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mcumorningstar · 2 months

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Prove It, Cowboy

pairing: dodge mason x reader

summary: after the player's ball, you find yourself without a bed for the night until dodge offers for you to stay at his, but when his mom and sister catch you sneaking in they get the wrong impression.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dry humping, protected sex (p in v), dodge’s mom and sister being kinda invasive about his sex life (?)

a/n: dodge and his mom being so open about her sex life was so funny to me. this is kinda the reverse of a canon conversation... kinda! also i had a dream i went to one of dodge’s rodeos but he was flirting with all the girls so he was my enemy for a few days <3

A midnight sky hung over Carp, Texas when you arrived at Dodge’s house. Dodge put a finger to his lips fruitlessly as the front gate creaked loudly. The curtains of the front room twitched.

A female voice came from inside the house, “Dodge’s brought a girl home!”

Shit.

“That’s Dana,” Dodge sighed, fiddling with his keys and rubbing his forehead with a tight smile. Before he turned the keys in the lock, he turned to you, “Sorry, in advance.”

Your brows screwed together as he guided you inside.

After the player’s ball, Heather disappeared and so you were left without a bed for the night. God forbid you sneak into your own house and face the wrath of your parents.

Dodge came to the rescue.

A sigh fell from his lips at the sight of his mom and sister waiting in the living room doorway with excited smiles and hooded eyes. They behaved more like sisters than mother and daughter. It was sweet.

A dim lamp on the entrance table and the bright colours of the TV cast shadows across the room.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You smiled politely despite two pairs of unfamiliar eyes trained on you.

God they must think you’re here to sleep with him or something.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m Jessica. You want something to drink?” Dodge’s mom raised her glass of red wine, “We’re watching Jeopardy.“

She was a very beautiful woman, cherub cheeks and bright green eyes. Dodge was all hard angles, he must take after his dad.

Dodge ducked into the sea-foam coloured kitchen to grab two waters from the refrigerator.

“I’m Dana!” His sister beamed. She shared an unspoken look with Dodge, who rolled his eyes. Before you could thank her, Dodge rejoined your side.

“She’s locked out and just wants somewhere to sleep,” He quelled their unspoken barrage of questions.

His mom nodded along, as if he was lying, “Okay well there’s spare blankets in the laundry room, condoms in the bathroom...”

“Oh my god,” Dodge cursed under his breath, “We’re going now.”

Jessica and Dana giggled behind their glasses of wine, the right side of drunk, “The book, Dodge.”

She winked with exaggeration, her filter totally gone with the amount she’d drank but she was clearly having a fun night in.

Dodge shook his head with a flustered laugh.

With a hand on your back, Dodge guided you to his bedroom. Your face flushed at the unexpected attention and the suggestive situation.

The two laughed rather loudly, saying how pretty you are and how Dodge will fair with a girl spending the night, for the first time you assumed.

The sound of the women stifling laughter echoed around the house. Dodge closed his bedroom door with a sheepish and apologetic smile.

His room was pretty plain; grey bedsheets, grey walls, rodeo trophies and medals, a bookshelf with framed photos on. It smelt like laundry soap and his cologne.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” He offered, tossing his backpack onto the carpet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t bite,” You teased, as you looked at his collection of trophies and books, “Plus they already think we’re fucking.”

Dodge gave a quick laugh, watching you read the spines on the shelf.

“What book was your mom talking about?” You turned to him and his face flushed.

“You heard that, huh?” He mumbled, “It was a joke really. She thinks she’s funny.”

Even more intrigued by his avoidance, you sized him up with squinted eyes.

Dodge cleared his throat, tidying away a pile of laundry sitting on his bed, “They uh… god this is… They used to worry about me with- with girls. They thought I was a virgin because I never brought girls home to meet them or anything… and so for Secret Santa one year I got a book about… women… My mom insists it wasn’t her and that whoever it was was trying to be funny…”

There was a long pause. Dodge shied away from your eyes, his body turned away from you, despite the little air of embarrassed laughter.

Dodge cleared his throat again, “Super weird, I know. She had kids super young and didn’t want us to make the same mistake. Not that me and Dana are mistakes but it was hard for her. She’s cool about that sorta thing though. Dana’s ex-boyfriend used to stay over all the time and she didn’t care. So if you’re worried, she won’t say anything about you being here or anything.”

Another bout of silence fell between you as Dodge assessed your features, his lips pursed and shoulders tight.

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me,” You laughed and Dodge visibly relaxed.

“No, it’s cool. Not cool but, you know, I wish my family were cooler about sex. My dad saw your name in my phone and reached for his shotgun,” You laughed, “Anyway, a book is probably better than drunk hook ups at the lake.”

“Yeah probably,” Dodge nodded, leaning against the bookshelf, and there was a lull in the conversation.

“Oh… did you read it?” You giggled, a flush of red creeping up his neck and ears, “You did!”

“You can’t prove anything,” Dodge shook his head with a half-cocked smile.

“But you could,” You raised your eyebrows and he furrowed his. It was a joke, he knew that, but Dodge steeled his expression and licked his lips.

“Yeah?”

You kept your eyes on his for a long moment before smiling, “Yeah. Prove it.”

You reached out and rested a hand on his stomach. His abs were tight and lean under his button-up shirt.

One by one, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, running your hands along the sturdy plane of his stomach and chest.

Conflicting thoughts ran through your head. Heather was like your sister and Natalie had been planning to win Panic for years.

Would fucking Dodge Mason, their competition, be a good idea?

Your judgement was clouded by the heat radiating from his skin and the smattering of hair on his chest. His dual coloured eyes watched your face as you stood before him, admiring him.

“I saw you like this at the jump but not up close,” You rested your hands on his shoulders, biting your lip, “Thank you, saddle bronc.”

Dodge couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his cheeks, as a sputtered laugh escaped his lips.

In one movement, Dodge threw you over his shoulder and deposited you on his bed, kneeling over you.

A soft line of kisses traced along your arm to your shoulder. With every press of his lips, you itched to feel them against yours, whining at the wait.

Pink and plump, his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back to look down at you, stilling hovering over you.

Taking his head in your hands, you craned your neck to kiss him. Each press of his lips had you sighing contently and the swipe of his tongue had you moaning.

Dodge licked into your mouth with fervour, tongue and lips colliding with no precision, only desire.

You hooked your leg over his hips and rolled him onto his back beneath you, straddling his hips.

Dodge instinctively gripped your hips and watched with kiss-bitten lips and doe eyes as you discarded your dress onto his bedroom floor.

“You gonna give me some tips, cowboy?”

Dodge groaned, your hands pressing against his chest, as he slowly guided the rocking of your hips against his.

With every roll of your hips, your tits bounced in the lacy cups of your bra. His eyes flickered between your chest and your pink panties, rubbing against his bulge.

Dodge groaned, tightening his grip on your hips, “Lean forward.”

Following his instructions, a loud moan escaped you at the change in pressure against your clit.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good,” He rumbled, rutting his hips against yours in a perfect rhythm. Warmth bloomed in your chest at his praise.

Thank you, saddle bronc.

His muscles rippled and bulged underneath your hands as the slick between your legs dampened the skin of your inner thighs.

Cupping a hand at the nape of your neck, Dodge guided your mouth to his, kissing you with pinched brows and deep groans. Pulling away from the heated make out and pressing a deep kiss to his lips, you sat up and unbuttoned his jeans.

Dodge lay back, stroking your thighs and watching you with bated breath. Pulling him from his trance, you hooked a finger into the elastic waistband of his boxers, twanging the material against his alabaster skin.

A smile twitched at his lips as he slowly sat up and kissed you softly, rolling you onto your back. Dodge pushed his jeans off and lay between your legs, the hard length of his cock pressing into your inner thigh.

Settling your hands on each other's heated skin, Dodge kissed you deeply and nipped at your bottom lip playfully. His strong arms wrapped around you, his hand palming at the globe of your ass.

Warm and plump lips mouthed at your neck, teeth tugging the strap of your bra from your shoulder and kissing at the newly bare skin. He unhooked your bra, tossing it onto the floor and laving his tongue at your pebbled nipples.

"Please, need you," You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Dodge pressed a final kiss to your chest before sitting on his haunches and pulling your panties down your legs.

With firm hands on your inner thighs, Dodge parted your legs and bit his lip, staring at your dripping sex. You squirmed under his undivided attention, hooking your calf around his waist and pulling him on top of you.

Kissing him deeply, you pushed his boxer briefs down his hips, dragging your nails across his back once his erection sprung free. The wet tip smacked against your heated skin.

Dodge kicked his boxers off and reached into his nightstand, tearing the foil of a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling the rubber onto his cock.

Caressing his biceps, you watched as he hovered over you and lined himself against your entrance. You hooked a leg around his hip, gasping into his open mouth as he slowly thrust into you.

Dodge's eyes fluttered shut as his hips pressed flush against yours. A ragged breath escaped his lips, tickling the skin of your neck. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Dodge sighed shakily.

"C'mon cowboy," You rolled your hips, "Buck."

Dodge let out a mix of a soft groan and a laugh into your neck, "You feel really good."

A small giggle fell from you, scratching your fingers through his hair. You bucked your hips again and Dodge clamped a hand on your hip, pulling back and rolling his hips against you.

Picking up the pace, Dodge fucked his thick cock against the sensitive spot deep within your cunt. Sloppy wet sounds echoed around the room with each buck of his hips.

Sweat beaded on your skin as the coil within the pit of your stomach tightened. Your nails clawed at the rippling muscles of Dodge's back, his skin slapping against yours.

Groans tumbled from his lips, pressing heated kisses to your skin, silencing your loud moans with his tongue in your mouth.

Digging your heels into his ass, you tightened your legs around his hips, letting him push one against your chest and his cock sinked deeper into you.

A broken gasp escaped you before his hand clamped over your mouth and his hips stopped, pressing his weight onto you.

The sound of footsteps outside his door and the subsequent flicking of light switches and closing doors alerted Dodge to the presence of his mom going to bed.

Dodge met your eyes, willing you to be quiet, as he continued to fuck you. Your brows pinched together as your interrupted pleasure began to build again, noises muffled by his strong hand.

Pressing his forehead to yours, Dodge slowed his pace and you took the opportunity to turn him onto his back, keeping his cock nestled in your cunt.

A surprised grunt tumbled from his chest and his hands groped at your body, holding you against him. You wasted no time before raising your hips and bouncing on his cock.

Dodge moaned and his eyes rolled back, covering his own mouth. A sheen of sweat on his skin glistened in the limited light. Leaning forward, your clit caught against his pubes, igniting a hotter flame within you.

"Good," Dodge praised, brushing your hair out of your face and watching your tits bounce in his face, "Such a good cowgirl."

He tipped his head back further into his plush pillow and his knees bent off the bed, fucking into you, his body pulling taut at the impending release.

"Gonna cum," Dodge rasped, panting and licking his dry lips.

You couldn't form words, only nodding, meeting his eyes and rocking your hips with the uncoordinated buck of his. The band within you was one thread away from snapping before Dodge gripped your jaw and pulled you into a heated kiss.

White hot bliss coursed through your body as you moaned into his mouth. Dodge mouthed at your unresponsive mouth, too preoccupied with moans of pleasure to reciprocate his kisses.

Dodge pulled back to watch your orgasm wash over you before he hit his peak, white ropes of cum filling the condom as he groaned deeply.

Sinking into the mattress, you lay on his sweaty chest, both trying to catch your breath. Dodge discarded the condom in the trash by his bed and pulled you into his side.

His cheeks and neck were rosy with exertion and he ran a hand up and down your back, "You should try saddle bronc."

Fucked out, you laughed into his sweaty chest, "You should keep that book."

Slowly you drifted into a blissful sleep, bodies entwined and satiated.

#dodge mason #mike faist x reader #dodge mason x reader #panic (2021)#art donaldson

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pin-k-ink · 5 months

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saccharine // kozume kenma

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, making out, so much spit, hair pulling, food kink(?), hands free orgasm, just pure filth

wc ⇢ 3.4k

Kenma was utterly immersed in the virtual world displayed across his gaming monitor, fingers flying in dexterous motions as he maneuvered through each intense level. The vibrant colors and frenetic action held his focus in an unwavering trance, shutting out all external stimuli and distraction with ease. He was in his own insular bubble, mind narrowed to the singular objective unfolding pixel-by-pixel before him.

So thoroughly zoned in was Kenma that the faint creak of his bedroom door swinging open on its hinges barely even registered through his fixated haze at first. It wasn't until the soft thud of footsteps sounded, infiltrating the periphery of his gaming cocoon, that his brow furrowed ever so slightly in a subtle break of concentration.

Kenma felt his shoulders tighten a fraction as the additional presence within his space slowly penetrated through to his consciousness. With obvious reluctance, he tore his keen gaze away from the rapidly flickering screen to locate the source of this intrusion into his hard-won solitude.

Standing just inside the doorway was none other than you - looking perfectly at home despite having let yourself into his private sanctuary so casually. There was already a lazy, contented smile curling the corners of your mouth upwards as you regarded Kenma with that soft, unassuming warmth he secretly found so disarming. You looked slightly rumpled, as if you'd just arrived back from a long day out, but your entire energy exuded the kind of earthy comfort that always seemed to counterbalance Kenma's own more aloof aura so well.

As his slowly refocusing eyes drifted down, Kenma couldn't help but zero in on the crinkled plastic convenience store bag gripped loosely in one of your hands. He felt his lips pursing in a subtle moue, knowing without needing to ask that the mysterious parcel was no doubt stuffed full of all manner of highly processed, tooth-achingly sweet snacks and candies - the kind designed to incite nostalgic cravings in anyone who'd ever grown up as a sugar-fueled ball of youthful energy.

"Hey," you called out, voice light and laced with that melodic lilt of amusement that Kenma secretly catalogued as one of his favorite inflections from you. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too intense over here."

As if in direct answer to your playful query, the muted barrage of synthesized explosions and combat effects issued forth from Kenma's computer speakers - temporarily overridden in volume by your arrival. Kenma felt one eyebrow quirking upwards as you simply laughed, completely unoffended as you strode further into his room with all the casual confidence of someone fully assured in their welcome.

Which, to be fair, you always had been. Even when Kenma was at his most brooding or socially awkward, you'd never seemed fazed by his prickly exterior. Your relationship was quite simply one of easy equanimity, a perfectly counterbalanced orbit of push and pull that you both navigated through unconscious instinct at this point. No pretense or strain ever overcomplicated the simple fact that you both enjoyed inhabiting the quiet spaces of each other's lives, no matter how dissimilar your individual idiosyncrasies might appear to outside perspectives.

"Not really," Kenma replied after a protracted beat, finally deigning to bless you with a response as you unceremoniously flopped down on the end of his bed with a playful bounce. He tried to feign nonchalance, to not allow the subtle crinkling of bedsprings and sheets rustling beneath your added weight to lodge itself under his skin quite so insistently. But he could admit to himself, if to no one else, that you inhabiting his personal domain so casually would always elicit a visceral flare of...awareness from his carefully cultivated aloofness.

He hoped the small, inscrutable furrow of his brow was enough to silently convey the token protest his persona demanded - the subtle you're-invading-my-territory bristle that most people wisely heeded when dealing with Kozume Kenma's highly attuned sense of solitary sovereignty. Not you though. Even after the numerous years of rad-proximity cohabitation that began between you two, you still seemed to gleefully take measured delight in cheerfully ignoring every last one of his prickly deterrent mechanisms.

Rather than take umbrage at his mild look of affront, you simply beamed and began rummaging around inside the plastic sack with greatly exaggerated gusto - no doubt for your own private amusement at tweaking Kenma's carefully maintained airs once again. The crunch and rustle of packaging being rifled through filled the small bedroom as you built up an aggravatingly teasing sense of dramatic flair, finally extracting your prize from the bottom of the bag with a wee little noise of triumph.

"Cherry?" You announced, brandishing the large spherical lollipop like a trophy freshly liberated from its crinkly plastic tomb. That impish glint danced through your gaze as you rolled the candy enticingly between your fingertips with a sly smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I got a whole fresh bag full of those novelty flavors you used to go crazy for back in elementary school."

Kenma felt his brows twitching slightly as he absorbed the sight of the garishly dyed confection being spun and twirled in a saucy little display of enticement clearly meant solely for his benefit. The bright crimson whorls decorating the bulbous sugar orb put his mind immediately in the nostalgic mindset you'd explicitly stated - dragging forth powerful sensory memories of sticky fingers and tongues frantically chasing fleeting sugar highs around the smallest provocations.

"I remember how much you used to get a real kick out of novelty flavors like these after especially Kuroo dragged you out to play," you carried on in a lower, more conspiratorial tone as Kenma found his gaze firmly arrested by your mouth. You'd already begun dragging the pointed tip of the lollipop between your parted lips with tantalizing leisure, punctuating the suggestive motion with a slow wink. "Always the tasty little reward to help recharge those spent batteries, wasn't it?"

Before Kenma could formulate any semblance of a verbal response, you had already sealed your lips around the bulbous candy with a contented hum. His eyes went wide, transfixed, as he watched your cheeks hollow on the first experimental suckle.

There was something about the way your lips moulded so perfectly around the firm, protruding shape - the soft sounds of suction and the glimpses of your pink tongue slowly swirling to chase the initial burst of sticky sweetness. It was such a small, innocuous action, and yet Kenma found himself utterly entranced against his will.

You seemed blissfully unaware of the effect you were having, far too caught up in your own nostalgic indulgence. Your eyes had drifted shut in apparent bliss as you allowed the full-bodied flavor to roll across your palate with a pleased rumble. Kenma swallowed hard, feeling the heated prickle of a flush threatening to crawl up the back of his neck as you hummed out another long exhale of unabashed enjoyment.

The synthetic cherry scent suddenly seemed amplified ten-fold, heavy and cloying in a way that had Kenma's senses surging into hyperawareness of your every breath, subtle shift, and indulgent kitten lick. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the slow-motion mesmerism of watching that plump lower lip drag free from the candy's glistening surface with excruciating leisure.

A bead of melted syrup immediately welled up in the wake of your mouth's retreat, hanging heavy and taunting for the barest beat before gravity fully exerted its pull. Kenma's throat clicked on a strangled inhale as the ruby-red droplet began tracing a sticky path down the very center of your chin with tantalizing languidness. He could all but taste the cloying sugar exploding across his senses as the errant rivulet continued its maddening descent...only to finally shudder to a halt mere centimeters from the hollow of your throat.

You didn't seem to notice the escaped treat's sluggish journey, far too wrapped up in dragging the rapidly diminishing lollipop free to lave a series of thorough, indulgent kitten licks along the fresh sugar-trail your previous enthusiasm had laid across your very lips. Kenma felt his fingers flexing against the game controller, nails digging into the worn rubber in a white-knuckle grip as he was utterly transfixed.

The thick, humid weight of unspoken tension was mounting by the second, made heavier with every demonstrative sweep of your tongue and quiet simper of gratification that vibrated through the hushed bedroom. Just as Kenma was certain his restraint was about to fray completely, shattering into tinder to be consumed by this blazing conflagration of suggestive temptation, your eyes fluttered back into focus.

Your gazes instantly locked together with the electric shunt of a livewire arc-ing closed circuit. For an interminable breath, you both remained suspended in that heated stare - the only sound Kenma's own rapidly pounding heart hammering against his ribs with deafening intensity. Then, with obvious relish, your tongue swept out to lap up the errant trail of cherry syrup that had very nearly defied gravity's hold entirely before retreating.

Kenma's stomach muscles clenched as if taking a physical blow, his throat clicking on another difficult swallow against the sudden, harrowing jolt of explosive arousal that shocked through his system at the razor's edge of suggestiveness you had just displayed. You didn't show even the barest hint of hesitation or embarrassment, however, simply allowing your lips to curve upwards in an insolent smirk as you beheld the thunderstruck look on Kenma's face.

"Want a taste?" The words were innocuous enough, if perhaps delivered a shade too heavy with bedroom timbre and subtext. But the accompanying gesture of holding the thoroughly debauched candy out towards Kenma in clear offering? That was borderline obscene.

Unable to summon the power of speech for several suspended heartbeats, Kenma could only stare at the lurid streaks of color and glistening artificial sheen adorning the thoroughly savaged lollipop like neon warpaint. The sticky shine of sugar and saliva combined into an almost pornographic glaze that his overheated subconscious immediately supplied a barrage of wildly inappropriate mental images to contextualize.

It felt like a cosmic paradigm shift had occurred with shocking abruptness, as if someone had reached out and simply altered the gravity governing your established dynamic without advance notice or permission. What should have been a harmless instance of sugary indulgence between casual friends had taken on an electrifyingly charged tenor rife with fraught implications Kenma's fevered lizard brain was straining to process without imploding.

You seemed to notice the glazed look overtaking his features because you shifted forward on the mattress with what could only be described as a lazy roll of your hips. Your gaze briefly flicked down, confirming you had indeed provoked the expected bodily response in Kenma to match his overheated look. When you glanced back up through your lashes, pupils already dilated to liquid rings of pure invitation, a full-body shudder rocked through Kenma so violently it momentarily shorted his lungs of air.

There was no going back from this moment poised on the precipice of your established equilibrium. The gauntlet had been thrown in a bold, unambiguous challenge...and Kenma realized with a sort of stunned exhilaration that his subconscious had already accepted without input from his higher reasoning.

"Last chance," you purred out, deliberately dragging the candy's slick, hardened curve between your lips in an achingly sensuous tease.

Kenma didn't hesitate any longer.

With a low, guttural growl that sounded foreign even to his own ears, he surged forward until only a mere hairsbreadth separated your flushed frames. You sucked in a sharp inhale at his sudden approach, eyes blown wide in a heady mixture of surprise and approval, but didn't retreat.

If anything, you unconsciously leaned in further - near desperately offering up the ravaged lollipop like a silent supplication that Kenma was all too eager to receive. Without preamble, he sealed his lips around the exposed portion of sticky sugar...

You both seemed to hold your breath as Kenma's lips closed around the lollipop, savoring the tangy-sweet burst of artificial flavors coating his tongue. But there was an underlying muskiness as well - the undeniable taste of your own saliva mingling with the sugary treat in an intoxicating way that deepened the moment's intimacy.

Kenma's eyes slipped shut as he slowly drew the candy deeper into his mouth with a low rumble of appreciation. He could feel the heavy weight of your gaze scorching across his face as he indulged in long, leisurely pulls and sweeps of his tongue. The air between you had grown thick and charged, practically crackling with unspoken tension.

When he finally allowed the thoroughly worshipped lollipop to slip free with a damp pop, Kenma's eyes fluttered open to find you watching him with rapt fascination. Your chests were rising and falling in tandem, breaths falling into sync as that taut line of heated awareness stretched between you, thrumming like a tightly coiled wire.

"Your turn," Kenma rasped out, voice pitched and gravelly as he held the glistening treat out in mute offering. He could see your throat working on a convulsive swallow before you slowly, almost mesmerized, leaned forward to accept it between your newly reddened lips.

The sweet indulgence continued to pass between you in a steadily escalating cycle of wordless exchange - growing more fervent and molten with each intimate iteration. By the time the lollipop had fully dissolved into a rapidly melting stub, your joined breathing had grown harsh and punched-out against the heavy quiet surrounding you.

You held the lingering candy husk out towards Kenma with a look that could only be described as smoldering want. He found himself already leaning in, chasing those reddened, swollen lips until they crashed together in a heated collision of sugared, seeking mouths.

The lollipop was quickly forgotten, allowed to roll away into discarded oblivion as you both surrendered to the long-simmering hunger abruptly allowed to boil over into frantic need. There was nothing gentle or tentative in your joined onslaught - merely a wild, unbridled devouring as you clung to each other with something akin to desperation.

Kenma felt like he was short-circuiting from a constant barrage of new stimuli assailing his senses all at once. The velvet glide of your tongues tangling in an increasingly sloppy duel, the bittersweet tang of melted sugar commingled with the addictive essence of your unique tastes and scents, the featherlight caress of your fingertips branding tingling trails everywhere they exploratively roamed. It was quickly overwhelming his carefully cultivated restraint in tidal waves of new sensation.

Just when Kenma thought his tenuous grasp on control might disintegrate entirely, he vaguely registered the crinkle of plastic as you scrabbled blindly for something else. Your joined momentum barely faltered, mouths still hungrily devouring one another, as you managed to produce another candy - this time one of the gummy ring varieties.

You didn't hesitate before pressing the sticky, yielding treat against Kenma's lips in blatant invitation. His eyes slipped open in a momentary daze, but you simply held his heated stare as you slowly pushed the sugary disk deeper, deeper, until finally he was forced to open up and accept it fully inside.

A tremor rocked through Kenma as his tongue was instantly overwhelmed by the intense burst of sour green apple flavor. But the cloying artificial tang swiftly melted into something headier - the lingering taste of your saliva providing an irresistible musky counterpoint. He found his suckles growing more insistent, cheeks hollowing with each powerful pull as you watched him rapturously.

You seemed spurred on by his display, hands tangling almost painfully in his hair to sharply angle his head as you sealed your mouth over his in another bruising kiss. Climbing into his lap, you pressed even closer as the half-dissolved gummy quickly became the star attraction in a molten tug-of-war, messily traded back and forth as you strained to chase every melted smear and lingering taste from the other's questing tongue.

The wet, obscenely suckling sounds soon being disgorged into the dense air around you were utterly depraved...and yet neither of you could seemingly get enough. You rolled and writhed together with mounting desperation, limbs entangling as your bodies gyrated with a lustful, reckless abandon..

You hummed approvingly as you produced another treat from the bag - a plump gummy worm in a shockingly vibrant shade of lime green. Without preamble, you traced the squishy confection along the swollen seam of Kenma's lips, leaving a glistening trail of sugary syrup in its wake.

He immediately opened for you, taking the candy into the velvet heat of his mouth with a low rumble of pleasure. You watched, entranced, as his cheeks hollowed on the first experimental suck, feeling your belly clench at the obscene sound.

"Let me taste..." you rasped out, not waiting for permission before surging forward to lick away the sticky smears his thorough sampling was already leaving at the corners of his lips.

Kenma groaned at the hot glide of your tongue, catching it briefly to suckle hard - drawing you into a messy open-mouthed clash. The gummy candy quickly became the molten centerpiece of a heated tug-of-war, passed between your questing mouths in a filthy exhibition of slurping and swapping spit-slicked remnants.

By the time the neon treat had fully dissolved into so much sugary wreckage, your chins were streaked in lurid green and crimson from the excessive mess. You barely skipped a beat before grabbing another - this time one of the fruit-flavored taffies.

Kenma watched with heavy-lidded intensity as you slowly enveloped the tan-colored chew between your lips, torturously working the sticky mass along the insides of your cheeks before offering it to him with a muffled moan of wanton bliss. He immediately accepted the proffered treat, tongues dueling and tangling as you traded the rapidly dissolving candy back and forth in lascivious exchanges that had you both panting harshly through your noses.

Another candy soon joined the melting fray after the taffy had been comprehensively obliterated - a molten disk of pale yellow butterscotch this time. You took the initiative to cradle the liquidized confection against the swell of Kenma's lower lip, smearing the cloyingly sweet syrup across the reddened plump flesh. He instinctively gave a broad sweep of his tongue to chase the sugary trail, moaning brokenly at the artificial richness coating his palate.

This only seemed to spur you on further, and you were soon leaning in to lick and suckle away every last melting butterscotch droplet painting Kenma's swollen mouth. The sounds of your vigorous sampling and soft whimpers of delight were utterly shameless as you wallowed together in the sticky, heated devastation of so many defiled treats.

More gummies were soon added to the rapidly disintegrating pile - their colors blending into a garish kaleidoscope of streaked saliva and disgorged groans across your flushed bodies. You traded each dissolving confection back and forth in messy bursts of bruising suction that left your mouths swollen and tingling from the stimulation.

At some point, you tipped the bag entirely over the bedsheets, allowing the remaining sugar-dusted debris to spill out in a vibrant trail that seemed to beckon like an insistent siren. Neither of you hesitated before your joined frames collapsed squarely into the sticky devastation, utterly heedless of any shreds of restraint still tenuously remaining.

Candy dust and gobbed spittle were soon finding their way into every available crevice and exposed patch of slick, overheated skin as you thrashed together in delirious rapture. The thick, cloying sweetness and musk of arousal hung in the air like an intoxicating fog as you both surrendered to this singular, obsessive need to consume each sugary morsel from the other's plush mouths...among other intimate sampling still to come.

By the time the decimated bag had been exhausted of all its confectionary contents, you were both utterly spent - collapsed in a sweaty, debauched heap of limbs amidst the sticky devastation you'd so comprehensively wallowed within. Lurid warpaint streaked your flushed frames from the thorough coating of candy carnage, but matching dopey grins still curved your thoroughly ravaged mouths in unison.

Unbeknownst to you, the front of Kenma’s pants were soaked with more than just saliva and sugar, but the evidence would remain hidden until he got the chance to change his clothes.

"Guess we got a little carried away there, huh?" You teased, prodding Kenma in the side with an idle fingertip as he let out a grunt of agreement.

"We could always take a shower," he suggested after a beat, voice roughened with the kind of gravel that made your lower belly clench.

"And then what?" You prompted, rolling over so you could rest your chin atop Kenma's chest and peer up at him through your lashes.

He didn't even pause to consider, just gave a small shrug before responding in an even tone: "Then we could grab a whole bag of candies from the store and start all over again."

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #kenma smut #kozume kenma #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x reader smut

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asofterepilogue · 4 months

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macron qui d'un côté dissout l'assemblée avec une victoire du RN pratiquement garantie, et qui de l'autre nous assure depuis des années qu'il faut absolument voter pour lui pour faire barrage au RN 😂 guillotine poison écartèlement astéroïde death note etc.

#on rigole on rigole mais ça me donne de sérieuses envies de violence #de toute façon fallait vraiment être stupide pour croire un seul instant que macron était opposé au RN #il fait semblant comme ses prédécesseurs mais le RN lui sert d'épouvantail pour pousser les gens à voter pour lui c'est tout #et il fait bien attention à les nourrir entre deux elections #les débats RN et renaissance exclusivement ça fait quoi à part encourager l'idée que c'est les deux seules options #tout l'échiquier politique est tellement à droite que LFI passe pour l'extrême-gauche mais tout va bien 😂#upthebaguette #france #mine #oops this was supposed to be a fandom blog

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earthsoulbarbie · 1 year

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We often (rightly) discuss how much harrow is Going Through It in harrow the ninth, but i also really appreciate how her response to this barrage of grief, gaslighting and trauma is "i have always lived" and "ive never been murdered before, i don't intend to start now"

Argue as you might that shes putting on a brave face and talking out of her ass - which is a fair point considering how much she canonically yearns for death - even if that's the case i still think this attitude is impressive as hell

#harrowhark #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #its like that thing where you've suevived all your worst days so far you know #inspirational honestly #i have always lived!! despite everything!

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as-is-above-so-below · 2 years

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 4: Visitors

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied child loss Note: Thank you for all of your support! I'm starting to run low on ideas for the Rileys. If y'all would like more, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments or my DMs! I will say, my BIG Ghost headcanon is that he has a tongue piercing, so do with that what you will *side eye* Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

John cracked the door to the hospital room and poked his head in. “I heard you kids are ready for visitors?”

“You’re in your forties, Price. You’re hardly older.”

“And yet, here I am, honorary granddad.”

Simon was too focused on the small bundle in his arm, gently tracing a tiny button nose before laying his open palm on her belly. He had shed his balaclava hours ago but still sported a skull-printed facemask. He recently left his hair longer than usual on the top but kept it tight on the sides. It was thick and almost shaggy, blonde locks starting to wave and curl at the ends.

The group entered the room, a massive barrage of foil and latex balloons squeezing through the door frame behind them. The sergeants wore beaming smiles as they rushed to Freyja, laid back in bed, and each thrust huge, full bouquets of flowers. “Oh dear Jesus,” she laughed tiredly, taking them both and resting them on the table at her bedside. She would ask the nurses to take care of them later. Surely they would have some vases she could borrow until they went home.

Most of her labor was spent on her feet, unable to bring herself to get in bed for hours. She took to either hunching over it, Simon’s calloused hands gripping hers and dragging up and down her spine, or practically hanging from his shoulders, her forehead pressed against his chest. In a state of pure exhaustion, Price convinced her to give her feet rest, even if only for a little bit.

Not wanting to overwhelm her as the boys fussed over her, John calmly approached with a soft smile and placed a hand on her head. “You broken?” he asked, petting her hair as the boys tied off the balloons to the rails of the bed.

“I’m good,” she smiled back, leaning into the touch. She motioned for a hand, and Price and Soap helped her adjust to sitting up straighter. Johnny bent down and pressed a loud, wet kiss to her cheek, which she batted away with a scrunched nose. “Si, bring her here. Price first.”

“Aww, not fair! ‘M the best lookin’ uncle! I should go first!”

“Johnny,” Simon warned, giving the Scot a warning look. “Keep it down before I revoke your godfather privileges.” It was an empty threat, but he piped down anyway.

Soap was a human battering ram leaving the base, plowing through any soldier and recruit that got in the way as Gaz, Ghost, and Freyja followed closely behind. John saw a small smile on her flushed face when Gaz and Soap squeezed into the front seat together, chanting We’re having a baby over and over, to which she retorted, I didn’t realize the 141 was a military polycule.

John nestled the infant into the crook of his elbow, her swaddle shifting to leave her arms free. She squirmed, moving from Simon’s arms to John’s, her pink little face scrunching up in irritation. He gently brushed a finger along her sternum, which her tiny hand wrapped around, and she settled again. “She’s beautiful, Y/N.”

Johnny leaned over the Captain’s shoulder, Kyle doing the same on the other side. “God help her if she gets your ugly mug, Lieutenant,” Gaz teased, wiggling one of her feet within the blanket.

Ghost decided to let that one pass. “This is your granddad, lovie,” Simon said, his quiet voice rumbling. “Price, this is Joan.”

John’s eyes flickered between the man in front of him and the woman in the bed behind him. “Joan?”

“Mmm,” Simon nodded, his mask shifting as his cheeks rose underneath. He wasn’t usually so expressive but was exhausted and feeling particularly sappy.

John’s eyes watered, and he blinked back at the newborn. He had spent five long, sleepless days in that same hospital, forever yet not so long ago. John didn’t have a wife or children of his own. His team was the closest thing he had to family. He felt a fatherly responsibility to all four of them. Even then, it shouldn’t have been John Price cradling her face, whispering words of helpless encouragement, countless hours desperately pleading with command to pull Ghost out of his mission, to no avail.

Simon didn’t return until four months later.

He couldn’t remember a time before that when he had felt his heart break cleanly in two. Notifying next of kin was difficult but quick; drop the news and move on to the next. But the pain and, for lack of a better for, agony Freyja suffered during Simon’s access was unlike anything he’d witnessed.

Now the warm, healthy baby in his arms was his namesake.

“I’m honored, Simon. Thank you, both of you.”

“We were thinking ‘Joanie’ for a nickname.”

Soap whipped around, wide eyes meeting Freyja’s. “Like…Johnny? Me?” he whispered, his skin suddenly hot and his ears turning a bright shade of red. At the slightest sign of confirmation from her, he tackled his Lieutenant with his entire body weight, arms thrown around his neck. Simon grunted at the sudden contact and stumbled just a step. He awkwardly patted the man’s back with one hand.

“Johnny.”

Sniff.

“Get off of me.”

“You named yer daughter after me!”

“I named my daughter after my Captain.”

“Sure, Ghost. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

~*~

Simon was pulled from his slumber by the soft rustling and whines from the foot of their bed. Soft morning rays peeked through the gap in the curtains. Before her cries grew to high-pitched shrills and woke Freyja from her much-needed sleep, he rolled out from the covers and shuffled to pick her up. “Mornin’, lovie,” he hummed, unwrapping the tight bundle and freeing her limbs. Simon chuckled at her long stretch, carrying her out of their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him. She deserved a little extra sleep.

He puttered around the house with Joanie in one arm, softly chatting about their plans for the day. Simon spent a lot of time talking to her, eyes resembling his gazing up at him, smiling or gurgling occasionally when she gummed her hands. He would tell her about any messages or videos her uncles had sent, funny stories from base, tales of his and Freyja’s travels during their time in the service. He had yet to talk about his parents or her Uncle Tommy, and anything related to missions was absolutely off the table.

A tiny, soft palm smacked his chest, grabbing his attention. His lip tugged at the corner, and he playfully tapped her nose. “What’re ya doin’, there? I’ve got nothin’, unfortunately. ‘M not your mum.” Freyja would tell him his accent got thicker the more tired he was if she were awake. He never really noticed a difference.

The bottle warmer on the counter pinged, indicating that it was ready.

He settled in the deep corner of the couch as she ate, staring up at his like she always did. “Pretty girl,” he muttered while thumbing her cheek, which was starting to get that chunky plushness with every pound she gained. He stared and stared until she shoved at the empty bottle. It was placed on the coffee table, and Simon slid down until he was on his back, with her small body perched on top of him.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve you and your mum.” She lifted her head at the sound of his voice, another skill she had been approving. “Your granddad’s always tellin’ me I’m too hard on myself. ‘You’re a hero, Simon, you save thousands of lives every day’,” he said, mimicking John’s posh accent. “Certainly don’t feel like a hero. It’s our job to protect people. ‘We get dirty and the world stays clean’.” Simon snorted, and the baby cooed at him, stretching to palm at his face.

“How’s that work? I’m supposed to keep the public safe but I couldn’t protect my family. I was gone. Your mum almost died.” He blinked away the hot tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat to chase away the burning ache forming. His fingers rubbed her back to ground himself, taking deep, steady breaths. When Simon turned his eyes from the ceiling back to his daughter, he saw her fighting sleep, eyes fluttering.

He could stay like that forever.

“But then we might not have you. Funny, that.”

Snoozing soundly against his warm skin, his hand firm enough to keep her in place so she couldn’t slip off. Simon got as comfy as he could without jostling the baby too much, wedging a throw pillow under his neck.

He had never considered leaving his profession before seeing an empty nursery, dismantled and stripped to not look at it for another moment. They had both lost small pieces of themselves then. Simon had to learn to cope with the guilt of not being present for his wife during her darkest times, and Frey struggled to grasp her new reality, one that went against all of her plans at the time.

But she was stubborn and determined to work, knowing he wouldn’t leave the force without her.

At the time, he was furious at her American pig-headedness and inability to listen to reason.

Now, with new photos littering their shelves, new toys and clothes strewn about, and his phone relentlessly ringing with desperate pleas for FaceTime calls and pictures, he was grateful.

~*~

Where the fuck is he?

Freyja moved through their house with brows furrowed together as she searched the rooms for her husband. Panic briefly overtook her when she woke and found an empty bassinet until she realized the bed next to her was as well and figured Simon had taken their daughter to another room.

But which one?

Eventually, she found him sprawled out on the couch, one leg dangling off the chaise and an arm thrown over his eyes. He looked peaceful with their newborn against his bare, scarred chest, slowly rising and falling with each breath. Her heart swooned, and she snapped a quick picture of the scene. Simon lifted his arm at the shutter click, his eyes half-lidded. A sleepy grin tugged at his lips, and he beckoned her over. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered as she bent down, securing a lazy kiss with a soft groan.

Their first few weeks as parents were blissful, even with the lack of sleep and drastic change in routine. Joanie was sleeping well, but Freyja and Simon struggled to get used to her sleep schedule. Anxiety and PTSD flared when she dreamt, and she often shot awake at any little noise, immediately going to the bassinet. He had nightmares but had gotten used to them since childhood, whereas her night terrors only started in the last couple of years.

Even at her young age, it was clear that she was already a daddy’s girl. Little Joan recognized his voice from across the house and sought him out, refusing to settle until she was in his arms or strapped to his torso. She preferred sleeping on their chests, listening to their heartbeats. She especially loved skin-on-skin contact.

Simon took to fatherhood immediately, fussing over her every need and want and happily chatting away, although they were one-sided conversations. His dad jokes were almost unbearable. If you had told her a few weeks ago that there was room in her to love Simon even more, she would have told you you were crazy. But watching him with his daughter proved her wrong. Her heart grew impossibly with every passing day.

On top of that, the sight of him with their daughter snuggled up with him, his tattooed sleeve, blonde hair mussed with sleep? God damn.

“You should know I’m dying to jump your bones right now.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled wider. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, the daddy energy’s really doin’ somethin’ for me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, love. I’ll take ya to bed as soon as you’re able. It’s only been two months.”

Small hands grasped at his skin, alerting him to her stirring. Simon gently shushed her as he sat up, shifting her to his shoulder; she somehow looked even tinier in his hold. Something fluttered in her chest again as he nuzzled Joanie’s shoulder, and she beamed at him. He shifted under her gaze, looking amused.

“Staring’s kind of my thing, Frey. It’s unsettling.”

“I told you, fatherhood looks good on you.”

BANG BANG BANG

“Good mornin’ Mexico!” Soap’s voice cried through the door, followed by Gaz’s chesty cackles.

Only Freyja jumped when the door shook, but they both looked towards it, Simon’s brow raised. “Bloody hell, are they daft? It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday!”

“Which means it’s their only free time, and they want to see us,” she scolded and nudged him to the kitchen. He acted tough, but she knew her husband well enough to know how much the team’s affection meant to him. Neither of them had any family to speak of, whether in England or America. It takes a village to raise a baby, as they say, and what a town they had.

With a wicked smile on her face, as Simon passed her, she wound up and slapped his ass with a sharp crack, earning a hiss.

“The fuck, Frey!”

“Your fault for walking around like that! It’s scandalous!”

He was wearing grey sweatpants.

“You’re pushin’ it, love. Don’t be a cheeky brat.” (Translation, ‘I love it, please do that again’).

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Freyja tied her robe in front as someone banged on the door again. “Jesus Christ, hold your horses!”

The second the lock turned, Gaz busted the door open (it bounced off the coat rack behind it), ready to pounce. “Where’s the babe?” he cried, hands on her shoulders as he physically moved her out of his way.

“Hello to you too, Kyle. Lovely weather we’re having.”

He pecked her cheek with a quick Hello, then immediately flipped her off, storming past her towards the kitchen where soft baby noises came from. From the other room, she heard the sergeant practically squeal, “There’s my girl! Give her here!”

“Sergeant—”

“Kindly get fucked, mate!”

“I’m warning you, Garrick!”

A scuffle and light cursing rang through the house, and Soap’s laugh shook the walls as he hugged her tightly, squishing her. “Pure mental about that baby, he is,” he said, then kissed her forehead. “Oof, ya look like shite, hen.”

“Thank you, Soap. It’s truly a marvel that you’re still single.”

They joined Ghost and Gaz in the kitchen, Johnny carrying two large paper bags. The warm smell of butter, grease, and onions wafted through the air, and Freyja deeply inhaled, savoring it. “We brought breakfast as payment for your troubles.”

She snatched one from him, pulled one of the takeout boxes out, and threw herself at the table.

“Did you put the kettle on?” Kyle asked, smiling down at Joan and tickling her belly. She kicked her legs furiously, grabbing at his fingers with both hands in a tight baby grip. “Holy shit, the bloody grip on you!”

Simon huffed and muttered some choice words under his breath. “I was workin’ on it when you nearly broke my door in and kidnapped my child.”

“Sweet, I’m dyin’ for a cuppa.”

As if reading each other’s minds, Soap and Freyja groaned, in sync, “Fuckin’ Brits.”

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