers rested heavy on the juncture of your neck, their tapering familiarity smoothing back the ache of knotting muscle. His watch was heavy, a tactical thing with a million little numbers, and its ribbed black straps dragged against the necklace holding your wedding ring.  You heard Horacio’s men making conversation - questions in Spanish about Isabella’s school and her favorite colors, compliments on how nice her new shoes looked and that tu madre fue muy dulce al traernos este café - but they floated out of your head, momentary and paling in importance to the way his hands seemed to smooth out every wrinkle of your thoughts, until they lay flat and rubbed back softer with sandpaper fingerprints.

“You never told me why you needed to stay late,” you whispered. He frowned slightly when you noticed the copper blooms dotting the edges of his sleeves, rolled up to rest at his elbows. “Did something happen?”

Horacio’s expression turned softer. Maybe to tamp down your worry. Maybe to try and make you forget it completely. He was like that with you. More gentle. Earnest. One hand raised to cup your jaw. “Nothing bad,” he said, shaking his head at your widened eyes, their color glassy from the fluorescence of office lamps.

“Promise?” you asked, wavering an echo of a morning’s conversation.

He straightened out, an oak to wrapping, shaded ivy. “Promise.”

[bibliocratic]

i found writing proposal fic really fun !! or wedding planning :) maybe u would also find that fun? x

jonmartin post-160 proposal fic

Jon tries to write vows.

Hunched over, crow-spined and squinting in the feeble cast of the firelight, he scribbles, mutters, scratches out, furrows his brow and clenches his fingers and snarls under his breath in irritation, at his fumbling incapacity for words. He was not born with a poetic soul, and his admiration for Martin's humble offerings grows each passing minute. His words sputter out of him with all the ease of water from a broken tap.  

Jon has taken first watch, and it's a duty he approaches solemnly. They've broken into a boarded-up hairdressers, set up their sleeping bags and meagre provisions and the small fire in a waste-paper bin for warmth in the cramped office space at the back. Every noise, creak and snap and distant shriek has Jon straightening, widening the circle of his Knowing like a fishing net, giving it an exhausted push outwards that gets harder each time. The lawless world they are in has at least one advantage; nothing but the most fool-hardy of things wants to touch the architect of this nether-world of horrors, nothing skulking or spiralling or swooping wants to challenge an unfettered Avatar. It's more people, these days, that they have learned to avoid.

Martin twitches in his sleep. Sleeping bag pulled up over his face, head pillowed by folded-over barber capes,  his body snug against but turned away from Jon, who is sitting up, his back supported by plastic wrapped boxes of industrial-size shampoos and hair rollers. Jon frowns again, his lines only deepening as he listens to the soft, undisturbed in and out of Martin's breathing. Because he wants to get this one right. To place words like mosaic tiles to create the imagery of his intention, to capture everything he feels he needs to say.

Martin deserves this. Jon can give him so few words, these days. Jon wants to give him ones that will mean something.

His impatience is one of the few things that the last few years hasn't chewed out of him. He huffs, irritable and discontent, his frustration leaden under his skin, and scrunches up another paper to sacrifice to his petty mood.

When Martin takes the next watch, he finds a nest of fire-scourged paper balls dying in the embers.

–

Jon tries to find rings.

His intention is to be a few minutes. He unpeels himself around dawn from Martin's heavy arms, gently shushing the unhappy noise this draws from his mouth. The jewellers is ten minutes from where they've holed up today, and Jon steals away guiltily,  keeping his Eye on Martin long after he's left to make sure he doesn't wake up to find him gone.

Jon is away too long. He reaches the small, high-street shop with no issue, doesn't even need to pick the shattered lock of the door. Inside, he finds a scatter of rings and necklaces, but they're all soot-charred, twisted from an unnatural heat, their metals warped irreparable.  And then there is something tooth-filled in the recesses of the jewellers, something that smells the human stench of him and feels hungry, and it takes Jon an hour to give it the slip, leading it into a fog-bank half a mile away to be subsumed by the greedy pull of the mist.

He Looks out of himself, and against the borders of him, he feels a blanketing heat-shimmer of terror and knows it isn't his own.

His long legs take the streets at a run, huffing as he reaches the grey-stone public square at the centre of the city, exposed and empty of people. Getting nearer, he hears a looping, repetitive nightingale whistle, low and plaintive. It stops, waits, and starts up again.

Jon, with perfect mimicry, makes the high harsh caw of a crow in reply.

Martin is standing at the door of the Wagamama's they broke into, his feet unshod by shoes, his hair uncombed and flattened at one side. The creep of dawn is not so faint that Jon can't see the pale wash of his face, the tightness of his jaw, the relief that cascades across it like the release of a dammed-up waterfall when he sees Jon haring his way across the vacant, space of the square to greet him.

“Where were you?” Martin demands even before he reaches him.  His hands running over him as soon as Jon gets close enough, checking for hurt, injury, his voice high and pitchy and failing to translate his panic into something else. “God, I woke up, and – don't do that Jon! Anything could've – I had no idea where you'd – and what the hell were you thinking?”

Jon's hands motion, miserably, desperate to soothe and knowing it can't be that easy, sorry, sorry, sorry.

“Where did you go?” Martin repeats, insistent, almost angry but forcing it down to simmer at a panic-laced frustration. He doesn't usually push, usually recognises the limits of what Jon can communicate, allows them both space to sit down with paper and pencil and is patient with the slower exchange of this. But his shirt is coated with sweat around the throat and arms, his hands curling into fists to stop their juddering, nerve-shocked motions, and Jon tries to imagine how he would feel, should he wake up, and find Martin gone.

He pauses before opening his mouth.

“Looking for something,” he says carefully with a stolen clear-cut pronunciation, bathed in an entitled, self-absorbed air. Rifles through his records, despairing to find no words that he can chop-and-change together like a collage of explanation, glances up at Martin's distressed expression.

“Did you find it?”

Jon shakes his head.

“I feel like an idiot,” he tries again in a pleasant, justifying voice, and wishes someone had put to records some better expression of apology. Wishes someone had used the right words in the appropriate manner; stronger still, wishes his voice was his own again, a domain he could claim unsullied by the burden of his title. That he could say something, anything to wipe the blanket fear from Martin's scruffy face.

“Yeah, well,” Martin grumbles after a while, wiping at his eyes. “I knew that already.”

Sorry, Jon signs again, but Martin is stilling his hands, gentle even now, and bundles him into a tight, bone-squeeze of a hug.

“Don't do that to me again, Jon, please,” he whispers shakily.

Jon doesn't try and find rings again.

–

Jon tries to plan a proposal.

He knows, deep down, that the best intentioned version of himself is a planner. Likes order and alphabetized files and organisational stationery, is happiest with a well-crafted spreadsheet or a completed to-do list. Jonathan Sims is a man easily satisfied by things as they should be, appeased and engaged by the challenge of a logical puzzle, a knotty problem he can sort by analysis and application.

He also knows that there is another version of himself. The one that rashly takes an axe to possessed tables and jumps into fog-bound seascapes and soil-choked coffins after the people he loves.

He does try. He thinks of picturesque spots he can take Martin, places where the scenery isn't so horror-fucked, where there are still banks from which they can watch sunsets. But the picturesque spots, when they aren't shadow-infested or crawling with overzealous fungal growths that warn of Corruption nearby, are chilly, and there's not exactly time to stop and admire the views much anyway. The sunset-stained bank is a near success; drought-scoured and pocked with frost-damage, but the evening colours are unashamedly glorious. Jon spends hours trying to muster the courage and words and correct gestures, only for Martin, drained and wiped out  from a run-in with the Flesh, to fall asleep on Jon's shoulder, his hair flopping over his face, a comforting dead-weight. Jon adjusts them carefully so Martin's head is cushioned against his thigh, and scratches his fingers soothingly through his hair as he watches the sunset alone.  

But one day they're making their way through the Peak District, and they've found a tumbling river with a small waterfall. Martin's flicked water at him with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile, and Jon replied in kind, and Martin had made a shrieking giggling scandalised 'Jon!' as he continued splashing him. And it might have been the way the water dripped down his face and over his freckles, or the way the dim daylight caught his profile, or it might have been the bold and untempered heat that burnt like a forge in Jon's chest to hear the high, bright sound of his rare happiness, but whatever it was,  the other version of Jon resurfaces. Decides that he doesn't need romantic scenery or rings or vows or other people's words in his mouth, that life is short and this can't wait and he wants this, wants Martin, more than anything.

First, he drags Martin to him. On his tiptoes, arms locked around shoulders, feeling Martin hum, surprised but pleased as he kisses him.

It is a good kiss. One of his best. Jon feels a little bit smug about it when they separate and Martin is slightly out of breath, a comet-streak of heat across his face, looking a bit struck at Jon's forwardness.

Jon seals his first kiss with a second, smaller, softer kiss, making sure Martin's looking at him.

Then he lowers himself onto one knee.

“Jon, what are you – ?” Martin asks, his face creasing with confusion. But Jon has chosen the most unsubtle non-verbal gesture he can, and refuses to look away from him, gazing up and waiting for the penny to drop, even as his knees complain on the hard rocky ground, even as his own doubts swarm that Martin won't understand, Martin won't want to, Martin might say no.

Martin gives a little sucked-in gasp.

“Jon, are you, are you asking...?”

Jon is nodding, almost feverish, and Martin's face has gone the colour of a vibrant sunrise, moisture welling up in his eyes. Jon reaches out, takes one of Martin's hands in his smaller hold, touches with the pad of his thumb the space where, if he could, he would have slotted a ring.  

He lets go and precisely and delicately, he signs I love you. They don't have the vocabulary for grander expressions, but Jon doesn't have anything else he needs to say anyway.

“Jon, you – god, I love you,” Martin replies, damp-voiced and faint,  a broad and beaming  smile widening across and lighting up his face. There's not a pause before he's eagerly going to his knees to join Jon, pressing fierce, hopelessly charmed kisses against his lips, cradling his face in his hands, and Jon's so dazed by the onslaught, it takes him a minute to sign Yes? at Martin.

“I – oh, yeah, yeah! Of course, yes,” Martin replies, still struck by a thoughtless delighted giddiness.

Then: “Oh! Oh, oh, wait just a minute I – ”

He's digging his hands into his left trouser-pocket, tugging it out, pressing what he's found into Jon's hands.

Jon opens the travel-knocked, slightly cracked box to see two unpolished plain bands sat snugly in their display, and his own smile blossoms like a firework on his face.

send me prompts if you fancy!

[plastic-lamb]

can u do yandere!seonghwa angst to fluff?😖

“I give you everything so why the fuck isn’t it enough for you?!”

You knew you had made a mistake asking Seonghwa if you could go see your parents. It took a whole week to build up the courage to bring it up and you knew he wouldn’t agree, but you didn’t expect him to totally fly off the handle like this. 

“Fucking answer me! Tell me what it is that you want that I don’t have,” he started to stop yelling but he was still fuming. You retreated inside yourself; you couldn’t come up with a single thing to say so you just stood there with your mouth hanging open. This was all too much, you couldn’t handle him yelling at you. To make things worse he was holding a very scary looking kitchen knife that he was using to cut vegetables for dinner. Overwhelmed and afraid your instincts kicked in and you ran. You didn’t dare try to go far, so you ran into the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind you.

“Open this door right now.” Seonghwa must have been right behind you because immediately when you locked the latch he started rattling the doorknob. You started to weigh your options; if you opened the door he might just stab you but he also might just chew you out and send you to bed without dinner. If you hid in there maybe he would calm down but then again he also might stab you anyway. 

You decided to take your chances with staying in there. Shakily you stepped into the bathtub and curled into a little ball pulling your legs up to your chest. After a few moments without saying anything, you heard Seonghwa speak again.

“Fine. Rot in there for all I care.” Silence. 

About an hour passed by and you didn’t move an inch. You didn’t know what you were waiting for but you were too scared to take any sort of initiative and leave that bathroom. That is until you heard shuffling outside the door. Curious, you peeked and saw a little note had been slipped under the bathroom door. Figuring it was safe enough you got out of the tub and picked up the note.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Please come out- you need to eat dinner. You don’t have to talk to me just come eat. I’m sorry.

With a heavy sigh, you folded the note back up and looked up at the door. It could be a trick but then again he was always very adamant about you having three meals a day. You figured you’d take your chances, it was either die out there or die in that bathroom. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it and... Seonghwa wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing outside the door with a knife ready to drive it into your heart. You were safe- for now. 

Quietly, you made your way into the dining room. He was there, sitting at his normal spot at the table with the dinner he made sitting in front of him. You froze when you saw him, afraid that he might yell at you again. When he noticed you were there he stood up and cleared his throat. He had been crying.

“I... I have your plate here for you.” He gestured to the seat across the table and sat back down. He waited until you came over and sat in your spot and started eating to say anything.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I feel terrible about it,” he muttered.

“You scared me.” Your voice was small and barely audible.

“I know. I realized that when you never came out of the bathroom,” he sighed and stood again, coming over to kneel on the ground next to you.

“Look, I can’t just let you go off and see your parents- you know that.” You nodded, he had made that painfully clear.

“But... If you’re good, and I mean really good, I can take you to go see them next month.”

“I- wait, really?!”  You looked at him with your eyes almost popped out of your head.

“Yes. Obviously, I can’t let you go all by yourself but if I’m there with you it shouldn’t be a problem.” His voice was soft and sincere- he was even smiling a little bit. You couldn’t believe it, he was really going to take you to see your parents. Overrun with joy you practically flew off your chair and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asked, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yes yes yes! I forgive you. Thank you, Seonghwa!”

“You’re welcome my pet. Now let’s finish dinner and get to bed.” He gave you a little squeeze before picking you up and putting you back in your chair. Eager to start the whole ‘being really good’ thing you hurriedly finished your dinner and went to bed. You cuddled with him that night for the first time in ages and although he’d never admit it; it made him happy that you seemed to be so happy. He made a mental note to make fake promises more often.

[helpinghanikan]

James “Bucky” Barnes A-Z

James “Bucky” Barnes A-Z NSFW head-cannons 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

The second time you had slept together had resulted with bruises, and bite marks and groans from you that was anything but pleasurable. It had been intense for the both of you, and there was no use in blaming Bucky for it.

Ever since then he’s been on the little obsessive side of being careful with you. After finishing he doesn’t let himself fall to the side like others would. Instead he immediately focuses on you, asking if you were okay or if you needed anything. Even though your eyes were still rolled back in your head and your knuckles hadn’t released their grip on the sheets yet.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you: He loves your breasts. He’s always been more of a boob guy, doesn’t matter if they’re so small they’re flat or so large no shirt could be considered appropriate. There’s nothing better than innocently letting you lean against him. His hand just so happening to land over your breasts, cupping it and squeezing gently.

On himself: He loves his neck, how you nibble at the clean-shaven skin or you scratch through his beard. Your kisses are gentle, like cleaning away any tainted feeling there might have been, and you bites are just enough to distract from any intrusive thoughts.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

After years of ice and murder and no physical contact other than pain a soft touch has more effect. Sometimes he will cum quickly when with you. The old man jokes and the “happens to a lot of men” don’t really help the situation.

What does help is how he’s ready to go after a few minutes of kissing and exploring. Using his fingers and tongue over his dick. Making a new game out of “training”. Which has, so far, favorable results.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Way back in the day the ideal date was the last showing of a movie. Where the theater would be mostly empty, the lights were low, and the employees were too tired to care about enforcing the rules. It was here that he learned to enjoy the female breast, and the joy of forbidden nookie in the dark. Whispering in her ear and getting permission, then his hands would begin to wonder.

With the new age it would be awkward to ask you to do this. As he would have to specifically ask you to wear a skirt, a long one, like the girls way back when. That would most of the fun. But it might be worth it if he gets the chance to cover your mouth in the dark of the theater, the other hand curling and rubbing under a hitched-up skirt.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

When he was young and before anything mattered Bucky got around. Slut might be too strong of a word, but more like the local tom cat most would pet but no one wanted to let inside.

With his experience with women before easily transferred to you now. Although hindered by his fear of new strength and arm he started to find himself again. Although it’d be a little weird to admit, doing the same things with you as he did before helps with finding the good memories.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

On a hard surface, where your butt is barely on the edge and most of your weight being supported by him.

It’s here that he can be engulfed by you. Bury his face into your shoulder and hair, inhale deeply and groan as you run a hand through his hair. Where you can cross your ankles behind his back, pulling him closer, tighter and groaning as it’s deeper.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s more serious when it comes down to it. Preferring to get you in the mood with a nice hold and a sweeping kiss then with a goofy grin and silly movements.

Sometimes he’ll play with you via a cute nip or taking you up in his arms. Where you’d scream and laugh but succumb to his charms in the end. Using that chance to be the one who kisses him deeply, groaning while doing so.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

During his time as an asset he had to clean shaven everywhere; from beard to chest to lower it had to be gone and smooth.

Now, with his freedom, he started to his chest and arm hair grow out. The same with below the belt but that he tries to keep a little more groomed then just going wild like his hair and beard. Even those aspect he has considered a trim or more.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

It varies from situation or even time how he treats the moment. Where quickies and the slightly tipsy sex are treated with more “get in and get done” attitude. When it’s early morning or there is time carved out of the day it’s slower and a stronger connection with more kisses and less rutting.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’d rather have you but there are times when he just can’t handle being with someone right now. It’s nothing personal, everything has just become too much and he needs a little time away from you, from everyone.

It’s there that he usually finishes himself off. Better to jerk one off then to live with blue balls during this episode.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He loves a woman in uniform; lingerie, stockings, a little soldier’s uniform or nurse that wouldn’t be appropriate in the field. Hours could be spent running his hands over the fabric, touching skin, and then finding more tight fabric.

The difference between Bucky and others is that the ‘uniforms’ aren’t immediately removed for the prize underneath. Instead he pulls and tugs at the strings until the goods are within his grasp.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have an exact location he likes to steal you away to. Anywhere that’s private, an office or your room, even your kitchen or living room. Just so long as there isn’t an audience. Or there isn’t an audience he can’t glare away.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It’s not an exact thing you do, or that he sees. It’s a growing feeling that starts in the morning with a head kiss, or when you walk towards him with that smile. All innocent things that he hangs onto throughout the day.

It’s amazing that you haven’t broken a nose being bent over when he gets his hands on you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Restraints on his wrists and ankles, he can’t handle anything holding him down. Even too hard of a grip on his wrists are enough to send him into a bad place.

To avoid this you jokingly hold him down by intertwining your fingers. Pressing them Into the bed with a little squeeze, making sure he knew that, if he wanted, he could switch things around. A few times he has taken advantage of that. Slipping an arm around your back after his eyes go slightly glasses. Moving into a different, better, scenario of being with you rather then slipping into the past.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

There’s nothing more beautiful than seeing you before him. How his hands look through your hair, gripping and holding it, control that guides you through the paces.

It’s not that he’s unwilling to go down on you, get and give and all that. But it’s being able to sit back and let himself be pampered that makes the relationship the best he’s ever had.

 P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

What he’s capable of and what he delivers are two different things. He’s slow, he takes his time, and is gentle to the point of teasing.

It took some time before you could convince him to go a little faster, maybe a little rougher. It’s only when you take control that he realizes he wants to have more. The experimenting of his thrusts and grabs and little smacks on your backside as gradual but it’s growing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Most of his trysts back int eh day were quickies, and he’s continued to tradition into the modern day. Wanting you whenever he has a moment, or when his blood starts pumping from the smallest, dumbest things.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

A surprisingly vanilla guy it takes some coaxing to get him to try new things. Using little bits of negotiation; “It’s a different position, you’re on top.” “we’ll be gentle, with eachother.”

There have been several times where he’s said no to things, like restraints or chains or anything of the like. But he’s willing to try other things; new positions or maybe some food play that didn’t go as well as you thought. Although, going from sex to eating sundaes in your underwear was a fun experiment.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Although he’s had issues of premature arrival he’s like a horse. Ready to go again after a few minutes, kissing and massaging you in the meantime.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Bucky has never been big on toys. You have your own, a vibrator or something else to keep you busy while he was gone. But he’s always made a little face when you would bring something in or suggest something to be added.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he teases you it’s almost always by accident.

He almost crushes you, laying chest to chest with you. Nuzzling into your shoulder and neck, his hands and fingers sliding past quivering thighs into your center. Being gentle but taking his time to the point that the red on your face wasn’t just a blush.

“If you don’t-I swear…” Words are hard to find when the man above you is taking your breathe away and refusing to give it back. “If you don’t do anything…I’m gonna rip your other arm off.”

After a second he smiles against your neck. Probably only now realizing what he was unintentionally doing.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Bucky was a quiet man from both his training and just his personality. Trying to coax the sounds from him wasn’t working nearly as well as people had suggested. The best you could get was a grunt and a groan, maybe a few grumbled words.

It takes a conversation away from the bedroom to learn he just doesn’t like making noises. He’s not the kind of person who will scream and “oh yeah, oh yeah” all night.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sex was the closest thing he could get to an effective drug. Where nothing existed in that moment except for you and how it felt to have everything about you as his. In this same vein he was addicted to you.

In the middle of the night, when the dreams were sliding into his mind, he would reach out for you. So long as he could find you, his drug of choice, before the dreams took hold everything could and would be fine.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He never really cared about the size of himself. No one had ever mentioned whether it was smaller or larger than average. He was thicker than most, something he could only tell by your face when he enters, it’s only then that he truly cares.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

As previously mentioned his want for you would build and build throughout the day. But he never went out of his way to ask you, or pressure into have sex. It’s only when you ask or drop enough hints that he gets it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s had trouble sleeping since Wakanda, but when he does sleep, he sleeps like the dead. After finishing he stays against you, holding close to your body that had fought away nightmares and memories alike.

It’s random who falls asleep first. Either of you feeling the other start to breathe deeper; Bucky seeming to take comfort in the smell of your sweat and living body. You finding the metal arm and holding it close, hoping to make the metal warm enough to be mistaken for a hand.

[thegreatestofheck]

By Dawn ☼ John B ☼

(credit for the gif to rudypankow! thank you for the gif!)

Word Count -  1717 Warnings - underage drinking, swearing, smoking Synopsis - John B meets a mysterious girl at his court ordered group therapy. After spending weeks trying to get to know her, he slowly realizes that she’s a tough nut to crack. But then one day, she leaves him a cryptic message...the night before she goes missing. With the disappearance of his father still so raw in his mind, John B refuses to lose anyone else. And he will stop at nothing until he finds her. A/N - This is a new fic that I thought of the other day. I kind of thought of it based on that one tik tok sound that goes “one last pic and i’ll be gone, make it count put the flash on, never really felt like i’ve belonged, so i’ll be on my way, and i won’t be long. i’ll be dead by dawn.” So, I thought of this. This chapter is a little short just because I’m getting a feel for it and just to see if people are interested. I hope y’all like it! (also me finally not writing a JJ fic? g r o w t h). 

“Dude!” JJ laughed, squeezing his eyes together as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to therapy?” 

“JJ, shut up, will you?” Pope smacked his blond friend on the shoulder while John B plucked his beer off the ground. 

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” John B said with a sigh before taking a long swig of beer. “Peterkin said I have to or she won’t help me with DCS.” 

“And you’re going to do it?” Kie was the only one who actually seemed concerned about him. She always had been. 

“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” John B, looking out over the water. Losing his dad had been hard enough. But with the DCS and the police department breathing down his neck, everything seemed a hundred times harder. He had hoped that, with school done for the year, he would have the summer to enjoy life and drink beer and smoke weed with his friends, but apparently, the grown-ups had different plans. 

JJ didn’t stop laughing, putting a blunt between his lips and letting out a large puff of smoke. 

“When do you start?” Pope asked. John B picked a rock off the ground. 

“Tomorrow,” he said, throwing the rock back into the dirt. 

“Well,” Kie said with a smile. She leaned forward and put a hand on John B’s shoulder, which earned him a look from JJ. “I’m sure that it will be really good for you.” 

“‘I’m sure that’s going to be so good for you, John B,’” JJ mocked, raising his voice an octave. “’I’d be so good for you, John B-’”

JJ couldn’t finish making fun of her because Kie threw her blanket at his head. That started a dirt-ball fight between the two. John B didn’t pay much attention, even as small pieces of dirt fell on his head. 

Pope sat back, head in his hands as JJ ran forward and lifted Kie into the air. John B downed the rest of his beer, not really caring about the fight between JJ and Kie. 

“It’s gonna be fine, you know?” Pope said finally. John B looked up. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

***

John B walked into the room, his hoodie on and hands shoved in his pockets. 

“John Routledge.” He looked up at the sound of the woman’s voice. She sat in a small plastic chair in a circle of small plastic chairs. There was only one that wasn’t full. “Welcome.” 

He didn’t even try to force a smile as he walked over to the one empty chair. On one side of him was a boy in a beanie, a boy he recognized from high school. Denis, or something. But on the other side was a girl. A girl that John B had never seen before. 

She sat almost perfectly straight, hands folded in her lap. Her dark hair curled naturally in tight ringlets, framing her face. She glanced over at him, her deep brown eyes full of light. John B didn’t realize he was staring until the woman spoke again. 

“I would prefer it if you removed your hoodie, John,” the woman in the suit said. John B turned toward her, flipping his hoodie down. “My name is Allison Preacher. I am in charge of this group. Everyone, this is John Routledge.” 

A chorus of ‘hello’s filled the room. John B barely managed a wave, glancing over at the girl again. She mouthed a small ‘hi’. 

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” Allison said with a smile. 

“You seemed to do it well enough,” he replied, turning to look at her. There were a few chuckles from the others, but Allison’s smile never wavered. She probably got shit from all kinds of kids all the time. She seemed completely unphased. 

“I want you to know, before we begin, that we are all here for you. You don’t have to be afraid to be honest with us,” Allison said. John B only nodded. 

He sat and listened to her talk, listened to the others talk, but said nothing for two hours. The girl beside him didn’t say anything either. She just watched, tears in her eyes at the stories that the people told. 

When Allison Preacher finally said that the meeting was over, John B couldn’t be more relieved. He thought he would be the first to stand and leave, but to his surprise, it was the girl who got up first. 

John B watched her leave, eyebrows pinched together as she nearly ran from the small room. 

“She’s been coming for months,” Allison said from behind John B, startling him. He turned to face her. “Never says a word. I don’t even know her name. But she comes without fail.” 

John B turned back around to watch the exit the girl had just disappeared through. 

“Thanks,” John B said before leaving just in the same way he had come. 

***

“What was it like?” Kie asked that night, passing John B a blunt. He took it with a sigh. 

“Bunch of fucked up kids talking about their fucked up lives,” John B said before taking a long drag. 

“That’s prime ground, my man,” JJ said, sunglasses covering his eyes. 

“For what, exactly?” Kie turned toward JJ with a scowl on her face and arms crossed. JJ smiled at her, poking his tongue against his cheek. 

John B wasn’t sure why, but the girl was plaguing his mind. He couldn’t forget her eyes or the way she ran as soon as the meeting had ended. 

“Dude, are you good?” Pope asked, tapping John B’s shoulder with his fist. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you good?” Pope asked again. John B nodded his head slowly, letting a deep breath of smoke out of his mouth. JJ snagged the blunt from John B’s hand. 

“So, any hot chicks at this therapy group?” JJ asked, the blunt hanging between his lips. John B shrugged. 

“One or two.” 

“Maybe I should check myself into therapy group,” JJ said, slapping Pope on his back, still grinning. John B imagined what would happen if JJ came and met the girl with the brown eyes. He scowled at the ground when he thought of JJ talking to her, wooing her like he did all the other girls. It never bothered John B before, but for some reason, that thought bothered him now. 

“So, do you have to go every Thursday?” Kie turned her glare away from JJ, eyes softening when she looked at John B. He nodded slowly. 

“Every Thursday,” John B confirmed with a sigh. “Yippee.” 

However bad it seemed to go before, now John B was almost eager to go back so that he could talk to the girl, maybe ask her name. 

The week crawled by, every day feeling like a month in itself. The summer was supposed to be fun and exciting, with no expectations and no plans, but all John B could think about was seeing that girl again, even if it meant sitting in a room with other people for two hours. 

So, when Thursday night came again, John B got there early. He waited outside, ignoring everybody else who came in. A few of them smiled or waved at him, but he kept his head down, only glancing up when he heard a car door slam shut. 

Finally, when he looked up and saw the girl again, a smile spread across his face. He walked right up to her, startling her slightly, but then she smiled. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hi,” she replied. For a few moments, John B just stared at her, soaking in her eyes, her hair, her face, her smile. He shook his head, trying to force himself to act like a regular human being. 

“I’m John B,” he said offering his hand. 

“John B?” She kept her hands in her pockets. “What’s the B stand for?” 

“Booker,” he told her without an ounce of hesitation as he dropped his hand back to his side. The girl’s smile widened. 

“Can I call you Booker, then?” 

John B nodded his head. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

After spending a week thinking about nothing but her, John B wasn’t sure why he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. If he was JJ, he would be able to make her laugh and somehow manage to end the night with her in his bed, but John B wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. He just wanted to know her, to figure her out. 

“Well, group’s about to start. We should go inside,” the girl said, smiling wider at John B’s awkwardness. 

“Oh, right, yeah.” He watched her walk past him toward the double doors, realizing that she still hadn’t really introduced herself. “Wait! Can I get a name?” 

The girl stopped where she was, turning back around slowly. She seemed to think for a moment, a look in her eyes deciding whether or not it was safe to trust him. He prayed that she decided in his favor. 

“I’m Gwen,” she told him finally, rolling onto her toes before dropping back down to her heels. 

“Gwen.” He said her name, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Booker. But we really need to go inside if we don’t want to miss the meeting.” 

“Right! Yes, the meeting.” 

He walked beside her as the two entered the building. Allison had yet to start talking as the two of them took their seats. John B tried to listen to what she said, tried to pretend to pay attention to the others as they spoke, but all he could do was replay her name over and over and over again in his head. 

Gwen. 

But no last name. Nothing else. She hadn’t even given her name to him until he asked and even then she was hesitant. There was something about her that intrigued John B. Like a puzzle box that he just needed to figure out. 

Just like the week before, as soon as the meeting had ended, Gwen was gone from the room. John B didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. Like smoke in the wind, she was just...gone. 

[phobiadeficient]

Holy fuck i just read that ask by "hiatus13", the one with sniper pinning snipes to a wall, and holy fucken shit im in need of a second part, if u wanna of course. Jfc when i learn how to draw better, imma try and draw on of these shortfics cuz holy damn (of course if you'll let me and with full credit, totally okay if u dont want me to) ❤️❤️❤️❤️🐑

dude fuckin Bet. dude do it like Bet

(no warnings)

-

They ended up in Sniper’s camper since they were halfway there, and Scout found himself kneeling on a hard, thinly-carpeted floor, watching maybe too intently as Sniper muddled with his belt.

As an afterthought, Sniper reached over and grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground, and Scout situated it beneath his knees after a moment’s thought. Then Sniper’s pants were open and being shuffled down his legs, and the front of his shirt rucked up a bit, and Scout was finding out that apparently Sniper didn’t wear underwear even with his uniform which he found ridiculously attractive for reasons he couldn’t even totally articulate.

Sniper had himself in hand, working in idle pumps as Scout got a look at him. And, y’know, locker rooms and all, he’d caught glimpses of pretty much all of the guys by then, but it was way different looking at him straight on and when he was hard and looking right back at Scout.

“Never sucked a bloke off, then?” he asked, as if for clarification.

“Nah, no,” Scout replied, still eyeing him.

Sniper exhaled, halfway to a sigh. “Right. Just...” He thought for a second. “Just keep your teeth out of the way, use your tongue, and try not to choke yourself, awright?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Scout said, and licked his lips, and leaned in.

Sniper moved his hand away and let Scout take over, taking it by the base and angling up towards his mouth.

And it wasn’t, like, rocket science, he’d gotten sucked off a few times before and knew what he liked and what worked, but he still hesitated for another second or two before he carefully, cautiously, leaned in to lick the head.

Sniper shifted as if relaxing, and Scout considered some stuff. First of all, the nightmare scenario was off the table, the taste wasn’t bad. And of course it wasn’t, Sniper was one of his cleaner teammates, but he was still relieved. Second of all, he wasn’t going to look like a total idiot, because up close like this he knew he’d actually be able to get this a pretty good way into his mouth.

But he pulled out a move he’d had done to him a few times before and warmed up into it, starting with licking and kinda-sloppy kissing, just kinda getting a feel for what he was doing. And he was apparently doing a pretty good job, because Sniper was relaxing further, and at one point made this gravelly kind of humming noise that made Scout feel real damn pleased with himself, a real ego boost that most people would probably argue he didn’t need.

But at the very least, it was enough to convince Scout to lean in that much further and take him into his mouth. And that got another hum, and Scout had to concentrate hard on keeping his teeth out of the way.

And he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was just like, the idea of what he was doing, but there was something about this that made him feel superheated, antsy, maybe even desperate, and he just kinda did what he was pretty sure was the thing he was supposed to do, slowly starting to bob his head, and when that almost immediately got monotonous he started to suck in counterpoint.

And he was like, 90% sure that every time he’d ever had this done to him, they were much less messy about it. He hoped the little noises weren’t too distracting. But it was either make sure he kept his teeth out of the way or not make a bunch of noise, he couldn’t focus on both. He was pretty sure he was doing at least an okay job, though, because Sniper was starting to make more of those raspy growly hums, maybe more like groans, and in his periphery he could see that Sniper was grabbing onto the sheets on either side of his hips pretty hard.

At some point Scout remembered some other stuff people would do to him—he cupped Sniper’s balls and rolled them in his hand, and that got a whole moan, and he tried to take him deeper into his mouth until he felt his gag reflex starting to argue about it, and then he felt Sniper’s hand on the back of his head down near his neck and—

And he realized, okay, maybe he could get into this. Or maybe he already was. Because he was starting to get pretty hard, actually. Like, distractingly hard.

And he dipped too far at one point and gagged outright, and pulled up to cough, his eyes watering, and fuck, okay, that was that lesson learned. And Sniper exhaled hard, his grip going a little tight, but rather than complaining he managed a throaty sort of “You awright?”

Scout waved him off, still coughing a little, and god his face had to be red, he felt like he was burning up. “I’m fine, just... fuck.” He cleared his throat hard, blinking a few times. “Sorry.”

“Getting off on this, then?” Sniper asked, and Scout glanced back up, and Sniper was looking down at Scout’s lap, and, okay, so he was caught. He flushed further. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. It happens.”

“Yeah? What, happens when you’re blowin’ dudes too?” Scout asked, trying to look a little less flustered.

“Sometimes,” Sniper shrugged, and Scout started coughing again. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try and act like a prude when you’re currently on your bloody knees.”

“Just—just shut up,” Scout mumbled, and leaned in to set back to work with a vengeance. Sniper did indeed shut up.

Scout didn’t want to choke again, so he gripped around what all he couldn’t get in his mouth, trying to remember to pump and squeeze between bobbing his head and sucking. And Sniper’s hand migrated a little ways up his head to card into his hair, and it was all the easier to work Sniper up into where he was making actual noise.

“Close,” Sniper warned, voice a little breathless in a way that made Scout absolutely throb. “If you’re—gonna pull off—“

Scout didn’t, mostly because he was curious. And a few moments later Sniper swore hard, and then he had a mouthful of—

Okay, so every porn he’d ever seen was made by liars. The taste wasn’t good. He wasn’t gonna like, throw up, but definitely gross. He fumbled off to one side for the trash can and spat into it as quick as he could, twice for good measure.

“Not bad,” Sniper said, well out of breath. When Scout looked back over, he was settling his pants back into place. “Bit sloppy, but being new and all, I’ll give it a pass.”

“Hell yeah,” Scout said, unreasonably proud of himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sniper moved to pull him up to sit on his lap, and Scout went along with it with little hesitation. Then Sniper was popping his pants open and Scout was leaning in with greater enthusiasm.

“Sure seems like you enjoyed yourself,” Sniper teased, and Scout flushed. “See that being something you’d, er... want to learn more of?”

“Yeah!” Scout chirped, and then Sniper’s hand was in his pants, and he jolted a little. “F-fuck, uh, I mean y-you don’t have to do that you already kinda—got me off once—“

“What if I want to?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow at him, and Scout stuttered about that for a little longer until Sniper apparently got impatient and turned them to lay Scout down on the bed, pulling his pants out of the way enough to—

“Holyfuckingshit!” Scout yipped as Sniper bent down and swallowed down like half of him in one go, settling into a damn near expert rhythm within a few seconds, and fuck, okay, he already got Sniper off so it really shouldn’t matter but he was pretty sure if he came within a minute and a half of Sniper starting to suck him off he would literally have to go into witness protection he would be so embarrassed but on the other hand Sniper was sucking his dick and that was an idea so hot he could never even jack off about it.

So he curled his hands into fists on either side of his own head where he was gripping at the sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut hard and he choked down noises and he held out for as long as he could. And it felt like a marathon, like pushing a few extra miles at a dead sprint, the effort making him jittery and half-convinced he was going to pull a muscle somewhere, but he held out as long as he could force himself to before he finished, swearing a blue streak the whole way down.

His head was fuzzy and fizzy when he came back down to earth again, and his tongue felt heavy, and Sniper was lying beside him, smoking and blowing out the window on the exhale. And he was feeling so goddamn pleased with himself that he found himself vocalizing the first coherent sentence he could get his head around.

“Hey,” he said. “Maybe next time you walk me through what like, actual fucking is like.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him. “...It’d be you on bottom for the first time of that,” he said slowly.

“Think I’ll be a natural at that too?” Scout teased.

“...Maybe,” Sniper said, looking slightly more amused at his antics than before, and Scout relaxed, sank back down to try and get his brain together, and maybe eventually to get his pants back up.