#and isn’t it a bit like sleeping on the wet patch

[jessieren]

Ok… I fully accept that he may very well not be naked/half naked here but imagination is a wonderful thing

Plus I love this episode- and the fact that he slept in the bath…

I mean what??

Side point.. I wonder if Evans does sleep naked.. Hmm I may need to muse on that point a little more

You know.. for science

[iwaasfairy]

okok so so think bout older brother sukuna sticking his dick in you when you're drunk outta reaason and barely even talking. he thinks it's your fault tbh, who drinks that much liquor and not expect this? it's honestly your fault, clinging to him and looking up at him with those unfocused eyes because— idk, it's your big brother? you wouldn't expect him to be groping and kissing your skin at 3am while you weakly ask him "what're you doing, kuna nii? stop it... ):"

for hiMMMM my eyes are open thEY ARE SEEING IT BABE

tw. incest, somno, noncon, degradation, spit

Big, tattooed hands wrap around your thighs to pull them apart. You’re an absolute piece of work. Seriously. His larger body sinks into the mattress as he gets up onto his knees next to you, and you hum into an unintelligible mumble. “Mh-Kuna, sh-tp mn-” Even sleeping, you’re as bratty as you are big, pretty lips jutting out to make your displeasure known. You talk a lot, for someone who can’t lift a finger to stop him. His hands find the soft plush of your thighs to squeeze the skin tighter in his hands, when he lets out a breath.

“Stop your whinin’. You’re the one making me…” He trails off when his touch makes your back arch, pushing your ass up to show off your slutty fucking panties. Underwear is a word too nice for the scraps of string that are meant to cover you. “This is what you get for getting spit on my shirt.” Sukuna doesn’t bother trying to be quiet as he maneuvers you around him with spread legs and your ass up in the blankets— like you’re straddling a ghost with the way you wiggle around in the position.

He clicks his tongue, before rubbing all long fingers around you and cupping your heat. “This is why niisan doesn’t let you do nothin’, you fucking slut. Look at yourself right now.” His voice is low, squeezing your hot pussy in his palm. You’ll be awake anyway, once he’s done with you. You’re already hot between your thighs, bottom lips making a wet patch on the crotch.

He places one elbow next you your shoulders before getting down over you. He sort of wishes you’d learn your fucking lesson already. Remembering the way you pouted and slurred into his bicep when pulling you out of the car makes his brows furrow, the whined ‘Kuna nii~’ replaying between his ears. It isn’t the first time he’s pulled some shit. Really, you should know better. Learn a bit quicker. Any younger sister worth something would.

Instead you just resort to trusting him endlessly. No matter how often he presses you to the wall to force his tongue into your mouth. Or the way he makes you gyrate on his lap when he’s bored, glowing with embarrassment and whining for him to stop. His own fucking flesh and blood— you’re seriously sick in the head, aren’t you. He’ll show you what all that trust gets you. Your own fault, brat. If your brother’s a total pervert when you’re awake, what the hell possesses you to fall asleep in his bed all pretty and vulnerable?

He takes a few deep breaths before descending on your neck and lapping up your scent, as drunken moans make their way out of your half-parted mouth. “K-kuna nii~” His tongue and lips stick to your pulse for long enough to make an obvious mark. His hands pull the slicked up strings down the curve of your ass, only grunting in slight irritation when one side snaps. You twitch at the sting, but don’t wake. Only roll over halfway to click your tongue against your teeth in search of his warmth. “Su-k’na nii… no. Sta-hp.”

You’re drooling. He can’t help it, he laughs. “If you know it’s me, you should stop me already— shitty fucking sister.” His thumb slides into your mouth to push down on your tongue and open the way for his own tongue, dripping hot spit onto your lips as you whimper. “It’s big brother who’s gonna fuck you. You’re okay with that?” His other hand drags fingertips through your slick, pushing one finger inside into your soft, sloppy pussy. His tongue slides over your lips as he crawls over you fully, pushing his hard cock into your thigh close enough to make you mewl.

Your pussy clicks with the wetness when he pushes in with another, stretching you out further and further. His cock twitches in his pants, until he pushes that down and strokes himself, wet, drooling tip against your belly.  “You don’t wanna wake up. ‘Cus you love being mistreated like this, right bitch? Want ‘kuna niichan to make use of all you’re good for?” He takes the hand out of you to push your shirt up over your tits, and smears your wetness over your chest as he grips the softness.

His cock thumping against your pussy, he lets out a deep grunt, then squeezes his fat balls. “You’re just a little breeding bitch for me, aren’t ya.” His much larger body over you, muscles clenching as he covers you with his own limbs, he gets onto his knees just enough to let the tip push against your swollen, slick lips. His heavy cock looks much too big to fit, but looking at that sleeping, contorted little face— you’ll take it either way. “Wanna feel how your big brother loves you?”

When the tip grinds over your clit, your mouth cracks open with more moans, throwing your head back. “Oops, looks like that feels good? Feel good for big brother? Fucking cock slave.” Then he pushes the thick, drooling head in more, and your back starts to arch so your peeked nipples push against him. His hand winds around the top of your thigh, letting the head of his hot cock snap inside — and your desperate whispering turns hitched, and your eyelids flutter.

Your hot, tight little clutch around him is enough to have his shoulders flexing and his mouth pushing to yours. “Ah, fuck. That’s it.”

You’re such a sweet little thing that you even let him kiss you, as your eyes open. “Mh-mhhm- nii-dan.” Pushing in a few inches at once, he smiles into your mouth. “-K-kuna, st-oh fuuuck~ st-op.” Your arms wrap around him to dig your nails into his back, but it’s no use. He can feel your desperate clenching around him as he pushes you open, and tears spring into your eyes. “Please stop, I’m gonna- b- Kuna nii. Kuna nii. Stop it-”

But your hot, little clutch only feels better and better the deeper he pushes- until your eyes bulge and you go limp below him, giving yourself over to him. “Nuh uh. That’s a good cockslut sister. Take it all.”

[coryosbaby]

thinking about…

how stepbrother!coriolanus would not HESITATE to fuck the living daylights out of reader as soon as the guardians are gone and he wouldn’t care if reader was still sleeping either, he knows she’s a whore that’s ok with this shit

♡ 18+, MDNI !! Stepcest, somno, daddy kink mentioned once or twice

The moment that they close the front door he’s on her :( not that she gathers that information, pretty body napping under her big pink comforter after all. Completely dead to the world, she doesn’t hear his footsteps. He closes and locks the door behind him—can’t have any risks of someone walking in, right?— and makes his way over to her cuddled up form.

She’s wrapped up in the blankets. Face buried to keep away the little bit of sunlight streaming in through her curtains, mouth slightly open with drool pooling onto her silk pillow. Such a precious sight. His hands curl around the blanket, gently pulling it off of her and exposing her body. She’s curled up into a ball, wearing a flowery top with a pink bow, and panties to match. She must’ve been waiting for him.

His hand splays across her shoulder as he turns her onto her back. She makes a little whining sound, brows furrowing, before her arms move over her head and she’s asleep once more. Coriolanus pulls her thighs apart, not at all surprised by the wet patch forming there.

He can’t help but reach into his jeans and palm his aching shaft, letting out a tiny groan as she keeps her legs open. He’s trained her so well that she spreads her legs like a whore even in sleep.

His dripping length slaps against his stomach as he pulls his pants and underwear down. Stroking it with fervor he watches her heaving breasts with content. He slides her panties to the side— pretty, flushed cunt, sticky and creamy with arousal, lips plump and swollen. Fuck.

He runs his tip through her folds, gathering slick at the crown of his dick and trying not to fuck into her too quickly. He wants her to be surprised the most when he slides hot, heavy, and slow inside her. His bottom lip catches between his teeth as he presses himself up against her tiny hole. Breathe in, breathe out…

He pushes forward. Her puffy little cunt quivers at the stretch, juices flowing as she lets out a sleepy whimper. His tip pops in, then he deliberately sheathes himself inside her.

It isn’t long before she wakes. Groggily, her eyes flutter open and she looks up at her stepbrother, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Coryo,” she breathes. Her mouth soon falls open when she sees him pushed in to the hilt. “Oh, daddy..”

he groans at that, the name laced in sin and snake venom. He snaps forward, hard. He can’t contain himself.

“Yeah. Daddy’s right here. Being such a good little girl f’me.”

She squeezes him, arms reaching out and making grabby hands. He complies, letting her wrap her arms around his strong back and pull him in, in, in. She smells like vanilla and slick.

His heavy balls slap against her ass as he uses her, his big hand moving to her top so he can yank it down roughly. She mewls when his teeth scrape against her nipple. She sees that he’s left a trail of blood in its wake— he had bitten down. What a mean big brother.

She drools as he pounds her sloppy hole, spit trailing down to her cheek. Coriolanus chuckles at that, tongue lapping it up.

“Look at how messy you are, you dirty little thing.”

He scolds her this way as his tip stabs into her most special spot. Her back arches, and she lets out an incredibly loud mewl. The blonde laughs in her face, grabbing her ankles and pushing them up over her head. He can see her asshole this way, the way it clenches and unclenches with each movement. Maybe he’ll fill that hole up too.

She’s practically brain dead at this point. Eyes rolling back, choked sounds falling out of her mouth. Coriolanus wraps a hand around her neck, pressing her into the pillow. It’s sure to leave a mark, and he loves that.

“Oh, look at you,” he coos, knuckles turning white from his harsh grip. “Stupid little slut. You love when your big brother fucks this sloppy cunt, don’t you?”

No reply. He rolls his eyes, letting go of her throat so she can let out a choked cough. She nods at him then, a hoarse reply of “yes, sir” coming out of her lips. But it isn’t long before her nimble fingers are wrapping around his wrist and bringing his hand up to her cheek. He gets the memo, slapping her clear across the face and making her dizzy.

“My cock’s so big, isn’t it? Filling up this slutty hole. Look,” his hand grips her hair and yanks her forward. In between their bodies, resting in her stomach, his dick bulges out through the skin. “Look at how fucking deep I am inside you. I’m gonna cum, right there—“ he groans when you clench around him, hips stuttering. “—and you’re gonna take it, yeah? Take it like a good girl.”

“Yes,” she cries out, tears streaming. “Yes, yes, coryo, please!”

Balls drawing up, he gives another powerful thrust before he’s spilling deep in her guts. Overflowing with seed, her eyes roll back into her skull. The warmth of him drips out of her fluttering cunt, and Coriolanus pummels her aching pussy as he rides out his high. She whines at her unfinished orgasm when he pulls out. Coriolanus knows how to make her cum, but like always, he’s being so mean. He smiles when he sees her pouty lips, fingers grazing over the cum pooling beneath her.

“Oh, baby,” he says. “Don’t worry… mommy and daddy won’t be home for another few hours. ‘M not done with you yet.”

:: @etfrin @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[f10werfae]

A Daddy’s girl

pairing: Dad!Ari Levinson x Milf!Reader

summary: Dad!Ari and Milf!Reader give their babygirl her well needed bath and reward themselves with a bit of soft kissy sex (soft!dom!ari) (slight somnophilia/cockwarming)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/Disclaimer 18+

chris masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧Minors DNI, 18+ Below ୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“youre so perfect momma, so good to our precious” Ari mumbled into Y/n’s ear, hugging her closely from behind, one of his hands groping her breast greedily as her vest now had wet patches from her milk leaking through. “I want you to use me baby, take what you need from me okay? You deserve it” He whispered kissing down her nape, feeling her shiver and nuzzle her ass back onto him.

“awh hey babygirl, ya love bein’ with your momma don’t ya pretty girl” Ari cooed letting his hand run over his baby girl’s head, her cute little face grinning under the water as his wife gently poured water over her. At 2 months old she was the cutest tiny thing, Ari and Y/n were absolutely smitten with the life they had created, “Babe, babe look she’s doin’ that same face you do” Y/n giggled watching while her babygirl squirmed and formed that famous Levinson grump on her face.

Grabbing their camera from the bathroom counter Ari quickly snapped a shot of his best girls in the bathtub, his wife and babygirl so clearly full of love for each other, even though he was sure their babygirl was more likely milk drunk having just been breastfed by her momma, his perfect wife. “You’re so beautiful ya know that?” Leaning over the tub he let his forehead lean against Y/n’s his lips meeting hers briefly before their babygirl starting cooing again clearly not liking the fact she wasn’t the centre of attention.

“Hm it’s okay pretty you’re still momma’s number one angel, daddy’s just a stinky man” Y/n joked cuddling a now towel covered baby into her chest. “Stinky huh? Well if I remember right i’m not the one that’s shit herself twice today” Ari said giving his little girl the stink eye, her tiny fists already reaching out for him with her mouth opening for a little yawn to make its way out. Kissing her husband’s neck sloppily, Y/n got out of the bathtub after her daughter leaving Ari to dry and dress their babygirl.

“Youre so pretty ya know that? Yes you do” Setting her onto the changing table Ari quickly put on her diaper, “I know pretty its so cold out here isn’t it? Dada’s nearly done baby” He reassured her, watching as she reacted to the cold lotion on her skin, clearly wanting some warmth from her daddy. Choosing a soft blue onesies accompanied by her sleep snuggie, he got her all wrapped up and in his arm within minutes, her sweet soft baby scent filling his nostrils as he cupped her head against his broad shoulder.

Mini Levinson lifted her head up slightly giving her daddy the biggest set of puppy eyes before her head become too heavy and she had to set it back down; effectively pulling at his heartstrings once again. “You got those eyes from your momma, both of you got daddy under your spell, you’re daddy’s perfect lil angel, all mommy’s and mine’s” He whispered nuzzling his nose against hers, softly padding into their bedroom he spotted his wife changed and only wearing one of his oversized tanks.

“There’s my girl” Y/n cooed brushing out her hair, instantly putting the hairbrush down to rush over and pepper her mini me in kisses, the tiny tot soon finding comfort in the binky Y/n put in her mouth. The tiny suckling sounds filling the room as her eyes slowly shut, her fists grabbing tightly onto her daddy’s shirt.

“She loves her dada” Y/n whispered tucking her in tighter into her snuggie, “Hell yeah she does, she’s my babygirl” Ari whispered, “Wait for me in bed momma, i’ll put our little precious down for the night alright? You’ve done enough for us today” Without another word Ari found himself in the room next door, a pastel purple room filled with all the toys, books and necessities for their growing girl. Her bassinet sat right in the corner with no pillows or blankets, for safety reasons, but her cute little night light sat down by the floor giving her some comfort.

“See ya in the mornin’ sweetpea, daddy’s gonna miss ya tonight” Gently setting the half asleep Levinson into her bassinet, he patted her bottom and back for a few minutes to lull her into a deep sleep, until he finally found it okay to step out. Turning on the white noise machine he tiptoed back to their bedroom, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw his wife just cuddled up waiting for him on his side of the bed.

“Hey hotstuff don’t you look delicious” Ari chuckled crawling over to her, plopping himself right on top of her, his weight pinning her down in a comforting way. “You’re so funny, daddy” Y/n teased kissing his pink plump lips, letting her tongue mingle with his for a short wet kiss before he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck; his arms wrapping around her soft belly bringing her close against his chest. “momma ya know what that name does ta me, makes me wanna make you big n’ full of me again” He growled slowly grinding his hardening cock against her bare ass..

“I-i’m tired Ari baby, our baby boo had me running in circles today” She whined feeling her body start to calm, although a part of her felt the wetness start to pool around her thighs. “I know she did, our little girl tired herself out, was sleepin’ by the time I got her into the crib” He chuckled just softly humping their bodies together, her quiet whines and whimpers causing him to smile and kiss her out of pride.

“youre so perfect momma, so good to our precious” Ari mumbled into Y/n’s ear, hugging her closely from behind, one of his hands groping her breast greedily as her vest now had wet patches from her milk leaking through. “I want you to use me baby, take what you need from me okay? You deserve it” He whispered kissing down her nape, feeling her shiver and nuzzle her ass back onto him.

“Need you inside honey, wanna feel you closer” Pulling Ari’s hand up inside her vest, she let it rest on her wet milky breasts, before using her hands to pull out his pre-cum leaking cock from inside his sweatpants. “feel the heat radiating from your pussy? all the love she has to give daddy” Both of them let out strained gasps once he slid in easily, knowing they hadn’t felt this close in weeks since their babygirl had most of their devoted attention. “I love you so much beautiful”

“I-I love you too Ari- fuck” Crying out her legs started to shake once Ari’s hand had snuck around and started to toy with her precious little button, her swollen clit begging to be played with as it stood proud out of her thick lips. “Don’t touch there d-“ Ari’s fingers slowly and carefully traced over the stretch marks which now littered her stomach and thighs, something he knew had thrown her off.

“They mean a lot to me so let me love them as if they're mine and not yours." He whispered back, feeling her pussy clench around his cock every few seconds, signifying that she was nearing her finish. To stimulate her even further his thick fingers found her wet hard nipples, tugging at them to squirt more milk out onto the vest which now clung to her like a swimsuit; no doubt their bedsheets were now soaked.

“M’gonna cum babe, so bad” Y/n whimpered reaching back to cling onto the hair at the back of Ari’s neck, her voice muffled as Ari stuck his milk soaked fingers into her mouth before putting it into his, “Milk tastes so good momma” Their bodies rocked and humped without abandon, the sound of skin slapping filled the room, the cool air conditioning preventing them from becoming stuffy. It only took a few more seconds before the band in her stomach snapped and she creamed all over his cock, him in turn filling her to the brim, a cream mixture collecting at the base of his cock.

“You want me to pull out baby? or plug you up with my cock and keep you full”

“Stay, I want you to stay in me daddy” She shuddered trying to shuffle back, trying to stuff more of him inside her, keeping her warm and stuffed just like she wanted. Eventually the both of them fell asleep, with him slowly fucking her throughout the night, even finding himself being fucked awake when she rode him at the first sign of daylight just before their parental duties came into full swing. God how he loved his woman.

———-

psa: sorry updating took so long🫶 Hope you all enjoy some dad!ari

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist tags: @pandaxnienke @patzammit @starsignbaby8809 @its-murphy-time @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @inlovewithfictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @fdl305 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @uwiuwi @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @cevansgurl @meetmeatyourworst @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @ravenhood2792 @alina02 @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @angelmather1 @bval-1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @daddymack01 @acornacre @thebaileybugle @seungcheol17daddy

[changisworld]

hellooo, can i request a needy reader having a wet dreams so she start humping chan's leg while they're both sleeping and reach her limit; until chan wakes up and as soon he notices her decides to take care of her by making her grind on top of him with their clothes still on?

- take your time <3

sorry for taking so long to reply to this but i’ve finally gotten around to writing this for you!! i hope you enjoy it<3

18+, MDNI!!

word count;1,256

original masterlist here

all asks, re blogs & comments are deeply appreciated!!

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

PSA FOR ASKS/REQUESTS: i WILL get around to posting everyone’s requests i’m just sorry if it takes a bit of time but whatever you request i’ll post it!! IM ALSO MAKING AN ANON LIST!! just send me anything & tell me what emoji u wanna be!<3

Warnings; consensual SLIGHT somnophilia, thigh grinding, pelvis grinding, slightly bossy channie, soft sexual acts, kissing, speaking of wet dreams, begging if you squint, Marking/kisses on neck, chans hand is around OC neck but it’s not rough

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan wakes up randomly throughout the night a bit too warm from being under the duvet so he tries to wiggle his arm free from under your head to take off his shirt. He throws it to the side & he wiggles himself back into the same position as he was in beforehand but you move, he thinks he woke you up..

You sleep curled up in a ball with chan spooning you, he likes to slot his leg in-between both of yours for the added comfort so for your ass to rub along his crotch or leg isn’t uncommon.

He begins to try fall back asleep again but you move again, he then realises his thigh feels wet?

He looks down & stares for a moment, waiting for his eyes to completely focus in the dark & that’s when he sees it, a small dark wet patch on his sleep shorts he is wearing, right where you cunt is laying on top of.

Just as he goes down to feel the patch, you move again but this time, let out a really low, slightly dazed whimper.

Chans head darts up to look at you, eyebrows raised

“y/n? baby you awake? did i wake you?

Chan asks, whispering while putting his hand on your arm & gives you a weak shake, but you don’t turn around. He sighs & flops back down onto his pillow & pulls himself closer to you to try fall back asleep but you just keep grinding against his leg, it was slow & irregular at first but by this point you’ve picked up the pace a bit & are letting out ragged breathes from your lips.

Chan is now wide awake & can feel himself growing in his shorts. He lets out a strong sigh & contemplates for a moment.

Somnophilia isn’t uncommon for you both & you have both heavily discussed it before, You’ve woken Chan up multiple times by sucking his tip or cupping his balls & you’ve woken up pleasantly surprised to chans head between your thighs or his fingers easing their way into you.

Chan thinks about it for a moment & he thinks it’s a good idea to help you with your issue.

He trails his hands down to your waist & puts a gentle but firm grip on your waist & he looks back at the back of your head, still sleeping, smelling & looking as beautiful as always, he pulls your hips slightly towards him before pushing back. You stir instantly & he pauses but you don’t wake up. He begins to make you grind against his leg but he himself feels a bit touch starved. he shuffles your shorts down your legs so it’s your bare cunt on his leg, then he slides his shorts down too so he can completely feel you.

He takes a ragged breath in once he feels how wet you actually are against his bare leg. He starts guiding your hips quicker & a bit faster against his leg & you are hot to the touch(which he finds as a huge boost to his ego) & you are still whining at either the dream or chan? he tells himself it’s because of him.

After a minute or so your legs subconsciously tighten around chans leg & he can tell your close but before you can bubble over, you jolt awake which gives chan a fright & he tenses his arm around you.

“y/n babe you okay?” Chan whispers to you, reaching over & kissing your cheek. You sigh & let out another whine but this time, at the loss of an orgasm that felt.. so real?

“yeah, just had a dream, why you awake channie?” You whisper back, melting back into his touch. “where’s your shirt? your chest is really warm, i like it.” you let out a quiet chuckle & flip over so your face is in front of his, which is when you feel your wetness & also chans naked leg beneath you.

“was too hot so i took it off, what were you dreaming of hm? you look flustered, i can tell your cheeks are rosey right now.” Chan pinches your cheek playfully & you smile at him which he smiles back.

“Ah, just… hey stop teasing you already know what kinda dream i was having that’s why your shorts along with mine are gone” you nuzzle your face into his neck to hide yourself, a bit embarrassed. Chan laughs a bit before laying on his back & manhandling you so you’re now straddling him.

“Well i know you’re wet baby, you stained my shorts, i realised when i woke up. why not use me to get off hm? you were so close baby” Chan interlocks his fingers with yours as his hands lay on each side of his head, your arms caging him in from above.

“Channie i want you to help me, make me finish baby please” You start grinding against his hard on while you lean down to start kissing his neck, you whimper at the friction but also because chan won’t help you.

“Nuh uh, you can work yourself okay hm? you can do it you’re already so wet it won’t be hard, tell me, what were you dreaming about?” Chan puts his hand on your waist & starts guiding your movements again & starts kissing your shoulder, giving it little nips.

“you- i was dreaming about you, i was imagining us kissing, i-i don’t know why it turned me on so much, you drive me insane channie! ugh! please help me” You sit up slightly to look into his blown out eyes & his beautiful smirk

“kiss me then beautiful, you’re so amazing, your cunt is dripping all over me, you’re better than any wet dream ever.” You instantly lean down & kiss him, you don’t waste any time in using tongue. as soon as his lips hit yours, you suddenly feel so much more complete & you begin grinding a lot faster against him & he puts his hand around your neck & squeezes slightly which makes you whine into his lips which make his cock jump.

Chan can tell you’re close to the edge now so he breaks the kiss & moves down to your neck before he starts kissing & sucking new purple marks onto it, next to previous ones he has given you. You’re breathing heavy & whimpering as he does so, you grab the back of his head to keep him there as your eyes finally roll back. he moves his head just enough so he can look at you as you come undone without even being able to say anything other than his own name.

“c-channie, chan!”

Your orgasm hits you like a brick wall & is so intense. You flop over after it’s finally over & you’re breathing heavy. Chan helps you lay down on your side of the bed before kissing you on the head.

“that was so hot, you need to ride my thigh or pelvis way more often”

“stoppp you’re making me feel embarrassed, can i help your issue?”you put your hand above his hard on but he stops you & takes it off & kisses your hand

“i’m alright baby, but don’t be too surprised if you wake up to me giving you the best morning orgasm of your life.”

You both smile at eachother & you cuddle into his chest, you pillow talk for a while before falling asleep.

[w2soneshots]

Labour -W2S

words: 1.6k+

warnings: pregnancy, birth.

summary: you and Harry finally meet your baby girl.

notes: I’ve never had a baby so I apologise if this isn’t accurate!! Also this was a request on wattpad. Hope you enjoy🫶🏼🧸

Liked by wroetoshaw and 1,467,098 others

y/username: not long now🫣🤍 @wrotoshaw @freyanightingale

-comments-

faithloisak: ❤️❤️😭

taliamar: you're so cute

y/nfanpage21: the bump!🥺

user31479682: still can't believe w2s is gonna be a dad

I met Harry in primary school. I always thought he was a little weird but just as high school finished I fell head over heels in love with that weird boy. That was 12 years old. We got married two years ago, it was a small wedding in Guernsey with only our closest friends and family. Just under a year ago we decided we wanted a kid, 4 months later I found out I was 8 weeks pregnant. I waited an entire week to tell Harry just so I could tell him with a little bag containing a mini version of his charity match jersey inside (that I'd had specially made). Then we told the boys, Faith, Freya and Talia at a special dinner that we arranged just so we could tell them all together. They were extremely excited, especially Ethan and Faith because there would now be another set of parents in the group.

We found out we were having a little girl when I was 21 weeks. That was also around the time I felt the baby kick for the first time, me and Harry sat in our bed absolutely freaking out about it. After we knew it was a girl I could finally start buying an unholy amount of baby clothes, teddies and things for the nursery. Me and Faith have become considerably closer, since we now have things to talk about, she's really been a great help when it came to little worries I had or if I just needed someone to rant to about back pain.

I'm currently 38 weeks. The hospital bags are packed and the nursery is completely ready. I am seriously getting bored of being pregnant and would really like to just meet my baby. Harry ran me a warm bath so I could relax. Then I dried myself, put on my current favourite pyjamas and slid into bed next to him. I struggled slightly getting to sleep since I was really uncomfortable. I tossed and turned until I finally drifted off to sleep.

I woke to the feeling of wet between my legs. Confused, I pulled the covers back. My eyes met a large patch of clear ish liquid on the mattress, barely visible in the darkness of the room. My brows furrowed then my face dropped, mouth turning into an O shape. My water just broke. I took a deep breath then turned to gently shake Harry awake, he groaned. "Haz, wake up" I whispered gently. "What- what's up?!" He said the last part with a little bit of urgency after properly waking. "I think my water just broke." I stated calmly. His eyes widened "what!" He jumped off the bed.

"Calm down. It's fine the midwife said we have time, remember?" His face calmed slightly then he took in a shaky breath "are you ok?" He asked, coming over to my side of the bed. "I'm fine." I replied. He helped me off the soaked bed and to my feet. "This is really happening, we're really going this." He said with slight excitement in his eyes. "Yes we are. Now can you grab the hospital bag while I change?" He quickly nodded then ran towards the nursery where the bag resides.

I got changed into a comfy sweat set, brushed my hair and tied it back into a bun. When I emerged from the bedroom Harry was stood by the door rapidly texting on his phone. "Ready to go?" I asked. He looked up "yea," he nodded "I was just texting the boys." I giggled "Harry it's 5am!" I said with a light shake of my head. "I needed to tell someone!" He exclaimed. "We're any of them even awake?" I asked as he unlocked the front door. "Uh- no but they'll see it in a bit." I laughed.

Once we got in the car I text my mum telling her what was going on, then Harry speedily started the car. We were at the hospital just 15 minutes later. Harry helped me inside and we were quickly taken to a private room. "What time did your water break?" The nurse asked. "Around half four." I answered. "Ok... and have you had any contractions?" She questioned while scribbling on her clipboard. "Uh no, not yet." She looked up "alright then, I'll get my colleague to come and attach you to some machines so we can monitor you and baby." She said with a kind smile. I thanked her and she left the room.

Another nurse came in soon after and wrapped my stomach with some monitors, she did some other general checks on me. Once she left Harry came to sit next to me and held my hand. I smiled at him but my smile was quickly replaced with a look of discomfort as I felt a small but painful cramp wrap around the bottom of my stomach. "Woah, was that a contradiction?" Harry questioned a few seconds later, once it had subsided. I nodded "ye I think so." I replied. "Should I go get the nurse?" He asked. "No I'm fine." I answered. He nodded and kept his hand firmly in mine.

y/username just posted a new story!

Once it hit 8am I was having regular contractions that were lasting around 30 seconds each and were 7 minutes apart. The midwife came in and checked how dilated I was, 4 centimetres. Me and Harry sat on a FaceTime call with his mum, dad and Rosie, just a few minutes after we called my family. Then I got a call from Faith. "Hey! How's it going. How are you?!" She asked excitedly. "Hey, I'm okay." I said with a light smile. She returned the smile "I literally couldn't believe it when Ethan told me you were in labour this morning." She stated. Before I could say anything else I felt another contraction building. I quickly said goodbye and placed my phone next to me. I took a deep breath and squeezed Harry's hand. "You're doing so good, breathe." He said quietly. As the pain subsided I let out a heavy sigh. Harry squeezed my hand lightly "You're incredible." I looked to him and smiled "You're so cute."

After an excruciating amount of time I was finally at 9 centimetres. I stood with my arms wrapped around Harry's neck, swaying slightly and breathing heavily. "Not long now. You've got this. I love you. You're doing so good." Harry whispered in to my ears as I clung to him. He kept his hands firmly on my waist, helping me to stay up. "Ok y/n, It looks like you're ready to push!" My midwife said and I looked up to Harry with fear in my eyes. He helped me back onto the bed and cupped my face in his hands gently "you're gonna be fine, I'm here." He said with a comforting voice. To be honest I thought Harry was going to be an absolute mess when it came to me giving birth but I was pleasantly surprised on how strong he's been, for me.

I lay back on the bed, held up by a few pillows and Harry was quick to grab my hand, once again. With my legs propped up, my midwife sat on a chair in front of me. "On the next contraction push as hard as you can." she said through my legs. I nodded nervously and it wasn't long until I felt that now all familiar pain run from my stomach all the way round to my lower back. I squeezed Harry's hand so tight I thought I might break it as I pushed with all I had.

After almost 30 minutes of what felt like constant pushing I finally heard the loud cries of my baby. Tears immediately poured down my face and the last few hours completely left my brain. I looked over to Harry once they passed me my baby. I have only ever seen Harry cry once during the entire time I've known him, but there was tears falling down his face as he stared sweetly at me. "You did incredible. She's perfect. I love you so much." He choked out. I brought him towards me by fisting his shirt in my hand and pulling him so our lips connected.

Once Harry cut the babies umbilical cord, both me and baby were checked over and cleaned up and we informed our families and friends that we were both ok and that the baby was healthy, we sat admiring the sweet little baby peacefully sleeping in the plastic cot. "We need to name her." Harry said quietly. "Got any ideas?" I asked, realising I hadn't actually thought about the fact she'd need a name. "Uhm, I like the name Nova." He said. My eyes lit up slightly and I nodded "she looks like a Nova." More tears dropped from my eyes. Harry shuffled towards me "what's wrong? are you okay?" He asked softly. I laughed lightly "I'm fine. I just- love her so much." Harry giggled then pulled me into a warm hug "I love you." He said with a breathy laugh. I smiled into his chest "I love you too."

y/username

Liked by wroetoshaw and 4,023,611 others

y/username: my baby girl Nova Lewis🤍

-comments-

behzingagram: omg wow wow wow congratulations❤️❤️❤️❤️

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y/nfanpage21: I can't cope🥹

user29473674: w2s is officially a dad woah

[jaestrz]

Insomnia - Seungcheol

18+ minors dni! - smut - soft - masturbation - a bit of a bulge kink??? - overstimulation -

the sound of your feet padded on the floor caught Cheol’s attention. You usually wouldn’t be up this late if there isn’t something wrong so he had a concern look on his face. “It’s late baby.” He acknowledged. You could only agree with a hum. “ i’m really turned on and I can’t seem to sleep. Can you help me love? Please? It’s too painful and empty.” You pleaded and his eyes gazed at yours.

Fuck now he’s hard.

Seungcheol’s breath heavies as he guide you to sit on his lap, his hands kneading your bare tits slowly. You were holding yourself back from moaning out loud. “Like a bitch in heat. Look at you, all worked up. Can’t even sleep without thinking about taking my cock in your pussy huh?” A whimper escaped your lips, humping on his thigh only for him to bounce you and increase the pleasure.

You could feel your arousal wetting his gray sweatpants leaving a patch mark.

“Daddy, I’m not wearing anything underneath.” You whispered, feeling the bulge in his pants hardened at the sight. Cheol let out a groan, watching as your tits bounce with every movement you made while trying to reach for your high. Seeing as you were close, Seungcheol stopped. The sound of frustration in your voice. He carried you at the edge of the bed with a mirror facing the both of you.

His hands found its ways, pulling your pants off revealing your wet cunt before slowly opening your thighs. “Fuck me Cheol, please.” You begged, and the male just raised an eyebrow while looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “That’s not my name.”

“Daddy. You’re the only one who could please me like this. Please. Fuck me.”

The familiar nickname was holding him back from pounding into you. “ touch yourself for daddy. Prep yourself.” Your hand never reached your cunt so fast. You started slowly by rubbing your clit, playing with your folds as you but your bottom lip from morning too loud. “ let me hear those pretty moans love. Tell me, do you think about other men when you touch yourself?” You threw your head back behind his shoulder as you rub circles, pressing it to put pressure on your cunt.

“I only think about you daddy. Wishing the fingers that is playing my dirty pussy is yours. Only you could access to this cunt. This body is all yours daddy. These tits and pussy belongs to you.” You whimpered, feeling your finger dive in your cunt, not giving you the enough friction you wanted. “That’s right baby, you’re my slut. No other men could please you as I do.”

You added another finger, fingering yourself at the fastest pace as you possibly could. There was a sharp stinging pain on your right bare thigh, feeling the pressure of Seungcheol’s slap. “Eyes on the mirror baby.” He warned and you found yourself staring at your dirty reflection. You’re bare naked in front of the mirror, with your left tit in his palm kneading, the feeling of his lips sucking your neck while you’re fingering yourself. Which he left a mark you have to deal with tomorrow.

After a while, the knot in your stomach burst and hot strings of cum came out, making a mess after you squirted without realising , you panted heavily while leaning your back against his chest. Your legs felt soft. “What’s your color?”

“Green.” You breathe, there were beads of sweats forming on your forehead.

Seungcheol gave you a worried look. “Are you sure?”you nodded at his question. You were actually going to be the death of him. A small smile appeared on Cheol’s lips before kissing your forehead. You tugged Cheol’s pants, which to him he lets you be. Revealing his boxers and a bulge.

The erection he has was painful when you start palming his bulge. He could only let out a soft groan while moaning your name.

“Fuck y/n you’re such a needy whore. Couldn’t wait to get your pretty pussy filled with daddy’s cock?” He said, taking a vibrator at the bedside table while you went and lay down. You felt your hands tied at the headboard and a vibrator Cheol use to tease you with. The friction you felt sent an electric shock to your body, feeling it vibrating.

He took off his boxers, his cock tip was filled with precum. Slapping some lube in his hand before rubbing it on his cock and pumping himself. He took the vibrator out and lined himself on your cunt before pounding into you, a loud moan echoed through the room. You wanted to touch him so bad. Looking down, seeing how his cock disappear when he pounced deeper in you. The lining showed up in your stomach turns him on. “harder daddy. fuck me until I can’t walk tomorrow.” You said, lost in his pleasure, feeling every inch of him inside you. He was going to rip you apart.

The bed shakes with every movement and you felt his thumb sinking in your folds while he ducks you. The stinging pain brings pleasure. “Daddy, this is too much.” You cried out as he fucks you through your orgasm. He leans forward to suck on your tits. You felt his warm seed squirting inside you, leaking outside your filled cunt. The feeling made you clench his cock by accident, earning a loud moan from Cheol. “Fuck baby, if you do that then I might not be able to control myself.” He whimpered.

“Your pussy is begging my cock to fill it with my cum. Do you like that idea? Seeing how hot you would look with my cum dripping out of your cunt whore? Do you like it when you milk me dry?” his words were sending you over to the edge as you came again. You lost count after you got distracted. You were surprised with his stamina not changing.

Your breast were sore, your clit was swollen, you were practically ruined by him. He thrust for the last time before shooting his hot seed inside you.

Cheol landed his body beside you, kissing your forehead and caressing your face. “Was I too mean?” His voice turns soft.

“A little but it’s okay.” Cheol let out a breath of relief.

“Let’s clean-”

“Can you stay please? Please Cheol.” The tiredness in your voice made him feel like he shouldn’t go anywhere.

At the end, he ended up sleeping with you in his chest.

[violettduchess]

A/N: It was going to be an Afterglow fic but it just got too long so it's just some Silvio fluff with a bit of spice

Silvio x Reader

WC: 1.2k

The rain is a never-ending sheet of falling gray outside your bedroom window. Your fingertips brush the cold glass lightly, as if afraid you might shatter it with the force of your desire to spot him. But no matter how long you stare, it doesn’t grow any clearer. You can make out nothing through the torrential downpour.

“Sudden rain like this is common during the summer season, Signora. His Highness knows how to handle a ship in such weather.”

You rip your gaze away from the gloom to look at Carlo. He offers you a tremulous smile, one you see is doing a poor job at masking the concern in his eyes. 

“Silvio isn’t captaining the ship. What if the young captain runs into trouble or makes an error in judgment?” Worry seeps across your words, rising from the churning pool in your heart.

“Do you really believe his highness would allow anything to come between him and returning to you?”

He places a hand on your shoulder and despite the rolling waves of concern in your heart, you find yourself feeling somewhat comforted.

“Come, the hour is late. A warm cup of tea and sleep will bring him home faster.”

You allow Carlo to gently lead you away from the arched window and the insistent wall of rain just outside of it.

*

“Fuckin’ rain,” he mutters as he slowly pushes open the white wooden doors of the royal bedroom. A damp towel hangs around his bare shoulders, thanks to Carlo who had come rushing to meet him and the others at the docks with warm tea, towels and umbrellas to get them safely back to the palace in the heavy rain. The moment he got through the door Silvio had removed his drenched boots and socks as well as his sopping wet tunic and jacket before towel-drying his hair as he took the stairs two at a time to get to you.

He knows the ship was scheduled to return hours ago and he knows you, being the worrywart you are, were probably tossing and turning or maybe even stupid enough to wait up for him.

What he did not expect was to stumble backwards against the bedroom door with a loud clunk as you launched yourself at him from the bed, slamming against him with all the force of a hurricane.

“The fuck-” The words are cut off by your hands grabbing his face and pulling him down so your mouth can cover his. You kiss him with all the rioting emotions that are whipping through you: relief that he is back, the fear that nearly drowned you at the lateness of his arrival, the explosive desire to welcome him home.

And so locked in each other’s embrace, you stumble to the nearest piece of furniture, the camelback sofa, an incredibly beautiful, far too expensive engagement present made of the softest azure fabric.

And there you stay.

*

“Missed me so much ya couldn’t even lemme get through the damn door before jumpin’ me, huh.” 

His words are right by your ear, soft and airy as his heart is still slowing from the frantic racing you caused the moment you threw your arms around him. Now you are the one wrapped in his embrace, still straddling him, your forehead resting against his bare shoulder as you catch your own wobbling breath. With a groan, he shifts you onto his lap so he can stretch out his long legs which were already aching before he arrived back in Benitoite.

“Maybe,” you murmur as you lay your head down on him. His slender fingers tug on the hem of your nightgown where it is bunched at your hips, pulling it down to cover your legs as best he can. He shakes his head at your coy answer, his hair still damp with rainwater. A few drops fall across your skin but it doesn’t matter. He’s still got his wet pants somewhat on, your nightgown is now flecked with large wet patches. In the match up between lascivious impatience and rational thinking, the latter had no chance at all.

“Maybe, my ass.”

You twist in his arms, snuggling closer and your cheek brushes against the cold gold chain of his necklaces. Frowning, you lean away from him even as he reaches to pull you back against his chest.

“Whaddya doin’, woman? It’s cold if you move away.”

You shoot him a Look but then lean forward, reaching around, carefully lifting the first, longer gold chain from his neck.

“You know I don’t like when you leave your jewelry on.”

He leans back, splaying his long arms along the back of the couch.

“You were the one who attacked me. I’m an innocent victim of you needin’ to get some.”

You snort in a decidedly unladylike way as you carefully undo the clasp of his second gold necklace. 

“You? Innocent? Pffft.”

Your sass earns you a pinch on the nose and you jerk away with a laugh as you carefully lay his necklaces down on the side table next to the couch. Settling yourself more comfortably on his lap, you reach for one hand and pull it close to you, holding it as you carefully begin removing his rings.

He’s grown quiet, watching as you slip the gold from his fingers, one by one. Normally he would never let anyone touch him like this. But you aren’t just anyone. You’re the only person who has ever managed to see past the bluster of his blunt words and questionable actions, the one who pierced that glistening, golden armor of coins and snark and then stripped it away, laying his heart as bare as his fingers are right now.

His rings are carefully laid beside his necklaces and you raise his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. A flush creeps across the steep planes of his cheeks as he drops his gaze, still unable to witness such open tenderness without it sending waves of uncontrollable emotion through him. An ocean of affection and love he is still learning to navigate. 

He reaches up and tousles your hair, enjoying the silky feel of it through his fingers, the way it falls messily over your head when he is done, and especially the way your bright eyes narrow and those lips of yours press together in a pout he’s come to treasure as much as any coin.

“Whaddya say we get off this damp couch, get rid of the rest of these soggy ass clothes and you get the pleasure of scrubbin' me clean?"

He says you'll wash him but you both know the truth: there's little that Silvio enjoys, truly deeply enjoys down to his core, more than pampering you in the bathtub. 

You grin slowly, already warmed by the spark in his sea-blue eyes.

“For once, you have a good idea.”

"For once?!!"

But you're already moving. You leap off his lap, narrowly avoiding the smack he was aiming at your backside and take off for the bathroom, unable to hold in your jubilant laughter as Silvio struggles to follow in his incredibly uncooperative, still-wet, stiff pants, huffing something about sassy women and smart mouths……with the happiest grin on his stupidly handsome face.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @bellerose-arcana @ikemen-writer @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @mxrmaid-poet @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

[lizzy019]

𝒮𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒪𝓊𝓉

Dom!Johnny Cade x Bimbo!Fem!Reader [Reader is described as excessive hourglass n is a Soc]

cw -> bondage, breast play, cum play, praising, hard domination, oral (male receiving)

Word Count -> 1.3K

My apologies if this one isn’t good, I’m not great with domination type stuff, but I tried- so enjoy!

Shopping around stores was fun, and being a Soc with a sweet greaser definitely earned some stares. Regardless, you were ditzy enough to be oblivious to it as you found a pretty lilac dress which had cute bows scattered along its hem.

Grabbing it without second thought, your eyes widened when Johnny was out of sight. Fearful, you scurried around looking for him.

There he was! He was kind enough to even bring you a pair of white, chunky heels for you to try.

“Thought they matched your style.. of course, if they’re not, I can put ‘em back.” His voice was soft as always, shy but sweet as he gave them to you while he took the dress.

You happily sat near one of the shoe trying seats, taking off your shoes and slipping your foot into the white heels. It was snug, but it made you feel pretty.

“I like them! Gimme the dress, I’ll try it on altogether!” You smiled bright, snatching the dress from his hands and scampering away into the changeroom.

You swiftly changed from your previous dress to the new one, breasts lifted and waist snatched as you zipped it up.

You found yourself displaying for Johnny, the skirt of the dress too short and all your cleavage out for the world to see. While he found it extremely hot, you found discomfort in the fabric.

“It’s squeezing my hips too much! Plus, it makes my stomach look fat!” You whined in complaint, storming off to change out of it.

Exiting the mall with only the new shoes and some makeup in hand, the walk home was quiet as tension loomed over you two. 

Johnny still kept his arm around your waist, squeezing occasionally out of comfort as you lamented the loss of the pretty dress.

You brought Johnny to your house, sneaking him in since you knew of his home life. Scurrying upstairs, you pushed him into your room playfully and snickered when he stumbled a bit from the collision.

“Johnny, baby, do you wanna sleep over tonight?” You asked with a puppy look in your eyes, begging silently as you placed everything in your hands down.

He couldn't say no to you! Especially when you looked as sweet as you did with your bottom lip puffing forward.

“Yeah.. sure, baby.” He responded, plopping himself down on your mini-queen mattress.

You beamed and kissed his cheek firmly, lightly rubbing his neck before moving away to change.

Something about Johnny seemed off though, you couldn't shake that feeling.

But you were ditzy and dumb, happily removing your makeup before going into your closet to find some comfy clothes.

You found yourself a lovely pair of.. skimpy attire. Taking off all previous clothes without a care if Johnny saw, your bra came off as you replaced it and the shirt before with a tiny tank top.

Good God, Johnny was practically drooling.

He didn’t wait, he simply couldn't.

Before you even could try putting on the bottom part of your comfy clothes, his hands grabbed your waist and shoved you onto your own bed.

Scrambling to try and prop yourself up, his hands pinned your wrists down as he violently began to entwine his tongue with yours openly.

Moans were flying out as his knee came to rub at your core, a wet patch already growing from the feeling.

Hands clawing at his shoulders, desperate to find something that will ground you from such feelings, but you’re only pulling him closer.

Johnny pulls away to grab his hands onto your tank top, nearly tearing it off. He didn’t care, the clothes were cumbersome to what he was seeking anyway.

Once off, his mouth latched to your nipple as he sucked it hard while his hand played and twirled with the other. Moans were growing more explicit with each movement he made.

Your mind chanted his name, hands not knowing where to go and inevitably trying to wriggle his pants off. Your manicured nails unfortunately made it quite difficult.

At the motion you made, he slapped your breast and pulled away.

“You dirty little shit, made me walk you home in such a small outfit, every guy could see you and you just let it happen as if you’re not mine.” He said it with such ferocity that you were sure this wasn't Johnny.

You whimpered at the stinging hit, eyes watery at his scolding. You didn’t know, you were dressing up for him! You wouldn't have done that if you had known.

His hands grabbed at his pants’ belt, using it to lazily tie your hands behind your back before his jeans and undergarments flew off to reveal his floppy cock.

Johnny squeezed your breasts together, setting his limp cock between them before thrusting his hips back and forth to get his erection started.

You watched with blurred vision, whines escaping you from the metal of the belt digging your wrists and the angle he was holding you in hurting your ribs.

“Johnny, Johnny, baby, my wrists hurt..” You complained, yet again.

You didn’t get it, did you? You were spoiled, receiving and receiving and never not getting what you wanted.

He ignored the comment, finally feeling the nerves in his cock turn on before a finger came to jolt your pussy awake. One thrust, two, three, it didn’t take much to show how messy you were already.

He centered his cock with your entrance, giving you a stern look before shoving it all in in one go.

A pained cry escaped you, hands flailing even though they were bound together. This alone caused more pain as impressive tears leaked from your eyes.

“Johnny! Johnny- hurts!” You wailed, squirming.

His head came to rest in your neck’s dip, pressing gentle kisses to you. While he was mad at you, he didn’t wish you pain, much less receive it from him.

“You can take it baby, I gotchu..” Johnny murmured, thrusting like a dog in heat as moans escaped him too.

The praise helped a bit, but his deliberate and harsh thrusts had you nearing an orgasm almost too fast for you to even recall its sudden appearance.

Helpless to his cock, you moaned and writhed every time it hit your cervix. He felt like he was tearing you in two with how aggressive he was being.

Breasts bouncing and liquid arousal oozing from your core, Johnny was practically in heaven. He was nearing his climax, but he saved himself for your finale.

After a few more excruciating moments of sheer pleasure, the coil in your stomach snapped as you came undone around his cock. Walls twitching and clit pulsating, your high eventually slowed to a halt.

The fact that you busted around him, from feeling so good due to his actions had him reeling in pride. He made you feel good, he made you feel good with his cock.

Johnny pulled out once his high was getting intense, fisting his cock before shooting his load all over your chest and upper stomach.

White ropes of his seed were splattered on you, and for a second, no one did anything, until his hands began to smear the finishing cream all over your chest as a prideful way to mark you as his.

After a while of sweaty, cum cuddles, you two were in the shower just standing in a hug. Your torso faced the water, his hands gently rubbing all the sticky residue off before he kissed your shoulder.

“‘M sorry baby, didn’t mean to dig your wrists or hurt your body.. was just upset.” He murmured in apology, hands lovingly holding your waist.

You didn’t care, you were just happy that it ended off nicely. Even if you’d have purple marks on your wrists for a few days, you had bracelets to cover them. 

“Love you baby.” You responded, kissing his temple.

“Love you too..”

[fernandopiastri28]

insomnia (what if you never come back?) ~ dr3 x mv1

Max doesn't know how to cope without Daniel anymore now that he's at RB- turns out Daniel can't either.

insomnia ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅

Burning my eyes red Not slept for weeks Testing your torment My future is bleak Lost in the moment With no words to speak …. Am I a fool Waiting for you? What if you never come back?

Staying up far too late into each and every single night isn't a new aspect of Max’s life. He can’t remember a time in his life when he’s slept peacefully, allowing his mind to switch off and his body to rest. It’s a habit picked up from being so alert of living with his father, worrying that he’d sleep through his father doing something seriously dangerous to someone in the family- especially his mother. He wasn’t sure when the word ‘Insomniac’ became something he called himself, associated himself with, but it’s definitely from far before his f1 debut in 2015- meaning that the hourly hours before a race are either spent secretly working out, gaming, or wallowing in the silence like he is now.

He sits on the edge of his bed, red eyes and a mind full of torment. He has a warmed Red Bull in his hand, condensation long dripped off of his wrist and onto his thighs- a reminder of how long he’s been sat in this very position, lost in the moment. He’s sat hunched over, the thin fabric of his team supplied polo stretching across the length of his back.

In his peripheral vision, he sees a sheen of light hitting into the glass cabinet full of bits of his trophy collection. His eyes are transfixed on it, despite how it hurts his eyes to focus on a spot he’s hardly looking at. His eyes slip up to where there’s a trophy from the 2017 Japanese grand prix- the podium that he and Daniel had shared at his elder teammate’s final year at Red Bull. He feels a tense throb of reminiscence as he remembers how they’d stood up on the top steps together, covering one another with champagne.

It was the last time they would ever do it together, instead of against each other.

His thumb slides down the wet length of the can, tipping the tin back to allow the last few acidic droplets to spill down his throat. He crunches the can in his palm, the edges splitting to cut into his skin. “Fuck,” He hisses, tossing the crushed metal across the floor where it hits into his desk. He rubs the cut against the soft fabric of his shorts, a red patch appearing in lieu.

The pain isn’t unfamiliar, verging on sparking memories of the exact feeling from being a child. Young Max panicking that he’d dropped a glass, quickly picking up the shattered material into his soft hands, the jagged edges piercing his skin as he would hurriedly try and remove the evidence of breaking something. His mother would tend to his wounds after cleaning off the bloody skin, promising to not inform his father of the event.

He compartmentalises the memory once again, focusing in on the now. Pressing the injury further into the cotton over his thigh, he stands up, walking over to the cabinet he had been previously mindlessly admiring. Two of his fingers press against the glass just in front of the Japan trophy, two dirty finger prints appearing as a result. Vivid flashes of how cold the fizzy liquid had been over his sweating body, how it had dribbled down Daniel’s chin as he had greedily guzzled it down after spraying the majority onto the dutch man.

Even more vividly, Max remembers how it had tasted inside Daniel’s mouth when the two men were hidden away in the motorhome, lips attached to each other’s, skin to skin. He drops his head in shame, hot red flush spreading across his pale skin. He smears the two fingers across his dry lip, relishing in their slight chill from being against the glass. It’s near enough to how Daniel had felt; cold, wet lips on Max’s desperate and needy ones.

After enough time staring down at his bare feet, he shuffles away from the cabinet of memories, his uncut hand wrapping around the door handle. He heads out of his bedroom in his apartment, only the dim illumination of a shop outside lighting up his corridor. He needs a drink, almost desperately so. Being back in Monaco means he could go out with his usual group, but it’s not quite the time of year where all of his non-f1 friends still have work, and especially on a wednesday night- no one’s going to be able to go drinking. So that leaves him with the other drivers who also live in Monaco.

He scratches Charles off his internal list of possible candidates, knowing he’s off somewhere in Portugal with Alex. Lando could be good, but he’s pretty sure the brit is off in Bali or somewhere else random on his winter break world tour. Sure, Max likes Fernando, but he’s not really the type of guy he’d invite out drinking- the same with Lewis. Checo’s with his kids, barely gracing social media throughout the holidays, the same with Bottas and Hulkenberg.

Once he’s reached the end of his mental invite list, only a single name remains. One that Max knows will reply no matter the time of day- Daniel. Max reaches into his back pocket, using a single hand to type a message away to the Australian. He clicks send then ignores it, returning to his room to search his closet for something more club appropriate then the ‘team-merch-pyjamas’ he has on currently. It’s not until he’s pulling his shirt over his head that he feels a vibration shoot up his arm.

‘Which club?’ Daniel shoots back. Three dots of an impending message bounce below the text for a few moments until they disappear, leaving the sole message there. Max types back, mentioning the closest club to him. He doesn’t want to make a huge night out of this, just get enough that whenever he gets home he can crash out and sleep well into tomorrow.

Well, today, given the clock is currently reading 00.33

He sets his phone down on his desk, shoving his shorts down over his knees until they pool around his ankles. He steps out of them, selecting a pair of skin tight black jeans and an equally fitted black tee, the word ‘daddy’ printed across it in thick white lettering- sure to get a laugh out of Daniel. He toes on a pair of sneakers and slips his tag heuer over his hand, clasping it around his thin wrist.

He shoves a white red bull hat over his hair, heading out the door once Daniel announces with a text that he’s just arrived at the club. Max sends back a text to assure him that he’ll only be five minutes. A perk of Monaco being so small- you’re basically ‘five minutes’ from anything if you live in a general enough area. He sneaks down the front stairs of his apparent building, staying relatively light on his feet so as to not disturb anyone who lives in the rooms he’s walking past.

He hears Daniel before he sees him, heading into the thick of the illuminated dance floor. The RB driver is clad in a beige t-shirt, a design from his own brand enchanté, and a pair of white lounge shorts. He already has an orange cocktail in hand, his opposite arm up in the air. “Maxxxxieeeee,” His thick Australian accent calls out to the younger man. It dawns on Max how long it had actually taken him to get here because Daniel is far from sober, likely having been here for far longer than five minutes as Max had promised him.

“Danny,” He gives him a grin, brushing tightly past a few other heavily inebriated clubbers to get to his friend. “You’ve been well?” Daniel replies with a huge grin, lazily slinging an arm around his shoulder, a nod into his neck to confirm.

“Peachy,” His breath is hot and reeks of tequila- far from Max’s ideal choice of a drink. He slips out from under his grip, stumbling past a few other people to get to the bar- ordering a gin tonic. The bartender slides it across the table to him and he greedily gulps it down, ordering a second one almost immediately as the bottom of the glass makes contact with the bar again.

The overdramatic thwack the glass makes triggers another memory, the noise is an exact replica of what he would hear almost each and every day. His father pouring himself a drink as he would sit Max down in front of him, making the young boy explain each and every mistake he’d made in either a race or just while ‘casually’ karting. In reality, karting when your father is Jos Verstpane can never be casual. Those conversations almost always ended in gulped tears and slammed glasses- often creating cracks in all the cups in the house.

The feeling of the cold surface around his new drink against his fingertips brings him back to reality. He takes his time with this one, taking longer and more gradual sips. He squeezes back over to where Daniel is still ‘dancing’ away to the music, more so swaying his body in the most off rhythm moves and swinging his arms above himself, luckily his once full cup is now disregarded off somewhere else. “Maaaaxxx!” He calls out again, regaining sight of the reason he’s here in the first place. The two fall back into their places next to each other, just like back in 2017.

The hour progresses, flicking over to 1am and nearing 2 am. Both of their throats are dry from continuous singing along to the music that is blaring all throughout the small and overheating area, dancing around to distract from the discomfort of their cotton shirts becoming saturated with sweat and each other's spilt drinks.

“I’ve missed you,” Max tilts his head down ever so slightly, the gap between the height seeming larger than usual as Daniel’s posture slumps down. He licks the corner of his mouth, his wet tongue peaking out which catches the eye of Daniel who’s almost shamelessly staring. “At red bull,” He clarifies, keeping it a strictly friendly moment. It’s partially the truth- he does miss him as a teammate, because despite how much he really does like Checo, Daniel had a sense of fun that no one could ever match.

Daniel mimics the lip-lick the other man had just previously done, his pink tongue wiping along the length of his bottom lip. “I miss you moreee Maxi-Taxi,” His voice is thick and oozes out like honey, all perfect and heavily sitting in Max’s ears. Daniel sucks in his cheeks, leaning closer and closer until his hooked nose is pressing up against the other man’s curved one.

A set of soft and inviting eyes meet those brooding, pale ocean ones, a clear softening occurring as Daniel’s eyes bore into them. “You’re my favourite teammate- always,” He brings a hand to the Dutch man’s chest, the back of his hand gently smacking into the breast of his black top. “Lando- god- he's such a kid, mate,” He shakes his head, laughing mainly to himself. “Great fun but.. Yeah, immature,”

Max scoffs, draining the last of his drink before setting it down onto the nearest flat surface to him. “Like you aren’t,” He grins, a matching one occurring on the Australian’s face.

“Hardly,” He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue into a wet squelching nose. “He’s only somewhat.. ehhh, ‘normal’ now that he’s got Piastri keeping him sane,” Max can get that, making a quick mental comparison between the two young McLaren drivers until he realises Daniel is still speaking about his teammates. “Jean-Éric, nice guy, kinda forgettable,” He rubs a hand across the width of his neck which Max oogles out, trying to seem discreet.

“Kvyat,” Max nudges him, a wide smirk painting across his face. Daniil Kvyat, the man who Max took the red bull seat from back in 2015. He’d also taken Daniil’s recently ex-girlfriend- Kelly Piquet, daughter of 3x world champion, Nelson Piquet. The romance had been short lived however, especially cut short after Max had enjoyed his en makeout session with his then teammate, now the man in front of him, more than he’d ever enjoyed kissing Kelly.

“Yes,” He lets out a mix between a sigh and a laugh, “Daniil Kvyat- fucking guy hates you,” Dan whacks him in the shoulder, pushing a sharp exhale out of his mouth. He waves over a bartender for yet another drink as Daniel continues his seemingly never ending list. “Huuulkennbergggg,” He wheezes, never forgetting his dramatised rendition of pronouncing his ex-teammates last name. “Ehhh, Ocon, and nowww… tsunoda,” He’s so clearly drunk given the way all of his words are blending into each other and he’s becoming more painfully difficult to understand.

“Quite the list,” Max muses, laughing absentmindedly to himself sliding a hand up his own shirt to separate the soaked fabric from his abdomen. When he’s drunk, he hardly gets sad or tired- he just finds absolutely everything incredibly comedic. “I’ve had, ehh, also Jean-Éric,” He remembers, a memory of a short lived three races with the French driver. “Kvyat for same amount. Sainz for.. my whole season at Toro- yeah?,” Daniel nods, sipping away at some drink he managed to secretly acquire throughout their conversation. “You- the longest amount,” He furrows his eyebrows, struggling to remember the two exact drivers he’d had in between Daniel’s departure at the end of 2018 and Checo’s arrival in 2021.

“Gasly and Albon,” Daniel interrupts his thoughts, his eyes far from looking at where Max is deep in thought. He’s distracted, distracted by the younger fiddling away under his drenched shirt. Max lets out a hum of remembrance, his mind clicking into a timeline displaying just how long he’d race with each man for.

“It’s really hot in here,” He murmurs, tucking two fingers into his t-shirt collar, pulling it away from his skin to help cool himself down. The two of them come to a consensus of heading out, already having paid means they can slip out into the night as soon as they’ve agreed to leave. The rest of the city is quiet, acting according to being near 2 am. Daniel slings his arm back over the span of Max’s shoulder, holding himself up as they stumble down the cobblestone streets.

“You smell like shit,” Daniel wrinkles his nose up, wiping a thick sheen of sweat off his forehead, “very strongly of alcohol,” He muses, slipping a hand down into his pocket as his free one finds its place on the small of Max’s back.

“Happens when you drink,” The younger murmurs, pushing his nose into the base of Daniel’s throat, pushing a gurgled sound out of him. He swallows thickly before aimlessly mouthing at the spot of skin just above the hem of his collar. “You taste like sweat,” He mumbles out, a twisted grimace coating his expression.

Daniel brings the hand from his pocket back out to slide into the hair on the back of Max’s head, fingers tangling up in the messy and dampened blond strands. “Like you don’t?” He taunts, tugging back on the hair so Max’s looking up at him from the slightly crouched angle he’s standing at.

Neither of them realised at what point of the night they suddenly became desperate to be in this position, the exact one they’d been in back in 2017. A few experimental times later in that year, a few in 2018- once as a ‘goodbye’ for the Australian in 2022. Nothing had been like the post podium one yet- not until now.

“Try,” Max challenges him, sticking his tongue out ever so slightly. “Taste,” His words are beginning to become fuzzy in his head, a weird static trailing along with every noise that travels past his ears. He can’t tell if this is a good idea, or the worst he’ll ever make- but he wants to make it regardless.

Daniel looks down at Max’s nose, studying the curvature of it. Back up to his eyes, the deep and cloudy ocean blue that engulfs his pupils. The wispy and dark curls that frame those eyes, how they clump together with perspiration. His red lips, wet with a mix of alcohol and spit. Fuck, how good they look right now.

“Yeah,” Daniel nods, resting his forehead against Max’s. They breath out against each other’s faces for a few moments, both waiting for the other to take initiative and jump the bullet to get the end product they’re both keen for.

Daniel takes it in the end, taking his fingers higher up against Max’s scalp to cradle the back of his head, connecting their mouths finally. He was right, he tastes like bitter gin and salty sudate. Harsh around the edges and intoxicating the longer the kiss lasts. If Daniel wasn’t before this, he definitely is now. Max lets a moan pass into Dan’s mouth who eagerly engulfs it, desperate for more of those same noises. “You’re not mine, shouldn’t have you like this,” He hums as Max whines needily for more.

“Danny,” Max has to forcibly detach his mouth from the older man’s, a thumb pressing into his Adam's apple while his remaining fingers splay across the back of his neck. “Neuken- you’re all I want, I’m all yours'' He laughs, licking straight back into his mouth.

“Fuck you, Max,” Daniel murmurs straight back to him, wrapping two arms around his waist, hoisting him closer to him as he pins him into a wall nearby. “You let me go for so long thinking I was second to Leclerc- but I was always first, wasn’t I?” He taunts, a thumb playing with his bottom lip as he kisses as his top one. “You don’t fucking want him?” Max nods, confused as to why Charles is being brought into the conversation.

“Not at all, just you,” He promises, his huge hands squeezing into Daniel’s narrow hips as he flips them over, effectively shoving Daniel against the stone wall instead. “Why would I want him?”

“I see how you look at him,” He looks up at him, his eyes transfixed on the layer of sheen decorating the dutch man’s forehead. “Like you wanna fuck him,” He grins stupidly, “like how you’re looking at me right now,” Max clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he forcibly kisses Daniel again,

“I don’t do anything with him though,” He sneers, “I do things with you,” His stare softens, his thumb swiping down along one of Daniel’s tanned cheeks. “I only want you,” He whispers against his parted lips. His adam's apple bobs up and down, a long swallow accompanying it.

“What’s that make us?” His Australian accent is further amplified by his intoxication. Max twists his lips, shrugging at the question. Neither of them really know. If this means they should date, be friends who hook up whenever they want, or just never do this again- the lines between them fade into one another.

“Just mine,” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyebrows. “And all yours- we’re just each other’s,” Daniel agrees, a signature Danny-Ric smile spreading across his face.

“I can deal with that,” He pushes him away, wrapping an arm around his waist as they stumble down the same street, the dim lights of the street lamps illuminating the sides of their faces as they silently admire one another.

[magnificenttragedysandwich]

nightmares

Summary: Elliott shows up on Keaton's doorstep after a nightmare looking for a little comfort. Word count: 1,150 Warnings: There's a brief discussion of homophobic parents, tiny mentions of sex. Notes: This is something small I wrote that didn't feel quite good enough to go on AO3 by itself. It might get folded into something longer. Keaton is my farmer. He and Elliott have been together for a little while here, but they're still learning each other. Just a nice little bit of hurt/comfort.

Keaton is woken just before six by a knock at the door. For a moment, he considers going back to sleep, but then whoever it is knocks again. He grumbles as he pulls himself out of bed and stumbles down the stairs. He didn’t know that anyone else was ever up this early, except possibly Willy. Keaton knows he currently looks like shit, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck. The sun isn’t even up yet. Whoever it is, they’re just going to have to deal with him looking less than stunning at this ungodly hour. He opens the door, and there stands, of all people, Elliott.

“Elliott?”

Something is wrong. Keaton can’t tell what it is exactly; Elliott is dressed as immaculately as he usually is, not a single strand of hair out of line. But he’s giving off an energy that Keaton doesn’t like.  

“I’m so sorry to wake you,” Elliott says. He wrings his hands nervously.

“Are you okay?”

Elliott’s face just crumples, and he wraps his arms around Keaton, burying his face in the mess that currently makes up Keaton’s hair. Keaton wraps his arms around him, holding Elliott tight.

“You’re okay, it’s okay,” Keaton says. “You’re okay.”

Elliott says nothing, but Keaton feels something wet against his scalp.

“Come inside, come on, let’s get into bed.” Keaton urges Elliott into the house, gently kicking the door shut behind them.

He leads Elliott up the stairs and into his bedroom, not once letting go of him. He helps Elliott get undressed, and then they climb back into bed. Keaton lies on his back and Elliott curls up against his side, face resting on his chest. Keaton threads his fingers through Elliott’s hair. Elliott lies silently, sniffing every so often. There is a wet patch that Keaton can feel forming under where Elliott is resting his head, but he says nothing. He can always wash the shirt later, and it’s not like he and Elliott don’t regularly exchange other bodily fluids.

“I’m sorry,” Elliott says, voice slightly rough.

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“I feel like a child,” Elliott says, “running for comfort after a nightmare.”

Keaton doesn’t say anything for a moment. He continues running his hand through Elliott’s hair. “I think you’re being smart. It’s always better not having to be alone after a nightmare.”

“I haven’t had one that bad in a very long time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Elliott is quiet for a while. Keaton almost thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he responds. “I was a teenager again, stuck at home. It was... it was the night my father caught me with a boy from my class.”

“I’m so sorry,” Keaton says. Elliott had danced around the topic of his parents; Keaton knew something had happened, but he didn’t know what exactly.

“It was the worst day of my life. I never want to feel that bad again. I never want to be treated like that again.”

Keaton strokes Elliott’s cheek gently. “And you never will be. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

Elliott takes a deep breath in and out. He sighs. “Thank you.”

“I need to get up soon to let the animals out, but when I come back, what do you say about a lazy day in bed?”

Elliott flinches as Keaton mentions leaving. “Can I come with you? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course. We’re gonna want to get you a change of clothes. I might have a pair of gumboots big enough for you to wear.”

Keaton feels Elliott smile against him. “My training to become the husband of the farmer has begun.”

Keaton plays with Elliott’s hair, feeling his stomach get warm at the idea of being married. He’s thought about it, of course he has. It’s nice knowing that Elliott has been thinking about it, too. Even if it’s still a while off.

“Come on, let’s get dressed.”

Elliott sits up and rubs his eyes. He looks tired. Keaton wonders how long Elliott had been awake before eventually deciding to come over. It’s going to be an early night tonight, he decides.

The only thing that fits Elliott is a giant pair of overalls that Keaton forgot he even owned. They were buried at the back of his closet, and they’re a tad dusty, but it’s fine. He follows Keaton out onto the farm and Keaton takes him through the process of going to the coop and then the barn, gathering eggs and milk and wool, and setting everything up to be processed. They let the animals out, then do a quick walk though the crops to see if anything is ready. There’s nothing today, so they walk back to the farmhouse. They’re not particularly dirty, but Keaton decides on a shower anyway. It’s nice standing under the spray of hot water with Elliott, just holding one another and enjoying the moment.

They don’t bother getting dressed again after the shower, and head straight back into bed. Keaton bundles them up under the covers. Keaton is lying on his back, and Elliott lies on his side, head resting on Keaton’s arm. He runs his fingers gently over Keaton’s stomach, tracing random patterns into the soft skin there.

“We can do more, if you want.”

Elliott hums. “I might. I’m just enjoying you. I can’t believe that I get to touch you like this at all.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe you want to.”

Elliott gives him an affronted look. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are a treasure.”

Part of Keaton wants to argue with him. There’s a part of him that still isn’t quite sure what anyone would ever see in him. Then again, Elliott isn’t just anyone. Elliott is... well. Everything.

Instead of arguing, he says, “Well it takes one to know one.”

That earns him an eye roll, but it also earns him a smile.

“Thank you,” Elliott says. “For being here.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You didn’t have to let me in before dawn and disturb your sleep. But you did. And I am eternally grateful. For everything, I mean, not just this. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life.”

Keaton kisses the top of Elliott’s head. “The same goes for you. My life is a thousand times better with you in it.”

Elliott hums. He still looks tired, but he’s smiling.

They lie there in silence for a while. Keaton listens to Elliott’s breathing, enjoying the feeling of him against his side. His arm went numb a while ago, but it’s worth it. He goes to say something, but then he looks over and sees Elliott is asleep. When he wakes up, maybe they’ll talk about things some more. But for now, Keaton is just going to enjoy a nap with the man he loves most in the world.

[devils-dares]

Where We Begin

summary: you were willing to let yourself think that matt was in your past, no matter how much of a shitfaced lie it was, so what happens when he shows up out of the blue at your dorm?

pairing: college!matt x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW 18+ minors DNI, semi-established relationship once again, hatred, softness at the end

wordcount: 1644

a/n: part two to top of the class, but it can be read as a standalone as well. i cannot tell you how many times i exited this doc and then re-entered it, just to not write anything. anyways, big stuff coming up in the future!

feedback is always appreciated!

-----

“Stop knocking like a maniac, I’m coming!” You yell at the door, annoyed you had to leave your bed. You unlock the door, welcomed by a smug face.

“What in the actual fuck are you doing here?” You ask accusatory, pulling Matt in by his shirt.

“Felt like it.” He shrugged.

“You are so lucky my roommate isn’t here, and why do you even think for a second I’d want to sleep with you?”

“You did it last time, and unless I’m having trouble remembering, you had a hell of a time.”

“You are unbelievable, Murdock.”

“And yet you’re still gonna let me fuck you.” You don’t answer, but instead pull your shirt over your head and toss it at him. He laughs, and you hate the way you feel yet the backs of your knees meet your mattress when he tells you to move. You allow his hands to push up on your hips, lifting you to sit on the bed.

“Always so willing for me, aren’t you?” He says, a bite of snark in his voice. His hands trace up over the soft skin by your ribs, his lips keeping yours occupied. For a man whose words aim to humiliate you with every breath, he kisses you soft and slow, as a person would kiss their lover.

You pull at his shirt, cotton wringing its way around your fingers as he answers your silent request. He pulls the soft material off and tosses it to the floor, an item to find later.

“When’s your roommate coming back?” He asks, breathless against your lips.

“Lecture,” you say between kisses, “we have two hours- god will you come closer?” His smile grows wider against your lips as your words sink in and your actions cause his body to land on top of yours.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” His hands sneak towards your back and you arch up a bit so he can unhook your bra. It joins both of your discarded shirts on the floor as his hands cover the expanse of your breasts. His lips trail down to your jaw.

“No marks, Matt,” you plead and he grunts out his disagreement, “I had to use almost all of my concealer covering up the ones from before, so unless you plan on buying me more, no marks.”

“You’re no fun,” he complains, “how about here?” His finger traces lightly right underneath your collarbones and you find yourself fighting to not give a reaction to his touch, “hidden by your shirt?”

“Fuck- fine. Just touch me.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Touch me or I’ll kick you out.”

“Fair enough.” His fingers ghost their touch down to the waistband of your sweatpants, and you lift your hips so he can pull them off.

“This okay?” He traces over the wet patch on your panties and you moan out your agreement. He laughs at your reaction while pulling your panties off to the side.

“So wet for me, aren’t you?” His fingers trail up and down and immediately your nails dig into his shoulders at the feeling. He pushes a finger in and you gasp.

“So tight around me, almost like you're enjoying yourself.”

“Shut up.” You say, gritting your teeth trying to work through the words as he pushes a second finger in.

“Make me.” He bites back, and you push the top of his head down until his face lines up with your pussy.

“How about you put that mouth to a better use instead of wasting your breath by talking?” You answer, and he chuckles darkly.

“Someone’s bossy today.” His lips wrap around your clit and suck in cadence with his fingers fucking you. Your fingers lace through strands of his hair, pulling hard when he gives you a particularly harsh suck. He groans from the sting, which eggs him on because he’s fucking you with an unmatched intensity. He speeds up and feels you squeeze around his fingers, teetering closer to the edge.

“Cum for me.” He speaks against your core. Your fingers pull on his hair even harder, and his groan sets you off, squeezing your thighs around his head as you cum.

“Matt, Matt-” He pulls away, allowing you to finish your sentence. That gives you the opportunity to see his face, chin, nose, and lips shiny from your wetness.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Too much- I just- need you.”

“You have me.” He slides back up, leaning down to capture your lips in a fiery kiss. You reach down and tug at the waistband of his pants, pulling the elastic just far down enough to expose him. You run your fingers up and down, tracing a vein as he groans into the crook of your neck.

“You drive me insane.” He breathes out, sucking hard enough to leave a mark right below your collarbone. You whine when he pulls away, your hands reaching out to bring his body warmth back to you.

“Shh, gonna fuck you now.” He takes his pants off, grabbing himself. He drags his cock against your pussy to collect your wetness on his tip. He pushes in gently, pausing when you squeeze his shoulders after he bottoms out.

“You okay?” He asks, hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Yeah, I just need a second.” He hums and lets you breathe, allowing you to stretch around him.

“Okay.” You breathe out, and he pulls out and pushes back in, lips against yours to swallow your whines.

He picks up the pace, the mattress squeaking its disapproval at the weight of his thrusts. Your foreheads are pressed together, sharing breaths. With one arm propping him up on the bed, he wraps the other under you, pulling you against him. Your hands tangle in the sheets, unable to form any words of how Matt’s making you feel. He groans, fucking you rougher. The headboard begins to bang against the wall, and a few knocks on the wall shared by you and your dorm neighbor bring you to realize how loud you’re being.

“Gotta be- fuck! Quiet, Matty!” He listens, grabbing the pillow from beneath your head and stuffs it between the headboard and the wall, effectively dampening the sound. The pillow does nothing to quiet your moans however, and Matt quiets you by stuffing two fingers in your mouth.

“Such a good girl for me, babybug, but you gotta be quiet.” You hum against his fingers, sucking harder as he shifts his weight to his knees, using his other hand to rub at your clit.

“You- goddamn- you gonna cum for me? Gonna squeeze my cock like a good girl and cum?” You nod, and as his fingers pick up the pace on your clit, you feel your release crest, stars exploding in your vision as you can do nothing but pull him close.

He finishes quickly after you do, turning the two of you over so he doesn’t crush you with his weight.

“How do you feel?” He asks, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Ask me in five minutes.” You practically slur out, all your energy gone to Matt and the two orgasms he gave you. He yawns, and you laugh at him.

“Sleepy?” You ask.

“Shut your mouth.”

“Okay,” you lay your head back on his chest, “but we should probably get cleaned up before my roommate comes back.”

“Shit,” he groans, “forgot about that.” You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek, the days old stubble on his usually clean-shaven face prickling at your lips.

“Or you could stay,” you suggest with a shrug, “I mean, someone was bound to catch us.”

“You wanna be seen with me? That’s your suggestion?”

“Murdock, if there was a picture definition of fucked out, you and I would be plastered on the page.” Your fingers run through the sweaty locks of his hair, and he closes his eyes.

“I should clean you up, you know, gentleman act and all.” He says, voice growing deeper from sleep.

“I’ve got a box of kleenex sitting next to you if it makes you feel any better.” You suggest. He laughs.

“Yeah, that unfortunately doesn’t give off the vibes I was going for.”

You pull the pillow out from between the headboard and the wall, telling Matt to lift his head before you place it down right beneath him.

“It’s almost like you want me to fall asleep here.” He speaks softly now, sleep imminent in his voice.

“You’re warm, you have a few benefits.” He breathes out a laugh at your words, grabbing the blanket that lay at your feet to pull it over your bare bodies.

“Can I ask you something?” He says.

“You just did.” He sighs at your words.

“I’m being serious right now.”

“Okay, ask.”

“Do you want to go to the house party my frat’s throwing?”

“Uh yeah,” you answer, “was planning on going with some friends.”

“No, I mean, like- with me?”

“What, you want me to be with you at this party, Mr. Forever Single?”

“Would that be so bad?” He sounds sincere, voice never wavering.

“Matt, I… you know we can’t.”

“Okay,” he answers, “I’m not going to force you.” A beat of silence passes, and you take a breath before starting your next sentence.

“I will go with you if, and only if, you take me to dinner tonight.” You cringe immediately at the end of your sentence, hoping that that was what he was implying with the invitation to the party.

“Yes,” he answers quickly, “yes, I will take you to dinner tonight. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.” You repeat in agreement, as you allow silence to befall you once more.

“So,” he starts, “what does that make us?” You smile and settle, allowing the exhaustion to take you over.

“Depends on how well this date goes.”

[pampanope]

Graves Headcannons from Shadows’ POV (Part 3):

part 1 Part 2

((Hey ya’ll, hope the weekends a good one! More Graves stuff~))

The Graves manual made it back to 7-11 a mere two weeks since his last entry.

He groggily left his blanket cocoon of warmth, shambled towards the door, wrenched it open ready to chew out the impertinent little shit who’d been rapping at it incessantly, only to have the massive binder shoved into his chest with enough force to stun him; too stunned to catch the identity of his unwanted visitor, who had the sense to haul ass immediately away from the doorway.

There was giggling accompanied by several voices and boots scampering down the hallway.

Ballsey, noisy, and reckless enough to bother an officer at 0600 on his one day of zero responsibility? Clearly they were the fresh batch of recruits he’d been working on, still too new and wet behind the ears to have callsigns of their own.

If he was any other lieutenant 7-11 would’ve given chase, hunted each of them down and handed out extra drills and the honor of scrubbing one of the barracks’s communal showers.

Alas, he was only himself; lazy at his core and an unrepentant enjoyer of his day off. No baby Shadows he needed to teach, no training with his platoon, and no paperwork. Unless the more senior staff or an act of god (Graves) said otherwise, 7-11 wasn’t gonna exert more energy than he needed to.

Sleep ruined, 7-11 rubbed the grogginess from his eyes and plopped the heavy binder onto his desk. Might as well add some shallow, surface level Graves trivia, because anything deeper was too much for his fuzzy mind.

~~~~~~

-it’s not that he’s ashamed but he’s very self-conscious of his accent; he’s aware of the stereotypes attached to it, so he softens and flattens it a bit when dealing with clients.

-but when he’s relaxed, exhausted, fighting off sleep’s siren call? The accent thickens, sweet as molasses.

-turns red when he thinks he’s been caught nodding off though. Everyone should pretend they didn’t notice and wait for sleep to drag him under. Calling attention will just fluster him.

-some of you’ve seen or heard the boss mumble in his sleep; again, pretend you never noticed.

-He seems to bristle or shy away a bit at showing vulnerability or receiving affection.

(Like a growly coyote that won’t admit to enjoying head scritches, 7-11 mused fondly. Let’s see if we can fix that.)

-although he likes the occasional drink, Graves tries to keep a sober head most times as commander, especially on missions (the Graves Alone Xmas fiasco, as many Shadows have taken to calling it, was a damn fluke, an aberration, and 7-11 will make sure there will never be a repeat)

-he bites. Hard. No, i will not elaborate.

-has a fragrant woodsy scent (it’s fucking distracting, especially during spars)

-Graves is possessive. More on this another time.

-gets severe road rage; Graves will shout, abuse the horn, roll down the window to insult you, your mother, and your shit driving in that order, and stick a hand out to flip you off; he’d flip you off with both hands if he didn’t need one on the wheel at all times. (The Shadows are glad he isn’t reckless enough to try and overtake anyone while cuts him off, he’s just REALLY loud about it.)

-he isn’t bad at cooking, he’s actually pretty good. Just limited in what he makes, but they turn out delicious. (“Hell, if you get stuck with me in some safe house, at least you won’t be swallowing down burnt MREs while pretending you wouldn’t sell my ass for a single corn chip.”) In this, he’s excellent wife material self-sufficient.

~~~~~~~

7-11 decided that was enough writing on his day off before shutting the binder. He got up, did some luxurious, toe curling stretches, and padded towards the bathroom to get the day started.

If he’s lucky, he could find a warm patch of grass to nap on before the sun rose to high. Preferably somewhere pesky baby Shadows wouldn’t find him.

[sopejinsunflower]

2023.001.018: Two Is Better Than One

The room was humid. Dark and humid and all Namjoon could smell was the sex in the air and all he could feel was how hot and sticky your skin was under his fingertips.

He pushed up on one arm to look down at you, pinned beautifully beneath his body three times your size. Your eyelids fluttered for a moment before you looked up at him, mouth agape from breathing hard, cheeks aflamed. And then you smiled, a soft shy smile that made his heart skip a beat before you turned sideways and covered your eyes with the crook of your elbows. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined, your voice just above a whisper, but the smile was still there. Namjoon could feel his heart expanding and then a small moan escaped your lips. Oh, he guessed it wasn’t just his heart.

Adjusting his position, he gently removed your arm from your face and threaded his fingers together with yours, holding them up above your head. “I want to see your face, love,” he said as he moved his hips, burrowing himself deeper into your warmth, feeling the way you flutter around him, legs struggling to wrap around his waist. 

You moaned again, cutely and breathlessly, eyes squinting shut, arching your back. Namjoon continued to row into you, slow and steady, relishing every little bit of sensation that seemed to shoot down to the tip of his toes. Your free hand is clasped around his bicep, clawing into it as if you were holding on for dear life, more so when Namjoon picked up his pace that soon you were chanting out his name. 

In a corner of the king bed, Hoseok sat against the bedpost, quietly watching, quietly taking in the view, a busy hand in between his legs to get himself off for the second time.

Namjoon wakes up, eyes shooting open as if he had been shot awake. The sun shines through a crack in the curtains, hitting him squarely in the face. Everything is too bright, his eyes feel like they are on fire. Groaning, he sits up. The blanket had been kicked to the edge of the bed sometime in the night and that’s when he noticed the dark patch on his crotch. Oh, fuck.

~~~

I awake, blinking up at the ceiling for hours to the point that it felt like I didn’t actually sleep and had just been staring at the same spot the whole night. I barely notice that it’s day time already outside the drawn blackout curtains. 

I had a dream last night. A dream so vivid I woke up with a tingling feeling in between my legs so intense I couldn’t ignore it. The tingling sensation had ebbed (after taking care of it) but the dream still stuck at the forefront of my mind. It felt real, but then again, all wet dreams feel real but it isn’t that that bothers me. Well, bother isn’t the right word, more of like this constant nagging in the back of my mind that it wasn’t just a dream. Dreams end when you wake up, there’s no continuation nor any logical reasons for why it occurred the way it did. 

What was strange about that dream was that I knew for a fact what happened before the scene started and knew what happened next, even after the dream cut off as I woke up. I have this knowledge in my head that the reason why Hoseok had been sitting back was because he had been sated and that right after climaxing - when the dream had cut off - Namjoon had buried his face in between my legs and Hoseok had scooted over to kiss me upside down, his hand heavily roaming my chest. 

It wasn’t the dream I had masturbated to; it had been the things I could see playing in my head like a VHS tape on replay, the images vague like a distant memory. I’m telling myself that, in my lust-filled mind, I had conjured up those images like a fantasy to get myself off but that same nagging feeling is telling me that it wasn’t just a figment of my very aroused imagination. And yet it just doesn’t make sense!

And oh God, just thinking about the dream again is making me hot under the collar. It’s like I can clearly feel it all; the humidity of the room, the smell in the air, the slick of sweat on Namjoon’s bulging bicep and the weight of him on top of me. I can just about feel the delicious muscle aches of my thighs, the stretch of my walls as it accommodates him, the delightful sting of the length and girth of him as it digs deep and the deep hum reverberating in his chest. Everything, every little detail, stark against the haze in my mind. 

The wetness pools once again and, unable to resist, I slither further down under the duvet.

Knock, knock. Knock.

I let out a frustrated groan.

~~~

A loud groan can be heard from inside your room and Jimin hesitantly steps back, staring at the door as if it might burst open and a tiger might leap out and eat him whole. 

He turns around, wide eyed, to look at Taehyung and they both shrug their shoulders and decide it’s best to leave you be. It’s a Sunday after all. 

***

The sound of pencil on paper as Yoongi sketches some ideas for the cat tower is, by all means, comforting to him. It offers him a break from his chaotic thoughts, focusing only on the drawing and the plans he has for the project. 

Yoongi is in his element; focused, calm and with a mission. The smell of the lumber he had chosen for the cat tower, newly bought and stacked in a corner, is like a balm to his soul; reminding him that this is his space, his domain. It gives him a sense of power because here, in this shed, he’s in charge. 

Yoongi is the calm one among the seven, the one usually able to keep the wits about him and the one who is best at rolling with the punches. He’s wise and careful with his words and though Namjoon is the one always with the right answers to things, Yoongi is excellent at placating the group. What the others don’t know is that Yoongi struggles with most things internally. He’s a problem-solver so when he can’t deal with an issue plaguing the group, he turns to woodworking because at least, here in this shed, his hands are able to produce physical solutions to physical problems. 

They needed a bigger house? Yoongi will build it. They needed more shelves for Namjoon’s books and Jin’s growing wine collection? He would make it. Hoseok needed more wardrobe space? He made one for each of them. You needed a jewellery box for all the accessories they gifted you? He made you a musical one with your name, that first one, carved on the inside, playing out your favourite tune that you listened to as you got ready. It was your favourite thing back then, one of the first things Yoongi had ever made for you.

So now, as he works on the sketch of the cat tower, he’s actually quite irked at the fact that he can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday. What Yoongi can’t rationalise, he obsesses over, turning the questions around and around in his mind until he throws the pencil down in frustration, rubbing at his eyes. He should talk to Hoseok, he thinks. Figure out what’s going on in case it might happen again. 

As he stands up from his stool, something black catches his attention from the corner of his eyes, climbing down from the ceiling. He turns around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. 

Vivian finally decides to show up.

~~~

I watch Namjoon from the corner of my eyes as he sits there in the grass with his face buried in a book. It’s an old edition of the Moby Dick, the cover yellowed and cracked with time, something he found somewhere in the house.

My eyes travel from the sun shining in his hair, down his shoulders and then his arms. I study his long fingers from a distance, splayed out around the book in a way that allows him to hold it open with one hand. Out of the blue, he raises his head, his eyes visible just above the book to look at me and I immediately turn away, feeling the blood rushing to my face. 

Something in the look in his eyes almost feels like he knows about the dream I had this morning, a ridiculous thing since he’s not a mindreader. It’s a known fact that men aren’t, but I dare not look back at him to confirm. I hear rustlings as he puts the book down and stands up, stretching to the sky and my stomach does an aggressive somersault. In a panic to check on him, I turn around quickly and catch a glimpse of his exposed stomach. He exhales heavily, lands back on his feet and our eyes meet. 

~~~

Your eyes meet and Namjoon freezes. 

Well, not freezes, more like his brain panics and short-circuited, flashing the Error 404 Not Found in front of his eyes as he scrambles to do two things at once: one, to erase the images of the dream memory from replaying at that exact moment, two, to say something coherent at least to get rid of this awkwardness. 

“Yo,” he says lamely, nodding your way. 

You give him an incredulous look before starting to laugh. “What was that about?”

Namjoon grins sheepishly at you, scratching the back of his head. “It just came out,” he mumbles, relieved that his random blurb diffuses the tension from his limbs. “Want to head inside for lunch?”

You open your mouth to speak when you’re cut off by a distant scream, far enough away to almost sound like an animal that is probably moving closer. Namjoon swivels his head in the direction of the forest, forehead creasing, stepping closer towards you, ready to drag you and run. The sound grows louder until Namjoon hears you say, “Yoongi?”

He turns around to look in the direction you’re staring at and sure enough, he sees Yoongi running at full speed from the direction of the staff cottage and straight into the house, almost knocking Ollie over as she steps out to see what the commotion was about. 

“What in the actual hell…”

You and Namjoon exchange glances, at a loss for words. Not a few minutes later, you both watch Yoongi pushing Jungkook out the door, heading in the direction Yoongi had come from earlier.

~~~

Though the weekend passed by uneventfully, there’s a vague strain in the air among the seven men. 

Sunday was mostly us keeping to ourselves, doing our own thing most of the day. I found out that there’s a woodshed Yoongi goes to but was not allowed to check it out because, and I quote, “Vivian owns it now” to which Jungkook laughed and reassured him that he’ll try to get Vivian evicted by the end of the day. I learned from Namjoon who Vivian was, or what it was, and that was enough to keep me far enough away. 

I enjoyed the days that passed by with Jimin constantly by my side, our friendship having grown closer from what I had shared. There’s comfort in his presence, the same feeling a soft, warm blanket gives you on a rainy day. In fact, I get the same feeling with each one of them, like my soul is singing with just their presence. Although there were no huge changes, something did shift, like how close they sat or stood next to me that our arms would brushed or our thighs were almost touching; subtle yet substantial enough for me to wonder if it’s all in my head. 

There are days when Hoseok or Namjoon would just sit quietly with me in the living room, each one of us doing different things, barely speaking, yet those times it felt like a chore to even get up and leave the room. Jin helps with my studying sometimes, leaning over me when I’m on my laptop, so close I feel his breath on my neck. He knows a lot, surprisingly and while he helps me go over an assignment, Yoongi would bring snacks of sorts, casually placing them next to me before walking away to do something else. He’d bring plates of bite-sized sandwiches or cut up carrots and cucumbers with dips up to my room if I’m studying there. 

Sometimes I join Taehyung in the greenhouse, watching him get his hands dirty as he tends to the plants he and Namjoon are growing. He talks to them, softly, telling the plants random things that happened during the day or other that I don’t quite understand. One time I caught him talking about a horse, other times about ballroom dancing and how much fun it was. It was kind of endearing to hear him make-up stories for the sprouting vegetables and flowers.

Jungkook managed to teach me how to skip rocks on the stream. We’d roll our pants up, wade into the ankle-deep water and pick out stones flat enough to use. I don’t ask about what happened on Saturday night between him and Hoseok, although they both seem fine. I also don’t ask about continuing the story, not yet anyway, even when I’m dying to know. I catch him staring at me a lot with an expression I can’t read. He’d always immediately break into a smile the moment our eyes meet but there’s a sort of sorrow in it, something I find myself hesitating to even ask about.

Days turn into weeks and summer break rolls around, bringing along the sticky, smouldering heat and louder cricket songs at night. It’s the season where you have to weigh the pros and cons of sleeping with the windows open to let air circulate better or risk waking up with a bug in your bed. With Karma around, it does help lower the chances of the latter happening, although it’s still not fun to collect the dead carcasses that he proudly stands over. 

Karma and Jungkook share the same duty, somewhat. Someone would be screaming a bug alert and it’s a race between them on who arrives to the rescue first. It’s actually quite comical, and an inside joke the eight of us share. Even Mrs Oliviera is starting to appreciate the cat in between her bouts of sneezing whenever Karma is in the room. It’s an old manor surrounded by woodlands; a bug hunter, whether it’s four-legged or two, is greatly commended.

It’s the second week of summer break when Yoongi finally brought me into his shed one morning with a blindfold over my eyes, guiding me with his large hands on my shoulders and directions given in a soft voice. 

“You’re not offering me as a sacrifice to Vivian, right? For the woodshed?” I ask with a light chuckle, arms stretch out slightly in front of me for balance. 

Yoongi giggles. “No. Vivian and I came to an agreement that works for both of us.” I’m about to ask more questions when he stops me from moving further. “Right. Stand here. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I breathe out excitedly. 

“Before I take off your blindfold,” Yoongi says from somewhere in front of me, “please bear in mind that I haven’t done in a very long time so the quality might not be as good as I wanted it to be and-”

“Yoongi,” I called out to him. 

He pauses and I hear him shuffle around. “Okay, okay. Well, I just hope you like it.” He’s back behind me now, untying the blindfold. “Are you ready?”

I nod enthusiastically, just wanting to rip off the cloth from my eyes. 

He starts counting. “One, two…three.”

The blindfold came off and the first thing I had to do was squint against the bright light of the single bulb above me. It takes a second to adjust before I’m staring at the most beautiful cat tree I’ve ever seen. The first thing that amazed me is how much of an actual tree it resembled, with branches stretching out in different directions ending with a perch at the end. Sisal rope wounds its way up and all over the structure, giving Karma ample scratching spots as well as ease for him to climb up and down.

In the centre, where the trunk is, are three cubicles complete with cushions inside. I can already imagine Karma sleeping in one of them, all curl up and cosy. The whole cat tower is tall and wide and I’m wondering how the hell do we get this thing inside and up into my room on the second floor. But most of all, I’m wondering when Yoongi did all this!

Apart from the many places for Karma to hang out on, the structure itself is very detailed, intricately carved and beautifully painted. The cherry blossom cat tree stands there majestically as a testament to Yoongi’s talent as well as the hard labour put into it. This structure, of this size and quality, could reach thousands of dollars, even more! I can’t believe it. 

“Do you like it?” Yoongi asks hesitantly.

~~~

You were so silent as you approached the cat tree that Yoongi held his breath the whole time, waiting, worrying and mostly fretting silently as he pretended to be nonchalant, wiping down the empty, already cleaned work table. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, keeping his voice even.

You turn around and the first thing Yoongi notices is the tears in your eyes. “Why?” you croak out, lips wobbling.

At the question, the second thing he notices is covering the distance between you and him in three big strides. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” He’s frantic, hands hovering just inches from your shoulders, unsure if he should touch you or not. He glances towards the cat tree, trying to see what it is you would want him to improve or change. He wouldn’t even mind it if he had to tear everything down and just rebuild everything more to your liking. 

“Why would you build this?” you cry out, gesturing to the cat tree. Yoongi’s heart about jump out of his throat, ready to throw up, when you continue, “It’s fucking beautiful I can’t. I-,” you sigh heavily, looking back at it. “It’s so beautiful, Yoongi. It’s just…it’s too much.”

You’re crying quietly now, attempting to stop the tears by repeatedly rubbing the back of your hands over your eyes. Yoongi is speechless. He has no idea how to respond to your words, unsure if anything he said would just upset you more rather than comfort you. By the tone of your voice, he’s not even sure if you’re happy or sad, either. 

But Yoongi is a simple man with simple words. He stands next to you, looking up at the cat tree, nodding along as if he agreed with you. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking like a buyer appraising a commissioned project. In a soft voice, he says, “Yeah, well, I built it because I wanted to. I told you I was going to build the cat tree for you and that’s it.”

You sniffle but remain quiet. 

“I love building things,” Yoongi keeps talking, his voice just barely audible, a conversation meant only for your ears, “and when I’m using my hands, I’m at peace. I’m not thinking of anything else except what I’m making. And when I was making this cat tree, I only had you in mind. It’s beautiful because that’s how I see you.” At this point, you’ve slowly turned towards him. “It’s not too much. I think it’s not enough. Not enough to convey everything I feel and have in my heart. Well, it’s just a cat tree.”

While Yoongi speaks, you listen, mouth agape, staring at him. 

“I’m sure Karma would disagree with you. I made sure he has a lot of spaces to climb up and down. Well, if you don’t like it you don’t have to keep it in your room. We can have it in the living room. If the cat’s happy, you’re happy.” He finally turns to look at you. “And if you’re happy, so am I.”

You both stand there in complete silence, looking into each other’s eyes. Yoongi can see the mixed emotions flitting through your eyes, mostly the confusion of it all, of the words he had freely loaded on you, selfishly only wanting to unburden his own heart. Come what may, he thinks, he’ll deal with the consequences later although he can’t deny the twinge of guilt and regret in the back of his mind if this goes down badly.

Yoongi takes a step closer to you. “You deserve a lot more than just a cat tree, I think,” he says in an almost whisper. He’s finding himself drowning in the look in your eyes, suffocating because he can’t read them. “I’ll give you the world if I could. So would the others.”

“The others,” you whisper back, your voice stuck in your throat. It wasn’t a question but Yoongi nodded anyway. Fuck, what is he doing?

“So,” Yoongi says, drawing out the word as he steps even closer up to you. You’re inches apart now, so close he can see the way your eyelashes touch your cheeks every time you blink, the tears stuck on them like dews. “Do you still want the cat tree?”

~~~

His voice sounds small. Small and weak and scared. 

Never in the time that I’ve known these seven have I ever imagined seeing Yoongi so vulnerable. I’ve always thought he was the cool one, the wise one, the one that doesn’t say much but sees everything. He’s always the one taking care of the others, subtly, quietly. The honesty in his eyes shine so bright it might have been the reason I did what I do next. 

~~~

The first thing Yoongi’s brain notes is the softness of your lips against his, fitted perfectly like they were made for each other. The second thing is the smell of your shampoo in his nose. The third, is how tight your grip is around his waist.

The last thing on his mind was thinking, ah, finally, my little flower is home. 

***

“I-”

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Yoongi used one finger to push your front hair away from your face, tracing it down your cheek, along your jawline before finally tipping your face up to look at him by the chin. You avoided his gaze, directing it down to your feet instead.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have,” you finally said and Yoongi's heart sank.

“Why not?”

You pulled away, letting Yoongi’s hand fall to his side hopelessly. “Because..” Your voice trailed off, mumbling something Yoongi couldn’t hear. He leaned closer. “Darling, you need to speak up. Tell me why I shouldn't have kissed you. Let me understand, please.”

You took a deep breath, eyes watering as you looked Yoongi head on, wanting to be honest with him, thinking that he deserved it. Yoongi could clearly see the pain, how much you’re struggling to say what you were going to say next. “Because I’m with Hoseok.”

A single tear crept down your cheek as you waited for his response. Yoongi caught the tear with his thumb and wiped it away. 

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. “I know.”

The tears flowed more freely. “Then you shouldn’t have- you knew and we shouldn’t- I love Hoseok but I- I should go.”

Yoongi caught your hand and pulled you back in, refusing to let go, holding you in place. “You love Hoseok but you what, love?”

“I should go,” you repeated, more determinedly this time. “Let me go.”

Yoongi shook his head, adamant in his own way. “Not until you tell me the rest of that sentence, love. You love Hoseok but what?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, your heart bursting with everything you wanted to tell him, even Yoongi could see that. He recognised the emotion in your eyes, as clear as the full moon they were standing under, the light summer breeze toying with the tall grasses around them and fluttering your skirt. “But I think I’m in love with you, too,” you finally whispered out, your voice fearful to admit such a transgression. 

“Oh, darling. My darling,” Yoongi cooed, pulling you into his chest,  his heart singing happily at your confession that he had been dying to hear. “And I you.”

“But we can’t,” you cried, your voice muffled against his shirt. “We can’t. I love Hoseok. I won’t hurt him. I can’t.”

“You won’t, I promise you.” Yoongi ran his hand over your hair, caressing it softly, feeling how soft and silky it was under his touch. He couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Hoseok already knows,” Yoongi answered.

You pulled away, staring at him in shock. “What do you mean he knows?”

Yoongi contemplated how to tell you and the first thing he did was wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you really love Hoseok?”

You nod furiously, cheeks streaked with fresh tears. 

“And me? Do you love me?”

You bit on your lower lip, eyebrows furrowing as you battle against your own heart and brain, telling you contrasting things. Finally, you nodded, once and slowly. 

The corners of Yoongi’s lips twitched as a small smile adorned it. “And I you. I’ve been in love with you since the day I saw you, the day Hoseok brought you home to us. And he knows.”

“That was months ago!” you wailed.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes. Months because I never had the courage to do anything about it. But I couldn’t deny my feelings, couldn’t deny how strong it was growing. I told him because my loyalty is to him. He’s my brother. What I didn’t know or expect was that you felt the same. I’m so happy.”

“But-”

“Hoseok gave me permission.”

“To do what?”

“To have my chance with you and here we are.”

You were silent for a moment before you finally asked, “What do we do now? I don’t want to have to choose!” 

Once again, Yoongi cupped your face with both hands. “Oh love, you don’t have to.” At the confused look on your face, Yoongi continued, “You don’t have to choose between us. You can have us both.”

~~~

My eyes shoot open and it takes a few seconds before I recognise my own bedroom ceiling. I fumble for my phone and check the time: 2.40AM.  

It’s raining outside. The light pattering of rain should be enough to lull me back to sleep but the dream I had prior to waking up gives me this weird type of feeling, something I can’t completely place. I remember the dream. Hell, I even remember the warmth of Yoongi’s hands against my face. And the one thing I remember most was the look in his eyes. 

Karma hops onto the bed, stretches his front legs and pads over to my side. He’s purring, nuzzling against my arm before curling up and going to sleep sidled against me. 

I heave a sigh, quietly saying to myself, “First, Namjoon and now Yoongi.”

Karma’s head lifts up and he glances back at me, the half-yellow, half-blue of his eyes almost glowing in the dark. He slow-blinks a few times. “What?” I ask jokingly. “You got something to say?”

The cat suddenly climbs onto my chest, sitting facing me, purring like a motorboat. His eyes seem to glow brighter, the pupils dilating and staring right at me. Weird is an understatement but I find myself staring back, unmoving. Have you ever felt the pull of a magnet with another stronger one? That’s what it feels like now, except I’m the smaller, weaker magnet being pulled straight into the depth of the cat’s abyss-like eyes. 

I’m brought back to the dream. Or more like the dream suddenly floods back to the forefront of my mind and I can feel Yoongi’s hands on my cheeks. Karma’s eyes also start to shift and change and I’m suddenly staring right at Yoongi. I can even feel the warmth of his touch, his presence so vivid it’s like I’m there in the dream now. Except it’s not a dream. 

“You don’t have to choose between us. You can have us both,” says Yoongi in a soft voice, stepping closer to me. I can feel his breath on me.

“Say something, love,” Yoongi encourages, eyes imploring mine. “You…you don’t like the idea? I know it’s not conventional. It’s completely mad.” He laughs nervously. “But I’m madly in love with you and so is Hoseok and…would it be too bad?”

“Is that even acceptable?” I find myself saying without having any control. It’s like reciting a play and I’m spewing lines from the playbook. “What would people say? How do we tell the others?”

Yoongi flushes his forehead against mine, his eyes glistening but his lips are upturned into a wobbly smile. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out together.”

The vision, or whatever it was, turns into a mist, Yoongi fluttering away like sand in the wind. I blink and Karma hops off of me to curl back in his previous spot while I remain there, frozen, completely out of my mind with fear with disorientation. 

What the actual fuck just happened? What the hell was that? A dream? A hallucination? Gingerly, I push myself up into a sitting position and am immediately hit by a sudden wave of vertigo. Except it wasn’t vertigo, I realise, as my vision grows dim and my chest suddenly tightens like a vice has been closed around it. I can feel my heartbeat rise, can feel it literally hammering against my chest and yet my throat is too constricted for me to even suck in a breath.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and my heart is going to burst out of my lungs. I flail out my hand, trying to locate my phone on the bedside table. I missed the table completely and landed my hand on air, toppling me over sideways and tumbling down the side of the bed and onto the floor. Everything seems to be in slow motion, even the sound in my ears seems muffled. 

I manage to pull myself against the side of the bed, screwing my eyes shut to try and get myself to breathe. Just breathe. Fuck, why aren’t my lungs cooperating?!

Death by asphyxiation. Death by lungs being stupid. How fucking lame. 

My vision is getting blurry with tears. All I’m hearing is my own erratic heartbeat and all I’m feeling is how much my chest hurts. This must be how fish feel out of water; gasping incessantly yet with each breath, it only hurts more. 

A shadow falls over me and before I can register what it is, I feel big, warm hands over my own. My eyes refocus and I’m met with Yoongi’s concerned ones as he kneels in front of me. His mouth moves as he says something I can’t hear or can’t bring myself to actually hear the words over everything else - the rush of blood in my ear, the thundering beat of my heart, the fact that every time I inhale, my chest only burns. He doesn’t wait for my response but takes both my hands in his, one of which he guides to my own chest, the other he places it firmly against his own, just above where his own heart is.

Yoongi says something, his hand pressing mine against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady underneath my fingers. I can feel the warmth of him. I can somewhat hear his voice now, too. 

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths. Good girl. Just like that. Slowly, slowly. In. Out. In. Out. That’s it, my love. Just keep breathing for me. Keep breathing, my darling.”

It takes a while, probably a few minutes as opposed to feeling like hours, before finally, finally, I can feel the excruciating pain let up and air starts to flow in correctly again. I take in huge gulps of air, filling my desperate lungs, dry heaving from the sudden rush of oxygen. Sounds come crashing in and suddenly everything is just too much.

I double over, overwhelmed, but Yoongi catches me in his arms, one hand cradling my head against his chest. He manoeuvres us around to adjust his position so he can lean against the bed instead. That’s when I see Hoseok standing at the edge of the bed, worry written all over his face.

Our eyes meet and he strides forward, no hesitation, and sits down on the floor next to Yoongi, so close their shoulders are touching. Hoseok leans forward to peer into my face and uses a thumb to wipe away my tears. He doesn’t say anything, but presses a soft, lingering kiss on the top of my head. 

The three of us sat there for the rest of the night, huddled together in the dark; me in Yoongi’s arms, my hand in Hoseok’s and nothing, despite how crazy it sounds, had felt so right.

a/n: omg it's been so long since Eidolons had an update! Things have been hectic and finally finding time to write again. I've been a slump (mentioned this) but I think I'm back? My new job is busier than the last but I'll do my best to stay on top of things though I can't promise it'll be as frequent as before. I see you guys enjoying my Jimin one shot ;p next up is Taehyung's!

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[jamiesfootball]

Grey

Thought I had a good bit for this week's word, then found out most of them are right smack dab near high climax moments or words I've shared before.

As such @jamietarttsnorthernattitude has given the go-ahead and reshare some previously shared snippets.

You're Gonna Go Far Kid

It hits Roy on the pitch in the middle of practice on a grey Tuesday. Weimar, his hell-bent angel of a striker, whips the ball from 30 meters back. Ball hits the net, she celebrates like the fucking hooligan she is, and Roy can barely choke out an excuse to the  attacking coach before he’s fleeing the pitch. He locks himself in the first supply closet he finds. He mourns. He goes home to Jamie. Jamie feeds him an aberration against God. Roy scarfs it down and chokes back the gratitude that Jamie’s still there, petulant and alive and scratching his fork against Roy’s plates while he eats, and not contemplating anything that would snuff that out of the world. Once upon a time, Roy couldn’t have said the same thing. But Jamie isn’t Roy. Roy is so grateful that Jamie isn’t Roy.

The Vacant House Behind Our Home

In the center of the field, where any one of the Greyhounds might step out and witness him, Jamie shucked off his shirt. Below lay the undershirt -- the undershirt that it turned out was not entirely void. Mostly void, but high on the middle of his chest was a patch of shirt that wasn't void at all. It was a grey; a light, watery grey spot that faded in uneven patches, save for a single line that cut through the grey space over his heart. No. Not a line. A drip.

The Leverage AU I'm Not Writing

"You can't cut it down that low or it'll have to grow up from the graft." Jamie yanked the big-scissors back from a deadened stalk. “Then you should’ve swapped me with Keeley,” he hissed. A while ago she'd been gagging over the comms. Her and Ted had a long debate--the kind Jamie would never get away with--about whether she actually had to clean the mark's bathroom as part of her reconnaissance. Yes, the tank was an excellent place to hide stolen jewels; no, she'd never found one there in her life. Jamie wondered if the housekeepers wore maid outfits. Keeley would look dead fit in a maid outfit. He'd look dead fit in a maid outfit. Anything would look better on him than the grey, stiff-collared maintenance uniform Beard had presented without comment. The earbuds made it sound like Roy was right behind him, whispering disapprovingly, "Keeley's on the inside so she can crack the safe when she finds it. And you're supposed to be keeping a lookout on the armed guards. Focus." The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Focus, he said. Like Jamie had the luxury of forgetting that not ten metres away stood a burly man armed with an assault rifle and a blind spot in the cameras. All Jamie had was a pair of big-scissors and a prickly old bastard in his ear. Honestly? He'd rather scrub the bathroom.

Gift Fic

If it weren't for the mud beneath their shoes, the English would pretend rain wasn't wet. If it weren't for the point differential, the Greyhounds would pretend Wembley didn’t happen. And if it was left up to Lasso, Jamie Tartt would never have tried to do a handstand on wet asphalt in the rain.

I Still Feel Like the Same Person I've Been

Jamie blinked blearily as light and shape solidified into light grey fabric with royal blue stitching. He swallowed. Awareness pooled into him at a steady trickle. His face pressed against the seat. The jacket bunched up around his shoulders, tucked all the way to his nose The warm stuffy heat of sleep behind his eyes. The coach wasn't moving. They were in Richmond. He'd slept the whole way to London. The blistering, mortifying heat of what the fuck. He didn't dare to move. The Greyhounds shuffled past him in agonizing silence. Jamie kept his face buried, didn't so much as twitch as he hid his face into the fabric, hoping that some-fucking-how they'd just walk on by. One by one the other men passed his seat at the front of the bus, that horrible, exposed feeling multiplying a hundred-fold with every step. Until there was one left. He felt pinned under the pressure of that gaze, laid bare and skinned alive under the weight of its judgement. He knew, logically, that he likely hadn't fooled it's owner, that the way his eyelids struggled to lay flat and the way his jaw clenched probably gave way the fact that he was just pretending to sleep. That didn't mean he'd back down. They stayed as they were, Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent, stuck in a stalemate to see who would crack and leave the bus first.

Oh God You're Gonna Get It (You Have Not Been Given Love)

Even though he'd just been over the other week, everything just seemed-- --bleaker. The cleaning service had been in, that could explain some of it -- the lack of hoodies and vests thrown about and the absence of trainers piled at the front door. No mugs. None of Roy's books with the spines bent worse than a Beckham goal. But everything else? Grey beige sad. Fucking lifeless, somehow worse than he remembered. A blank slate box -- not a place to store a person. The odor of cleaning products hung acrid and defensive, from the hallway through to the living room. Even the strip of grass out the windows didn't seem inviting anymore. Greenery taunting behind a pane of glass with nothing to beckon outside. Bushes clipped in perfunctory order. Outdoor seating; no sign any of it was ever used. At least the succulents on the table were holding up well. Maybe Roy could grab them. Would that fucking help? He seemed to enjoy the tour Phoebe gave him of the yard -- was he a plant person? Roy didn't know. Didn't seem likely, but then he hadn't thought to ask-- --fuck, he hadn't even thought to ask Jamie what he needed to grab from his house. He picked up one of the succulents. Weightless plastic. Free of dust and life. Fake. "Fuck," Roy breathed out. The house echoed back.

[tonguetiedraven]

Hiiiii if it isn't too much to ask but could you write smth about Rin and Ryuuji sleeping together for the first time? And by that I mean literally sleeping together. Like they share a bed for the first time and end up cuddling?

Double ask filling again, lol. Rin's pov for this one, and present tense in an attempt to give it a different feel than the other two I've done ^^ Also, thanks to Marblewolf for the tent idea <3<3<3

Thank you for the asks! And I hope you enjoy!!! <3

(。-ω-) zzz (-ω-`)

“Just get in here,” Ryuuji huffs, and with that fairly simple statement, seals Rin’s fate. 

It isn’t like he meant for all his stuff to get entirely soaked. True Cross is cheap as hell and of course the damn tent they gave him was all patched to hell and back, and apparently not patched well, because everything he has is all gross and soggy. 

But, if Ryuuji is going to offer to share his nice and dry tent, Rin is sure as hell going to jump on that invitation. And not just because Ryuuji is hot and Rin has been nursing something that’s probably past a crush at this point and dangerously close to being entirely in love. Rin has slept in wet and cold places before, and he always wakes up with his nose all stuffed, entirely shivery, and with his head all slow and achy.

Ryuuji’s tent is wonderfully dry, and it smells a little like the spicy scent that hangs around Ryuuji, like trees and cinnamon, cloves and musk, books and green tea, gunpowder and clean laundry. A wild mixture that felt like romps through the woods and the quiet of a library and the excitement of a battle and the relaxation of falling into bed at the end of day.

But Rin might be a bit biased about it all.

Ryuuji has his sleeping bag unzipped, and he’s set two blankets out and has the pillow on one side and a folded up sweater on the other to act as a pillow stand in. Rin moves for that side, tail curling nervously around his leg as he gives Ryuuji a smile that’s much too large and plops down, telling himself he will not nuzzle his nose in Ryuuji’s sweater like a weirdo. It’s going to be difficult enough to share such a small space with Ryuuji and not cuddle with the tall Aria. He is not going to make it weirder. Ryuuji has already gone to the trouble to set up a spot for him, and Rin is grateful and going to be a good guest.

“It’s not a True Cross sweater,” Ryuuji says as he zips the tent back up. “Shouldn’t, uh, hurt you or anything.” He tugs his regulation sweater off as he talks, making Rin’s heart skip a beat (undershirt and arms!) before he pulls on a long sleeved shirt instead. Because the True Cross stuff has anti demon shit in it that makes Rin’s skin break out in hives, and Ryuuji thinks of things like that, and shit, is it any wonder Rin has kind of fallen in love? Ryuuji cares and tries to fix things and he didn’t make it a big thing that Rin had the issue—

Rin could totally lay next to Ryuuji and not be weird as hell. He flops back, still in his full modified uniform, feeling his heart hammer far too hard in his chest, and the thunder of it in his ears has him blushing, wondering how Ryuuji can possibly not hear it.

“It’s fine!” Rin squeaks, hating the way his voice always goes up when he’s flustered. 

“Good,” and Ryuuji’s voice is lower and soft as he moves across the space, crouched, because there isn’t enough room to stand, and he shuffles next to Rin on his knees, not quite looking at him, but he’s still close enough that Rin can see every line of his handsome face and how he’s gotten scruffier through the day. The shirt is a vneck, and Rin lets his eyes follow the dip even though it’s a bad idea. He swallows much too loudly and looks back up at the top of the old tent. It’s all stained.

Ryuuji settles next to him, lying on his back and staring up at the tent, and the silence that falls is immediately awkward. At least to Rin who feels like the loudness of his heart and breath is shaking the entire stupid tent. 

“Hell of a day, huh?” He says, and immediately regrets how stupid it sounds. It’s something he would say to a stranger or an exorcist he only sort of knows. Not Ryuuji who is basically in best friend territory (even if Rin would rather boyfriend territory.)

Ryuuji snorts, thankfully, and tilts his head to Rin, relaxing back into the shared sleeping bag, all of two inches away from Rin who wants to squeak again. 

“What? You don’t like getting your bag stolen by a hobgoblin?”

Rin grins because this is easy. Bantering with Ryuuji is always fun and natural and they’ve been doing it forever. 

“He stole my lunch! And he didn’t even eat it!”

“What a bastard,” Ryuuji dead pans, then gives it away with another grin (Rin has gotten so many today and he’s hoarding them all) “Probably would have if it hadn’t been the shit rations.” 

Rin’s tail thumps as Ryuuji shifts a little, pulling his blanket around himself. Rin follows suit, too giddy to fall asleep as Ryuuji’s voice gets softer and contemplative as he talks about what the hobgoblins eat and whether there’s enough of it in the forest for the amphibian type creatures. (Because he cares about a lot of things and Rin has learned that’s part of being a punk, caring, and the fighting part of being a punk is because of the stuff you care about. It isn’t aggression for aggression's sake, even if he thought it was once.)

There’s a quiet kind of trust and intimacy to sleeping with someone. It’s letting your guard entirely down, and it shows that you’re okay being vulnerable with the other person, at least when it’s done like this. Ryuuji has said he trusts Rin, and he’s shown him plenty of times, but dang, it makes Rin feel all warm and bright each time. Like he’s glowing with flames he can’t contain and like he could just burst with them in the happiest and most determined of flares. He has Ryuuji’s trust and he’s not going to lose it, and damn it, he’s falling all over again.

Despite thinking he was too giddy, something about Ryuuji’s low voice and the heavy scent and the sound of rain hitting the top of the tent and the slight heat of Ryuuji’s body so close… well it all results in Rin waking with a bit of a start, his demonic sense tingling with an alert about something near, and the annoyingly foggy sensation of being in an unfamiliar place with no idea of when he fell asleep.

There’s someone next to him, but that isn’t what woke him up. He sees a few floating shapes out side the tent (oh, he’s in a tent!) and he recognizes the scent of coal tar. Not a real threat. At least not when there are only a handful floating around.

Rin exhales and fixes his gaze on the boy at his side. A familiar enough presence that he doesn’t rouse the demonic part of Rin for being near while he sleeps. (Though that might be the feelings involved, but Rin isn’t sure.)

Ryuuji has stayed on his back, but his mouth has opened at some point in a quiet little snore. His hands have fallen from where he had them on his chest, and now their open, palms up, and Rin’s tail has gone and draped itself over that open hand. Rin tells it to move, and it doesn’t. (His tail never listens.)

Rin turns properly on his side, looking at Ryuuji’s face in his sleep and how lax all the features are. Ryuuji never really looks lax. He’s always thinking or worrying, over thinking and trying to push himself as hard as he can. There’s usually a furrow somewhere on the face, but now it’s all sleep smooth and he looks young. Or, his age. Ryuuji always looks older, but not now. Now he looks peaceful. Still handsome. Ryuuji is always hot and cool. (It’s a little annoying how effortlessly he is cool.)

Rin wants to touch. He wants to close the space between them and snuggle right up next to Ryuuji. He wants to press together and sleep like that. All buried in Ryuuji’s scent and happy as hell. But he won’t. (Well, except for his rebellious tail.) Ryuuji gave him this trust and Rin won’t break that as much as he wants to. 

He just wants a lot and Ryuuji is out of his league, but Rin’s gonna keep trying anyway.

Still, he can’t quite help but stare and dare to shimmy the slightest bit closer. Enough that he can feel the heat from Ryuuji, and there’s a moment where Ryuuji’s snore gets a little louder, but he doesn’t wake, and Rin hugs the blanket a little tighter around himself. He nuzzles the sweater (it isn't breaking his self promise because Ryuuji is asleep and can't see it) and basks in the scent and softness and the warmth that Ryuuji's trust brings.

The next time he wakes up, it’s a bit brighter, and he’s much warmer. The sound of rain is back, but it’s probably still early enough that he can steal a few more hours of sleep. He snuggles down against the pillow, and promptly freezes as he feels it shift under his head, and he realizes there’s a steady thumping under his ear, and a whoosh of Ryuuji’s breath, and there’s an arm around his back, and a hand curled on his arm, and the reason he can smell Ryuuji so strongly isn’t because they’re sharing a bed, but because Rin is laying straight on Ryuuji. The blankets are tangled around them, and Rin can’t extricate himself from them without probably waking Ryuuji, and he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay wrapped up right here, thank you very much, all snuggled up close and feeling like he’s really sleeping with Ryuuji because they’re a thing and not because Rin’s tent was shit and got all his stuff soaked and gross. 

Ryuuji’s hand is warm and Rin can’t quite see his face properly, but he’s got his own arm over Ryuuji’s chest, and his leg is draped over one of Ryuuji’s and Ryuuji’s other leg is pressing against his, and he feels warm and safe, and he doesn’t know what time it is, but he doesn’t want to leave this, and he doesn’t actually have it, but for a moment it feels like he does.

Plus, it’s still raining, so it’s not like they need to get up yet, right?

Ryuuji tugs him a little closer, and Rin is trying not to flame up with a swoon, but Ryuuji's hand slides down his arm a little, squeezing gently as Ryuuji's heart thumps under Rin's ear, and Rin's tail abruptly goes rigid with shock as he realizes.

Ryuuji isn't snoring.

RIn tilts his head up, heart slamming hard in his chest, and catches a glimpse of Ryuuji's suddenly wide eye.

Ryuuji isn't asleep. Ryuuji is holding him and squeezing him a bit closer and letting him cuddle!

The breath Rin sucks in is embarrassingly loud, and his chest is rumbling with a purr he can't hold in, and Ryuuji's eyes go a little wider, and his hand squeezes a little tighter, and Rin's tail is thumping loudly against the ground and tent as he hugs his own arm tight around Ryuuji.

Ryuuji lifts his head the slightest bit and looks at Rin with those wide (and beautiful) brown eyes.

Rin's tail thumps all the louder as he beams up at the boy.

"We, uh," Ryuuji says, and Rin can feel the words rumble through Ryuuji's chest, "don't have to get up yet."

"Good," Rin says back, nuzzling his cheek against Ryuuji's shoulder. He isn't going to get up until he has to, and then he's going to make sure his shitty tent stays soggy so they can do this again. He doesn't care if he has to make friends with a water demon to pull it off.

Ryuuji's other arm boldly wraps around Rin, and yeah, he's going to get his tent soaked so he can get right back here. Or he'll just lie about it and come back in here anyway.

He's pretty damn sure Ryuuji won't call him out on it.