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jessicqvswrld · 5 months

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Unsaid words ll

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya reader

Warnings: angst, childhood friends, miscommunication trope, friends to lovers, one sided pining, she fell first he fell harder, depressed neteyam, heated kissing, fluff, (uses of y/n)

Synopsis: After Neteyam’s confession doesn’t go as planned, it is clear you need space to think, before you make your decision.

A/n: sorry for the wait.. I got writers block and school stuff got in the way so yeah.. also didn’t know how I was gonna do this part but I think I got it down now..

It had been weeks since you had spoken to neteyam that day in the forest.

It was eating away at you, his confession was too much for you to handle.

You didn’t even know how you would gather the courage to talk to him, you loved him, yes.

But this was such bad timing.

Even when you had left with loak and kiri to fly they had noticed your change of mood, one that wasn’t displayed on your face earlier that day.

“What’s wrong y/n?” Kiri exclaims her concern and it’s written all over her face how worried she was.

“Nothing..I’m okay.” you try to say calmly as to not show any suspicion, as they both looked at each other with a look, you tried to act normal after that but it was hard not to show any emotion about the fact that their brother was the cause of your mood.

Two weeks passed of avoiding him everywhere you went, you would avoid certain parts of kelutral so even you wouldn’t visit the sully’s hut anymore to specifically avoid seeing neteyam.

He felt like he was losing his mind, maybe he shouldn’t have told you anything. But at least you knew how he felt.

His parents have even noticed his change of mood as of lately. “Ma Jake have you noticed something off with neteyam?”

“No…why?” He turns his head towards her with furrowed brows.

“I’ve been noticing he’s staying out longer than usual, and his ears are always down.. I feel like something’s up with him.”

“He’s probably just going through a phase of something.” Jake brushes it off. “No it’s not a phase jake you need to talk to him.” She states.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him.” He replies, with a simple nod to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek before making his way out of the mauri.

Later that day he had pulled neteyam aside from training when he noticed exactly what neytiri was talking about.

He was hurting, emotionally and mentally he felt lost without you. This was the most distance that has ever been between you both in your years of friendship.

You had always been on speaking terms, so when you weren’t it wasn’t the same. He felt so empty and it was beginning to show.

He was overworking himself constantly to get his mind off of you, not eating or talking as much.

Jake walks to the edge of the treeline past some shrubs and foliage and instructs his son to sit on a round boulder.

“What is it boy, what’s on your mind?” Jake says as he leans his back on the rock.

Neteyam hated crying but his feelings were too bottled up inside him, he just had to let it out.

“It’s Y/N I waited too long to ask her to be my mate.” He chokes out holding back tears.

Jake was taken aback at his burst of emotion. He must have been kept this bottled up for some time to have a reaction like this.

He kept such a facade on all the time, taking himself too seriously because he was held up to a very high standard as to being the firstborn and the next to become olo’eyktan.

His only weakness was you.

“What happened son?” I didn’t know you had a thing for y/n that’s great.”

Neteyam shuts his words down, “It doesn’t matter now. I missed my chance, Rai’uk wants to court her and I’m not sure what she’s gonna say.” Neteyam says doubting that you would give him a chance now.

“Okay, well you said he “wants” to meaning hasn’t yet, you still have a chance son, you just need to let her know how you feel.”

Neteyam takes in a hitched breath from the excessive crying,“I did but it’s complicated dad she was waiting for me to choose her..and I never did.. I’m such a skxwang for waiting too long.”

Jake quietly chuckles to himself hearing his first son go on about his teenage feelings about a girl, reminding of him and how he was younger and first met neytiri.

He knew you since you were a child, as a young girl you were always welcome to their home. Neytiri took a liking to you immediately since you were such a gentle girl with a kind heart.

He didn’t know about his son’s feelings for you though, and in order to be of any help he needed to know the details.

“When did you say this to her, what did she say back?” putting a hand on his shoulder in attempt to comfort him.

“Like two weeks ago, and she said she needed to think about what I had said to her.” He says sniffing and wiping a tear from his face.

“Okay, well think about it this way neteyam, she said she needs to think about it, that doesn’t necessarily mean you lost your chance.”

Neteyam turns his gaze to meet his father’s in response to his words.

“She’ll come to you on her own when she wants to talk, if she really wants to work things out with you…you just need to be patient and give it time.”

“Overthinking won’t solve anything.”

Neteyam heard his father’s words and nodded at his words as to take them in almost to get a better understanding.

“Head home son you did enough work today.”

It was quite rare for Jake to let him go home early, but he figured to cut his son some slack. Regardless neteyam was thankful, and had now had a change of mood to come at his situation a different way.

You on the other hand, had wanted space from Rai’uk as well mainly because as he was handsome and all he is also very dull and doesn’t really have much personality to him as neteyam does. You told Rai’uk that you needed space as well.

You were questioning if Rai’uk was the person you wanted to spend your life with. You were much more comfortable with neteyam having known him since you were both children.

It was obvious who you were going to choose.

Later that day you had made up your mind that you were just going to talk to neteyam and say how you really feel, not what you want to feel.

But what you actually feel.

You let a few hours pass and it was already going to be time for communal dinner.

The last few days you were sitting with kiri and loak. Neteyam sitting not to far from his siblings stole a few glances at you, how you were so naturally yourself with his siblings that you never would’ve guessed that all these things that were said just between you and him.

You too stole glances and wanted nothing more to speak to him but your own stubbornness didn’t allow you too.

Until today, you couldn’t let yourself get in the way this time.

After mostly everyone had finished most of their meals, everyone hangs around just talking.

Loak and kiri were bantering about whatever sibling antics they were occupied and that’s when you got up before you could have the chance to overthink.

You had made your way to where he was hunched over talking to one of his friends.

His friend saw you coming before he did. Instantly pointing your presence out which caught neteyam’s attention. You clear your throat briefly, “Is it okay if I speak with you neteyam?” He looks up and for two weeks your eyes were finally on him.

He was a bit caught off guard cheeks heating up at the sound of your voice, nonetheless he nervously took your hand as you led him the forest.

You had already played out in your mind how you were going to tell him, that you chose him.

That he was always the one you have been undeniably in love with.

You strided the forest with confidence, neteyam behind you admiring the way your hips moved when you walked. You stopped a bit further in the green foliage.

“Neteyam I have thought about what you said to me, and how insensitive I was about your feelings.”

“I was only frustrated with my feelings I didn’t take consideration of your own.”

“ it’s okay y/n, you don’t ever have to apologize, I dropped all of my feelings on to you, it was reasonable to be upset.” He looks down for a brief moment.

You take in his words but don’t get the chance to respond because he follows after with, “y/n I need you to know that I love you, that I will always love you.” He looks up as to show how serious he was. You heart swells with emotion at his words.

Choosing neteyam was always easy for you, he never wanted to hurt you in any way, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love him back, so you tell the truth.

“I love you too neteyam, more than anything.” A smile creeps on his lips as you said the words he thought he never would hear. He steps closer to you and grabs your hands in his.

“ I don’t know how I managed to keep my feelings for you hidden for so long, I was so stupid before, but please let me show you that I will be better for you now.”

“Please give this a chance.”

You felt heat in your cheeks rise up in your face as you rub the back of his hand with your fingers.

“Please be my mate y/n.”

You dreamt of the day he would ask you this, the day he would take your hand into his and ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

You place your hand on his cheek and smile at him, you answer his question by crashing your lips on to his, his eyes widen at the sudden kiss, but flutter close as he loses himself in your taste.

He moves his hands to your waist pulling you closer into him, deepening the kiss you felt his tongue slip between your lips until eventually they went farther the more eager he was getting.

You break the kiss briefly to breathe, the silence in the air filled by you two catching your breath.

“I would love to be your mate, neteyam.” You say in between pants.

He looks at you with lustful eyes admiring every freckle on your face, he couldn’t believe this was happening that you loved him unconditionally.

he cups your cheek in his hand and smiles eyes darting down at your lips, before he leans down and gives you the most slow intimate kiss ever.

You have the familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach mad you feel like folding again.

A/N: kinda want to make a part 3 to this possibly where they are further in their relationship but we’ll see.. hope you enjoyed and thx for reading.🤍

#avatar neteyam #atwow fanfiction #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #fluff #angst

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deceitfuldevout · 7 months

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Savior (Part 2)

Dark!Emmett x Reader

Word Count: +1,289

Warning(s): +18, Dub con, Non con, Kidnapping, Use of toys, Object insertion. Oral sex (f receiving), Emmett a lil freak.

Author's Notes(s): I've always had a feeling that Emmett would be secretly kinky, lmk what you think!

You've been held in captivity for three months now. Captured and kept like an animal, all by someone you once held to a high standard. Before this, you used to think of Emmett as this image of an all-American family man. To think that looks could be so deceiving.

His mood swings were like fire and water. Each day was different than the next. If it was a good supply run, he'd take his sweet time making love to you. But if it was bad? He'd rut into you like it was his last day on earth.

It wasn't hard for Emmett to drag you down into the factory's basement. Even after your ankle had healed, he was still much stronger. He kept you locked in what was once a supply closet-turned bedroom. It took him a while to gather the supplies needed to make it more comfortable. Like an owner decorating their pet's cage. He had kept you as his little plaything to use and abuse as he pleases.

Emmett would only take you out when it was absolutely necessary. Either for a quick bathe, or bathroom break. He'd make sure to replace the metal cuff around your ankle, for a leather collar around your neck. Every part of the routine was a humiliating reminder of where your place was. You were his property, to serve and to use. Emmett on the other hand, loved taking care of you.

Every morning would start out the same. You would always wakeup because of his early morning 'cravings'. A sudden feeling of thick digits sliding up and down your folds would stir from a deep slumber. His thick voice, still hoarse with sleep whispering in your ear, "Shh...pretty girl...'just wanna feel ya..." his cock already stiff against your backside.

You couldn't see anything in the dark. How on earth could he manage to get this far? The only thing you could do was feel around. You could tell it was Emmett's warm body presses flush against yours, He always made sure to strip himself naked every night, before joining you in bed. His leaking tip rubs itself on your lower back. He couldn't help the way you made him feel. Seeing you sleeping soundly in that slip-on he'd found, well, that stirred something in him.

You could feel his thick beard scratch your neck and shoulder as he starts to line himself up. He lets out a soft sigh, his breath is warm compared to the cool winter air. He cages your body with his, so that you won't get away. His fingers dig into your soft, supple hips. His calloused hands slide under your slip-on camisole, as his fingers graze the bare flesh. You would've been freezing if it weren't the heat emitting from his body. His bare chest now presses against yours. He sighs, "''M sorry baby...I couldn't help myself..." he moans while thrusting up and into your channel.

He always knew what spot to hit that made you crumble. His hand found it's way to your bundle of nerves. He starts to rub it, making your toes curl. He grunts against your shoulder, letting out a deep moan before finishing inside. Emmett climbs out of bed, his cock now slicks with your arousal. You didn't bother looking up, still annoyed that he hadn't waited until the sun was up. You grumble a few curse words before turning your back towards him. He chuckles at your adorable reaction, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before getting dressed.

Emmett woke up early to start his day off right. As soon as he reaches the convenience store, he wastes no time filling up his satchel. He takes note of the things you liked. Speaking of which, what did you like? He knows almost everything about you. All except your sex life. He thinks long and hard about it, maybe he should try spicing it up a bit.

You check the time on the digital clock, he's late. As much as you despise him, there was a part of you that worried of him not coming back. If something were to happen to him, what would you do? There was no way you could tell what was going on, not with the door being locked from the outside. Emmett was supposed to be home by now. Where the hell was he?! You hated having to worry about him. It made you feel all the more powerless.

An hour ago, he was supposed to come through the front door and ask for a kiss. Followed by you setting up the table and talking about today's activities. Emmett would then place the found dinner on the table. He would take his time, explaining how his day went. Suddenly the metal door clicks open. You scurry back onto the bed, pretending to sleep.

Emmett approaches the bedside, giving you a few light pecks, "Hey...pretty girl..." his voice is a soft whisper, "Did you sleep well?" he leans in, warmth radiates from his body. You glare at him, "You're late," trying your best to sound angry with him. He nods, "I know dear, and I'm sorry for that," he clutches the bag in hand, "I found a few things for 'ya," he states.

Emmett flips the bag over, emptying its contents, he doesn't bother looking up, "So you won't miss me," he already knows what your reaction would be. Your eyes widen at the collection.

There are an array of similar shaped dildos, silent vibrators, and plugs. Your thighs clench at the sight of it. You let out a deep breath, trying to control the rising nerves. Emmett speaks up, "I know women have their own needs, and if you ever want to--" "Don't," you grit your teeth. He understands now, the problem wasn't your sex life, it’s that you hated having sex with him. He doesn't blame you. How could he after everything you went though? He leaves without saying a word. It took you aback when Emmett decides to spend time away. Sometimes he would be gone for a few days straight without telling you. This was unlike him.

As soon as Emmett returns from another trip he walks straight towards his room. He pauses for a moment after hearing something, no, someone. It came from your room. He slowly opens the door, the sounds became much clearer.

There you were, laid back in bed with your eyes shut blissfully. Soft moans escape your lips as you pump the silicone phallus in and out your channel. Emmett held his breath. He was in awe from the sight of it. He slowly drags his mask down and out of the way. Noticing the faint smell of sex in the air.

He watches as your body writhes against the toy. Your hips jerk a few times, a gush of arousal erupts from your opening. After a few slow thrusts you finally gave out. You laid back in bed with tired huffs, still inhaling the scent of Emmett's shirt. It seems as though he misjudged you, the entire time he'd been worried about you not wanting to be with him. When in reality, you were already his. To think, all this time he'd been so worried, "Baby..." he calls. You look up at him, shutting your legs closed.

He smirks, a hand already palming the growing tent in his pants, "Miss me?" there's a hint of amusement in his voice. You look back at him with a look of lust, giving a small nod. Your knees began to part, revealing the now glistening slick of your folds. Emmett couldn't stifle his moan. He gets on his knees, inspecting the affect he had on you. He did this to you. A feeling of pride swells in him, "You missed me?" to that you faintly nodded, still worn out by the few orgasms from earlier.

His face is right in front of your folds. He flattens his tongue against your slick entrance, giving it a long stoke before returning it to his mouth. He can practically taste how much you've missed him. He's missed you just as much. It just wasn't the same during these past few days. Emmett couldn't take it anymore. It was part of his nature to empty his load in a warm and welcoming cunt. He was simply wired that way. Hunt, mate, breed, and repeat.

Emmett delves his tongue deep inside your womanhood. His lips wrap themselves around your mound. His nose brushes against the now sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs twitch from how good it felt, throwing your head back and moaning. Oh, how you've missed this. He looks up at you, capturing the sight of you now playing with both breasts. Emmett gives your clit a few flicks with the tip of his tongue, before wrapping his lips around it. He suckles the now sensitive bundle of nerves.

His finger pads collect your arousal. He starts to thrust them in and out of your channel, soon picking up speed. He doesn't stop pumping his fingers until you've climaxed. Even after, Emmett keeps going until another wave of pleasure hits. Both of your hands tug at his hair, pulling him in. He loves when you do that.

He finally parts from your mound with a 'pop' sound, licking his lips before giving it a peck. Emmett can't keep his eyes off you. His heart leapt in his chest as he watches your tuckered-out form. Both of your legs are still parted. Your inner thighs are sore from the burn of his beard. He's still in awe. You've never looked more beautiful.

At that point, he's ruined you for anyone else. You'll never be able to get rid of him. Not in body, mind, or soul. You were going to be his forever, he'll make sure of it. Then an idea hits him. Emmett rushes out of the room, returning with a satchel in hand. He dumps its contents onto the bed. You inspect each item. You held a pair of panties in front of you, the fabric was missing on the crotch. He looks down to avoid your glare, as if he weren’t the one sporting an erection.

If he can snatch a vibrator off a store rack, then he can look you in the eyes dammit! You silently inspect each item, finally explaining to him of the ones you liked. Emmett couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He pockets the panties, maybe for another time.

#reader #dark fanfiction #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark fanfic #fem!reader #dark!fanfiction #my work #reader insert #dark fic

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months

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When Simon struggles, he finds Price for relief.

CW: D/s dynamics without it being explicitly outlined, blowjob, a bit of yearning Price.

Price looked up at the sharp rap on his office door and blinked out of the trance-like concentration that had kept him focused for four hours solid, without even a coffee break. The nearby clock said 0200 in flickering red numbers, which meant it could only be one person. No one else sought him out at such an ungodly bloody hour without an imminent mission.

"Come in, Simon."

The handle twisted instantly, like Simon's hand had been resting on it in readiness, and the looming figure of Ghost crossed the threshold. But it wasn't Ghost who needed attention now; Ghost was asleep, waiting for the moment he was needed once more, which had left Simon Riley to surface. The mask did little to hide the difference; Ghost moved like a force of nature, unrepentant and ruthless, but Simon... he moved like a man uncertain whether he was even real.

Price threw his biro down and leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side. He knew that waiting for Simon to speak was futile; he never would, not in these fragile early hours when he was exposed like a raw nerve. So it fell to Price to take on the burden of deciding, just like in the field.

Price turned his chair to face to the side and Simon drifted over to stand before him, his fingers twitching at his sides in regular little ticks. The tension hummed off of him like radiation, a tight heat on a hair trigger. Price tilted his chair back, fingers twined together over his belly as he looked up at his officer.

Other than his mask, Simon had presented himself practically naked. Well, by Ghost's standards. Cotton shirt, trousers held up by an empty belt, not even a utility knife at the side, his boots were unlaced where he had clearly rolled from his cot and shoved his feet into them in a hurry. Price couldn't see his eyes; the light in the office was too dim, the battered lamp only enough to illuminate the dossier he'd been working on. The shadows hid Simon from him.

He spread his knees and dipped his chin towards the floor. "On your knees, lieutenant," Price said, and Simon obeyed. He dropped between Price's knees without hesitation, hitting the old rug with a dull thud. His shoulders remained squared, his arms rigidly at his sides, but now he was looking up at Price with doe-wide eyes, and Price felt the first stirrings in the pit of his stomach.

He made Simon wait as he evaluated those eyes, the only window he had into the man before him. They were still blacked out but the camo had partially smeared off in sleep; Price could see a few wisps of a blonde eyebrow and damn if Simon didn't have the fullest lashes Price had ever seen on a man.

"The airport," Price said, and saw a flicker in Simon's eyes that confirmed it. "I see."

Price leaned forward and saw the first judder in Simon's composure; a hitch in his chest, a twitch of his broad shoulders. There was no point in telling Simon it wasn't on him; Price carried the rank so he carried the responsibility. All Simon would be thinking of was the families he hadn't saved; the stand-ins for everything he'd lost. Ghost understood; collateral damage, the enemy taking their pound of flesh. That was just what happened in the field. Simon needed help forgetting and letting it go, because he would never be able to understand.

Now, Price wasn't a fool. He knew they were one and the same man, but trauma did something to a man's head. Fuck, it had done a number on his that he was sure some army psych would take great joy in unravelling when it eventually all caught up with him, but they managed in their own ways. Simon has pulled on a mask and called it Ghost, because his call sign was the one defence he had left.

So, to reach Simon, the mask had to come off. Just a little.

Price reached forward and Simon flinched from his hands despite the needy jut of his chin. "Stand easy," he said, the words falling out naturally as they would with any twitchy greenhorn about to take his first jump. Calm authority. And it worked on Simon like a dream; his chin pressed into Price's palm and his shoulders eased.

Price held him there, letting Simon rest in the literal and metaphorical safety of his commanding officer's hands. He felt the warm puffs of breath from Simon's nose on his wrist, and squeezed only enough to feel the strong lines of Simon's jaw. A handsome bloke, if memory served. One day, he'd get this damned mask all the way off and admire it once again, even with all of Simon's past etched and burned into it.

Price hooked his thumbs beneath it and curled it up until it folded just over the tip of Simon's nose. Those intense eyes were flickering, alert, and Price let them settle again until he turned to tracing Simon's lips. They were so unique; full, pale, gnarled across one corner by the scar twisting from his jaw to his cheek, disappearing beneath the band of his balaclava.

Simon was breathing a little heavier; excitement, anxiety, it didn't matter, the body reacted the same. Hairs on end, goosebumps on pale skin. Simon wouldn't pull away, wouldn't stop Price at any point. In these early hours, Price could make him do anything, which was precisely why he couldn't. Simon would shatter and Ghost would be there to harvest the pieces, absorbing them until Simon disappeared forever. Price would only go as far as they always did, because he couldn't risk losing Simon. Not this way.

"You're a good man for coming to me," Price said, the low timbre of his whisper sounding loud in the small office. "Always so good. So loyal."

Price tugged at Simon's lower lip and then stroked the pad of his thumb over Simon's teeth; Simon opened obediently under the lightest touch, and Price stroked his tongue, cupping that strong jaw as Simon surrendered to him, each breath coming easier. "Good, lieutenant. Come on, show me what you want..."

Simon's eyes flickered and rolled, his mouth closed only to suck Price in as far as his thumb would go, those full lips pressing down to his palm with the softest groan as the last of Simon's hesitant restraint tumbled away, like glacier ice cracking off a distant mountain.

"Ahh, there you are, Simon. Good boy." Price pressed a little on Simon's tongue and looked down between his knees. The front of Simon's trousers were bulging out, but his big hands remained firmly on his thick thighs; thighs that Price would give his damn pension to have wrapped around his waist, they would snap him in half and he'd be bloody grateful for it.

The heat under his own skin throbbed warmer and he spread his legs a little further, yielding space to his hardening prick. As if he could sense Price's building arousal, Simon sucked harder, his teeth grazing Price's skin. "Hmm, eager to please, I see." Price pressed down, urging Simon's mouth open, as he pulled at his belt and button. It took only a little fumbling for him to free his cock, the shaft sitting over the elastic of his boxers and dripping shamelessly. Price grunted, a little abashed at his own eagerness. "You do things to me, lad."

Simon's eyes flickered between Price's face and his prick, his tongue wriggling beneath the weight of Price's thumb. "Fuck," Price breathed, fingers tightening on Simon's jaw once more. He eased thumb free and then his foreskin back until his frenulum could tease over the soft, supple skin of Simon's lower lip. Simon held fast, his eyes not leaving Price's face, and Price let him see the pleasure, the admiration.

He teased himself on Simon's lips, rocking backwards and forwards, leaking into his lieutenant's mouth until Simon's tongue was saturated in scent and taste. Price couldn't deny the feral attraction of it; of having Lieutenant Simon Riley on his knees, Ghost tamed into quiet submission, all that power coiled away, and the man himself so desperate to submit.

Simon's tongue curled up to press at Price's slit and Price groaned as his glans yielded to the tip of it. "Impatient, as always," Price said, the words croaked through a miasma of listless pleasure. He leaned back and drew Simon with him, sliding that hot, eager mouth down his shaft. Price wasn't sure what was better; the wet, needy heat that swallowed him to the root, or the way that Simon's eyes rolled back into his bloody head.

Simon pushed his nose to Price's groin, his throat spasming reflexively. "Steady," Price managed, checking the swell of his own excitement as his balls pulled tight. Fuck, so soon? His own bloody thoughts had ridden him to the razor edge and Simon hadn't got his fill yet. Price let his head fall back and closed his eyes, but his hand stayed on Simon's chin, not guiding once Simon had slowed so much as holding. He pressed his thumb into Simon's cheek and felt his prick slide through Simon's mouth and it was almost enough to shove him over the brink.

"Bloody hell," Price hissed through clenched teeth as Simon drew off to lick through his slit again, seeking that concentration of taste and arousal. He licked the thick vein that snaked up from the base, finishing just shy of the tip and then slowed. Slowed right down. Price played with the fuzz of blonde hair at the back of Simon's neck, revealed as his mask hitched a little higher, and felt the cooler tip of Simon's nose at the cusp of his boxers, the puff of hot breath and another deep, guttural groan, and Price's stomach bunched tight.

It was sweet, sweet torture, but Simon was teasing him deliberately, baiting him out for something a little more, and Price gave gladly. He pushed his lieutenant back enough to stand, before hauling him around by the chin until the back of his head pressed to the edge of his desk, cushioned by the meat of Price's free hand.

Simon's mouth hung open for him and Price thrust in deep with a low growl. Price rolled his hips slowly, savouring each drag of Simon's lips and tongue down his shaft, but he couldn't temper his pace for long. He moved faster, stopping only just short of ramming Simon's head back into his hand. Simon's eyes were closed, his body completely slack, and the absolute submission was enough to rip Price's orgasm from him.

His hips stuttered as he emptied down Simon's throat and the lad took it all, consumed every last drop of it, and Price once again revelled in the power yielded to him. He may never have Simon over his desk in the way he wanted, but fuck was he going to enjoy every shred of him he could have like this.

Price dropped Simon's chin in favour of propping himself up and watched as Simon licked absently at his softening prick, the sparks of oversensitivity leaping up his bloody spine like burning shrapnel.

When he was certain his legs would hold him, Price pulled back, returning to wipe Simon's mouth clean of spit and cum. Simon hung in his hands, soft and light, and Price stared at his lips. The urge to kiss in these moments after was almost overpowering, a breath between Price and the taste of himself in his Simon's mouth. Ahh, and there was the bloody problem. His. Not now, not ever.

Price swallowed and sat back on his heels, discarding the scarf he'd used to clean Simon's face, and eased Simon's mask back into place. He rose on aching legs, the afterburn of his climax making him a little dizzy. "Bed. Now. Mess at 0600."

Simon uncurled to his full height - all six-foot-giant of him - and left without a word. Price slumped at his desk and stared at the ceiling. The dossier would have to wait. He felt like he'd just run Test Week at double time.

***

"Ahh, L.T., bit of a wee bounce in yer step t'day. Get lucky at the bar?"

"Focus on the mission, Soap."

"Ahh geddit, you don' kiss an' tell, pwoper English gent."

As Ghost walked to the back of the plane, Price was sure Simon glanced at him from beneath that balaclava, but it was Ghost that rumbled through the intercom. "Ready, sir."

"Ghost takes point, radio silence until we rendezvous at agreed coordinates, go."

Ghost slid his rifle behind his back and threw himself into free fall.

#call of duty #cod: mw #simon ghost riley #captain price #priceghost #ghostprice #john price

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maislovebot · 6 months

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Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Atsushi Nakajima

I can’t believe I’m actually done with this series:’) Idk what I’m gonna do now. Maybe I’ll open up requests?

Similar to the Sigma chapter, this was written before any of the other oral scenarios, so it’s not nearly as good as the others. I did put it through some serious proofreading though, so hopefully it reaches your standards!

Contains: afab reader, gender neutral prns, pwp, overstim (I just realized literally every chapter has overstim omg), premature ejaculation, reader calls him ‘dear’ and ‘atsu’, Atsu calls reader ‘beautiful’, dry humping, implied shower sex, implied dacryphilia, atsu is so sweet, kinda pussy-drunk atsu but not nearly as bad as Ango and Sigma were in their chapters

You gasped and ground your hand into the sheets below you, Atsushi clearly having no intention of stopping any time soon. He’d normally make you cum two or three times before he’d even considered touching himself, which is a nice sentiment, but you had already cum quite a few times and Atsushi still showed no signs of letting up. He was clearly distracted by the taste of your juices and the wet, sloppy sounds coming from your spent cunt. How many times have you come? Was it four? Maybe even five? You weren’t sure anymore.

“Haah—Atsushi—please..!”

Atsushi had his tongue on your clit while his hands held your hips down, keeping you from moving out of place, leaving you with just enough room to buck your hips into his mouth more, feeling overstimulated but unable to pull your hips away. It felt so overbearing, but at the same time, it felt so good. You had yet to find something you could accurately compare it to, the pleasure Atsushi could bring you with his mouth alone was unmatched.

Your rather unclear directions were met with a hum and a small whimper from Atsushi as you dragged your fingers through his hair, your thighs clamping around his head tightly, eyes half lidded. You pushed his bangs back, showing off his face sufficiently better than before. When you opened your eyes that were previously clamped shut, you saw a look of determination in Atsushi’s eyes, and it made you whine and desperately clench around nothing. He could feel your gaze lingering on his, and he looked into your eyes and saw your teary eyes and how your jaw was hanging open slightly. The loud sounds you let out whenever his tongue lingered on your clit for just a little too long making him throb against the mattress. He kept the same pace with his tongue, but he did begin to apply more pressure to your clit, making you yelp out yet again.

You tried to arch your back, but your efforts were fruitless as Atsushi held you in place with his hands on your hips, and his fingers grinding into your hip bone with just enough pressure to keep you down, but not enough to bruise.

Atsushi didn’t want you to bruise, he wanted to drive you to orgasm again and again, he wanted to have you practically crying by the end of it all. He wanted to feel that addicting feeling of you wrapping your thighs around his head as you tremble with pleasure, with your forehead forming beads of sweat from his movements. He was determined to hear those precious moans and whines, maybe you’d mix the two here and there and cry a little. Considering how well he knew your body, it wasn’t difficult to get to that point. You swear he knows your body better than he knows his own.

Your thighs shook around his head just like he wanted, and you whined even louder than before, trying to get a single word of warning out for what was to come.

“At-Atsushi—close—” you forced out, your brain running one hundred miles a minute. Time slowed, but he didn’t. You were in desperate need of a break, so your brain started processing everything slower, which did not match well with the way he kept going at the same, pitifully fast speed. He kept going, patiently waiting for you to reach your high. With that, you came. You moaned loudly as Atsushi kissed your clit lightly, before continuing his work, but at a slower pace to help ease you through your orgasm. You tried to arch your back yet again, but you still couldn’t. Atsushi noticed this, and removed his hands from your hips.

You breathed heavily, and slowly loosened your thighs tight grip around his head, tilting your head back.

You kept laying down to catch your breath, and Atsushi pulled away from your thighs, the bottom half of his face covered in your slick, wiping it off with his hand and licking a small amount of it off of his hand, wiping the rest on the sheet.

You turned your head away from him, clearly embarrassed. Atsushi noticed you turned your head away and he tilted his head curiously before seeing your face heat up.

“You licked it off your own hand.” You said, noticing his curiosity, trying to explain your actions.

He laughed and rested his head between your thighs again.

“Are you up for more?” He questioned. While he did love when your eyes filled with tears, he couldn’t help but worry he may have gone too far.

You were. Of course you were. As overwhelming as his overstimulation was, it also felt so, so good. He had a way with his tongue, and it never failed to make you feel all warm inside.

You nodded, and he shoved his face between your thighs yet again, grinning like a giddy little kid. Atsushi kissed your right inner thigh, before slowly tracing down to your knee, giving a feather light kiss to the top of it.

Atsushi didn’t hold your hips this time around, instead allowing you free reign to do as you pleased. You, of course, noticed this and wanted to take advantage of it, but once he had brought his tongue back to your clit, you were caught off guard because he was adding something extra.

His fingers.

His ring and middle fingers.

You felt him tease at your entrance while still licking your clit shamelessly. The way he teased you with his fingers didn’t even seem like he was trying to tease you. He just seemed reluctant if anything, making you curious.

He pulled away gently, and asked you something, confirming your suspicions.

“Are you fine with me using my fingers too?”

You giggled, “yes, Atsu. That’s fine. In fact, I’d love that.”

Atsushi nodded and slowly pushed his fingers inside of you, adoring the way you clenched around him. The two fingers he used were comfortable, and it was nice; it was a slight stretch, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You especially adored the way he curled his fingers upward to press against your g-spot. He decided to switch up his movements with his tongue as well, and he began to suck on your clit. You gasped loudly, and ground your cunt into his face almost instantly.

Atsushi got a look of worry from the loud gasp you let out. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little painful, but it was in the best way possible. It hurt from the overstimulation, but Atsushi had no way of knowing that, and it was evident by the way he quickly brought his head up and pulled himself up and over to linger over your face, looking worried.

“Did I hurt you?”

You took a moment to process his worry, confused until all the gears turned in your head. You smiled and brought your hands up to his hair, gently pulling him down. You brought his nose to your lips, and you lightly kissed the tip of it, making him redden.

“No, you didn’t, dear. I was just surprised by how sudden it was,” you kissed his lips, “and how good it felt.”

You kissed him again and again all over his face, and every time your kisses made his arms tremble a little more until he gently fell to the side of you.

“Now, are you okay?” You turned your head to face him, smiling at how red the tips of his ears were.

“Mhm, you’re just very..sweet.” You giggled at his wording and turned over to face him again, kissing all over his face. You could feel your orgasm quickly melting away, and once you turned to face him you shamelessly began to grind against him. He groaned into your mouth from the way you grinded against his clothed cock. His groans quickly turned into whines, and he began to rock against you as well. He was made to meet you, he was sure of it. He’d be at a loss if he’d never met you, you meant the world to him.

He wanted to prove it.

He kissed you deeper, bringing his right arm to the back of your head, turning his body to linger over you again. He kept his left balanced in order to hold himself up so as to not crush you. Your back was lifted from the bed with the way he lifted your head up, so you curled into the kiss, bringing your hands up to grab the sides of his face.

You and Atsushi stayed there like that until you began running out of air. Atsushi pulled away from you and panted slightly, removing his hand from behind your head allowing you to gently fall backwards onto the bed again. He brought his arm to the side of your head to play the same role as his left arm, keeping him from falling over.

You two laid like that for a few seconds, looking into each other's eyes.

Atsushi liked your eyes. They were pretty, and they told him so much about you with so little words actually being said. He loved how no matter what he thought he did wrong, or how low he felt, your eyes always showed him unconditional love. He also thought that they looked fantastic when they were half lidded under him, or above him, or at any angle, if he was being honest. He couldn’t for the life of him pick a favorite.

Atsushi suddenly remembered what he was doing, and flinched.

“Oh—sorry, you’re probably waiting. I got distracted.”

He looked at you as he slid back down to your thighs, and saw you smile. “It’s fine. I got distracted, too. Your eyes are really pretty, you know.” Watching your smile turn into a smirk made him tremble a little.

Atsushi slid himself down and smiled, then he left another kiss on your clit.

Atsushi continued what he was doing earlier, and sucked on your clit while putting two of his fingers inside of you, when he did he could feel your walls clench around his fingers and he shuddered.

Oh god, I need to feel that around me. Atsushi thought, letting the thought bounce around in his head before he ground himself into the sheets, making what was routine licking become just a little bit more messy. That’s okay. You fucking loved it.

You were letting out small moans until Atsushi curled his fingers up just slightly, making you cry out.

Atsushi didn’t allow this to go unnoticed, and he kept bending more and more slowly, until he began scissoring his fingers inside you as well, causing a choked cry to leave your lungs, and for your thighs to tremble again.

Atsushi didn’t let up, continuing this routine, not too fast but not too slow, either.

His tongue sucking on your clit like he was starved, and his fingers bending and scissoring you. Atsushi appeared much more desperate than the last time he went down on you only a few minutes ago, because he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the bed, and whimpering slightly, sending vibrations up your spine.

All the emotions became too much for him, him feeling genuinely loved for one of the first times ever, the love coming from you, even though you guys had sex before, it was remarkable every time. It made him emotional, and it embarrassed him a little. He couldn’t help himself from tearing up as he played with your clit like there was no tomorrow. There could be no tomorrow for all he cared about at this point. He was always desperately looking for a valid reason for him to stay alive, and that reason was right in front of him. Trembling and crying, almost cumming around his fingers.

You wanted to tell him that you were close, but you couldn’t even get your mind to think straight for anymore than a few seconds. All you could manage out was a pathetic “c-close..” before Atsushi had quickly switched places with his tongue and fingers.

He brought his tongue down to your hole with your warning, and thrusted his tongue desperately, putting his thumb over your clit and rubbing small circles relentlessly.

He was getting carried away, and he subconsciously knew it. He was going to end up making you actually cry if he kept this up, instead of just crying out small semblances of a sentence. But he couldn’t stop. Him fucking you with his tongue made you cry out his name, and he ground into the bed.

“Atsushi!” You cried out his name, maybe just a little too loudly. He quickly grabbed your hips and pulled you even closer to his face than before, making it so you couldn’t go anywhere.

“Aaa..At..”

As he kept going, you wanted to cry out his name but you began to lose the strength to do so, your thighs unable to hold themselves up anymore. Your thighs weakly fell limp next to his head, your arms not grinning the sheets as tightly anymore either.

After a certain point you couldn’t even say his name anymore. He made his tongue faster and watched your whole tense up as you came hard. On his face.

He didn’t stop there. He licked up your cum, and in the process, kept licking your clit. That certainly brought a spike of life back to you, as you jumped.

“Atsushi.. ‘s too much! Please, I can’t handle it!”

His eyes widened and he abruptly stopped, letting go of your hips. You sighed, thoroughly overstimulated.

“I’m sorry. I took it way too far.”

He moved his face into the crook of your neck, and he breathed on you.

“No, you didn’t. I-I’ve never felt that good before.” You comforted him, and ran your fingers through his hair.

“You’re crying!” He said while moving his head away from your neck just to get another look at your fucked out face.

You smirked, looking at his teary eyes.

“Who says that’s a bad thing?” He became aware of his flushed cheeks and watery eyes, whining when you wiped his tears with your thumbs. “You clearly don't think it is.”

He flushed, and he brought his hands up to wipe your tears away too.

“You have a point..” he trailed off before leaning into your neck again.

You assumed you guys would be staying like that for a few minutes, but Atsushi kept shifting uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” You asked, still out of breath from what had happened just minutes ago.

“Uhm.. I..”

You were confused before you glanced down and realized what had happened.

Ah.

“Did you really—”

“—yeah.” He replied cutting you off.

He had come, almost completely untouched. The only ‘stimulation’ he was really getting was from grinding against the bed towards the end of your little session.

You smiled, finding his embarrassment cute. You scratched his scalp gently, gently pushing him off of you and tried to stand, only for your legs to give out under you, your legs trembling as you fell back onto the bed. Atsushi grabbed your shoulders lightly to make your landing less impactful, even if you were only falling onto the bed.

“Guess you really did fuck me good. And you only used your tongue.”

Atsushi flushed again, and turned away from you. Making you lift your hand to his chin, turning his head back to you.

“I’d hate for you to have to sit in wet boxers all night. How about we go and take a bath? We can keep going at it in there.”

Atsushi nodded, and got even more red while helping you up, grabbing your shoulders to keep you standing before just picking you up completely. Him picking you up relieved all pressure you originally had and you buried yourself in his neck almost immediately, legs wrapped around his waist.

He smiled, and placed you on the counter before running the bath water.

‘ God, they’re beautiful. ’

Wc - 2.6k

Sorry I’m ovulating

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #bsd #atushi nakajima #atsushi nakajima x reader smut #bungou stray dogs atsushi #nakajima atsushi #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi nakajima

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lightlycareless · 6 months

Text

because why not. I crave a highschool au with naoya. warnings: highschool au. suguru and satoru being annoying af.

Thinking about that one scene where Gojo and Geto are talking about the former’s phone wallpaper, how he just changed it to model Inoue Waka, and in the English dub, calls her hot.

Let’s say that for a moment you manage to overhear a similar conversation while in jujutsu high. The two of them essentially comparing wallpapers of the women they consider “hottest” and what not.

It causes you to grow both insecure, because yes, even when they were insufferable jerks, they weren’t lying when saying that the women they had on their phones are what many consider hot—words you wouldn’t usually describe yourself with, less believe anyone else thought of you.

And curious, because your seemingly one-sided crush on Naoya leads you to wonder if he has the same… habit of putting pictures of women he liked, or at least found attractive, on his home screen, and what it meant for your feelings if that were the case.

So, you take on the mission of getting a glance at Naoya’s phone, which surprisingly ended up being the hardest task you had yet to complete that semester—and all because he was super defensive of his items, especially his cellphone!

Even for the silliest, dumbest type of excuses, like “I need to make a call and I have no service, can I borrow your phone?” does not make him budge. He just says no to whatever you come up with, and it makes your intrigue grow bigger and bigger the more he denies you!

What is he hiding? Contrary to Satoru and Suguru, is he ashamed of having pictures like that on his phone?

Or maybe…

Does he have those kinds of pictures instead??

Oh, this is even worse than you imagined! Because not only is Naoya wholeheartedly interested in other women, completely different from you—he’s also a big pervert!!

If so, how disappointing… but at the same time, you had no proof to call this as the truth so… you’d continue trying to figure out who he had on his home screen.

And then, the day you found out who held the special place of his phone’s wallpaper finally arrived.

It happened so uneventfully too, probably through the dumbest reasons yet, but you’re not to complain if it gave you the results you sought after.

The way you obtained a glimpse of Naoya’s wallpaper ultimately was because Gojo stole his phone just for that. Yeah. It was that easy. Perhaps you should’ve asked him for help from the very beginning, although the thought of telling him why you needed Naoya’s phone quickly reminded you that you had done right in avoiding him.

“Changed your home screen again?” Geto asks, looking over to Gojo’s phone, who was quick to show off his screen with a cheeky grin, affirming his observation.

“Newest catalogue—hot, right?”

“If you say so” Naoya says under his breath, seemingly annoyed by their lack of taste or perhaps the crude topic when there were a thousand things more interesting that women (as if he hadn’t done that before).

He intended his comment to be kept solely to himself, but to the troublemakers Suguru and Satoru, this was anything but loud and clear.

“What, don’t think she’s up to your standards?” Satoru would instigate, making the young heir not precisely retract his words, but rather act like he was hearing things.

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, I heard what you say—think you’re above Inoue-chan?”

Naoya cringes at the familiarity in which Satoru refers to a model, of all people…

“I don’t even know her” Naoya rolls his eyes, feigning indifference and hoping to move past this conversation, but it’s well known that once Satoru sets his eyes on a victim, it’s very difficult, if not impossible, to escape his grasps. Naoya marked his fate the moment he joined their conversation.

“Ah, now that’s a lie if I ever heard one” Satoru counters. “So what, don’t have anyone on your phone? Too good for that, hm?”

“What does it matter to you?” he snaps, and this just seems to fuel Satoru even further.

“Then you leave me no choice.”

“What are you—”

With unmatched speed, as expected of the Gojo heir, Satoru grabs Naoya’s arms as his most trusted accomplice understands what’s expected of him and reaches for his pocket, taking out his cell phone.

The look in Naoya’s eyes is one you’d never forget, one that almost made you jump between the two and demand them to leave him alone—but your curiosity was getting the best of you, so you allowed them to continue with their brutish ways. Besides, you intended to console him after getting your answers, just as you always did whenever he felt down, so maybe it wasn’t that… bad…?

“Hey—HEY!” Naoya yelps, tugging and throwing against Satoru’s hold, exhorting his very best to get his phone back—but to no avail, for he could never, no matter the circumstance, beat the strongest sorcerers. That much he should know now. “Give it back!”

“Damn—what the hell do you have in that phone? Porn or something?” Satoru snickers at his reaction, looking back to Suguru. “Just open it already, I want to know who the talented Naoya has as wallpaper.”

You swallow as the anticipation slowly began to kill you.

The moment you were waiting for, the one that made you put in so much effort but always fell short no matter what you did, finally arrived.

It was only a question of lifting the screen and looking at it for your greatest desire (that week, at least) to be granted.

Having curiosity of his own, especially after Naoya’s defensive behavior, Geto hastily grasps the screen by the edges and begins to flip it open.

You swear Suguru was teasing you given the way he slowly opened the phone (he didn’t—you just felt it that way) making your heart jump to your throat, ears ringing while anxiously waiting for Naoya’s secret to finally unveil itself!

Only for your heart to sink down to your stomach when Suguru’s face twists into one of confusion, perhaps even… disgust?

You tried your hardest to not jump and ask what he saw, appear as if you weren’t closely listening to their conversation and give away your interest in Naoya, but his reaction and silence just made it impossible, and without much resistance, you quickly succumb to your curiosity.

“What is—” is all that you manage to muster before Satoru’s shriek quiets you immediately.

“Huh?!” Gojo exclaims “You have her?!”

Who is it?

Who does Naoya have on his phone screen??

Is it someone you know?? Does he like her? No—Does he like that?!?!

IS SHE NAKED as you initially thought??!?!

Aside from the last question, it was safe to say that Naoya did like her, because it was none other than—

“Asuka, from Evangelion?” Suguru asks skeptically, looking back to Naoya, almost as if he didn’t believe his eyes.

“What, got a problem with that??” Naoya frowns, beyond irritated and embarrassed at this point. Satoru releases him.

“None—only that I didn’t think of you as an otaku!” Satoru snorted. “Who would’ve thought that the great heir of the Zen’in liked anime?! How embarrassing!”

“You’re not any better” Suguru murmurs.

“Give me that!” Naoya hisses, abruptly taking the phone out of Suguru’s hands—the latter giving up the item willingly. “And of course you’d laugh, your taste in everything is shit! You wouldn’t know what was good even if it hit you!”

“That’s not true” Satoru smirks “I like anime too—Digimon, you know?”

“Yeah, no one cares.” Naoya frowns, abruptly standing up from his desk and heading towards the exit, presumably to cool off, take out his frustrations in some way, or save himself from further humiliation.

And that was it—you managed to discover who he had on his phone.

As much as you felt bad that Naoya was essentially forced to disclose that fact, you were kind of elated that you got the answer you searched for, and subsequently, knew what it meant for your feelings towards him.

In other words, you had no… physical competition, per say. He could just like that character because she’s funny, cool, or something else, not because he had actual feelings for her!

You can’t help but smile at this thought, for it gave you the clearance you needed to keep harboring feelings for him—although… would he like you better if you knew who she was? Was she from his favorite anime? If so, you had lots of work to do.

For now, you can relax knowing he didn’t like someone from school. At least until he likes you back, of course.

Oh, but if you only knew that he didn’t have Asuka in the beginning.

No, he had someone else entirely, only changing his home screen once he caught up to your intentions, not wanting to show you either—glad he had done so right before Satoru and Suguru got the idea of joining your little crusade (A thing you’d had to clear up if ever given the chance to.)

Maybe you’ll figure out who it was in time. Maybe not. Only fate, and his efforts, can decide that.

But until then, he’ll keep the fact that he had you, as his wallpaper, a secret.

Naoya is a nerd. prove me wrong.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #i'm telling y'all i need to write this au

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 months

Text

Home Pt.2 || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 2K Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: child abuse (toward reader - REFERENCED), physical injuries, violence (REFERENCED), military enlistment references (NOT PROPAGANDA), crying. Tags: you/your pronouns, fluff, ANGST, teen romance, teenage rebellion, British slang (attempted), poverty, Simon Riley’s family (mentioned), Reader's family. a/n: This one made me cry y'all. Also, wrote this instead of eating dinner. On AO3 this fic is ✨doing numbers✨ (per my standards).

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“I’m here, I’m here.” Simon said as he pressed a tall beer tin against the bruise on your cheek and temple area. It was basically piss in a can, but it was cold, and God knows you needed that against your warm, throbbing bruise.

Your eyes were so beyond cloudy with tears, you couldn’t even see a foot in front of you. Hell, you couldn’t see him and his pretty face. The only reason you knew he was there was his constant reassuring words and his warm breath on your face, scented of nicotine.

He was glad you couldn’t see him, because if you did, you’d see the wince in his face and the way he struggled to straighten his left hand to cup your cheek with a gentle touch while his right hand held the drink tin to your wound.

A couple of his left fingers were definitely broken. Should he be going to A&E right now and getting his hand checked out? Probably. Was he going to? Absolutely not. Not unless it was to drive you there. The bruise on your face was swelling nastily, your skin not used to taking a beating. Not like his was.

“You’re alright… Don’t cry, darlin’, you’re alright…” Simon kept trying to calm you down while he did his best to caress your face with a gentle, hurt hand. “You’re alright, pet…” He kept cooing at you. But you just kept wailing.

As usual, Simon had come to get you at 9 P.M. You only lived a couple of streets over and he never let you walk the distance. Not after dark; it wasn’t safe. It already wasn’t safe during the day, but at night it was so much worse. But this time… Oh, how he blamed himself. Maybe if you had walked to him, you would’ve escaped this mess.

He had shown up to see you waiting up the street, rather than at your door. Weird.

He slowed his dad’s Clio to a careful idle which he held with his foot on the clutch and the other on the brake pedal. He stretched over the center console to pop open the door from the inside, as he usually did, but you beat him to it, opening it from the outside. Weirder.

You weren’t cheerful as you slunk into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, sulking quietly in your seat. Weirder x2.

Suspicious of your behaviour, he clicked on the overhead lighting of the car… And the sight he got of your face filled him with a rage he didn’t know he could ever feel. The throbbing bruise on your temple: swollen, red and still hot to the bloody touch… And the way you looked at him, brows furrowed, watery eyes, nose dripping, lips set into a frown so tight that your chin scrunched up with wrinkles…

It all had him seeing red.

“What happened?” He demanded, his voice hostile, but not toward you, but regarding whoever did that to you. You couldn’t answer. You broke into wails, fat tears streaming down your face.

And he didn’t need words to know. Your crying did all the talking.

It didn’t matter that you were fifteen. Every innocent kid who gets beaten beyond a simple spanking or belt whooping to the arse has the same reaction, regardless of age: They cry and scream. The pain is unlike any they’ve ever experienced before. It’s the mix of taking a punch to a tender temple/cheek that has never known violence, and of seeing your father’s face on the other side of the fist… That’s what does it.

Simon pulled up the handbrake with more aggression than he meant to, the car stuttered with his motion. He turned it off and threw open the driver’s side door, tossing his legs out and exiting the car.

“Riley!” He heard you call after him, your voice choked up, as he marched up the street to the brick-front house you live in. He could hear your hurried footsteps after him and you were able to grab his arm to stop him for a second.

He looked back at you with an unbridled level of very poorly-contained fury in his brown eyes. He softened a bit when he saw your crying face again, but then, his eyes were once more drawn to the now bruise that you sported on the left-side of your face. You now had a matching bruise to his… Something he never wanted you to ever know. And that only renewed his rage.

Simon grabbed you by the shoulders and made you sit on the side of the road. He hurried at shrugging off his parka and tossing it over your shoulders, his hands guiding your own arms into the warmth of the thick sleeves, and fixing the faux fur-lined hood to sit a bit more flush to your neck.

He wanted you warm. He wanted you warm and safe and healed. And right now you were only two our of three. And he couldn’t provide the third one. But he’d provide something better.

“Stay here.” He demanded, his voice freezing you onto the pavement where he sat you. You brought your knees to your chest, still sobbing in pain.

You looked back at him and watched as he made himself as big as he could, his shoulders squared as hard as they could be, and his chest puffed up, all while he was pounding a fist on your front door with one hand while the other pressed the doorbell repeatedly.

Even at 16, Simon was already much taller than most grown men in the area, and certainly taller than his drunk and druggie of a father. It’s no wonder the old bastard now thinks twice before raising his hand at Simon, not that that stops him from trying to throw his weight around with his wife and even Tommy. That’s why Simon still finds himself covered in bruises that never quite heal before he’s getting new ones.

When the door opens, your mother is on the other side, trying her best to cover her own face as well. Poor lady is just as battered as you, the testament of a night where her husband finally lost it. She has to look up at Simon, just like you do, his height imposing abover hers. Her face looking paled and afraid.

It’s not like she doesn’t know you have a “boyfriend”. She’s covered for you many times when you snuck out to be with him, has seen him drop you off late at night plenty of times, especially when she was worried about what you were up to… Long before she noticed that you were just being teens and never in any real danger.

In fact, she knows Simon quite well. Even from before you became whatever it is you are now, he used to stand at your door, at 8 A.M. every weekend, waiting for you, so you could go out and ‘play’ around the neighborhood. She had waved you two off plenty of times with a reminder to be home for dinner.

But she’s never seen Simon quite this way before. Hell, neither have you. But the look in his eyes told her she should just stand aside and let it happen. And so, she did… simply using her head to wordlessly point out that her good-for-nothing husband was upstairs in the bedroom. The teen boy gave her a curt nod as he marched upstairs.

Your father was shorter than him and fat. He was also drunk. The moment he entered the bedroom, the old bum had struggled to even roll up from the bed where he was watching footie on an old box TV. He shouted at the unknown teen in his home… trying to be intimidating. But he couldn’t do shit against Simon’s rage, didn’t even stand a chance.

The violence he impinged on your sleazy father that night had come surprisingly easily to him. It was like an itch he finally got to scratch, releasing years of pent-up aggression onto a man that was an almost direct copy of his own father (minus the drug abuse).

That was the first night the ‘Ghost’ ever came out.

By the time Simon came back out the door, his knuckles were bruised to shit, and covered in blood, his left hand in so much pain that he knew he’d broken a couple fingers. He had taken one of your father’s cold, cheap beers from your fridge to use as an ice pack for you, your mum having told him she didn’t have any frozen ice in the freezer.

He sat by your side in the pavement, his hands holding your face and icing your bruise the best he could as he whispered reassuring words at you while you cried all you needed to. Then, his words turned from reassurance to promises. None of them empty.

“We’ll get out of here, lovie.” He promises you. “I’ll get us out of here.” He kept repeating while he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead with chapped lips while you sobbed against his chest.

“How…?” You asked him, your lip trembling as you resist falling into another sobbing session on his chest, your head craning up to look him in the eyes. “We’re both skint…” You choked out.

“I’ll find a way.” Simon said as he rubbed his busted hands through your hair, the best he could, trying not to wince and grunt at the pain in his broken fingers. “I’ll… I’ll join the military if I have to.”

“Simon…” You said in a hush, your eyes already welling up with tears. It felt bizarre to say his actual name, almost as bizarre as hearing him talk about enlisting.

“I’m serious, darlin’.” The blond lad tells you as he looks down at your eyes, his brow furrowed a bit as he once again takes in the size of your bruise. “The recruiters came to my secondary a month ago… I nabbed one of their sign-up sheets… Just in case.” He explains as he rubs your hair.

“It’s just… three months.” He assures you. “Basic Training is super quick and I’ll start getting paid from the start.” He says. He doesn’t seem excited, despite the fact he’s trying to convince you of how good it’ll be.

You’re not excited about the idea. What if he gets sent out to foreign land? What if he dies? What if…

“I’ll start to save up. I’ll send you money every month… And as soon as you graduate secondary next June, I’ll rent out a flat down in wherever I end up, really… and I’ll get you out of here… And you’ll come stay with me!” He assures you with the most confident in himself that you’ve ever heard him have.

“Simon…” You whine a bit as your eyes well up with more tears. The idea of living with him, just the two of you, away from all this, it sounds so nice… The peace you’d get.

“I’ll call all the time, I’ll write, I’ll come visit when I can, and I’ll pay for you to go visit too when you’re on school holiday.” He keeps promising.

“It’s going to be just you and me, lovie.” He assures you as he presses loving kisses to your mouth. “I’ll get you out. I’ll get you to safety.” He continues, his own eyes softening with tears. “Okay?” He asks you.

Your eyes are still watery and your bruise hurts, but you see the look in his eyes, and the promise of peace and quiet and a life of love and affection by his side makes the fire in your heart burn just a little bit brighter.

You wanted to tell him you love him. He wanted to say it too. But neither of you do. It’s not the time. Or maybe it’s the fear.

So instead, you find yourself returning a sheepish “Okay.”

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#ikea writes 💚#home cbf!simon fic #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cbf #childhood best friends to lovers #teenage love #cod au #masterlist #fluff #angst

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damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog · 11 months

Text

High Praise

AO3 Link

Ominis accidentally walks in on MC with his robe, and they both get something out of it

Ominis x fem!MC

NSFW—sexual content

Exploration piece on Ominis' praise kink, mainly, but also plenty of teasing, dirty talk and the use of each other's hands.

Word count: 4,782

A/N: This is my challenge to myself to write more smutty content and less of the preamble/afterwards stuff that probably nobody reads LMAO. I've had this scenario on my mind for a lonnnng time now. It sat in my drafts forever bc I kept writing myself into corners and caught a bad case of perfectionism lol oops

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It was springtime of their seventh year, with graduation closing in, and as Ominis and MC were already 18, they were more than eager to escape the constant supervision of the school and get on with their lives. The pair had been inseparable for the past three years, and MC had only one hesitation: she still needed the standard issue uniform robe. But not just any robe—she needed Ominis'.

Ominis was always more than happy to lend his robe to his beloved MC when she asked for it. She sometimes had trouble sleeping, and if his robe helped her rest easier at night, he would give it to her in a heartbeat. Had it not been a required piece of his uniform, he would have gladly let her keep it permanently. It was the next best thing to having him right there next to her, she told him when he asked why she wanted to take it to bed with her so often. Sometimes she laid it out on top of her sheets for extra warmth. Other times she hugged it close to her chest, his scent faintly lingering on it and soothing her to sleep.

So when Ominis quietly entered the Room of Requirement late one evening in his blazer, he expected to find MC curled up asleep on the couch under his robe where he had left her earlier in the evening. It had been getting late, and she had already fallen asleep with her head in his lap when he felt exhaustion taking hold. MC had taken to sleeping in the Room more often than not, as her dorm-mates were noisy sleepers, so he chose to leave her where she lay as he got up to go to bed himself. He had been halfway to the Slytherin common room when he realized he had forgotten his potions textbook back up in the Room where MC had been helping him study earlier that evening. He cursed himself under his breath for his inattentiveness, blaming how hopelessly smitten he was by her.

He had snuck into the Room, not wanting to wake her, and planned to slip away with his textbook before she would even notice, but couldn't resist the temptation to check on her. He wandered towards her, just to make sure she was still safe and fast asleep with his robe. He heard a curious noise, however, as he strode closer. His wand indicated she was stirring on the same couch where they had eventually given up on studying and chose instead to hold one another, basking in gentle kisses and murmurs of sweet nothings. Ominis had felt his hands begin to wander over the pretty little divets her waist made and the small trail of her spine nestled between her back muscles, but he did his best to control himself out of politeness.

These noises before him now were different from anything he had heard from her before. As he drew closer, his sensitive ears picked up on her muffled voice, the sound of fabric shifting gently, and something else he could not identify. He inched closer, extremely curious about what was happening.

"Oh—Ominis," MC mumbled. It did not seem as if she were speaking to him. She must have been having a vivid dream to say his name so clearly. He heard short gasps and moans, too, as if—

Ominis stopped dead in his tracks. Adrenaline shot through his veins, and he held up his wand once again. It revealed a clearer silhouette of MC in his mind's eye now that he was closer. She had one leg hanging off the side of the sofa, the other bent upwards and resting against the sofa's back. She must have had her eyes closed, as she still did not spot him. He guessed one of her hands was curled up near her chest because she was holding his robe tightly. It seemed her other hand was... between her legs.

He could not help but drift closer, still, and listen with great interest. He could hear her moving her fingers in and out of herself with an appealing sound, sometimes stopping to do something his wand could not identify. He was painfully curious to know more, and despite a twinge of guilt, very pleased to have happened upon her like this.

"Well, I am quite glad you're enjoying my robe," he said aloud. His voice was smooth, and his devious smile played upon it.

MC shrieked and scrambled to cover herself with his robe, despite knowing he could likely detect very little. She glared at him and huffed. "How long were you standing there?!"

"Long enough to be quite flattered," Ominis smirked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she growled. "I thought you had left already."

"I needed to retrieve my potions textbook," Ominis replied with a shrug. "I assumed you would still be asleep, but it appears you've been quite busy without me."

MC narrowed her eyes at him, still hiding beneath his robe. "And what exactly is it with which I was so busy?"

Ominis strode towards her and leaned down smoothly. He lifted his scowling young lady's chin. "I may be blind," he murmured softly, "but I am not stupid. I was neither hoping nor expecting to walk in on you pleasuring yourself, but hearing you moan my name is quite exciting. And frankly, as I said, I am flattered. I must admit that, with you being my first love, I know precious little about this. But I would like to learn. Perhaps I could help you in the future so you wouldn't need to rely on fantasies alone—with your permission, of course. I can also leave now and never speak of this again. Whatever you want, darling." His voice betrayed an impish tone, and MC couldn't help but smile at knowing the answer for which he was hopeful.

MC had woken in a rather needy mood from her light sleep shortly before he found her. She had noticed he was gone, but his robe was laid tenderly over her. She would have never dared volunteer these amorous feelings to Ominis, at least not while she wanted to maintain her image of a virtuous young lady. But even the most virtuous of young ladies had their needs, she had rationalized as she breathed in the soft scent of his robe laid so carefully across her. Weight lifted from her chest as her lungs filled with a comforting swirl of cologne and his soft, clean skin. She felt a familiar, delicious ache claw at her abdomen as her fingers glided over the silky green lining. She had felt this attraction to him for a while, but was quite embarrassed to admit anything about it to him. She was a bit perplexed by the feelings herself, if she was to be honest. She knew why they were happening and what they meant, but they felt so strong and she often had no idea what to do with those feelings—except close her eyes whenever she was alone and sink into fantasies of Ominis and her committing unspeakable acts of desperate passion. Gently lifting her skirt and reaching between her legs, she had begun to tease herself when Ominis had snuck back in. She was entirely unsure how to tell him that having him next to her right now as she continued what she had started would be a dream come true.

MC sighed as she looked at Ominis' smug face, giving up and letting the color rise in her cheeks, still smiling. "You are correct," she admitted quietly. "But... you aren't upset or offended? What I was doing was, well, hardly appropriate."

"Hmm," Ominis gave her question some thought. "I suppose I am slightly disappointed I could not join you in the beginning of what sounds like a delightful little activity. But that's not to say that I can't join you now—if you would not mind, that is." He sat down and leaned over her, blank and heavy-lidded eyes ensnaring her own.

MC's mouth dropped slightly at his words, and thrill shot down her spine and straight to her core in a massive surge.

"Of course I wouldn't mind," was all she could think to whisper. Ominis chuckled and pulled his robe off of her, draping it over the back of the couch. Hr reached out and slowly ran his hands up her bare legs, savoring every square inch. They were still slightly parted beneath her skirt, which had been pulled up until it covered the absolute bare minimum. Ominis' eyes twinkled mischievously and he tutted when his fingers found where the hem of her skirt was.

"How indecent—you must have been quite desperate to bare your pretty legs" he smirked. He leaned down to gently press his lips to the inside of her knee, making her shiver with delight. "Not that I mind, of course."

MC allowed the haze of arousal to settle back over her, and her eyes grew heavy. Before she could stop herself, she sighed. "Mmm, your lips are perfect as always. I often wonder how they feel elsewhere, too."

Ominis froze for half a breath, processing what she had just said to him. As if a dam holding his attraction broke, he moaned softly against her knee.

"You know," he mumbled into her warm skin, "I have kissed you so many times, and felt so much of you over your pretty clothes. Perhaps it is time we were more... direct. In fact, I must insist. It seems a waste to have you all to myself and not even be able to fully enjoy you the way I've wanted for so long, now."

MC groaned almost silently, and another wave of heat washed over her core. She reached down slowly and untucked her blouse. Adrenaline was spiking through her blood and making her tremble ever so slightly. The sound of her blouse coming free of her skirt caught Ominis' attention. She grasped his wrists and gently slid his hands partway underneath her blouse as his eyes widened every so slightly, and his tongue darted between his lips.

"Like this?" MC breathed, and Ominis could only growl in agreement. He wanted to take his time and savor this moment, he truly did, but Merlin—it was difficult, and he was not that strong. His hands began slowly grazing fingers over her smooth stomach, and they slipped up to her sides. He slowed, fingers moving gently as he began to feel her soft breasts. He touched only the edges at first, a hot blush rising in his face and his trousers quickly feeling much tighter than before. His cool fingertips crawled slowly upwards, and MC shivered. Gently holding her soft breasts over her clothing had been one thing, but with nothing between his hands and her skin, this was a completely different experience altogether. He gently massaged each one and listened to her breathing quicken. He smiled when her heart began thundering as his fingers slid slowly over her nipples.

MC unbuttoned her blouse as quickly as possible. The heat rose furiously from her chest, and she could see how her heart pounded against her ribcage. She placed a hand over the back of his head and his perfectly groomed hair, and guided him downward. "Kiss me," she moaned, and he obeyed with enthusiasm. He dragged his lips across her hot skin as he familiarized himself with this new part of her body, leaving goosebumps as he went. He felt her heart beat against his lips, and his own heart raced to match pace with hers. He pressed tender lips to her fluttering chest and trailed smaller kisses to the side. Finally, he tentatively kissed a nipple and heard her groan in pleasure.

"Please... again," was all she could gasp as her fingertips gently buried themselves in his hair. Another gentle kiss made her groan, and her hand lazily slipped down to the back of his neck. She could smell his cologne and the sweetness of his pomade, and her head swam at the reminder that this was no mere fantasy.

Ominis smiled again, feeling bolder. "You're so cute when I tease you. I've always loved the way you desperately press yourself to me, so eager to get what you want."

MC could only whimper in response, and he felt a tiny, coaxing push from her hand on his neck. He closed his lips around her nipple again and sucked at it. Her chest flared against him and she released another whimper. Ominis got right to work learning how she reacted to his ministrations. Circling his tongue caused a high-pitched gasp. Flicking made her breathing quicken again. Massaging with the flat of his tongue, however, was clearly what she wanted most when she whimpered his name and vaguely rubbed his neck. He matched the motion with his thumb from the other side of her chest, and her back arched.

"So desperate for my touch," Ominis smiled against her breast as his thumb kept lazily circling. "I had no idea you were in such dire need. How fortunate that I stopped by, hm? You ought to have asked for my help from the start."

"But it would have been so untoward," she protested softly. "I could never."

"Please," Ominis murmured with another gratifying kiss that took her by surprise. "Getting to kiss your bare skin is the least offensive thing I can possibly think of."

MC's hand drifted down her body and between her legs again, desperate for release, but Ominis noticed and grabbed her wrist. He stopped his ministrations, making MC whimper with disappointment. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I want to be the one to pleasure you. I want to give you a beautiful, earth-shattering orgasm, so that whenever you're alone in bed with your pretty little fingers shamelessly between your legs, you crave only my touch."

His words sent shivers down her spine, and she could only sigh in dreamy acceptance. Ominis slowly released her wrist and smiled when he heard her. "Good girl," he cooed. "You learn quickly."

Ominis returned to teasing her as if nothing had happened, and through her haze, MC grew curious.

"I thought you wanted to learn how to... well..." she said between gasps.

"Oh, I do," Ominis replied. "But you'll have to ask for it, my darling."

MC sighed and tried to focus. "Then will you? Please?"

"Be specific," he chided as he dragged his lips over a breast and listened to her groan. "I want to hear you beg for it."

MC's face turned a bright red. "Please... pleasure me," she moaned. When he remained unmoved and only hummed expectantly, she knew to continue. "Pleasure me... I want you to make me come—I want to know your touch on every part of my body. Please, I want to remember this night when I'm alone in my bed and missing you."

"Hm, a decent start," Ominis smirked. He leaned back up and let one of his hands travel down her side until he felt her hip bone. He dragged his hand down and under her skirt, relishing her silky skin. His fingers moved upward and quickly found their target.

Her skin was smooth and soft, and running his fingertips over it was addicting. He found that little crease, which he knew from the books he had read hid what he wanted. Sitting back, he pulled MC towards him until her knees were around his waist. He reached down to feel her core, and she sighed. Just the sensation of his soft, slender fingers mapping out her core was enough to make MC shudder with pleasure.

"So pretty," he sighed. "All the books in the world couldn't prepare me for how much I would enjoy this." He ran a single finger up her core and put his finger in his mouth. A moan escaped MC's lips before she could stop herself as she watched him.

"You taste simply wonderful," he murmured as he returned his fingers to her core. “And what a cute, sensitive little clit. To think that all I have to do is find how you like it to be touched, and you'll be whimpering my name.”

Before MC could say anything, his thumb was pressed gently to her clit, rolling over it and exploring it thoroughly. Her hips bucked against his hand, and he held her down with a growl. Ominis slowly leaned forward to brush his lips against her ear, and his weight pressing down on her was intoxicating. His soft vest was almost painful against her sensitive nipples, and his warmth was electrifying. "Tell me what you like to do when you pleasure yourself," he breathed. "No fair trying to guide my hand or thrust against me, either," he smirked, squeezing her hip. "I want to hear how desperate you are—how much you need me to make you come."

MC whimpered pathetically and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His attention was overwhelming, and her speech came out slurred. "I like to move my fingers in little circles over my clit while I think of you."

"Like so?" Ominis hissed, his thumb slowly massaging her desperate, aching clit.

MC buried her face in Ominis' shoulder to muffle her pleasured cries. "I'm already so close," she mewled. "Please don't stop—I need to come."

"Not yet, my sweet little hummingbird. I still have more to do before you're ready for that." Ominis tenderly nuzzled the side of his face against hers, but his words were like hungry flames on her ear.

"I can't," she whimpered, barely coherent. "I'm so close—"

"Oh, are you?" Ominis teased as he withdrew his hand. He chuckled at the cry she made.

"Ominis, please—" MC craned her neck to kiss him in an attempt to convince him. "Make me come," she tried to whisper in a seductive voice, but it fell upon his ears with a small, pleading tone.

"I appreciate your efforts, adorable as they are," Ominis smiled between kisses. "But you can't coerce me that easily. You ought to know the effect this is having on me, as well."

MC's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly forgot about her frustration. He leaned back up, MC still clinging to his shoulders, and he gently untangled himself from her hold. She huffed in impatience, but Ominis only pressed a finger to her lips. He reclined far enough to begin unbuttoning his trousers, and MC watched carefully, dizzy with anticipation.

Finally, Ominis' cock sprang from where it had laid hidden, and MC gasped softly. Like him, it was pale and slender. Ominis was not the only one to read books on this topic, and a dozen brand new fantasies flashed through her mind as she stared. "So beautiful," she murmured out loud by accident. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth and blushed. Ominis only chuckled and moved her hand away from her mouth as she stared. The tip was deep pink against his pale skin, and she watched a tiny drop of precum fall from his cock and hit the sofa under them both.

"I'm happy I made a good first impression," he purred. "Please, don't be shy with your thoughts, my darling."

“M-may I touch you?” MC whispered much more suddenly than she wanted. She was quickly losing her composure, and Ominis was clearly enjoying it. Ominis chuckled and leaned back on his arms as an invitation. She reached forward and hesitantly grasped his cock, only faintly remembering what to do next. All learned knowledge seemed to evaporate, leaving her to rely on instincts. Tentative fingertips feathered up and down his shaft, and he groaned deliciously, squeezing his eyes shut and knitting his eyebrows together. He bit his lip, and MC stared at his face. Merlin, he was beautiful. She could see just a few strands of his meticulously-groomed hair falling out of place in the late hour, and it was perfect. He was perfect.

Ominis leaned forward. His movement made MC shyly begin to take her hand away, but he snatched her wrist in an iron grip. “I can tell we are going to be a wonderful match in every way,” he breathed. "But I did not tell you to stop. Your fingers feel incredible when they're tangled in my hair or gripping my leg, but it's as if my cock was made for your fingers."

MC flashed a smile and took a firmer grip. Her thumb glided over the underside of his tip and he groaned loudly, his head dipping. She could feel the slightest twitch as Ominis suppressed the urge to fuck her hand. Her skin was so soft and warm, and thoughts pleasantly flitted through his mind about how he wouldn't mind a bit of help from her now and then after this, either. Ominis fought against the stupor that was quickly taking hold and reached between her legs again. Trying to stay focused was getting extremely difficult, and he felt himself slip deeper into bewitching lust.

Ominis stroked her core with his middle finger, listening to his name spill from her lips in hot breath next to his ear. He felt the palm of her other hand press admiringly to his chest. Her thumb, with feather-light touch, traced circles around his tip. It was clear she was working hard to find which spots would drive him wild. "You're too good at this,” he sighed. “And you’re positively soaked—even more so than just a minute ago," he smiled.

"It's all your fault," MC moaned as she returned his smile.

"I should hope so. You're mine—and mine alone." With those words, he gently slipped his finger inside her. MC groaned and suddenly pulled Ominis towards her by his tie with her free hand, nearly making him fall onto her. He caught himself and gently bit her ear in smiling reproach. "Feisty, aren't we? I've always admired that about you."

Ominis stroked the side of her neck with his free hand. "I do hope you know what you've gotten yourself into with me," he purred against MC's ear. When she murmured incomprehensibly in pure bliss and kissed him again, her hand wandering up and through his soft hair, he slid a second finger inside her and began searching for that little spot that would send her over the edge—if he desired it.

"You could have had any eligible young man of your choosing... I've heard them talk about you, you know—Weasley, Thakkar, Cooper—even our own dear Sallow let his admiration slip once or twice long ago. I had never heard of a girl with so many admirers until you arrived. And here you are with only my name on your lips as you writhe, half-undressed, beneath me. It's utterly delicious."

MC arched her back as she moaned, too drunk on his words to respond properly anymore. Her bare chest pressed against his clothes and sent jolts of electricity through her body as she gently squeezed his cock, making him groan. He kissed down her cheek and neck, stopping to gently suck at the spot along her jawline she loved so much.

"Ominis, please—you'll leave a mark," MC murmured with a smile.

"Let them all see it," Ominis growled. "They would do well to remember that I'm the only one who can do this to you—only I may kiss your bare skin and make you beg for release under my touch. Let them be reminded that you chose me, and not any of them, to tease and worship every sensitive little part of your body until you can no longer form words and you're trying desperately to fuck my hand like the good little slut you are.”

MC whimpered and redoubled her efforts to kiss him into submission. If anyone could trigger an orgasm from speaking alone, it would be Ominis, MC dimly considered somewhere in the back of her fogged-over mind. He continued, unaffected, dragging his lips down each protruding rib on her chest. He pressed his lips to her breast and smiled at how soft it was. He shifted to his hands and knees, centering himself over her, and forcefully grabbed the wrist of the hand currently exploring his cock. He wrapped her fingers around his hard, warm shaft and guided her hand up and down part of it in the hopes of some relief for himself. He massaged her nipple with his tongue again. His fingers curled gently inside her and his thumb resumed circling her clit, slick with her arousal.

MC's voice had begun to raise in pitch when Ominis slowed again. "I want to hear your pretty voice just once more," Ominis smirked.

MC thought she might faint. She could think of nothing more that she wanted in the world than release, and she let it be known. "Ominis, please, don't stop. Your touch feels so much better than pleasuring myself, and I need to come. It almost hurts how badly I need this. I'm yours, Ominis—I need your fingers inside me and on my clit, and I need your beautiful voice in my ear. I need you."

Ominis appeared satisfied. "I could get used to your desperate little cries and the way you're so wet for me. Just promise me one thing, darling,” he whispered, voice rough and low. MC pulled him closer again until his weight was overwhelmingly heavy on her chest, grasping at any part of him she could. He smiled. “The next time you need to pleasure yourself, promise me that you’ll come find me and let me do it for you. Even if I have to bring you to my bed in the middle of the night while all the others are asleep and make you whisper your desperation. You sound so pretty when you’re pleasuring yourself while holding my robe, but a mere robe cannot bring you within an inch of orgasm and make you beg in that pretty little voice I love so much—mmh, I'll certainly have your help more often, too... you're going to make me come doing that.” He punctuated his words with a subtle thrust of his hips and groaned quietly.

MC nearly fell apart, and she gave a desperate whine in agreement as she buried her face in his neck. Ominis’ fingers inside her flicked, and his thumb carefully stroked and massaged her aching clit. He balanced himself and roughly put his other hand around hers, quickening her pace around his cock until he was losing his breath.

Ominis breathed in her ear, his dominating tone falling apart as quickly as he was, "you're going to come for me. You'll scream my name and beg me to keep going as you ride out your orgasm. You'll tell me you're mine and arch your pretty back. I want to hear and feel as much of you as I can... Now, who's my beautiful girl?”

Ominis' thumb ground exquisitely into her clit, and his fingers inside her fluttered. She was faintly aware of Ominis’ voice coming out as longing groans as her own climax struck her hard at his words of adoration. It was a glorious blaze of searing pleasure that erupted through her body, lifting her back and hips further off the couch with each wave. It rippled from between her legs up to the roof of her mouth and over her tongue as a scream. She barely gave any thought to the words she spoke so freely, about how she loved when he made her come and how she wanted him all the time now.

As her back arched and her grip on his cock tightened, she felt his cock pulse aggressively. The growl in Ominis' throat melted into whimpers in each breath he took, and he made gorgeous noises each time his hips bucked and his seed spilled onto MC's stomach and chest. It felt as if they were perfectly aligned in every way in that moment, swimming together in pools of unearthly euphoria.

Finally, their breaths grew longer and their voices quieted. MC gazed into Ominis' eyes, and he felt his eyelids become leaden as he faced her and listened to the air rushing in and out from between MC's barely parted lips. She lifted a gentle hand to the side of his face and softly brushed at the thin sheen on sweat on his temple. Ominis was the first to break their pleasantly stunned silence.

"That was... I don't even know how to describe it. But we need to do that again. Soon." Ominis breathed. He was still on all fours, and felt as if he might collapse at any moment. Whether it was due to exertion or pleasure, Ominis had no clue.

"I don't know how I'll ever manage without you after this," MC murmured in amazement. "I fear I might have an even stronger need to keep your robe with me whenever you're not next to me," she laughed.

Ominis gave a loving, airy laugh in return. "If keeping it made you happy, then it shall be yours."

MC sighed, more than content in her new acquisition. She gently ran her fingers through his hair and he leaned into her touch, his eyes sliding shut in bliss. Her moment of paradise was interrupted by a cheeky smile that danced across her lips, however, as she gazed downwards. "Perhaps we should clean up a bit, though. Care to help? I'll find a cloth, and—"

MC began to shift, and Ominis placed a gentle restraining hand on her shoulder. "We shouldn't trouble ourselves with getting up to find anything."

MC was about to protest in confusion when Ominis shed his blazer and vest, unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing his sleeves up so MC could see his beautiful forearms dotted with a few tiny beauty marks. He leaned down on his arms and kissed her side. "Just be a good girl and tell me where to put my mouth."

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis smut #ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt fanfiction #I have once again stupidly written in a line lifted right from other media lmao if you can find it you win The Prize #Isabel Greymoore

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clarks-letterman · 2 years

Note

I was summoned!Jason craver x male reader

Where m/n is Chrissy innocent twin brother and Jason and came over her house to to take her out but she’s not home so the m/n decided to let him until Chrissy comes back, turns out she went to a have girl sleepover at friends house on a school night.And M/n let Jason stay the night an let Jason sleep on the couch some min later , Jason couldn’t fall asleep the first time so he took his shirt off then try and sleep but couldn’t so he got up to get some water only to see m/n only in his boxers . Let’s just say it just ended up him fucking m/n the kitchen hard and rough

i can't think of a title-

a/n — i am so sorry for this taking so long! it snowballed into being my longest fic, and i rushed the smut so you wouldn't have to wait- (btw i can change the smut, i know it sounds stupid but i kinda hate that i rushed it :// )

warnings — 18+! Minors and fem!aligned DNI! internalized homophobia, smut, bareback (wrap before you tap!), jason carver has a big dick ;)

summary — check the request!

words — 3.9k

~~~

Soft ramblings came from the television as it ran through the loops of magnetic tape, playing out the entirety of Ferris Bueller's Day Off—a personal recommendation from the hair master himself at the Family Video, along with an old copy of Fast Times at Ridgemont High he let you keep. He said that his friend found it redundant to their romantic life, but you were too confused why he lent it to you to care since your rental history refuted anything about it being your kind of movie. And, well, it wasn't. It sat in the tape player for a total of five minutes before you shut it off, replacing it with what was currently filling the background noise. You tipped the couch cushion from sitting slightly too far forward to work on next week's homework, relying on the coffee table to keep yourself steady.

The sun half-slid down the white finish of the wall, making it nearly impossible to tell the color with the golden shine pouring in. It tainted the television with a glare, vanishing in the shade for only a moment as a car pulled into the driveway. Sounding aloud by the tires treading the cemented pathway until it faded, followed by the thud of a car door slamming shut. Time carried a knock from the double set of mahogany doors as the person meandered the small sidewalk leading to the front porch within seconds. You shot up and answered it by the time the third knock struck.

Behind it stood Jason, a smile as vibrant as the floral bouquet in his hands formed when you opened the door. They radiated an air of sweetness that challenged the dominating cologne that hung on his letterman jacket, the spicy bite reaching toward you by a petal's length first.

“Hey, Cunningham, Chris home?”

“Sorry, Jason, you missed her by an hour. Something important?” you kept a hold on the side of the door, ready to wing it shut if anything happened.

“No, surprise date since she said your parents weren’t home,” he explained, letting the flowers defeatedly hang from the bottom up in his lowered hand.

“Oh,” your hand tightened on the door, the temptation to keep his distance growing as the conversation carried.

Jason leaned his free arm against the doorframe, moving closer to you. The door would have to stay open, “Can I come in?”

Jason was intimidating, but not by his own choice. He was never in control of how the things he did affected you; he had a charm that wooed you over and an understanding about you that others failed to grasp, even with how little time you spent together. But, you often had to remind yourself that he was only being nice, and none of it was his fault in how you interpreted it. There was no problem with everything he did to make you fall in love with him. It came with the standard conflicts of wanting to date your sister's boyfriend. They were happy, and you were a creep. That was why you often tried to get out of spending time with him and Chrissy. Being the third wheel was bad enough already, but being the second person in the room to have feelings for the same guy was even worse.

You tried to talk him out of it, hoping he would follow the direction you urged him toward, “Uh, you don’t have to. Chrissy won’t be back until tomorrow. I'll see you then?”

He took hold of your shoulder with a soft grip and held an equally warm smile as before, “Doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with you. We can have some one-on-one guy time, bro. I think that out of everyone in Chris’ family, I haven’t gotten to hang out with you much, and it would be a waste of gas to drive back home, anyways.”

There it was: that stupid Jason charm. Overly kind and friendly, alongside a look that you could never utter the word no to—a natural boy-next-door, no matter how far apart you lived. It became complicated to pinpoint precisely how you felt, given that a guide for who you were remained untyped and unsaid by anyone brave enough to give in to their urges like yours. If Jason was the boy-next-door, you were the Hawkins' hermit.

He passed by you and into the living room, taking your silence as an invitation and reacquainting himself with the walls he had spent hours enclosed by when he watched movies with Chrissy or the big basketball game of the season with your dad. He even joined in on your mom's infrequent binges of various cooking shows and seasons of General Hospital, but none of it was ever with you. Never while you watched the latest release or whatever was playing on cable. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you weren't as avoidant of Jason as you thought. Was he the one who had made an effort to avoid you?

“Aw, good taste. I love this movie!” you joined Jason in the living room, seeing him standing in the golden rays, holding a finger to the television screen.

The copy of Fast Times sat atop the player for Jason to see. His hand traveled from the screen to the tape, picking it up and scanning over the title, "This one's fucking awesome! Tell me, why haven't we hung out more? If I knew you were into this, we could've had so much fun at Benny's place the other night."

"What do you mean?"

He placed it back on the tape-player, "You know, like movies and...stuff."

He said it so casually that you were sure it was the banal genre that a preparatory jock like him would pick out. But you still asked, "What kind?"

He slowly cracked a smile, followed by a laugh, "The kind they don't sell at Family Video."

You let out a forced, dry chuckle to act like you were aware of what he was referencing, your stale giggle joining in strident harmony with his enriched one. After a moment of letting the room fall silent, Jason moved so that he was now filling the space of your dad's bistered recliner, the cushions welcoming him into a world of well-worn ecstasy. You joined him in watching the movie on the adjoining couch and slipped into a comfortable position.

Eventually, you left the seat open to switch out the tapes in the video player, letting it cool for a moment but returning with a heated knowing of embarrassment. The movie advertised a few scenes with nudity, and either gender was bound to make the room fill with an uncomfortable silence. For the first half-an-hour of the film, it was tolerable. There were jokes you didn't get and conflicts that seemed silly, but the scenes of overly exposed women or men had yet to arrive. But, the second half of that hour proved to be the issue.

Fifty-three minutes and five seconds was when things started to go downhill. The main girl of the film lost her top after coming on to her best friend's brother, and what was underneath it plagued the screen. They didn't tempt you, unlike they had for Jason, who, from the corner of your eye, smirked at the television as his hand slid from the chair's arm to his denim-clad crotch, slightly grazing the area. You started to think that this movie was not the right idea to have either of you watching, considering that it was pretty damn close to real life—something you wanted to escape from at the moment. You tried to block out the remainder of the movie and whatever Jason was doing by not watching it, leaning your head back, and sinking deep into the couch.

The moon crawled along the sun's path, letting the light from inside fill the house. They spoke with a soft blink and a buzz as they went out and flickered on into your ears, nudging you awake, "Did I fall asleep?"

It was almost rhetorical, but you hoped to tune out the movie, not throw off your sleep schedule for the night. Your eyes were met with the sight of salt-and-peppery static filling the screen, and to your right, Jason laid back in the recliner, eyes shut but not asleep. He remained unmoved, "I'll sleep here."

He slipped his sneakers past the heels with the point of the other and kicked them over the hassock, letting them fall with a gentle thud.

"You sure? You can stay in Chris' bed since she's not—yeah, you can sleep upstairs."

Jason kicked the footrest back into place with ease, taking a stand on the hardwood floor. He waved you off, "Nah, I can take your dad's chair. He's always sleepin' in it, so I'll see what the big deal is."

He reached for the green and yellow cuff of his letterman jacket, pulling his arm in the opposing direction that he tugged at the edge of his sleeve, slipping it out and doing the same to his other arm. You planned to head to bed but wanted to guarantee he had everything he needed. As if he hadn't spent dozens of nights here before. But he was a guest, and you were the only one home. He didn't know the house as you did. He didn't know of the way the air conditioning never worked right in the summer or how you had to kick the bottom-left corner of the fridge to get it to spit the ice out. So you stayed, just in case.

His hands retreated further up his body and to the neck of his polo, sliding it off as easy as his jacket had let him do. There Jason stood, in waist-high denim flares and nothing else. It wasn't surprising to see him like this, as he had done this before, on the first night he stayed over.

You remembered the first night like you had lived through it the night before; it was in the middle of summer when the sun baked the Earth to a record-breaking high in Hawkins. Your parents were wealthy but not profligate buyers, meaning that the only room with an air conditioner was their own, and the rest of you had to suffer. Barely catching a wink of sleep, you went to the kitchen for a cold glass of water to drink, anything to help stay cool in the triple-degree delirium. You entered the kitchen to find Jason executing the same plan you had come up with mere moments before, gulping down a nearly full glass in seconds, then turning to refill the cup. That was when you noticed he was only in a pair of tight, non-dyed briefs that struggled to fit in the area that they were fighting to keep contained.

It was when you realized your feelings for Jason, two-thirty at night in nothing but the equivalent of a skimpy leaf. One tear and everything would be gone. But that was far from what you focused on at the moment. His body was nice to look at, but the intimacy made your stomach drop and caused your heart to double its pace. Never had another guy been so comfortable around you, going as far as to be nearly stripped down to nothing and still be as relaxed as he was. You had to remind yourself that he didn't know what you were at the time, and he still didn't know now. Later that day, when the sun scaled the wall, Chrissy announced to the family that she and Jason were official.

That was over a year ago, and Jason looked even more stunning. Age broke people, shattered them with time, but Jason wasn't susceptible to that. He went from pristine to unblemished, polished, highlighting his best feature that had only grown.

"Hope it's not a problem," he casually apologized, almost feeling as if he had to say it because it sounded puckish. It acted as a pricked hook, ready to tear you apart but still pulling your mangled mess of emotions to the surface to expose your darkest secret.

"Not at all," you struggled to get the words out, heading off to the stairs right after. Jason called out to you before you could reach the top, offering a quick, "goodnight," that you returned and veered into the hall and your bedroom.

You tried to get a wink of sleep, but nothing overtook the abyssal hole you fell into while trying not to think about Jason on the floor below you. It didn't help that you had just come from a few hours of shut-eye that now seemed impossible to regress into, but you knew that Jason was responsible for keeping you awake. Like many other things, it wasn't his fault—completely and utterly your own head's maladaptive ways. Earlier, it was so easy to fall asleep—ironically because you were near him—but now it felt unachievable to slip away for merely a moment. You figured that a drink—something warm and comforting—would soothe you to sleep, something flavorful to let your mind focus in on.

Jason felt similarly, looking at the white-daubed ceiling. He wished he could peer past—to see you, to see what you wore, how it clung to your body, and how easy it was to remove. He hated that it was his first thing to think of when it came to you, Chrissy's brother. He tried to rationalize it with the fact that you and Chrissy looked alike, and it just so happened to be that you were a guy. He almost convinced himself that what he saw in you was everything he loved about Chrissy, and that's the only reason he thought about you like that. Almost. Jason may have seen a bit of Chrissy in you, but the feeling he got was warmer and undeniably stronger than how he felt with Chrissy. If you and Chrissy looked the same, why did he feel so much different—so much better around you?

Jason kicked back the recliner again, fleeing to the kitchen for a bout of comfort if only temporary as it was. He put a hand under the faucet, bringing it and some water to his face. He needed to cool off and ease his head from everything he had trained himself not to think about while he was here. Smooth velvet crossed his face after he went for a towel.

"This is all stupid," he muttered, leaning against the sink with both hands. The dark outside couldn't help him. He could leave and not say bye, but then there would be lights at home, and he would have to see himself and all the ways he lies to himself there.

Bare feet padded along the cool tile of the kitchen, but it wasn't Jason's own. No, it was yours. He turned, careful not to let his jaw, or a sly comment, slip as he eyed your figure, bare except for a pair of low-hanging boxers.

"What is?" You asked, coolly heading for the cabinet next to him. Jason looked in your direction as you did, eyes slipping down the curve of your lower back and over your ass. He knew he shouldn't look, but you had been so oblivious to his unrequited glances in the past, whether it was at dinner or when you passed in the hall like two ships in the night.

But he struggled to keep it in. He let it out after fighting it for so long. No one was here. He wouldn't have to awkwardly meander to Chrissy's room and think about it for the rest of the night. He could redress himself and leave if you reacted poorly and bury himself in anything that wasn't your stupid, complicated family.

"Just...how everything is right now," he admitted.

You set the empty glass down and turned, much to Jason's dismay, to keep your glance trained on his melancholic expression.

"Is it about Chris?"

That was the only thing he didn't want to hear. Chrissy is what made this complicated, but he made it incomprehensible to sort out.

"It's more about you, actually."

"Oh," You weren't sure what to say other than that. But you didn't have time to think since he continued.

"You're prettier than her," Jason wasn't sure how to say it because he never allowed himself to, only thinking about it when you weren't around.

"Jason—," You interjected, trying to keep him careful with how he handled his words. The second you heard him say that, a small part of you found a glimmer of hope in his compliment. Or it could have been an admittance of his feelings. Whatever it was, the better part of you knew that he shouldn't be saying it at all, no matter how much you wanted him to.

"Stop, please. I need to tell you that I've been fighting something in me since I first came here. And this—this was the last I could take," Jason paused and motioned with his hand to direct toward your boxer-exclusive attire, "I thought it was because you look so much like her, but you're not."

He stopped talking and wrapped you in his arms, warm skin meeting boiling skin, ready to explode but tamed by him. Jason smelled like vanilla and cedarwood and a bit of himself, mixing with the smell of home, giving you a sense that he was home. That this was right. Deserved in the sense that this was what you wanted and longed for and was finally getting.

He pulled away too soon for your liking, but what he followed it with more than made up for it. The light couldn't shine on your face before Jason shadowed it. The space between you left as fast as it came, replaced by the small—but soft—touch of his lips to yours. It was hesitant like he didn't know what exactly to do. Jason kept his hands away from you, though, letting them fly down to reach for the button of his jeans, shoving them to his ankles once undone. Soon enough, you slipped into a passionate furrow, his fingers brushing against your jaw as yours kept a grip on his solid, well-buffed arms.

Jason struggled to find the words to describe how he felt, but there was this magical touch with each point of contact. He felt freer and resolute to take what he wanted from you; both your love and your body. The magic faded as your pressing effort into the kiss started to soften, and he was worried that you had your fill and started to have your doubts. But, in reality, you were ready to go further, even if that journey into the distant arrival was a walk in the dark.

Lips felt the lingering presence of the other's, and eyes held their stare for a silent moment.

"I'm ready, Jason," you asserted. You slipped your hand past the band of his boxers and into the soft, fabric chamber cradling his heavy girth. With only the feel of your fingers surrounding it, giving it a few tugs—understanding that it felt good by the twitch of Jason's face—you could tell it was long and a handful.

Jason kept his eyes on you instead of your hand, not allowing his icy blues to slip, "You know how to handle that thing?"

"Not at all," you proudly admitted. Jason made you feel accepted enough as it was, so another thing to be ashamed of was safe to say around him without eliciting a laugh.

A hand of Jason's took your wrist, reeling your hand from his boxers, "I can show you how to take it."

Jason wasn't being truthful when he offered that. He could show you with the make-shift fleshlight he kept in a drawer, but this was going to be more of a live demonstration for the real thing. He started yanking his boxers down carelessly. In turn, you took a position leaning over the sink, assuming that he would need access to somewhere along the backside of your body, but being wildly inexperienced, you didn't have the slightest clue for what. Briefly, you saw his manhood as you turned to the sink. From what you saw as he set it free, his cock had a bulbous tip that fed into a wider shaft with a few veins running along the length.

Jason's fingers hooked into the hem of your boxers, the cold air meeting your warmed skin. Your ass perked in the chill, and Jason was ready to let it warm against his defined hips. His hand took ahold of his length near the base, sliding his first two fingers to the tip for better aim. The other clamped to your waist, yanking your ass back, causing you to lean more and take a wider stance. He held his cock to your hole, toying with it for a moment.

"Fuck, you're nothing like her," His tip slipped in and out. Then, back in again, "So tight..."

All of that pent-up, building ferocity unleashed itself here as Jason pushed himself in. He was obsessed with how your hole quivered over the presence of his cock, and how the veins vanished and returned with each thrust in and out of you. He loved the exaggerated pop that came with pulling his cock out, teasing the tight-ringed muscle by circling his tip over it before your hole happily enveloped his cock for the whatever-numbered time. He lost count the second he started. His pumps into you were powerful, to the point that you were knocked forward against the sink. At least if the sudden and fast motions made you nautious, the sink stared back at you with an open gutter.

Your name spewed off like a cheer on his lips, repeated cries and pleas out to you, for you to feel good. It was obvious that Jason had been deprived of something like this for what must have been an eternity because only minutes had gone by and he was already a mess. That's when you peaked, your climax. Hearing Jason act desperately to resolve. Ropes of your load sprayed by his third and final thrust, with Jason shooting into you in the seconds following. He kept going, his cock growing slick and your hole emitting gushing sounds as his white-hot hit the tile below with a splat.

Jason unceremoniously pulled out, his cock going soft but still standing semi-proud at his work. Some more of his release piled on the floor, to which you were already heading for a towel. The small clock on the wall caught your eye, two-thirty-one.

On your way back, you asked the only question that came to mind in your clear-headed state, "What's going to happen between you and Chris and everyone else?"

Before you could clean up the mess made by both you and Jason, his warmth took you in, arms extending to hold you. You opened yours into the dark and unknowing, but into him. He was the light.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow."

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bitepoint · 14 days

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hiii <3 so ik we’ve never spoken before but can you elaborate on that mini multiverse circle jerk post (pls my mind is going brrrrrr every time I try to conceive of such scenarios bc ummmm hot) anyway, luv ur stuff ::)))))

oHhh i am here i am standing at attention and reporting 4 duty all at once o7. i saw your tags earlier too and they made me so happy so also thank yoU n hello hehe

its just,,, the circle jerk thing works so well in any regimented type setting and/or for characters who went through that. i went a little crazy over this .

circle jerk + chris redfield

18+. chris x gn!reader. 1.5k^. circle jerk (vhs tape assisted), exhibitionism, voyeurism, chris is so . fucking cooked over u in this

chris redfield who’s still in his air force years, long enough by now that the CO-speared brow-beatings’ve gotten more overt, half-tempered by his hefty commendations, ones that keep him toeing the line in their ‘good graces’ — a misstep or two away from the threat of a court martial.

word spreads around, because of course it does. speculation that’s sparse on context means he’s been hearing ‘redfield’ more often these days from peers on top of superiors, even by some who’d gotten around to calling him by his given name first, before.

not you, though. no, never you. you still call him ‘chris’, same as ever, same as when he first met you, and you do it even now when he can barely acknowledge you back with a call of your name — all ‘cause his heart’s got this habit of kicking up into his throat when he hasn’t geared up to see you around. his shoulders have a habit of sitting a little stiffer, at attention from the presence but never the same type of discomfort from starched hierarchy and bad decisions. doesn't know what to do with them. doesn’t know what to do with his hands, either.

he hadn’t meant to find you. not here, and not in this.

in some backroom back at base, once dusk had already set but no call for lights out had been given, that he walks into, light-stepped and unassuming. a scattering of thread-bare armchairs and beanbags rested near the worn couch you’re laying back on, arm thrown over the back.

you’re facing away from him, technically, from the door the same way most seats are — because they’re all faced, semi-circle scattered, towards the shitty pull-out TV at the furthest-back wall, VHS grain and color-bleed providing the dim light that filters through the room in light washes. most are occupied. some type of gathering, maybe spontaneous maybe not, faces he knows and ones he doesn’t among the dozen or fewer men in the room.

it'd be almost intimate if it weren't simultaneously impersonal, the way they're watching the screen or each other — some crowded close together on the same seating intended only for one, and some apart, pressed only along the seams of their thighs or the leather of the same standard-issue boots.

most unlaced and unbuckled, though, states of undress below dangling belts or with a shirt pulled up to rest a few inches above the waist, cocks flush in the low-light held in slow hands or lying heavy against their abdomens — pre gleaming each time the old tape, garden variety home porn contraband, cuts to a different shot of the couple christening their furniture and each other.

feels heat creep all over him, a desiccated throat as his jaw works slow over the processing. the door's kept ajar by the part of him that'd leaned into the room shoulder-first, one boot in and one out — but chris' big enough that it matters, on the treshold between here and there. he's never seen himself as the brightest, nor dimmest, and he can't consider much of anything when your head turns over your shoulder and your eyes meet. can't really read you, not that he ever could, but he thinks he spots a slight surprise at… him being there? maybe his existence?

and then other eyes in the room flit over to him, slow, and take notice too. he meets them, fleeting and a little uneasy, before they return to yours. can't decide whether to double-down or— you grin, a little lop-sided, before he makes up his mind to shift his weight onto his back leg and step down. down, and away from this.

"chris?" his name again, from you. soft-spoken enough that it doesn't draw much attention despite the tease in your eye, and your head tilts towards him, "planning to stand out there all night, or…?"

he might be half gone up there, revisits the memory of a near forced suspension for supposed insubordination and wonders whether he should've taken the out when it was given. a sound mind is half the job, but he steps into that room with a slow-drawn inhale and the door leaned shut by instinct. all because of you and his name and your easy smile.

the only spot rests on the couch next to you, and he's slowly made aware of the way it’s your domain alone to keep. the only person in the room, himself excluded, without their trousers pushed half-down or hands kept otherwise fulfilled is you. he settles in, considerate enough not to drop his weight down, to your right — all too aware of the right arm you keep draped across the back, and the way you seem a little too warm even at the modest distance between you, the soft moans on recording in the background.

you don't fuss over him, instead leaning your head back to keep watching the tape, and he settles, somewhat. somewhat. lets curious eyes wander. glances, at first, like the kind where you expect blow-back on getting caught out — red-handed in the cookie jar. state of undress is nothing new, not really, not here. there’s more to worry about than modesty in the service, he doesn’t really make it a habit to stop and take in the sights when some guy drops his drawers in the changing rooms. this isn’t the same as quick showers and rushing your way out of the barracks, though. it’s not the same when he thinks about you, instead of some faceless stand-in.

it’s not the same, not at all, not with the way he’s watching them, both unknown, sliding his cock in and out of her, hands large and heavy on the hips up on the screen; the way he can hear hitched breaths around him, a low exhale and a few sharp inhales, the soft slide of fists over cocks — slick and slow, or lingering to tease the head; the way he keeps thinking about you and the reality that you’re here, thigh pressing along the seam of his from the weight distribution of the couch, the dip in the middle because he hadn’t had the foresight to sit further away from you at some corner near the armrest. his cock throbs, aching, against the stiff stretch of his trousers, leg kept stiff where it touches yours.

chris doesn’t realise you’re watching until he takes the risk, the glance, caught-red handed at the way your head is tilted, lazy, eyes drawn to the thick bulge of his crotch and outline marked by his cock.

his pulse is in his throat, heavy and thumping, when your eyes slide to his face and you notice his on you already. holds his breath when you lean in, as though privacy means anything here and he finds he’s grateful for the gesture, “this okay?”

he’s not the brightest, probably, maybe, but there’s some part of him that knows — maybe the same part that wants. won’t rise — risk — to question, and it’s not from practicing service, but from the fact that it’s you. he swallows thick.

the sound of his belt is deafening as he unfastens it, unhurried on the pretense of routine, unbuckling and unzipping his trousers with large hands. stifles any tremble. he frees his hard cock with the drag of a hand that pushes the layers down only as far as he needs, grips the thick base, supporting, length heavy as it lolls left and lazy.

there’s no breeze; the heat of the room drawn up enough by these parallel activities to bypass that first shiver, but it happens anyways at the way it seems to lean towards you and the way your eyes have their own single-minded focus, paying no mind to anything but chris and his cock. he lifts his hand, a cursory stroke to the top of the shaft before his thumb slides over the leaking head, and doesn’t miss the way your tongue swipes across your lip for a moment as you watch, unable to take his eyes off of you just the same.

his pulse is in his throat and his heart might spill out of it. it happens long before he's aware of it, when he feels the light press of your cheek to his left shoulder, muscle twitching when you ask, “this okay?”

breath hitches, and he can’t help the shutter of his eyes when you ask, again, balm over the tremor in his chest, “chris?”

exhales something shaky. tests the curl of his fist over his cock and strokes it, once, pre already loosening up the glide. stiffens a soft moan at the back of his throat, the pressure licking hot through him, abdomen tight. “yeah.” rolls his hand again and feels the press of your thigh along his, “fuck— yeah.’”

man his size, and he’s still considerate enough to try not to jostle you too much on his shoulder as he kicks up a slow rhythm, the press of your cheek to his delt enough to get him gone while he strokes himself with his right hand. his hand's just enough for the girth, and you wonder if yours would be, too. honest-to-god flinches a little when he feels your breath, an exhale that’s a little too cool to not be purposeful, across the tip of his wet cock.

he’ll blow his load too quick if you keep leaning on him like that. wonders if you know, if you like it, because you press a hand over his left thigh to keep his hips from chasing after the seal of his own fist, cock truly and well fucked on it, and it gets him that much closer despite his slowing down. for you. keeps his eyes on you, despite the fact that they don't often meet, and you have to know. because you have to know. you have to.

would you touch him, if he asked? can he ask? you dig into the meat of his thigh.

up, further than you’d been — close — the fat and muscle giving way before they tense, terse, and he moans, leaning his body towards yours on instinct, touch like a brand, and spilling hot and warm and heavy across his fist. keeps it pumping, throbbing cock drooling cum over a slowing fist and slick fingers, dripping down to the back of your palm as you rest it on his thigh, where it belongs.

#miss oranje disco dancer......... fellow klaasje enjoyer i see u #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil #resident evil x reader #unspecified ranks w air force since chris / you are meant to have the same 1 dont look too closely #.writing tag

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dye-it-rouge-et-noir · 27 days

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For April Fools, I rewrote Casino Royale but Uno as a crack fic. I'm not sure if I am going to regret this later, but I think this is something! 800~ words and it's fairly unrefined.

Within an ornate Montenegrin casino, an Uno tournament had been hosted with the cash prize of 100 million in USD. Though an eccentric option for a casino that typically hosted the likes of poker and baccarat, it had caught the attention of social elites. More importantly, a financer for a myriad of terrorist organizations had joined in. Le Chiffre had taken advantage of the opportunity to recuperate from his financial losses.

M had nominated Bond to join in the game due to his high win streaks in the MI6 breakrooms. Though, he didn't need to exactly win. He simply needed to make Le Chiffre lose, drive him up into a corner, and figure out who his superiors were.

The rules followed that of the original code laid out by the game's creator, Merle Robbins. Each player starts out with a hand of cards, matching one of their cards with the color or number that coincided with the top card on the discard pile. In order to win, they would continue matching until they had none left over. If there were no matches, they would have to draw another card.

However, the game held some complexity that differentiated it from being a mere colorful imitation of Go-Fish. There was the inclusion of cards that could cause the next player to draw more cards, wild cards that allowed the next color to be chosen, and a card that could reverse the order of turns. All of these could be deployed to one's advantage to shift who was winning and who was losing.

Though a standard round of Uno would last approximately the time it took for someone to eat lunch, the game began to stretch over the span of a few hours. That was because of one special additional rule of Uno.

When one's hand thinned down to a singular card, they had to call out the titular word uno before someone else did. Otherwise, they'd have to draw two cards. This rule was abused throughout the game to effectively bar someone from getting close to zero.

Bond kept a watchful eye over everyone's cards, in case anybody had forgotten that rule. As Le Chiffre's hand slowly waned, the spy was waiting for the moment when his hand had a singular card.

That moment was now.

The paymaster had placed a card on the discard pile, leaving him with one card.

This opportunity would not dare be wasted.

"Uno," Bond called out.

Le Chiffre's head turned towards Bond, "I beg your pardon?"

The spy simply nodded, "You have to draw two cards now."

"He's right," The croupier flipped through a tiny uno handbook, "You have to draw two cards whenever someone calls uno before you do."

After a harsh glare sent towards Bond, Le Chiffre reluctantly drew two cards.

For that move, Le Chiffre retaliated in response later by poisoning Bond's martini when break was called.

Never in his life did Bond think that he'd nearly lose his life over a colorful card game, but it happened.

With Vesper's timely aid, he had managed to narrowly survive and could continue playing Uno.

The rest of the night had proceeded like an usual Uno game (an absurdly long one), albeit some of the other players had forfeited the match due to its prolonged length and increasing frustration. Even as the player count slowly dwindled, the tense atmosphere remained.

Le Chiffre placed a red six on the discard pile, leaving him with one card.

"Uno," The paymaster said, not allowing himself to make the same mistake as last time.

Bond looked at his hand of two cards remaining, one was a blue seven and the other was a wild card.

He had saved the wild card for good reason. Not only was it capable of being used without regard to the last discarded card, it had the ability to determine the next color to be used.

Judging by Le Chiffre's confident demeanor, he guessed that the other card in his hand would have been none other than either another red or six. Though, there was the lurking possibility that the paymaster held a draw four or even another wild card in his possession. Considering that wild cards only determined the color of the next card, Bond had to decide upon blue if he wanted to discard his other one.

Placing the wild card into the discard pile, hoping that luck would be on his side.

"Blue. I would also like to call my uno."

Bond wasn't going to let his opponent call Uno before he did at the very end of the game.

Watching the wild card get placed, Le Chiffre drew a card from the draw pile.

With that, Bond had secured himself the victory. He promptly placed his other card on top of the stack silently with a smirk.

He was pretty certain that Le Chiffre would try to kill him again later, but he wanted to revel in the victory for as long as he could.

#james bond #007 #casino royale #april fools day #my writing #(i need to QUICKLY cover this up with my other actual james bond stuff this is no longer april fools but now april FLOOD)

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baconcolacan · 1 year

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Lord do I need a sick fic between Tom and Tord, I just need one of them to ACTUALLY take car of the other,, even if they hate eachother or tease eachother they need to calm down

siiigghhhh

Stay AU, technically a sick fic lol but became more domestic Words: 5171

It’s hard to remember sometimes that his husband was always in some amount of physical pain.

Tord had always been good at hiding away what he felt, anything he deemed detrimental or unnecessary was always kept locked away in a little box he built in his head. After years of knowing him, Tom knew that it was all for his own safety, it was the only way his husband had ever learned to protect himself and people he loved. He had to be strong or else he got hurt, even worse if it was his loved ones, and to him that was essentially his fault for not being enough.

It was a lesson he learned too young, and something that Tom worked hard to dismantle when he could, lest his poor love work himself towards an early grave.

Tord’s proclivity of hiding his hurt became less of an issue as they got older. Sure his husband was once a stupid teen who always postured his machismo when they started dating, but the more they spent time together, thus leading to Tord trusting him bit by bit, the more Tord let him see his weaker moments well before it got any worse.

It took them a lot of yelling, fighting, tears, and heartbreak to get to where they were now, and Tom knew just how precious his husband’s trust was, how difficult it was for Tord to admit that he wasn’t as strong as he wanted to be.

So, he could never really fault him when he fell back into old habits. Especially during times when Tord felt genuinely afraid that his failure to live up to his own standards will endanger his family.

They were still working on it, and Tom was patient, he wished Tord would get his head out his arse sometimes, but at least his husband was making an effort.

It started when Tord came back from one of his tours abroad. During a late-night address to his troops, a failed assassination attempt had caused pieces of debris to fall on top of him, courtesy of a decrepit building that had been fixed to blow just as he had been setting up camp with his Company. Thankfully, Tord hadn’t been too scraped up, but there had been significant damage done to his leg- his bad leg- as a sizable chunk of the building had fallen on top of it, when he tried to avoid more perilous positions when the explosion rung out.

Though, to the eyes of the public and the RA, Tord was only mostly unscathed, thoroughly unbothered as he clawed his way out of the debris, still standing tall, as he demanded the heads of the would-be assassins, while a wave Red Sentries began flooding the area like the blood Tord’s enemies wished he had spilled.

Their public executions were swift and without trial, and Tord walked away from it spitting at their corpses.

But only Tom could see the way his husband’s steps had faltered. His eye twitched minutely, a flicker of pain, unseen by anyone else save for the man who loved him, watching closer than the entire world had done.

When Tord came home, back to their cabin in the woods- hidden away from prying eyes and loose tongues, their sequestered, treasured, moment in time, separated from all else- he had leant heavily against the door frame, with sheer misery on his face. His field operations uniform was scuffed, torn, and covered in dust. His skin had a deathly pallor to it, covered in the same grey ash his uniform had been in. His teeth were gritted, grinding so hard against each other Tom swore he could hear them creaking.

He wasted no time rushing to his husband’s side, his crutches held tight in his grip.

When Tord looked up at him, Tom could feel his heart breaking. Tord’s eye had a glassy sheen to it, unshed tears barely held back from escaping. His breaths sounded labored, but he tried his best to keep them quiet after he had seen the panicked look on Tom’s face.

Even still, his voice had betrayed him when he reached out to his husband with a shaking hand. “My love,” he said with a tremble as his face twisted into agony.

Tom nearly missed catching him when Tord collapsed forward, his right leg now unable to hold up his weight. He had to let go of the crutches in favor of supporting his husband himself. Small pained gasps escaped Tord, his hands curling tightly inwards as he held on to Tom’s shoulders, all his weight transferred over to his husband, but Tom didn’t mind it one bit as he gently helped him walk over to the couch.

“Fuck…it hurts….” Tord had gasped as he curled himself closer to Tom’s side. Seemingly trying to hide from the pain he was feeling.

“Shh shh, elskling, you’ll be alright. I already called Bing. I’m right here, okay?”

“It hurts so bad.”

Tom swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, his chest hurt at hearing Tord’s voice become so small, as he gently lowered him down into the couch, only hesitating when his husband let out a low whine and hard hiss as he stretched out his leg. Wordlessly, he offered him some painkillers and a glass of water, which Tord gratefully took.

“I know it hurts, love, but you’ll be okay, I promise.” He sat down next to his husband in an instant, holding him close as Tord buried his face in the juncture between his shoulder and his neck. Tom let out a shuddering breath as he felt a wet patch start to form on his shirt as Tord heaved in sobs. He offered his husband his hand to hold, which Tord had taken to squeezing tight every time the pain flared up too much for him to handle.

Tom could do nothing but offer him comfort as they waited for Bing.

Bing wasn’t exactly RA’s top medic, a title of which was reserved for Yanov, but he knew enough about biology to at least be decent enough to perform minor surgeries if needed. Larry of course was also quite adept at first aid, seeing as he had to be there to patch Bing up if ever he had a violent mishap at the labs. Plus, with him there, there was a less likely chance for Bing to muck up any medical procedures if his attention started to stray.

According to Bing, Tord had actually been pretty lucky. All in all, that chunk of building should have broken his leg beyond repair, but due to the presence of his modified leg brace- which Bing had said with a haughty amount of pride before Larry slapped him upside the head- most of the shock had been absorbed thus minimizing the damage that might have occurred.

Though, Larry suggested that Tord be put on bed rest for a while, or at least to not put as much strain on his right leg for the time being.

Tom promised that he’d keep Tord off his leg, even if his husband kept quiet during the whole exchange, only intermittently squeezing Tom’s hand when a spike of pain raced up his leg.

Bing and Larry bid them a good night.

Tom was prepared to get into petty squabbles with his husband for the next few days, as Tord vehemently refused to take any sick days even when he was feeling under the weather, more so if it involved his chronic pain. Usually, Tom would acquiesce somewhat as long as Tord wore his brace and took short breaks, or if Tord’s only intention was to sit and stay in his home office doing logistic work, but now that he had gotten into an accident, Tom knew he wasn’t going to compromise with his husband at all during his recovery time.

No matter what he did or said.

To his surprise though, the next morning after Bing and Larry’s visit, Tord was actually very cooperative.

…. Suspiciously cooperative…..

Tom had been hyping himself up when he first woke up that morning, ready to get into a row with his husband about needing to use his crutches the whole day at home instead of his leg brace, which Tord never really did even at home, preferring to only use the crutches at night when he had a day off to spend in the cabin.

It’s always been a petty little squabble of theirs, and he was sure Tord was never going to let it go.

Once he felt Tord shift beside him, along with the hand that snaked around his waist to pull him closer to the other man, he did all his mental preparations and arguments in a span of a second as Tord kissed him and greeted him with a sleepy: “Good morning, kjaere…”

“Morning, love.”

Tom greeted back as he fixed his position, so that he could hug Tord better while the other was still adjusting to the waking world. He ducked his head under Tord’s chin, breathing in his scent of pine trees and earth, a big improvement from the old smokey scent he had in his youth, after they both decided to cut down on their vices as they grew older (more so when AK came into their lives.)

He listened to his husband’s breathing for a moment, and the soft rumbling that came from his throat as he slowly woke up. He idly traced a scar on Tord’s back while the other moved his thumb up and down his hip as he yawned.

“Hey, remember what Larry said yesterday?” Tom said into the skin of Tord’s neck.

“Mmhm?”

“No leg brace today, or even the whole week, got that?”

“….”

At Tord’s silence, Tom readied himself for any of his complaints, but was surprised when Tord only sighed above him before he felt his lips press against the crown of his head in a whisper of a kiss.

“.....okay…..help me with my arm before we get up?”

Tom’s brows furrowed in slight confusion and worry, it wasn’t like his husband to kill the wind in his own sails like that, especially over something he didn’t like to do, but….he supposed he should see this as a good thing, at least it meant Tord was finally following a doctor’s (not really) order for once.

Still….he can’t help but worry, especially if this meant that Tord was in a lot more pain than he realized.

“Yeah…of course love, just give us a second alright?” Tom said as he moved back to lift his head up, he can’t really see anything at the moment without his home visor, but he knew for sure where Tord’s head should be, and anyway, his husband had brought his hand up to the side of his head to guide him, and he knew Tord was looking down at him at the moment.

Though, he really wished he could see the look on his husband’s face right now.

He heard Tord let out a small chuckle. “Don’t want to wake up yet?”

He offered him a smile he hoped was reassuring.

“I just…want to hold you right now, is that okay?”

He felt a thumb sweep across his cheek. Then lips over his own in a small sweet kiss.

“Always, my love.”

They spent half an hour in each other’s arms, with Tom just relishing the fact that, at least, even with the injuries, his husband could still come back home to him.

Once he was fully awake and had his home visor on- a thin little thing that looked more like one frame white glasses, something Tord teased him for, saying he looked like a tired old professor when he wore them- he happily assembled Tord’s robotic prosthetic while his husband hobbled off to the bathroom to go do his business.

Not without Tom fussing over him a little, even if he knew Tord could manage with just one arm and one crutch for now.

“You’re being silly, Thomas.”

“Shut up before I kick out the crutch from your hand, cripple.”

“Mean.”

“You married me.”

Once Tord came back around to the bed- which he fully collapsed into face first with a groan- Tom proceeded to help him attach his arm, doing most of the work while Tord just laid there with a dopey smile on his face.

“Remember when you dressed up for Halloween? That slutty nurs- OW!”

“Hmm? What was that, darling?”

Tom asked innocently when he connected his nerve endings with the arm’s wires. It was pretty quick, quicker than when Tord would do it on his own, so the pain was nothing more than a little shocking pinch, despite his husband whining and bitching about it on the bed.

Tom liked to bully him, but he didn’t like causing his husband any more unnecessary pain right now.

Besides, one little kiss, and his stupid Norwegian was done moaning about his horrible marriage to a horrible callous man, and back to asking him for just one more kiss Thomas! With the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster.

He’s so lucky he’s a patient right now, because almost suffocating due to a clingy Norwegian was not the way Tom wanted to die.

Tord happily walked out of their bedroom, both of his crutches supporting him, with a happy hum while Tom tried to catch his breath on the bed, before angrily yelling “Tord Larsin!” after his husband, who only laughed as he made his way downstairs.

For a whole week, it was actually quite nice in the cabin. Tord let himself be treated without much of a fuss, not even fighting with Tom about the use of his crutches while he was on leave. In fact, he had actually gotten quite good at moving around with them, even playing ‘crutch tag’ with AK that had him zipping around the cabin after their squealing little boy.

Tom had laughed when he would hear “Im gonna get ya!” followed by violent, fast, tapping and AK’s excited little shrieks and hurried footsteps.

“Pappa’s too good at this game!” AK had complained to him one day while they were having tea by the patio. Tord’s leg had acted up somewhat that day, and so Tom relegated him to the couch with a cold compress, painkillers, his favorite snacks, and a re-run of Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell. Then he corralled their little monster away from his ailing father, because as much as Tord adored AK, he needed as much rest as he could get. Though that didn't stop him from shedding fake tears as his "cruel" husband took his little boy away from him. AK happily played along with sad little yowls as Tom dragged him out to the patio.

“Oh? How’s that, dove?”

“His stick feets are longer than my feets.” AK huffed with a pout that had Tom cooing at him with a pinch of his cheeks. His son whined and slapped at his hand before continuing, “He can tag me while I’m far! No fair!”

“Well, why not find a stick of your own so you can tag him back then run away again??”

AK’s face got a shine of realization as he took his father’s words in, before smiling up at him and hugging him tight, nearly causing Tom to spill his tea.

“Thank you, papa!”

“Ough! Ah, no problem dove.”

A day later, Tord had come into their bedroom- while Tom was enjoying a particularly good playlist on his visor- with a scowl and an accusatory glare.

“You betray me.”

“I hold no allegiances to you.”

“So you say,” He said as he put his crutches aside and crawled up to the bed, Tom could barely hold back his smile as Tord came closer, “But you forget, Thomas, that the ring you wear his proof enough of your promise to be devoted to me.” He made a grab for his ankles, which Tom let out a high squeak at before kicking off his hands, only for Tord to jump forward and hold them tight. “And you betray me for a child with a stick!” He pulled him down towards him, “Come here traitor!”

“Waugh! Noooo!” Tom squealed as he was unceremoniously dragged down from his position on the bed and towards his grinning husband. He thrashed and squirmed in his hold but was unable to get too far before Tord was looming over him, he let out a warbled squeak mixed with a laugh as Tord dug two fingers at his sides in a bid to tickle him.

Tom made to scramble out from under Tord but was immediately pulled back down and dragged on his stomach before he could get off the bed.

“GOTCHA!”

Tord fell on top of him, causing him to wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. He shrieked when he felt Tord’s lips on the back of his neck as his arms wrapped around him in a secure hold.

“TO-HAHAHAHAHA! TO-HORD! T-HAHAHA- STO- TORD!!”

Tom squirmed and wriggled in his husband’s hold as Tord assaulted his neck, goddamn him! He knew how ticklish his neck was!

“Pay for your crimes miscreant!” Tord said as one of his hands strayed downwards to tase Tom at his side, causing his husband to buck and shriek underneath him as he let out yowling laughter. “I lost to a child! Me! Red Leader!” He grinned at his husband as he managed to turn around in his arms, making another attempt to wiggle free, only for Tord to descend upon him again, pressing playful bites and fluttering kisses along his throat that made Tom squirm and yell.

“Suffer the consequences, traitor!”

“OH MY GO-HAHAHAHA STOOOOP!! TOOOOOORD!!”

Somehow, Tom was able to free his hands from Tord’s grasp. He pressed them up against his husband’s mouth and pushed him away from his neck, only for Tord to lick at them.

“Oh AUGH! TORD!”

Tom shoved him by the shoulder, which caused his husband to laugh, but the sudden jostle made Tord accidentally put too much weight on his right leg and he winced with a hiss.

Tom stilled below him, looking up at him in concern.

“…Okay, I think that’s enough rough housing for tonight.”

Tord squinted down at him, he smiled, though it was obvious he was fighting back from the pain he was feeling. “Aw? I don’t really classify that as ‘rough housing’ Thomas, if you know what I’m saying...” He stuck his tongue out with a grin.

“Perv.” Tom said with a roll of his eyes and a smile as he moved to sit up, only for Tord to collapse back down on top of him, causing him to huff out a breath as the bed jumped below them. “Tord.”

“Can’t move. Ouchie.” Came his husband’s muffled reply from where he had his head face down on the bed just above Tom’s shoulder.

Tom let out a sigh and carded his fingers through Tord’s hair, earning him an appreciative hum and a tightened embrace. “So am I just going to be stuck here?”

“Mhm…”

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?”

“Yuh…..”

“Arsehole.”

“You married me.”

Tom huffed out a laugh at that.

“…Guess you don’t want that massage then….”

Tord paused, his whole body going still.

Tom smiled up at the ceiling.

Tord lifted his head to look his husband in the eye.

“….Massage?”

Tom lifted his eyebrows at him.

“In the bath, I had it prepared.”

Tord’s eye bulged out.

“..In the…huh?”

“It’s all romantic and shit,” Tom continued nonchalantly, tracing circles on his husband’s cheek. “I put in petals and candles and all that crap, even got Matt to let me borrow his essential oils.” He shrugged and wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck, tugging him back down. “But ooooh well, you’re tired, and so so sleepy, what kind of husband would I be to deny you your rest? Certainly not a loving one.”

“Buh- But- huh wait- bath??? Massage?? Bath massage???” Tord refused to be brought down as he looked at his husband with a wide eye.

Tom gave him a flat look.

Tord pouted, wobbling his lower lip. “Thomas…” He whined.

Tom stayed silent.

Tord continued pouting.

“….my leg hurts…” He tried.

Tom snorted, unable to keep a straight face, as he moved out from under Tord. “Fiiine….”

“Hooray for emotional manipulation!!” Tord cheered as Tom let out a guffaw, even surprising him as he moved over to his side to scoop him up in his arms, the action caused Tord to squeak and latch on to his husband’s neck as he was carried towards their bathroom, though once the surprise wore off he laughed, giddy, as he curled himself towards his husband. “I love you, Thomas.” He singsonged.

Tom scoffed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, whatever sap.” Though his face did tinge a bit pink as he said those words.

Tord chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck just as he closed the door. Which of course, caused Tom to yelp and nearly drop him.

“Tord!”

It was inevitable that there would at least be one bad day.

Tom had woken up as usual, a little bit groggy but slowly coming back to the conscious world. He sighed as he stretched out, taking all the stiffness out from his joints with a satisfied pop. He breathed in deep as he sat up from the bed, yawning slowly as he blinked unseeing eyes.

He paused when he heard ragged breathing at his side.

Tom put a hand out in concern, careful not to hit anything.

“Tord? Elskling is that you? Are you awake?”

A small whimper and a rushed exhale replied to his question, just before he felt his husband’s hand weakly grasp at his own. Tom, hurriedly moved closer to his side, both of his hands coming up to hold Tord’s. His frown deepened as he felt how clammy his husband’s skin felt, paired with his shallow breaths and small whimpers.

“H…hurts….too much…” Came Tord’s strained voice, audibly shaking as he let out a pained breath.

Panicked, Tom made a series of clicking and chirruping sounds before finding his voice. “Ho-Hold on. Let me find the painkillers.” He let go of his husband’s hand, quickly turning around to where he knew his nightstand was, his hands grasped around the surface, frustration building as he couldn’t feel where his home visor was.

Tord whimpered behind him.

Tom gritted his teeth.

“AK! Arthur! Arthur!!” His voice took on an otherworldly sounding tremor, accompanied by small clicks and rumbles. He hated bringing their son into this, but he didn’t know what else to do at the moment.

It wasn’t long before tiny footsteps came running towards their room.

Their bedroom door opened and shut fast as Tom registered AK’s heat signature approaching him.

“Papa?? What’s wrong?? Why..What’s wrong with daddy?”

Tom reached out to his boy, AK stepped into his hands and let his father hold the sides of his face. Tom felt his son’s hands wrap around his wrists. “Honey, listen to me okay? Your daddy…he’s hurting a little right now.” He reached up and smoothed away the tufts of hair he could feel on his son’s face. Part of him was relieved he was blind, so he didn’t have to see the look in AK’s eyes, but part of him wished he didn’t have to call their son for help. “I need you to help me find his medicine, okay? They’re in my nightstand, red and white, look in the first drawer, okay guppy?”

“Okay papa!”

He felt his son slip out of his hold accompanied by the dragging rumble of a drawer being thrown open, he heard the crinkle and clatter of AK moving things around the drawer before he gasped out an: “AH!” As something was pressed into Tom’s hands.

“I found it papa! Red and white! Like you said!”

Tom smiled and leaned forward, AK knew what he was trying to do and moved closer to let his father kiss his cheek. “Thank you dove.” Tom said with a purr, earning a happy little chitter from his son.

He turned back to where his husband was, worried about how fast Tord’s shallow breathing had gotten, “Tord? Love, take the painkillers, I’ll go and get my work visor to check on your vitals just in case, okay?”

He heard the sound of AK’s footsteps running off to the other side of the room, probably to go fetch Tom’s work visor after hearing that it was needed. He sent a silent thank you his son’s way while he felt Tord make a shaking grab for the painkillers in his hand.

After a minute, Tord’s breathing began to even out.

AK came back with his work visor not long after, which Tom thanked him for before trying to send him back to his room.

AK stood still.

“Daddy will be okay, right?”

Tom looked down at his son, the visuals of his work visor gradually coming into focus. He bit back a frown at the wide eyed, terrified, look on AK’s face.

His visor registered his son’s heartbeat, it was faster than normal.

Tom blinked the information away.

“Hey,”

They both turned at the sound of Tord’s voice. The Norwegian was partly sitting up, though more so leaning against the pillows behind him, a sheen of sweat covered his brow, and his eye was drooping from exhaustion, but he smiled at his son nevertheless, despite the way his chest rose and fell with a bit of heavy breathing. Tom's visor gave him a read out of his vitals, while there was some inflammation in his leg, Tord was overall fine (enough). Still....seeing his husband in so much pain, yet hiding it for the sake of their son, made his heart clench painfully in his chest.

“I’m fine skatten min, I promise.” Tord reached out a hand as AK circled the bed, the child nearly jumped towards him but stopped himself before slowly sinking into Tord’s side, hugging him tight. Tord wrapped his arm around his son, pressing a long kiss to his forehead as he rubbed his hand up and down his back. “I’m just a little, ah, sick, okay? It’s not as bad as it looks!” At AK’s sniffle, Tord frowned and lifted his head up by his chin. “Oy, whats those tears for? Don’t cry my little sailor!” Tord pinched his nose with a grin, causing AK to giggle and wipe at his eyes. “This little pain won’t stop your pappa! I’m the Red Leader remember?? As if this will drag me down!”

Tord patted the space in front of him, letting AK crawl up the bed and sit on his good leg, carefully avoiding his right as he did. Tord smiled down at his son as he wrapped an arm around him in half of a hug- or a full hug in terms of what he was capable of at the moment. “Come now my little puffin! Don’t you remember how strong your pappa is? Did you forget huh? Did you??” He poked at AK’s side, causing his son to squeal and giggle as he squirmed in his hold.

“Daddyyyyy! Stop! I didn’t forget!!” AK said in between giggles.

“Oooh that’s right, you better not forget! Or I will eat your nose!”

“Waaa!” AK covered his nose with both of his hands, “Daddy not my noooose!!”

Tom laughed as he moved closer to his family, he wrapped his arms around his husband who leaned into his hold, even as he continued to terrorize their little boy as he made biting motions at him, a few of which AK would respond to with nipping of his own. Sometimes, when AK would kick out his legs or move his arm too far, Tom would pretend to lunge at them with playful little bites and low chittering sounds.

When AK took notice, he shrieked and curled up tight like a little ball in Tord’s arm.

“Daaaaaadddyyy!! Papaaaaaa!!” He whined, his voice taking a more higher pitch akin to a pup just learning how to howl.

“What do you say, kjaere?” Tord grinned at his husband who smiled back at him. “Shall we eat this little bird?”

“Anything for you, dear husband.” Tom said as he turned to look at his son, “After all, I’m nothing if not devoted.”

“Nooooooooo!!” AK yelled as he giggled and squirmed.

The two parents descended upon the hapless little boy, attacking at all sides. AK found himself partly shifted somewhere along the line, while his papa scurried around the room trying to catch him. His daddy on the other hand, stayed stationary on the bed, watching them run around with glee, though he was also a threat, as his papa would corral him towards his daddy when he wasn’t paying attention, and his daddy was good at catching him. AK would be subjected to tickles until he was able to break free, and the hunt was on yet again.

A little while later, the family of three were back together on the bed, with AK nestled happily between them, in the embrace of both his fathers. It didn’t take him long to start dozing off to sleep again, surrounded by love and safety as he was.

Tom looked up at his husband from over AK’s head, he smiled softly as he watched Tord smooth out their son’s hair, the look in his eyes so soft, fond, so full of love. A definite improvement to his tired, pained look when they had first woken up.

He couldn’t help but get lost in the grey of his eye, a colour that now reminded him of warm nights inside by a fire, a hand to hold during tougher times, a home that was all their own, a secret kept hidden from a world too cruel.

His love.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a creep, Thomas?”

Tord’s smile never faltered from his face, but he kept his voice low as he continued to comb through their son’s hair. His eye moved up to Tom’s face, still soft and warm as when he was looking at AK.

“Do I need an excuse to look at my husband?”

Tom whispered back as he tilted his head with a smile mirroring Tord’s own. Though his husband’s smile widened a bit as he chuckled.

“Careful Thomas, people will think you’re in love with me.”

Tom felt his chest warm at Tord’s teasing tone, he wasn’t entirely sure why that was, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. He carefully moved over his son, Tord quickly caught on to his intent and raised himself up just slightly, as he tilted his head to give his husband a long, sweet, kiss. One he hoped conveyed that funny little warm feeling he had in his chest at the moment.

He hoped Tord liked that feeling too.

When he pulled back, settling down carefully beside their son once more, Tom smiled as he murmured:

“Let them think…”

For most of the day, the family spent their time in bed. AK brought his lego set into the room, while Tom decided that today might be a good day to indulge in old hobbies, and so brought his old bass in to sing his family a few songs he knew how to play.

A good day, overall, even if it did start out a little bad.

At least Tord was smiling.

That’s all he wanted really.

#tomtord #tordtom #eddsworld #eddsworld fanfiction #ew Stay AU #ew Stay AU writings #Im eepy now good night have some food #asks #anonymous

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happyk44 · 7 months

Text

You know, I don't think we really talk about how brave Grover is because in canon he's very characterized as nervous and scared most of the time, but. I mean to be a Keeper/Protector in and of itself is a brave concept. You are risking death by monster to go and find demigod children who don't know how to fight or use their potential powers and bring them back to camp all by yourself, sometimes more than one. You have to constantly be in disguise which impacts your capacity to move or fight back. A lot of your kind have likely died protecting these kids. And the godly parents of these kids aren't compensating you or thanking you for bringing their kid back safely, but they likely get peeved if you don't.

And then to be a Searcher. Again you are alone against monsters and gods and other magical entities that might eat you or fight you. Again a lot of you have died trying to find Pan. A lot of them were your family members - your father, brother, uncle, etc. There are many monsters, many creatures out there that deceive you about his presence.

Grover has found all known children of the Big Three. He helped Luke, Annabeth and Thalia make it to camp and dealing with monsters the whole time because Luke kept seeking out fights. Despite this and despite seeing Thalia "die" in front of him, he still went back out! He spent a year in full disguise at a boarding school, went on his first quest, helps in the fight against Medusa, and so on. Even goes inside the Underworld with the other two, even though he hates the underground.

Despite all of that shit, he still goes out to find Pan after he gets his license and manages to bullshit his way into staying alive the whole time and help bring back the Golden Fleece.

Then he goes out again! Like right after he got back because he was at Bianca and Nico's school for a while posing as a student again and TTC happened in December. Goes on the quest to rescue Artemis and Annabeth.

After he goes back on the search for Pan. Six months later he goes into the Labyrinth (which is underground and he hate the underground). He lets Tyson come with him to find Pan, even though he's terrified of a Cyclopes and Tyson has the mentality of a young child.

He fights in the big battle afterwards, and then informs the other satyrs that Pan is gone - a decision that he knew could've had him exiled. Which they tried to do! And still he decides to go out and spread the word, despite the fact that other satyrs would likely be as dismissive of the news as the Council at CHB.

He confronts Morpheus while trying to rally other nature spirits. He helps battle! He's there in the bubble that Kronos makes with Percy, Annabeth, and Thalia, which means he was literally right next to a scary evil Titan that wanted to destroy everything!

He is so so brave!!

And if you correct Rick's math, then you get that he's around 14 (slightly younger, calcs put him at 13.7) at the end of the TLO, so he's the "youngest" on the team directly fighting Kronos, and when he becomes Lord of the Wild. Between TLT and TBoTL he's 12 and 13 by mortal standards. Yes, he's "technically" 16 right now but he was 28 in TLT which was supposed to have him pass as a 12 year old (since Percy was 12, turning 13) and so the math is not exactly half despite Rick saying so.

I guess we could argue that he was 14 in TLT and was just small enough to pass as a middle schooler, esp since Percy says he thinks Grover was held back because of his wispy goatee (which I always took to be a foreshadowing of Grover's goatman status, and not "he's a tiny 14 year old by human standards") and acne (was I the only 12 year old with acne) but I think it would be so funny for Percy, at 16, to a 32 year old bestie and a 13/14 year old bestie at the same time and everytime he says that people give a look and he just giggles to himself about it.

When he's 20 and Grover looks 15 but is actually 36 it's even worse because of how casually touchy he and Grover are and everyone is like "Percy plz stop calling Grover babe in public, you look like a pervert" and he's just offended hand on his chest, how dare you imply his relationship with Grover is inappropriate, they are both adults who love each other, and it's just gritting teeth, we know that Seaweed Brain but other people do not.

But lmao, anyway!! Grover is a brave brave boy! He is Lord of the Wild! He appears to be the head of the Council at camp as well! He takes charge and leads the nature spirits into battle as well. He was part of the planning group with the cabin leaders in HoO.

Despite his fears, he is so so brave! He would jump into front of a bullet for Percy (but Percy would not let him, Percy is so much "I would die for you, but if you even think about getting so much as a papercut to save me, I will be so fucking upset about it). Grover is so wonderful and cool and we need to talk about him more!!

#i hope the show inspires more grover content #i need to go swishing through his tag #happy talks pjo #grover underwood

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bunatee · 7 months

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OC-tober Day 7: Stargazing

I've written a condensed version of this scene below the cut <3

((A few things for context:

a. Early into the story Serenity saves Matisse's life after he is fatally stabbed. Serenity is not very powerful when it comes to using magic, and so she unknowingly messes up and uses a piece of her own soul to heal him. This has led to Matisse being able to feel her emotions as physical sensations. As of this point in the story Serenity is unaware of this.

b. It is a tradition among a certain clique of the upper class that every year during the summer's social season a weekend getaway is held at a little camp a few hours away from the capital. This is essentially just a bunch of young adults isolating themselves for a few days to get into their own trouble and party and do stupid young adult things without the judgement of the rest of society.

c. Kairos is the name of the local god.))

Matisse never missed a star shower if he could help it and he'd thought the event would be his to witness alone that night. Everyone else at the camp seemed to be preoccupied with their affairs or more interested in partaking in other vices. He never much liked keeping company with himself, but watching the stars alone was better than moping about the cabin watching the others having their fill of fun. He could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter as he sat on the rooftop.

When Serenity and Jacques had returned from their cute little hilltop date it was the sting of jealousy that goaded him into interrupting the two right as they were about to share a kiss. It wasn't until she turned to look up at him, that he could see how blotted and flushed her cheeks were, and hear how her words slurred and her accent came out as she scolded him for not making himself known sooner. Satisfaction came with the explanation of why he was there and her immediate request to join him. There was no room for guilt for his actions when Jacques had left them alone and she thanked him for that interruption.

Matisse thought he finally understood all of those little sensations that she caused. He was certain that the light little bubbles that caressed the scar were a kind of light happiness, but the prickly feeling that ebbed and flowed the whole evening were not a standard nervousness as he had thought, and so he named that feeling 'apprehension.'

The 'might have been a bit over half o' the bottle' of wine she'd had was hard at work softening her edges and allowing Matisse to witness a vulnerability she rarely shared. The heaviness was gone in an instant as she spotted the first falling star and grabbed his hand in delight. The glimmer in her eyes every bit as bright as the stars that began to flare across the sky.

Serenity thanked him again for being kind to her and for being such a dear friend as she kissed his cheek. Resolving to simply be a friend to her was difficult when the skin her lips had grazed burned, and their fingers were intertwined in the same way that he wished he could intertwine his heart and soul with hers.

It was as though Kairos himself planned the intervention when the screen door to the cabin creaked open and then slammed closed below them. Set popped up over the roof's edge a moment later, apologizing for interrupting as he hadn't realized she was there. Serenity only laughed and told him to join them. To Matisse's confusion she never let go of his hand, though she did move in a way that would have blocked Set's view of them.

Set was a relief. He lightened the mood and gushed about his evening with Asha. Serenity teased him for his unnecessary shyness, for being so enamored with the young lady who so clearly was just as enamored with him.

In time the three were all laid back watching the stars. Matisse, for a change, found himself to be the quiet party among them. Serenity and Set held a steady flow of conversation about everything and nothing, yet both mostly kept their eyes fixed to the sky above. Matisse couldn't find it within himself to do so, not when something more beautiful than the stars lay beside him.

((Thanks for reading! Hopefully, it's not too bad for being entirely unedited/proof-read. The actual chapter this takes place in is ~8k works, so condensing it like this was harder than expected.))

#Matisse is very silly for thinking she's holding his hand platonically #myart #original characters #ocs #divinerites #Matisse (OC)#Serenity (OC)#Set (OC)#bunatee's oc-tober tag

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ninjadeathblade · 9 months

Text

Compliance (a Bad Batch fanfic): Chapter 3

Summary: This series of chapters is going to be about how Wrecker got his scar. Totally based off of a brief line in @just-here-with-my-thoughts' Test Subject series.

Warnings: Crosshair not knowing how to deal with his emotions and lashing out at his brothers, Nala Se (stop ruining their lives please), Crosshair swearing

Word count: 554

Beginning / previous / next

Author Notes: I got possessed halfway through writing this and I just sorta left what I wrote in here. Sorry guys but this fic is going to primarily be angst and fluff. We will get to the fluff after a while but I have to go to angst first. Enjoy!

"Hey guys! Over here!" Wrecker called them over as they entered the medbay. A few other clones who were patients glared at the 'defective' clones as they walked past. Crosshair had briefed Hunter and Tech about Wrecker's vision problems, the three of them each confronting their feelings in different ways. Tech had kept himself busy with tinkering, Hunter had gone for a walk through the city and Crosshair had cleaned every last one of the blasters. He wouldn't make the same mistake: not again.

"Morning Wrecker. Sleep well?" Hunter asked, crouching down beside his brother.

"Yeah! Feels like the most rest I've had in ages!" Wrecker grinned.

"CT-9903 is on his way towards recovery." Crosshair tensed, inhaling sharply at Nala Se's voice. "We will see how he is after the bacta has finished its work." Crosshair spun around to face the Kaminoan, Hunter and Tech copying his movements.

"Apologies ma'am, we just came to check up on Wrecker," Hunter replied, slipping into his formal tone as he saluted the Kaminoan.

"You should be in training," Nala Se reprimanded and Crosshair wished he'd bought a blaster with him so he could shoot her. He'd always hated the longnecks but this sent rage striking through his veins.

"But we still have nearly a standard hour until we are due in the training simulator. Besides, we cannot complete our training without Wrecker. Our simulations are programmed for the four of us. Not only three," Tech spoke up.

"You will report to training now. CT-9903 has yet to recover and you will complete your training," Nala Se responded, tone cold. Crosshair glanced between Wrecker and the Kaminoan.

"Of course. We'll be on our way," Hunter saluted her again, nodding at Wrecker before signalling for Tech and Crosshair to follow him. Crosshair begrudgingly walked after the sergeant, kicking a couple of medbots as he walked out of the bay.

"CT-9904, refrain from tampering with droids." Crosshair's anger boiled again at Nala Se calling after him.

"The Kaminoans don't think bantha shit of what we want," Crosshair hissed, biting down on his toothpick so hard to snap it in two. His face twisted into a scowl as he spat it out, replacing it with a fresh one. "They'd get rid of him without batting an eye."

"Crosshair…"

"You know they would! Dammit Hunter, you know they don't care about us or the regs!" Crosshair shouted, not caring about the stares of the regs or Kaminoans.

"Crosshair, calm down," Hunter insisted.

"And you don't even care!" Crosshair finished, taking a deep breath. "Wrecker might be decommissioned and you aren't even worried!"

The punch that clocked him round the jaw stunned him, staggering backwards slightly. His toothpick flew out onto the floor.

"Of course we care! If you think we don't, then you must have the facts incredibly mixed up!" Crosshair looked at Tech, feeling confused. His datapad was being held by Hunter as he shook his hand slightly, looking as bewildered by his punch as Crosshair was. "Wrecker is our brother and if you discount how much we care for him then we will have no choice but to think you do not care!" Tech walked back over to Hunter, taking his datapad before heading in the direction of the training simulators. Hunter just shot Crosshair a look before following Tech.

#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb tech #star wars tbb #tbb fic #star wars the bad batch #crosshair #crosshair and wrecker #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb hunter #tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #wrecker #hunter

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reyescarlos · 2 years

Text

touch || a tarlos fic

summary: Carlos and TK explore new depths in their relationship after an unexpected exchange.

word count: 7.3k || rated e || day 3 of @fivealarmfest || read on ao3

My eyes start to roam To the curl of your lips In the center of eclipse In total darkness I, I reach out and touch

For as much as Carlos loves the work he and TK do, he can admit that sometimes their schedules make him wish for a more structured and standard set of hours. Maybe then they’d be more aligned with each other in getting home around the same time.

This week alone has been grueling, the two passing more like ships in the night than anything else. By the time one of them is getting ready for work in the morning, the other is clinging to sleep desperately after getting home at an obscene hour. It makes the days blur together and admittedly, Carlos has been growing restless. The two of them sleeping together in the most literal sense of the word is nice, when he wakes to find TK curled up against the side of him after quietly coming home. But it’s been a few days since they’ve had something more physical than cuddles and soft kisses to each other’s faces before beginning their days. Satiating his needs alone pales in comparison to the real thing.

Nonetheless, he is hardly above– for a lack of a better term–taking matters into his own hands. It’s how he finds himself in bed half dressed with his laptop, going to a corner of the internet, pulling up content he keeps under lock and key.

His tastes vary depending on his mood and right now, Carlos feels outright starved for something that matches the hunger he’s been stoking for days.

In theory, he knows watching porn is nothing to be ashamed of. Yet still, he feels like a teen hiding a stash of contraband magazines in a shoe box under his bed as he goes online searching through tabs until he finds what he’s looking for. His sex life with TK is undoubtedly the best he’s had with anyone in his life. But there are some interests he’s kept under lock and key, fantasies he held close to the chest.

He hits play and settles in against the pillows as the scene starts, skipping ahead past the unnecessary dialogue. He can appreciate the production value, but he’s truly only here for one thing. He can feel himself reacting already to the two men on screen, easily (and perhaps shamelessly) picturing himself and acting out the scenario before him. It takes no real effort to picture TK bound for him, at his mercy completely. The thought alone makes him unbearably hard.

TK’s sudden appearance in the doorway makes his heart drop at once. He’s home far too early, not that he’s complaining…necessarily.

But truly, the timing could not be worse.

Carlos closes the laptop quickly and tosses it back against the bed.

TK freezes mid-stride and raises a brow.

“Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all. Nope, totally normal response to have,” he deadpans before laughing. “What are you doing on there? Watching dirty videos?”

Carlos’ face burns instantly, giving him away.

TK’s eyes light up and he hops into bed with the excitement level of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, no way. Are you serious? Can I?” TK rushes to ask, tripping over his words as he gestures towards the laptop.

Carlos groans but nods anyway, folding his hands together on his stomach as TK pulls the laptop to him and opens it.

His brows lift in surprise, but there’s no judgment on his face, just intrigue as his eyes rake over the frozen frame.

TK looks up at him. “You could have told me you liked this.”

Carlos rubs the back of his neck, feeling a rush of heat go up the length of it.

“It’s kind of out there. I didn’t know how you’d react.”

TK bites back on his lower lip and hits the space bar, the men on screen resuming their scene. TK moves and settles beside Carlos, letting the laptop sit between them as their shoulders press together.

“This is pretty hot,” TK says after a few moments.

On screen, the dark haired man sucks at his partner’s cock as he fingers him, the other man writhing, unable to do anything other than take it with his arms bound behind him.

Carlos smiles a bit at TK’s commentary, taken aback but glad to see he’s enjoying it. What he isn’t expecting is just how much his boyfriend is interested.

TK reaches a hand over and skims a finger along the skin just above Carlos’ waistband and Carlos’ breath catches in his throat, his stomach swooping. His eyes flash to TK’s face and finds his boyfriend staring back unapologetically at him.

A slow smirk breaks across TK’s face as he tips his head upwards and kisses Carlos. It’s teasing, slow pecks that get Carlos’ heart pounding— even more so as TK slips his hand into his boxer briefs and grasps him full on. TK takes him out completely and Carlos shivers at the cool air against him.

Carlos lets out a soft groan, already so keyed up from the video as it were. Now with TK’s hand on him, his body craves even more. He rolls his hips upwards as TK begins to stroke him slowly and kiss him in earnest, building up the momentum steadily.

Carlos pushes for more, his tongue working its way into TK’s mouth. TK whimpers, quickening his pace. Unable to keep away, Carlos’ hand finds its way into TK’s pants and to his cock. He smirks against his boyfriend’s lips at the hardness he’s met with.

He wraps a hand around TK’s cock, thumb pressing against the bead of cum he feels on the tip. He smears it and teases TK’s slit with the pad of his finger. TK continues to leak, stimulated from Carlos’ actions.

Carlos rolls his tongue back against TK’s as they work to get each other off, the sounds of the men on screen echoing their own noises. But Carlos couldn’t care less now about the action in the video. He’s far too dialed into the way TK reacts to him now.

TK pulls back after a bit and Carlos’ brows furrow in confusion for a moment before TK shifts to climb on top of him. In his haste, his leg closes the laptop, the porn easily forgotten.

TK tugs his sweats and underwear further down his legs and gets a hand around both their dicks. He looks Carlos right in the eyes as he jerks them off simultaneously.

Carlos moans loudly, head thudding back against the wall as TK quickens the pace, his wrist flicking back and forth in a blur. He squeezes TK’s ass, rubbing his palms across his skin as his hips rock forward, fucking into TK’s fist.

TK leans in and sucks on his neck, his tongue teasing his pulse point. Each slide of TK’s cock against his sends a shockwave through him so acute, he trembles. Carlos feels the pressure forming in his stomach, his cock dripping even more now. He clutches more firmly onto TK’s backside to steady himself.

“Come on, baby. You’re so close. Let it out for me,” TK encourages, his voice hitching as he squeezes the bases of their cocks before resuming his strokes.

Carlos’ eyes roll shut as he gives into the sensations flooding him. He comes over the both of them, TK groaning as he caves too. TK’s fist is a mess at once, but he keeps pumping, carrying them through this wave.

TK shudders as it passes, reaching over to pull a few tissues free from the box on the nightstand. Carlos takes them from him and cleans off his hand. TK thanks him.

“It’s the least I can do. After all, this is not how you pictured your night going,” he laughs.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m all in favor of pleasant surprises,” TK says, leaning forward and stealing a quick kiss. “Especially when they’re so damn satisfying.”

~*~*~

Cleaned and in bed once more that night, Carlos curls up on his side, waiting for sleep to find him. But his mind races back over the evening. His relationship with TK is secure and yet they’re still uncovering things about each other. It feels like a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t even known was there to share this side of himself with the man he loves.

“Are you awake?” TK whispers, snapping Carlos from his thoughts.

“Mhmm. What’s up?” he asks, turning to face TK.

“I was thinking about earlier…about what we watched.”

Carlos’ raises a brow. He shouldn’t be surprised it’s on TK’s mind too, but it still catches him off guard.

“Oh?”

TK nods. “Yeah. You know, if you ever wanted to try that sort of thing…I’d be open to it. I mean…more than open to it. I’d really like it if we tried that ourselves. I haven’t stopped picturing myself tied up like that for you.”

Carlos stays quiet for a moment, processing what TK’s saying before he sits up and turns on the lamp. He needs to see TK clearly for this conversation.

“TK, are you sure? I never brought it up because I know how intense it can be. You could easily get lost in it and I don’t want that for you.”

TK sits up too, his eyes determined.

“The fact that you’ve done your research and are so concerned about my well-being just goes to show that I’m right to trust you.”

Carlos chews on his lower lip as TK presses forward.

“Look, how about this? I’ll do some reading and we can circle back on it. Would that make you feel better?”

Carlos nods. “I want you to fully understand what you’d be getting yourself into. Surrendering control like that, giving yourself over to someone…it’s a lot.”

TK’s head tilts to the side as he reaches for Carlos’ hand and laces their fingers.

“It’s not just someone. It’s you. I know you’d take care of me the whole way through.”

“And afterwards,” Carlos tacks on. “That’s just as important, maybe even more so in some cases.”

“See? I’m not worried. I want us to try new things and I want you to be able to explore stuff that interests you.”

Carlos smiles softly. “The same goes for you, you know. If there’s something you’d like to try, I’m all ears.”

TK bites back on his lower lip and smiles a bit.

“Well, since we’re on the subject, I can’t say I’d mind cuffing you or something like that. I love it when we get going and you hold me down, but it could be fun trying similar on you.”

Carlos smirks. “Oh yeah?” He sits up even further against his pillow. “What else do you picture when you think of me in that position?”

TK’s face flushes a bit. “I picture it a little rough…I think about blindfolding you so you don’t know what I’m going to do next. Just…keeping you in suspense with no way to reach out.” His face grows red and he buries it in his hands.

“God, why is this so embarrassing to talk about?” he laughs.

Carlos laughs softly too and lowers TK’s hands, cupping his chin. The picture TK’s painting is getting him worked up already.

“I find it pretty sexy, actually. And, for the record, I’m not opposed to anything you’ve mentioned so far. Keep going.”

TK searches his eyes for a second and nods before he continues.

“I also picture myself teasing you a bit, testing your limits. Maybe even telling you when you’re allowed to come. I can see it, you know? I think about things like that when I’m getting myself off. You with your hands behind your back, taking every inch of me. I just…I really wanna…”

“Want to what?” Carlos asks breathlessly, hanging on to every word.

“Use you,” TK replies quietly, his cheeks tinging pink again. “That’s probably too much though.”

Carlos shakes his head at once. “Not at all, no.”

He takes a hold of TK’s hand and puts it between his legs, making him feel firsthand how hard he is. TK’s eyes widen, his thumb stroking along his shaft instinctively. Carlos’ jaw clenches as he reins himself to stay on task.

“If you can do this to me with your words, just imagine what it’d be like when you’re fucking me senseless. I want to give you that. I want it badly too, TK. It’s not too much. We can and will absolutely give this a try. We’re both serious about this. We’ll be safe and we’ll have fun with it too.”

Relief washes over TK’s face. He gives Carlos’ cock a soft squeeze as he leans forward and kisses him.

“I love you. Thank you, babe.”

Carlos strokes his cheek. “Of course. And thank you for being so open with me. I like that we can have conversations like this.”

“Me too,” TK murmurs, an adorable smile forming on his lips. “I’m really excited for this. I feel closer to you already.”

~*~*~

They take their time with research and careful discussion and build up over the next few nights. Carlos thinks perhaps he’s being a bit too cautious and paranoid, but when it comes to each other’s comfort and safety, they’ll never take shortcuts.

Neckties find a second life in their bed, acting as restraints, but Carlos feels restless and he knows TK does too. Casual kisses these days always lead to more. A prolonged stare over the dinner table leads to them barely making it to the bedroom.

It comes as no real surprise to Carlos now to see the way TK eyes him once he comes home. Carlos only has three more miles left on the course he’s doing on the exercise bike, but something tells him he won’t make it.

“Hey, TK,” he greets, wiping sweat from his brow.

TK’s eyes roam his body before he seems to come back to himself.

“Working up a sweat without me, huh?”

Carlos slows down his pedaling and licks his lips.

“Well, you’re here now. I think we can figure something out.”

TK’s eyes grow a bit dark with want.

Carlos shuts off the machine and climbs off the bike. TK eyes him as he comes closer and kisses him roughly the second he’s near enough. He gets Carlos up against the wall, settling a thigh between his legs. This kiss is rough and dirty. Carlos is already a sweaty mess from his workout, but he knows that just gets TK riled up all the more.

The late night talk that started this all is clearly on TK’s mind as his hands clutch onto Carlos’ wrists and press them against the firm surface behind him.

This assertive side is a turn on. TK clearly knows what he wants and Carlos will refuse him nothing.

Carlos grinds down on TK’s thigh as their kiss deepens. TK slips his tongue into Carlos' mouth and frees his hands, instead opting to get his fingers in his hair. His nails gently scratch against Carlos’ scalp. It’s one of his weaknesses, a fact TK knows all too well. Carlos feels himself get even harder and seeks out friction against TK’s thigh once again to sate him.

TK’s hands drop from Carlos’ hair and work their way up his shirt. Carlos breathes sharply through his nose as TK pinches his nipples. He jerks forward involuntarily.

“Come with me,” TK says, taking a hold of Carlos’ hand and leading him to their bedroom.

TK wastes no time in taking off Carlos’ shirt, letting it drop to the floor. He runs his hands over Carlos’ chest and abs before making Carlos sit on the edge of the bed and watch as he undresses. TK doesn’t say a word as he strips, just keeps his eyes locked on Carlos’.

Carlos makes the most of the view, knowing he’s going to be without his sight in just a short while. He drinks in everything about TK’s body, shamelessly focusing on his ass as he goes over to the dresser and grabs one of the ropes they recently upgraded to but haven’t used just yet along with a blindfold.

“I think we’re ready for this now…do you?” TK asks.

Carlos nods enthusiastically.

TK gets behind him and pulls arms back, pinning his wrists together. The rope bites pleasantly into Carlos’ skin as TK binds him.

“Test,” TK instructs.

Carlos attempts to rotate his wrists, but they don’t move much at all. TK kisses his left shoulder and moves on, draping the cloth over his eyes and securing it.

Plunged into darkness, Carlos’ heartbeat ratchets up a few notches. Carlos’ fingers itch to touch him, to feel something tangible. He digs his nails into the palms of his hands.

“Breathe, baby,” comes TK’s voice. “I’m right here.��

He feels TK’s presence in front of him and is pleasantly surprised by the press of TK’s lips against his own.

“Remember, if it’s too much—,” he starts out.

“I’ll tell you straight away,” Carlos finishes.

TK ruffles his curls and guides him down to lie back. Carlos’ heart is all out jackhammering, but his excitement far outweighs the nerves.

TK finishes stripping him, ridding him of his workout shorts and underwear. Carlos feels exposed and is aroused by it, especially as TK’s tongue laps up from his hips to his chest and TK moans. Carlos feels himself let out a small bit of precum.

“I wish you could see yourself right now, my god.”

TK licks him again, letting his tongue flick against one of his nipples. Carlos whimpers quietly.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” TK says. Carlos feels him get up from the bed.

He strains his ears for any clue for what’s coming next, but the room is dead quiet aside from his breathing and the thundering of blood rushing in his ears.

The seconds tick by and Carlos knows, in reality, TK hasn’t been away long at all, but with his sight gone and his hands bound behind his back, time moves differently.

He hears the shuffle of TK’s feet and sighs in relief to have him back.

“Missed me?” TK muses, placing a kiss on his jaw. “I’ll make it up to you right now.”

Carlos perks up at this, expecting a kiss or TK to stroke him a bit to take the edge off, but he gets neither of those things.

He cries out as something cold touches his nipple. He feels himself harden at that, a soft purr of a moan spilling from his lips.

“I couldn’t resist. You’re so hot from your workout, I just thought I’d cool you down a bit.”

He feels a slight shift on the mattress and a second later, a kiss is dropped in the center of his chest.

TK circles both his nipples just then with ice cubes. Carlos’ cock twitches.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Carlos gasps, acclimating to the chill. TK teases him a while longer, drawing out moans from him.

TK runs the cubes along his collarbone and up the columns of his neck before tracing the curve of his lips. He kisses Carlos then, the warmth of his mouth a delicious contrast to the coolness put there just moments ago.

He sighs shakily when TK stops, curious to know what part of him he’s boyfriend will zero in on now.

TK shifts and peppers Carlos’ chest and torso with kisses as he descends, pushing back Carlos’ legs so his feet rest flatly on the bed, his legs spread.

He knows what’s coming next from this position he’s been put in, yet the first swipe of TK’s tongue to his rim is still so shocking to his system, it sets every nerve on fire inside of him.

TK has always had an oral fixation. Whether it’s pen caps being chewed as he’s writing something, straws bitten, or the strings of his hoodies landing in his mouth, Carlos has always known this quirk and found it endearing and adorable. But when he’s the very thing TK can’t seem to stop himself from toying with, it steamrolls into the realm of sexy and addicting.

Carlos arches off the bed a bit, wishing desperately that he could tug at TK’s hair as he rolls himself onto his tongue.

TK licks softly and Carlos feels himself leaking in response, losing himself bit by bit as TK’s ministrations advance.

TK is relentless against his hole, sucking and curling his tongue inside him with precision. Carlos eyes water and he can feel the tears roll down his cheeks. He could come just from TK’s skilled tongue alone, but his boyfriend clearly has every intention of making the most of tonight.

He lets out a heavy sigh as TK pulls away, his body instantly missing him. But then Carlos hears the unmistakable squelching of lube being squeezed out of a bottle.

Two slick fingers slide inside him and strike home against his prostate. He lets out a sob as TK scissors his fingers, stretching him out further. TK gets a hand around Carlos’ cock and starts stroking him.

Carlos mumbles the most nonsensical things as TK brings him closer to his breaking point.

“TK, I’m ready. Please…,” he pants, tucking half his face in the pillow when the teasing gets to be too much.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me,” Carlos practically shouts.

A low growl rumbles in TK’s throat and at once his hands fall away. Carlos trembles, his body so overstimulated.

He’s flipped over and pulled up to settle on his knees. TK coats his entrance and grips his hips a moment later.

“Oh my god,” Carlos rasps as TK’s cock pushes into him.

His head is spinning by the time TK grabs a fistful of his hair as he drives into him. Carlos lets out a sharp cry in sheer pleasure.

He begs TK not to stop, though it’s truly not necessary. TK hasn’t let up for even a second, just pounding into him over and over again.

“Babe, I can’t…I need to…,” he slurs, but TK pieces it together all the same.

“You’ll come when I tell you to,” TK grits out in between thrusts.

Carlos bites back bruisingly on his bottom lip, breathing heavily through his nose. He’s so turned on by TK’s roughness. He wants to be good. He can be patient. He can wait for his reward.

TK’s grip on his hip tightens and a few seconds later TK comes hard inside him with a string of curses. Carlos whimpers as he’s filled, but TK doesn’t stop fucking into him until the wave passes. The sounds they both make are truly obscene. Carlos feels himself dripping steadily, his cock aching for relief.

“I’m so close,” he whimpers, praying TK will jerk him off now that he’s reached his end. He’s so wound up that one simple touch would be enough to send him over the edge.

Carlos lowers his hips, his overly sensitive cock twitching as it touches the fabric. He lets out a wounded sound.

“Hold it,” TK says.

For a moment Carlos thinks he mishears, but TK is pulling at his hips, yanking him back from trying to soothe himself against the bed.

“TK, please.” His voice sounds downright hysterical.

“Not yet,” TK pants, placing a kiss on his shoulder. “Color?”

Carlos swallows hard, a shuddering breath leaving him as he collects himself enough to check in.

“Green.”

TK kisses his shoulder again.

“Be good for me, okay? Almost there, baby. You're doing so well. Just stay with me. I’ve got you.”

Carlos lets out a sob as TK pulls out and turns him over to lay on his back again. There’s a shift against the mattress and a second later, wet heat envelopes his cock.

Carlos’ back arches off the bed, his hands balling into fists behind his back. TK has always been exceptional at going down on him, but the sensitivity he feels is a whole different level than Carlos has ever experienced before. He writhes against the mattress, mumbling incoherently as TK takes him down to the root and massages his balls.

Carlos’ face is wet with tears, his throat feeling like it’s on fire.

“Fuck,” he cries out, eyes screwed together so tightly under the blindfold. “Can I come now? Please, TK. God, please,” he rasps, barely able to get the words out.

He feels two taps on his thigh, a wordless yes. It’s all the prompting Carlos needs.

All that pent up tension explodes in the pit of his stomach. He comes so hard, he swears he sees stars as he fucks into TK’s mouth. He can feel TK’s cheeks hollowed against his cock, his tongue flicking along his shaft. It’s almost too much for Carlos to take, but he loves every second of it.

He pants hard as he comes down, turning his head and burying it completely against a pillow as the aftershocks of his orgasm move through him. His body is hot all over, his legs feeling like absolute jelly. He’s never been fucked like this before. He feels like he’s thousands of feet off the ground.

“Are you okay?” TK asks softly. Carlos can hear a note of concern, like he’s scared he took it too far.

That’s the polar opposite of what he feels. TK got it exactly right.

Carlos nods and swallows past the dryness in his throat. He angles his head back towards TK.

“Kiss me.” He licks his lips. “I’m okay. More than okay…I just…I need to feel you right now. Kiss me.”

TK complies and kisses him at once, rubbing soothing circles on his thighs. The kiss is so sweet in comparison to how rough things were just moments ago and Carlos is obsessed with that contrast, in their ability to be so versatile with each other.

He bites gently on TK’s lower lip as he pulls away with a sigh.

TK undoes the binding on his wrists and Carlos flexes the joints and shakes his arms to get the feeling back in them. TK takes a hold of his wrists and raises them. Carlos smiles to himself feeling TK place soft kisses there.

TK plays with his curls until his fingers loosen the blindfold and the fabric slips away.

Carlos squints against the light, blinking a few times to adjust to it. His eyes immediately land on TK who watches him a bit anxiously. He can only imagine what he must look like right now.

Carlos smiles at him and kisses him again, pouring every bit of gratitude he can into it. His fingers toy with the hair at the nape of TK’s neck. He lets himself get swept away for a bit in kissing TK until he needs a fresh breath.

“I swear, I’m good. Sure, I can barely think right now, but that was fucking amazing.”

TK’s shoulders sag in relief.

“You were incredible. You did so, so well for me. I’m proud of you,” he says, pushing back Carlos’ hair from off his forehead.

“Yeah?”

TK searches his eyes and grins.

“Yeah. God, you’re so sexy,” TK says with such reverence in his voice. The full impact of what they’ve just shared seems to hit TK just then as he shakes his head in awe.

“Holy shit. That was unreal. I’m gonna be getting off on that for a very long time, I hope you realize this.”

Carlos laughs and kisses his cheek.

“I’m serious. Every time I blink, this is all I’ll see.” He sighs. “I can’t wait for it to be your turn. I’m gonna be so freaking good for you.”

“You always are.”

TK beams and kisses him again, exhaling softly.

“I want you to get some sleep soon, but let me clean you up first, okay?”

At the mention of rest, Carlos realizes just how tired his body is from all the exertion and strain. His eyes drift a bit as he gets comfortable settling on his side.

TK cups his cheek and kisses the tip of his nose.

“Rest, babe. It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

~*~*~

The need is like an itch beneath his skin. Carlos’ eyes keep drifting to the clock, mindful of when TK’s shift is set to end. It’s selfish, but he hopes no last minute emergencies keep him down at the station for even a moment longer than he’s scheduled.

He has a plan for tonight, a clear vision of escalating their recent forays in the bedroom. He’s passed most of the evening setting up their room for later; he’s brought in a chair he can easily envision TK seated, along with the ropes to bind him and a blindfold for good measure.

He takes a picture of the set up, the blindfold and ropes perfectly displayed, and texts the image to TK with the caption “Tonight?”

His phone buzzes not even ten seconds later.

I’ll be home in 10

“Carlos?” TK calls out, announcing his arrival, right on time ten minutes later.

Carlos sets the book he’s been reading down on the nightstand and gets out of bed. He walks towards the door just as TK steps into the room.

TK’s eyes go wide as he looks around at the candles and dim lighting.

“Thought I’d set a mood. Hope it’s not too much.”

TK traps his bottom lip between his teeth and stands in front of him, running his palms smoothly across Carlos’ bare chest.

“You’re such a romantic, even when it comes to kinky stuff like this,” he says, tipping his head towards the chair.

Carlos blushes a bit, second guessing himself for a moment.

“I love that about you,” TK continues. “It’s a special night. Just tell me what to do and it’s done.”

Carlos feels thunder in his veins at that. He holds on to TK’s hips and kisses him, their bodies pressed in together. His hands lower to TK’s ass, giving him a firm squeeze before putting some space between them. He could ask about TK’s day, make small talk to ease into it, but the wait to see TK all day has already been long enough. He can’t hold off another second.

He grabs the ropes and blindfold off the chair and sets them on the bed.

“Strip, please.”

TK smiles slyly. “Well, when you ask so nicely like that,” he muses, slipping his shirt over his head and letting it drop carelessly to the ground.

Carlos watches hungrily as TK removes his jeans next and toes off his socks. He goes lastly for his boxer briefs, but Carlos shakes his head.

“Those can stay for now. I’ll get to them myself.”

He can see the curiosity flash in TK’s eyes, but his boyfriend doesn’t ask any questions. He simply lets his hands fall to his sides and awaits further instruction.

Carlos looks over his nearly naked frame and licks his lips.

“Sit.”

TK does so at once, obedient as ever. Carlos lets out a breath and grabs the ropes. He notes the way TK’s chest rises and falls a bit heavier at the sight of them.

“Are you okay? Do you still want to do this?” Carlos asks. He’d scrap the entire night’s plan in a heartbeat if TK shows even a fraction of hesitancy or doubt.

“I’m excited and I’m eager, but I’m not scared,” TK replies, looking him right in the eyes. “That’s the last thing I’m feeling right now. I promise. I just want this to be good for you...I want to be good for you.”

Carlos places his hand under TK’s chin and tips his head upwards a bit so he can kiss him, his thumb skimming back and forth on his jaw. TK sits up a bit more and kisses him sweetly, a soft sigh leaving him as they break apart.

Carlos rests his forehead against TK’s. “This is already everything to me.”

He moves away then and uses his foot to spread TK’s legs wider apart. He starts there, wrapping the rope around TK and the legs of the chair, tying it securely. He drops a kiss on both TK’s thighs as he works, subtly brushing the back of his hand against TK’s growing erection.

The contrast of the dark rope against TK’s skin just does something to him. It’s a bit disorienting for a moment, the realization that this fantasy that’s always just existed in the corners of his mind is being made real.

His movements are methodical as he continues on, grabbing another rope for TK’s upper half.

“Arms behind your back. Around the chair,” he instructs. His cock twitches at TK’s urgency to follow orders.

He binds TK’s hands first, letting his fingertips brush soothingly along TK’s skin as he notes a slight tremble in them.

Carlos moves on to TK’s torso, letting the rope wrap around his frame and tying a secure knot to keep him in place. Carlos takes a step back and admires his handiwork.

“Not too tight?” he asks, double checking one of the knots against TK’s chest.

TK shakes his head. “It’s perfect.”

Assured, Carlos goes for the blindfold. He smiles at TK before securing it around his eyes. From their adventures two weeks ago, he knows all too well how overwhelmed TK must be feeling now. He leans in and kisses him, reminding TK to breathe and signal at any point should he need it.

Looking at TK now, all bound like this, Carlos almost doesn’t even know where to start. He takes a slow walk around him, once again taking notice of TK’s quickened breathing. The delay hadn’t been intentional at first, but now Carlos takes a bit of pleasure in watching him squirm.

He stands behind him and massages TK's shoulders to ease tension he sees there. TK leans his head back against Carlos’ stomach. He can see goosebumps on TK’s skin. It blows his mind to know he can have this kind of effect.

“God, I love your hands,” TK mutters. Carlos smirks and gets his hands into TK’s hair as he licks a strip up the side of his neck.

TK curses under his breath, stirring a bit in his seat.

Carlos leans in and trails open mouth kissing up the length of his neck. He can feel TK’s pulse quicken. Carlos exhales against his skin, relishing in the way TK shivers and moans softly.

He lets his lips journey to TK’s shoulders as his hands run down the planes of his chest. Carlos bites down on the juncture between TK’s shoulder and neck and sucks a bruising mark into his skin.

He can see TK’s cock grow hard, his snug boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his arousal. Carlos smooths his tongue over the mark he’s made and switches sides. TK’s head tips backward as Carlos idly plays with his nipples, humming appreciatively.

Carlos moves away from him just then. TK tilts his head to the side as if trying to listen out for where Carlos has gone. Carlos keeps his steps light as he comes to a stop in front of TK and settles on his knees.

He skims his fingertips up from TK’s knees to his inner thighs, marveling at the way TK’s muscles tighten under his touch. A dark patch forms on the material of TK’s boxer briefs, right at the tip of his cock.

Carlos curses and touches him then, stroking him through the fabric. TK whines, no doubt sensitive, but Carlos can hardly resist. He moves his attention to TK’s balls, kneading them as he leans forward and sucks the head of TK’s dick through his underwear.

TK thrashes against his restraints, but Carlos has tied him so expertly, the ropes don’t slip so much as a centimeter. Carlos rolls his tongue over the slit, certain the friction must be driving TK insane as his thighs twitch again.

He grows impatient with the barrier between them and tugs TK’s underwear down, exhaling softly as his cock springs free. Carlos gets his mouth on him again and the relieved breath TK takes fills the room.

Carlos takes a deep breath through his nose as he slackens his jaw and takes TK in further, suctioning against his shaft as he goes.

“Jesus Christ,” TK spits.

Carlos pulls back and laughs.

“That’s a bit sacrilegious, no?” he muses though he’s in no position to talk. He’s down on his knees worshiping TK’s cock like it’s a deity and TK’s thighs are an altar.

He takes TK in once more, all teasing gone as he loses himself in sucking TK’s dick. His nails anchor and scratch down his boyfriend’s thighs as he moans.

Above him, TK blathers on, his words meshing together. But Carlos catches a few words of praise here and there. Carlos fondles his balls; TK’s hips jerk forward at his touch. He can feel TK pulsing against his tongue.

Carlos works his way back towards TK’s tip and rolls his tongue over his slit, shivering at the taste there. TK’s head lobs back, his mouth falling open as he pants.

Carlos pulls off then and stands up as TK tilts his head and frowns.

“Come back,” he whines. Carlos laughs and shakes his head to himself.

“Patience.”

“That’s never been my strong suit, especially when it comes to you.”

Carlos bites back on his lower lip.

“You’ll have me soon enough,” he says, running his fingers through TK’s hair. “But, unfortunately, you’re not exactly in a position to help me with this next part.”

TK’s brows furrow above the blindfold and Carlos leans in and kisses him.

“Well, that’s not true. You can listen and talk me through it, if you’d like.”

TK lets loose a breath. “I wanna watch.”

Carlos laughs and kisses him again before retreating to the bed and stepping out of his boxer briefs.

“Use your imagination.”

TK scoffs. “That’s so mean. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing.”

Carlos blushes in spite of himself as he grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table and gets himself situated on the bed, his body aimed perfectly to keep TK in his view. The sight of him blindfolded and bound, completely naked and at his mercy all evening brings over yet another wave arousal inside him.

Carlos coats his fingers and entrance, pushing his legs back. He lightly strokes his fingers against himself, imagining it’s TK. He breathes heavily, stirring against the bed.

“I wish I could touch you right now,” TK rasps. “I bet you’re so tight. You’d open up so beautifully for me.”

Carlos shivers. It’s far too tempting a thought to spring TK free for this, to have him make good on the promise. But there’s something sensuous and appealing about this too.

He works a finger inside himself, groaning at the tightness. TK hisses as if he too can feel how snug Carlos is.

Carlos begins to pleasure himself in earnest, soft breaths slipping from him. TK twitches against the restraints as Carlos lets out a moan.

He talks Carlos through, guides him on how to touch himself. Heat gathers in the pit of his stomach.

“One more. You can take it,” TK coaches and Carlos does as he’s told and adds another finger, fucking himself over the digits until he craves more.

“I need you,” Carlos hiccups, slipping his fingers out of himself and getting up.

He coats TK’s cock with lube, his boyfriend still hard from talking him through moments before. Carlos settles on top of him and sinks down on TK’s length until he’s fully seated. His breaths come out in sharp pants against TK’s mouth as he moves slowly. He’s not as loose as TK’s expertise would have gotten him, but the stretch feels good and makes him feel even closer to TK now.

“You’re still a bit tight,” TK notes, his tone approving.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep riding you ‘til I’m nice and loose,” Carlos grits.

TK curses and Carlos starts to ride him in earnest as he grows used to the sensation. Carlos gets a hand around his cock and pumps steadily, squeezing his length every now and then on downstrokes.

His breaths mix with TK’s, the two of them writhing against each other, foreheads pressed together.

“You feel so good,” Carlos keens, his fingers twining in his boyfriend’s hair as TK meets with his prostate.

“That’s it, that’s it,” TK chants, egging him on. “You’re nearly there. You wanna feel me come inside you so badly, I can tell. You’re just aching to be filled up.”

Carlos’ face burns pleasurably at TK’s words. He’s a hundred percent correct. He can feel himself clenching around TK’s length repeatedly.

He comes hard in the small space between them, his stomach warm with his release. TK’s name falls from his lips in a broken gasp, fingers gripping tight to his boyfriend’s hair to anchor him. He shudders as TK comes inside him, a soft whimper pouring out of him as he continues to ride his cock, wanting TK to enjoy every bit of his orgasm too.

His hips only still once TK settles beneath him. Carlos still clings to him. His thighs scream in protest, but it’s the right side of painful; the burn feels good.

He stays in place as they both try to catch their breaths. Carlos kisses the side of TK’s face before he leans over a bit and undoes the knots on TK’s hands and arms. TK touches him immediately, hands running up the light sheen of sweat on his thighs. Carlos shivers involuntarily, not even realizing just how badly he’s been craving TK’s touch.

TK reaches up towards the blindfold, but Carlos stops him.

“Not yet. I need you to do one more thing for me and then I’ll take it off of you.”

“Whatever you want. Just tell me what you need.”

Carlos leans forward and kisses him for a moment before reluctantly lifting his hips and sliding off TK’s slick cock. He takes his time untying the rest of TK, noting the places where the rope bit into TK’s skin a little; there are some imprints against his torso and legs. Carlos kisses all those places before he guides TK to the bed.

He sits with his back against the headboard, letting TK settle over him. He combs his fingers through TK’s hair, brushing a few damp strands off his forehead. The sight of TK with the blindfold still on like this m

“I made a mess on my stomach. I want you to have a taste and clean me up.”

“Gladly.”

TK licks his lips before lowering his face. He uses his hands to help him gauge just how far down he is on Carlos’ body. He swipes his tongue and finds Carlos’ navel. TK lets out moan after moan as he works, his tongue smooth and slick against Carlos’ abs.

Carlos sighs and works his fingers back into TK’s hair, threading through the strands. He’s about to tell TK he’s done a good job and relieve him of the blindfold when TK noses further down and laps his tongue against his cock.

Carlos lets out a gasp in surprise. TK swirls his tongue once against the head before placing a kiss on Carlos’ hip bone.

Carlos slips off the blindfold and tilts TK’s chin upwards to meet his eyes.

TK blinks a few times and smiles at him, eyes electric and wild as he moves up his body a bit and straddles Carlos’ hips.

“I missed that face,” TK says, his hands framing either side of Carlos’ head before kissing Carlos all over his cheeks and forehead.

TK’s got such a playful energy to him that Carlos can’t get enough of.

“So, I take it you enjoyed yourself this evening just as much as I did, huh?” Carlos teases once he settles down.

TK beams at him. “It’s always a good time with you.”

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