The Workings of Two Dorky Sherlockians

lestradehasthephonebox asked: Where are you guys? I miss you!! this ‘read more’ is our...

Sun, 01 Jul 2012 23:30:00 -0400

lestradehasthephonebox asked:

Where are you guys? I miss you!!

this ‘read more’ is our metaphorical body bag containing sherlock. you think we’re dead, but we’re really not. <3

From Val:

We’ve been doing a lot of original work recently, and since then most of our Sherlock fics have sort of…hit dead ends. However! This doesn’t mean we will be gone for good. We are in fact writing all the time. It’s just that we aren’t writing Sherlock. At the moment. You can always tell us which fics you want us to finish, or commission new ones from us. That will hopefully speed up deliver. It worked last time, guys! So yeah. You all are great, especially for still waiting around for our stuff. It’s lovely. Sometimes we just need to be poked a bit to get the ball rolling.
<3 Thanks guys.

Love, Val

from em:

basically, just what she said; we’ve gotten really involved with a couple of our OCs. we spend a lot of time writing for them, and are planning to start publishing them soon (which i will probably make a dumb announcement about, since i’m abso-fucking-lutely attached to them and want everyone to love them with us).

as of now, i suppose we’re on hiatus (much like Homestuck, which is also a huge chunk of our time).

anyway, thanks, you guys. we’re not abandoning emeriefic; we will just have very sporadic, possibly short updates.

packofdogs ficlets, #9

Fri, 15 Jun 2012 17:58:16 -0400

No, no, I swear, I had nothing to do with thi— no, I volunteered completely. With no regrets.

…I have no shame left. <3

“Judging by the state of her knees.”

Anderson was miffed. How had Sherlock…? Oh. Wait.

He waited until Sherlock was out of sight to smirk to himself. He was probably assuming Sally had just been sucking him off. He winked at Agent Donovan, and the tiny smirk she shot back made him sure that she was thinking about the night before as well.

It had been pretty handy that his wife had been willing to do the same, and so they’d already had the ‘supplies’ in the house; he would’ve hated to have found himself with Sally, obliging his request, only to realize too late that they didn’t have what they needed.

How he’d even been able to convince Sally to come over, he couldn’t remember. She was bi, but a borderline lesbian. She’d used one before, she’d probably use one again. Hopefully on him.

Strap-ons were damn good fun. Even if, okay, they hadn’t made it quite to the bed. But her having let him call her Donovan, instead of Sally? His wife had never done that for him; never been willing to lower his—er, her—voice in order to make it seem all the more like he was in bed with a man.

It was stupid that his wife didn’t approve of him sleeping around; after all, they were only in it for the sex at this point anyway, and she sure as hell wasn’t pining for him on her trip. She was probably bringing more men to her hotel room than the last time.

But Sally… God, Donovan was a man he’d like to sleep with every night.

“…You mean, you want me to…?”

He broke eye contact, nodding. “Yeah. You don’t have to, we can do it the normal way, if you li—” He cut himself off with a surprised noise when she grabbed his hair, certainly messing it up (he really shouldn’t have put in that much gel) as she tilted his head back.

She leaned forward, speaking directly into his ear in a voice that sent shivers through him, low and raspy and sounding nearly male.

“Get on your hands and knees and tell me where it is.”

He complied immediately, dropping to the floor and breathlessly sighing, “Bedroom, third drawer down in the nightstand.”

He snapped out of the memory when Lestrade called for him, asking for his assistance at the crime scene. He took a deep breath to clear his head and walked into the building.

packofdogs ficlets, #8

Mon, 11 Jun 2012 18:01:30 -0400

Now, I’d like to take a moment to warn you all.

What you’re about to read is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever read.

And I am very proud to say that Valerie went above and beyond with this and made it into something beautiful. A moment of silence, and a round of applause, please, for the girl who made THIS into reality:

Drumroll please.

“John.”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“I… I have a confession to make…”

John looked up, politely concerned. “What is it?”

Sherlock blushed like the beautiful bishounen he was and took a step closer to his ruggedly handsome flatmate. “John, I… I don’t know how to tell you this…”

John took another step forward, helping to close the space between them dramatically. “Just say it, Sherlock. I’m your best friend. I’ll be there for you no matter what.”

Sherlock looked back at him, eyes wide and glittering like someone had just polished the fuck out of his eyeballs. “Oh, John,” he whispered. They hovered closer, the mere millimeters feeling like miles between them, but their quivering lips never quite connecting. Somewhere far away a Johnlock shipper’s poor little heart gave out. “John, do you remember that night when we chased that nameless criminal down the alley, and your adorable short legs couldn’t keep up with my longer, dreamily lithe figure?”

John swallowed, getting emotional now with the memory. He clasped his forehead in an effort to keep up with Sherlock’s massive intellect. “Yes, I think I do.”

“John. John. Oh, if only you hadn’t fallen behind—I might have been saved from this soul-crushing, yet arousing fate.”

“What do you mean, Sherlock?”

“I mean…” They were so fucking close, they were literally breathing each other’s air. Or at least that’s what the audience thought. Little did they know, Sherlock no longer needed oxygen to survive. He was no longer a normal human. In fact, he was hardly a human at all. No. He certainly was no human. He was… A spermpire. The fangirls a thousand miles away all squealed, sure that this would lead to a heartwarming make-out scene, did not realize Sherlock and John’s lives were about to change completely, but not at all the way they expected. “I mean, John… I—I’m so hungry…”

He swooned gracefully, and John stoically caught him in his arms. “Sh-Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

“John. Oh, my dear Watson. My lovely blogger…”

John held his flatmate as if they were partners in a passion-filled tango, at the climax of the dance—the pulse-quickening dip. Again, their lips trembled at the distance. So close…yet so very far… A chorus of ‘NOW FUCKING KISS ALREADY!’ was heard across the world, and for those listening very closely, they could even pick out the voice of the world’s only consulting criminal.

“Sherlock…” he whispered.

“John…”

“Sherlock…”

“John.”

“Sherlock.”

“John!”

“Oh, Sherlock…”

“You must know, something happened on that fateful night.”

“Sherlock, you must tell me. Tell me what happened on that fateful night!”

“Yes, I must. Oh, John, he was no ordinary criminal…”

“You mean…?”

“No. Your deducing skills are shit, my friend.”

“Oh. Then that must mean—!”

“Again, no. John, you may be my conductor of light, but you certainly aren’t the brightest, are you?

John made a face that hundreds of fans would later screencap and set as their tumblr icon pictures, their desktop backgrounds, and their friends’ contact pictures, not to mention all the GIFs they’d produce, and imitations they’d photograph, and obnoxious jokes they’d tell about it that would get old very fast. And, eventually, someone would compare the image to that of a hedgehog, and the screencap would explode once again, causing fandom elitists to moan in sickened horror.

“John. Concentrate. And I don’t mean on my pretty eyes, or the raging boner that I’m slowly rubbing against your thigh. That man… Was… A spermpire.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“…And did he…?”

“Yes. Yes, John. He bit me. Or rather, he bit my cock. You’d think a sketchy guy in an alley offering you a free blowjob would have nothing but good intentions, but no, he had his own motives. The dickcicle.”

John licked his lips torturously slow. Some say even Mycroft Holmes zoomed in on that sexy tongue with his many cameras placed creepily around the flat, most likely hoping to catch a little of the heterosexual action that all the bitches want a piece of.

“Sherlock,” he whispered. “Are you trying to tell me… That you… Are a spermpire?”

Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, assuming the look of many a voluptuous hentai character when horny. You know the look I’m talking about. When she looks like she’s getting her leg sawed off instead of being sexed up.

“Yes, John. I am… A spermpire.”

John threw Sherlock off of him. “How could this happen?!” he cried, tears now streaming down his face like Niagara Falls.

Sherlock pursed his lips and put on the famous Cumberbatch puppy eyes, causing several reported faintings in the tumblr area. John had to look away to resist the urge to mutter, ‘fuck me’ under his breath.

“John, I can’t do anything about what I am. Please, accept me and love me for the monster I have become.”

John’s eyes widened unnecessarily and he pulled Sherlock into his arms once again. “Oh, Sherlock, I could never not love you—”

“John, what have I told you about double negatives…”

“I love you, Sherlock. And it’s about goddamn time you knew it.”

Sherlock’s eyes shone in the moonlight streaming through the window of the flat, light reflecting perfectly off his eyes and making them seem to pierce through John’s soul. “You… You really mean that, John?”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“Even if I have to suck dick to survive?”

“Especially when you have to suck dick to survive.”

“I… I love you too, John.”

“I know, Sherlock.”

“Oh, John.”

“Oh, Sherlock.”

“John?”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“I’m… So very hungry now…”

John’s cock immediately hardened at his flatmate’s deep, baritone purr. “And what would you like me to do about that, Sherlock?”

“John, I…”

“Yes?”

“I… Want to…”

“What? Say it, Sherlock, my love…”

“I… Need to… Taste your glorious semen.”

“OH SHERLOCK.”

“OHH JOHN.”

“Yes, let’s do it. Now. On the sofa.” They locked smouldering, lust-filled glares and tore off each other’s clothing, not sparing the already strained buttons on Sherlock’s purple shirt of sex that had so often made John want to smack dat ass.

They decided to go with the picturesque, one-knee-up-on-the-sofa-behind-Sherlock’s-head-of-gorgeous-curls-and-the-other-over-Sherlock’s-shoulder-whilst-sucking-John-off set-up that would have fanartists flailing around and getting paint everywhere in their joyous dance for days afterwards. It was both beautiful and sexy, and just about everyone watching died, or went into a smut-coma, in which their brains were broken from the massive boners they got from it.

John moaned obscenely as Sherlock fed on him, which sounds a little weird, like he was eating John’s dick, but I can assure you, there was no chewing involved. Just fangs sinking into the veins of John’s thick cock and sucking blood from them.

“Oh, Sherlock—” he cried. “I never knew something that sounded so painful could be so hot!”

Sherlock didn’t answer, as his mouth was stuffed with John’s unrealistically huge, thirteen inch penis. Did someone say Grigori Rasputin?!

“It’s kind of weird that it feels so good, actually. Shouldn’t I be… I dunno, screaming with pain, rather than pleasure? After all, your teeth are piercing through my sensitive flesh to suck out the blood that is fueling my rock-hard erection. How am I not dead? Or in the very least, not limp by now? And aren’t you a spermpire? Do you only need sperm? Apparently not, since you’re also sucking my blood. From my erect penis. Penis.”

Sherlock finally pulled off, glaring, and told him to shut the fuck up, because Russel T. Davies would probably pop in write in some crazy plot twist to explain everything. He and Moffat are best mates, you know. *Suggestive winky face not originally intended to be suggestive.*

John agreed and shut up as he was told. He focused his attention on Sherlock’s tongue instead.

When he finally orgasmed, he shot his load into Sherlock’s mouth, which made Sherlock groan with glee—his version of Edward Cullen’s oxymoronic ‘dark chuckle’—his hunger finally satisfied. For now, anyway. *Another suggestive winky face.*

Then they had their heartwarming make-out session, but unfortunately, most of the fans were dead or, like I said before, in a smut-coma and missed it. Sigh.

Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss exchanged smiled up somewhere in a magically gay world located just above the United Kingdom. “Look at them fuckers,” Moffat sighed.

“Yes. And they’re our fuckers, Steven,” replied Gatiss, toasting him merrily with a glass of champagne.

“We run the world, Mark.”

“That we do, Steven. That we do…”

packofdogs ficlets, #7

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 17:53:01 -0400

(hehehe. i’m pretty proud of this one, not gonna lie.)

“John, did you leave me a voicemail?”

“No.”

…Probably Mycroft.

He brought the phone to his ear, the woman of his voicemail system informing him that he had a new message from an unknown number.

“Yes, I know that,” he murmured to himself.

“First message: ‘…’”

Sherlock frowned. All he could hear was rustling; had his brother been so stupid as to phone him from his pocket? Or perhaps John had, that would make more sense; after all, he’d said he hadn’t called, and he did usually keep his phone in his trous… ers…

…Was that his name he heard?

His finger pressed the volume at the side of the mobile, turning it up. The rustling became louder, but he could now also catch a faint, frequent, slick noise, and someone was breathing harshly. Had someone called the number from his website while in danger, dying, and unable to speak?

He heard a groan, and for a second thought that perhaps they had.

“Sh… Sherlock…”

Well, that was strange. He would have thought that a potential client, calling in danger, would at least have the sense to call him ‘Mr. Holmes’, or at least something less familiar than his first name. He hardly knew about social standards, but it was common knowledge that it was considered mostly impolite to immediately use friendly terms as opposed to formalities.

“Sherlock, please…”

He sighed. Again with the familiarity. For God’s sake, had no person in his life taught him how to greet someone they didn’t know?

“Fuck, yes… Right there, Sherlock…”

This time Sherlock’s brow crinkled. The voice was familiar. Slight lilt to it, he’d heard it before. Too low to be John’s or his brother’s. And what was the man going on about, anyway? What was where? What was this bloody moron talking about?

He heard a wet sound, and soon after, a louder, higher groan. There was no more speaking after that; just moaning and utterances of his name, and the strange, slick sound becoming more frantic.

After a particularly high whimper, the noises stopped, the only sound coming through from the other line heavy breathing. Soon he could faintly hear footsteps, and another, lower voice spoke.

“Sir, go to bed.” He heard more rustling and a thud, then louder shuffling as someone seemed to pick up the phone. He heard a ‘hmph’ of laughter, and a quiet, “Goodbye, Mr. Holmes,” before a click. The woman on his voicemail came back, listing instructions.

He hit the number to replay the message. “John! Where have we heard this voice?”

packofdogs ficlets, #2

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 17:57:00 -0400

(these will be out of order; i just grabbed a bunch and threw them in a doc. anyway~)

“You left me a message?”

Sherlock didn’t look up at him from where he was sitting, palms together as if in prayer, pressed to his upper lip. “You didn’t answer your phone,” he murmured dismissively.

“Why’d you call me?

“You weren’t answering your texts either.”

John frowned. “Oh. Alright then.”

He called his answering machine to listen to Sherlock’s message.

“Hello, John. I hope you’re still alive. I can’t really tell if you don’t pick up your phone or reply to my texts. Please do so. I worry.”

John smiled at the last words. “You ‘worry’, Sherlock?”

The message continued.

“Anyway, I was wondering if—”

And suddenly, John wasn’t able to pay attention. His crotch area was getting very hot. He adjusted his jeans and shifted his weight, hoping it would just go away. It didn’t. As the heat increased, so did his erection.

“—meet me at the train station at 2pm, if I don’t see you before—”

“OH MY FUCK.”

The word ‘before’ pushed him over the edge.

He turned to Sherlock, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Are you alright, John?”

Oh God, no… The tenderness in his deep, baritone voice…

The heat in his pants wasn’t quite finished.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

He shut his eyes tight and grabbed at the table next to him to keep from keeling over from the force of the second orgasm.

“John—?”

“NO!”

It was too late, the voice got to him one more time and another powerful wave of pleasure hit him like a cement truck.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak again.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”

Sherlock closed it.

John eased himself into a chair and breathed, unable to do anything but relax after all that.

When he had recovered at least a little, he looked up at his flatmate who was staring at him curiously.

“Well. You’re not allowed to talk anymore.”

“Why not—”

“MOTHER OF GOD—”

He came in his pants once more.

John glared at Sherlock.

“THIS—” he gestured to his stained jeans. “--IS WHY. …And don’t even think about asking anymore questions.”

He tossed Sherlock a roll of duct tape and stood up.

“I’ll be upstairs changing my pants. Not. A. Word.

Sherlock just nodded.

“Good.”

He turned to leave.

“Have fun with that, John,” Sherlock purred teasingly.

theyoungerholmes: “He’s become a nuisance.” Sherlock cocked his head to the side impatiently. “He...

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 23:03:09 -0400

theyoungerholmes:

“He’s become a nuisance.”

Sherlock cocked his head to the side impatiently. “He hasn’t done anything.”

Mycroft let out a long sigh, really not in the mood to argue at all.

“He takes up too much of your time, and sticks his nose where he shouldn’t.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous,” Sherlock replied simperingly.

Mycroft turned back to his brother and lit another cigarette. “Sure you don’t want one?” he asked offhandedly.

“No, I’m doing well, thank you.”

“You’ve changed since you gained his company.”

“Perhaps.”

“‘Perhaps’, my dear bother? No, it isn’t a ‘perhaps’. It’s a ‘certainly’. Doctor Watson has changed you.”

Sherlock avoided his eyes, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. “For the better,” he muttered.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. He switched back to the main discussion. “Either you get rid of him, or I’ll be forced to intervene.”

Sherlock snorted. “And by ‘intervene’, you mean hire an assassin to take him out permanently.”

“Precisely.”

“Simply because you want me all to yourself.”

Mycroft blew the smoke out through his nostrils.

“I’ve done it before, Sherlock. I won’t hesitate to do it again.”

PROMOTING VALERIE’S RP BLOG

Alright, I'm going to start scheduling the ficlets we did for packofdogs' tumblr. ;)

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 20:14:00 -0400

Daddy Dangerous

Tue, 29 May 2012 23:57:00 -0400

~~(lord i’m scheduling this from the 15th, this is gonna be in the queue forever)~~

For those of you who are Homestucks…

You know exactly what this is.

Seb Loves His Daddy

Title: Daddy Dangerous
Pairing: Daddy/Seb
Rating: M
Warning: This contains porn (But Seb is a military colonel even though it’s in a childish sort of tone)

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

Daddy Dangerous

Seb is a good boy.

And he loves his Daddy.

Seb loves making his Daddy happy.

He always makes good shots on rooftops so his Daddy will smile and pat him on the head.

He learned to bake even though he hates cooking so his Daddy would praise him and not starve.

He always uses bad words and is never polite so his Daddy gives him spankings.

Seb hates how his Daddy will make him sit in his lap.

But he loves how his Daddy’s ropes hold him down, all tight and restricting.

Seb hates how his Daddy undresses him for bathtime.

But he loves that he’s allowed to undress his Daddy.

Seb hates sitting in the bathtub with his Daddy.

And that his Daddy is careful to wash him everywhere.

He hates how his Daddy wraps him in a big fluffy towel and drags him out.

But he loves when his Daddy pushes him very gently on his bed.

Seb loves when his Daddy kneels over him and starts roughly touching him, groping him.

But he loathes the soft murmurs of encouragement he gets when he moans softly, like a ‘mewling kitten’ (as Daddy once described them).

He loves when his Daddy finally spreads his legs, hands so gentle, acting like he’s afraid he’ll break Seb.

And he loves when his Daddy’s slick fingers press inside of his little hole, finding this little spot that makes him shudder and mewl and his vision go white.

Seb loves how his Daddy suddenly strokes his large cock as he pulls his fingers out.

And he’s careful to take deep breaths like his Daddy says, keeping himself relaxed.

Seb has no problem relaxing and even scowling softly as his Daddy presses the head of his cock to his stretched hole; he knows it hurts a little at first, it always does.

But Seb trusts his Daddy, and his Daddy always hurts him on purpose.

And it does hurt, and Seb clenches his Daddy’s shoulders, trying not to cum.

But his Daddy softly murmurs what a good boy he is and strokes him slowly, rubbing his sides and back where he can reach to annoy Seb.

His Daddy waits, patiently still, until Seb is frustrated and is begging for him to move.

And his Daddy thrusts into him, soft and slow.

Until Seb starts mewling and squirming, pressing the hardest bites to his Daddy’s shoulders and neck, then his Daddy thrusts a little faster, and just a little harder.

And he hits that little spot again, and Seb arches up into his Daddy’s touch.

And his Daddy keeps up his steady pace, stroking Seb in time, until Seb clenches his hands again, cursing loudly as he ‘loses’ (as his Daddy calls it).

His Daddy shudders and kisses him sloppily, as he cums inside of Seb, which feels warm and wet, but he’s used to it.

Seb falls limp on his bed, giving a small, weak mewl as his Daddy pulls out of him.

His Daddy cleans him up with the towel from his bath, and kisses his forehead, and tells Seb that he did good, and he’ll never get bored with him.

And Seb smiles up at his Daddy, as scornfully as he can manage, and tells his Daddy that he knows he won’t, before yawning softly and kittenishly, rubbing at his ass.

His Daddy tucks him snuggly into bed, pulling his hair back and kissing him hard again, whispering goodnight.

Seb whispers goodnight back, and his Daddy leaves, turning off his light and closing the door.

Seb snuggles down in his bed, long, calloused fingers curling in his sheets as he drifts off to sleep with only one thought in his head;

He’ll fuck Jim twice as hard next time.

you guys should promote us if we don’t have fifty followers by the time this posts i promise...

Sat, 26 May 2012 23:59:34 -0400

~~you guys should promote us if we don’t have fifty followers by the time this posts~~

~~i promise we’ll do something special~~

~~dunno what~~

~~but we would~~

so if i were to make a header picture

what would you guys want it to be?

Daddy Loves Me

Fri, 25 May 2012 00:01:00 -0400

Rated very much R/M/NC-17/whatever means this is bad. For Seb’s Daddy issues and a surprise toward the middle/end. If you are very against surprises, you can check the tags, you party poopers. <3
Val.
Val this is for you.

~~(this was written over like a week, and worked on only between the hours of midnight and 1 a.m. how the hell am i passing in school)~~

“Well?”

“‘Well’ what, sir?”

“Well, why aren’t you on your knees?”

“…Why would I be on my knees?” Jim struck him, a hard slap across his face that left angry red lines.

“Because Daddy said so.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian knelt, first on one knee, then on both. He looked up at Jim, apologetically, silently asking what he did wrong.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Sebby.” He grabbed Sebastian’s jaw, shoving his thumb in his mouth and forcing it open. Sebastian’s hands moved to his legs, his expression changing from fear to arousal and hopefulness as his fingers slid up to Jim’s knees and over his thighs. He spoke as well as he could between the thumb hooked over his teeth and the arousal making him forget how to think.

“Please?”

Jim smiled, his free hand unbuttoning his trousers and undoing the zipper. He moved the hand to Sebastian’s hair, gripping tightly and pulling him forward.

Sebastian quickly gripped his boss’ hips, pulling down his trousers and nuzzling against the half-hard bulge. Jim gave a contented sigh when he felt a tongue drag over him through his pants, and jerked Sebastian’s mouth open further. His sniper kept teasing him with his mouth and tongue, and he would even occasionally dare to scrape his teeth over the prominent arousal.

“Seb,” he snapped. “Get on with it, Daddy’s tired.”

He nodded, bringing Jim’s pants down and immediately kissing up his length. He took him into his mouth with no hesitation, Jim tugging him forward by his jaw and steadying him by his hair. He felt almost ashamed that he was hard; he knew Jim had better things to do than get his inferior off, and so his hand moved from Jim’s hip. He palmed himself through his trousers, only managing to get himself more frustrated when Jim saw and pulled his mouth away.

“No. Both hands on me.” The thumb hooked over his jaw was removed, and moved to the back of his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear becoming wet with saliva and being left to cool. He tried not to shiver and nodded, grabbing his boss’ ass and pulling him forward, taking him most of the way in before he could be scolded further. He kept bobbing his head, enjoying the feeling of Jim relaxing under his hands and his legs cramping up beneath him. Just as he began to truly enjoy and want more of the hot friction against the back of his throat and the way his legs were straining not to move, Jim pulled Sebastian’s mouth off of him, his lips pulled into a grimace. Sebastian, on the other hand, was looking up at him with an open, panting mouth, his own saliva (and Jim’s precum no doubt mixed in) dripping from the corners of his lips. He smiled up at Jim, worried.

“Sorry, sir. Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, Sebby, you were doing great. Get me your favorite rifle.”

Sebastian was unsure of what he was planning, but nodded after a second and stood. When he returned to their living room with his best gun, Jim was sitting on the couch, tie undone and tossed over the back of the couch. His suit jacket was off and his shirt unbuttoned, cock still out and resting red and erect against his small belly.

Sebastian smiled. “Sir? Here it is.”

Jim looked up and smiled back at him. “Stop calling me ‘sir’, Seb. And bring it over here.”

He winced internally before nodding. “Okay, Daddy.” He got on his knees again between Jim’s spread legs, holding the rifle out to him. Jim shook his head.

“I’ll let you cum tonight, Seb. But there will be rules. Can you follow them?”

Sebastian swallowed down the whimper that came from hearing Jim’s voice, lowered and letting his gorgeous lilt bleed through just a little more with his request.

“Yes, I can, Daddy.” Jim began to pet his hair, fingers brushing it from his face and rearranging bits and pieces.

Sebastian thought he might die from the soft, almost loving feeling.

“Good. You’re going to suck Daddy’s cock like you’re starving for it, and I want you rutting up against your gun. Alright, Sebastian?”

He had to bite back a groan, then another of disappointment when his fingers left his hair messy and disheveled. “Of course, Daddy. Should I do it now?”

Jim smiled; he’d trained his little one well. “Let me watch you spread your legs, first. If I think you deserve Daddy’s cock, I’ll tell you.”

If, not when. “Thank you, Daddy.” He propped the rifle vertically against the couch, pointed upward. Safety on, unloaded, empty barrel, he moved forward, his knees connecting with the couch as he got closer. He pushed his hips up against it, the friction a muffled relief. He looked up at Jim—Daddy—and bit his lip, closing his eyes as he began shifting slowly against the cool metal.

The pleasure should have been dull, but the arousal from knowing Jim had told him to, was watching, was smiling, nearly made him cum on the spot, barely rubbing against something through two layers of cloth.

He cautiously rested his head on Jim’s thigh, and when he wasn’t slapped or pushed off, he groaned and rolled his hips harder.

Through the small whines and moans he was giving, he managed to plead. “Daddy, please, I want you. I want it, Daddy.” He would start crying if he had to, Jim knew he would; this was just him and his Daddy, and it was okay to do whatever he needed to convince Jim. No shame, no judgment, it wouldn’t be mentioned later. This was playtime.

The fingers returned to his hair, and he moaned out loud as they slowly scratched at the base of his neck, behind his ear. He could feel himself leaking, the cloth at the tip of his erection now wet.

He begged again in a whisper, his voice catching with small noises of pleasure when Jim’s fingers caught in his hair. “D-Daddy, please. I w-want it so… So badly… Please, Daddy.” His last word was nearly a sob.

Jim smoothed out his hair. “Shh, it’s alright, Daddy has you. You can get him off, you’ve been so good for him.”

He groaned and sat higher on his knees, his fingers holding Jim steady as he sucked at his head. His hips were still pushing desperately against his gun, and his breath was shaky as he leaned forward to take him back into his mouth. He felt a surge of arousal and happiness when he felt how hard Jim was, and tasted what was welling at his tip. He was enjoying this, and that’s what he was here for; he wanted and needed to make Jim happy, make him proud.

Sebastian whimpered, his other hand gripping his rifle to keep his balance as he leaned forward even further and took Jim in all the way. He began absentmindedly stroking the barrel as though it was his cock, and heard Jim laugh quietly above him. He didn’t care; his shallow thrusts against his gun were losing sync with the bob of his head, although both were becoming faster.

He sucked as hard as he could without hurting Jim, wanting to make him cum first, and bobbed his head as quick as he could without taking the chance of messing up. Jim bucked up into his mouth, the fingers in his hair twitching and tightening, holding him down at his roots as he came with a quiet gasp.

Sebastian eagerly swallowed every drop, that one tiny noise from Jim enough to send him over the edge, his hips jerking erratically. He came trapped under denim and cloth, but still cumming hard enough with his cock pressed upward that he felt it at his waistband, and probably even low on his stomach. When Jim tugged on his hair, he pulled away, licking his lips and swallowing one last time.

“…Was that alright?”

Jim smiled lazily. “Perfect.” He tucked himself back into his pants, standing and stretching above him. He looked Sebastian over before scowling. “I’m going to bed. Take a shower before you do.”

Sebastian stayed on his knees until Jim left. He took a deep breath, ashamed that he’d gotten off on all of this. He ignored the voice at the back of his head telling him he was sick, and instead simply stood, stretched his legs, put away his gun, and did as he was told.

arathcanjustdie said: I love knife play so much it’s not even funny—I didn’t know I did until I...

Tue, 22 May 2012 10:41:46 -0400

arathcanjustdie said: I love knife play so much it’s not even funny—I didn’t know I did until I started reading you and Em’s stuff, either!

this was in reference to something i just reblogged that val wrote, that really cute thing ~~that i inappropriately tagged into our sweethearts AU~~

…val we haven’t collabed knifeplay. what. i. we need to do that.

Valerie writes domestic Jim/Seb and is ridiculous.

Tue, 22 May 2012 00:00:50 -0400

rawrmynameisval:

So I just realized this makes no sense. but. what the hell. i think it’s cute.

This is actually a little piece of a longer thing I tried writing but never finished.

…The uh… ranch thing is a half-hearted Brokeback Mountain reference. I apologize.

And er—let me just say that it has always been my headcanon that Sebastian really likes Norah Jones. Practically every song in my mormor playlist is by her. Okay. Hi.

…

Read More

val wrote this, just gonna reblog this over heeerrre…

Your favourite, you say? Gotta out up another midnight phone alarm :D

Mon, 21 May 2012 13:41:00 -0400

ohohohoho

oh yes >:3

we're publishing probably one of my favorite things i've ever written on the 25th (midnight EST)

Mon, 21 May 2012 10:14:40 -0400

THANK YOU DEARIES

Thu, 17 May 2012 13:58:00 -0400

you’re welcome. ;)

Jim and Seb get it on, dirtily, in the greatest porn ever.

Thu, 17 May 2012 00:02:25 -0400

GUYS

GUYS LOOK

PART 6

~~(i am so sorry this took so long)~~

Sebastian physically winced at what he was implying, but Jim wasn’t done. “After all, I’m sure you’d get hard for me all over again, watching yourself squirm,” a kiss to his ear, “and beg,” his tongue along the edge, “and watching me ride you, watching me cum,” his tongue snaking along the inside, “over your stomach and chest,” a hand sliding between them, “and watching me do this every time.”

The hand between them came back up, pressing wet fingers to Sebastian’s mouth. He knew already that they were covered in Jim’s release, and it wasn’t as though he’d never tasted it before. But the look of dominance, of ownership that Jim seemed to have as he forced two fingers against his tongue, was something not so common. Not in bed, at least. A mumbled ‘Lick me clean, love’ was all it took to encourage him to crane his neck upward, lips closing over his knuckles and sucking, Jim whimpering in surprise at the heat.

“G-Good boy, Seb.” He tried to pull his fingers away, but Sebastian bit down, keeping them in his mouth. He looked up at Jim wordlessly until he caught on and relaxed his hand, then closed his eyes again.

He bobbed his mouth around Jim’s fingers, tongue slipping between them and sliding over them. Jim made a sound that could best be described as a whimper, his body already betraying him and already becoming half-hard.

Sebastian swallowed around his fingers, tongue squeezing them against the roof of his mouth. “Sebastian, you’re awful, doing these things with your tongue.” He leaned close to Sebastian’s face, pulling his fingers out. “You’re already making me hard again, love. I’d hate to tire myself out so soon.” There was a blatant threat laced into those words; if Jim ‘tired himself out’, he’d most likely fall asleep, directly on top of him, in a position that would leave Sebastian whimpering and rutting against him in hopes of possibly waking him up or getting himself off. But knowing Jim, he’d stay asleep, and certainly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of loosening the leather. And that would not be the best way to spend the evening.

“Sorry, sir.”

Jim kissed Sebastian, a small peck to his lips that got his mouth wet anyway; Sebastian had gone all-out on his fingers, and the evidence was pooling in the corners of his mouth. “It’s fine, love. I’m hard to wear out.” He leaned forward, mouth on Sebastian’s ear as he reached back to grasp him. “After all,” his hips moved back, and Sebastian could feel himself nearly sliding into place. “We’ve done this before. How many times did I ride you last time? Twice? Oh, and then,” he settled his hips onto Sebastian, the larger man arching his back with a groan as he felt Jim slide over him in one smooth movement. “Then, you fucked me again, just for good measure.” Jim smiled, sitting up and resting his weight on top of him.

He rocked back experimentally, Sebastian’s breath catching in his throat. “Fuck, sir, please…” Jim grinned, his hands sliding up to his captive’s shoulders as he repositioned himself, leaning over him and starting a slow, careful rhythm.

He kissed Sebastian, a quick peck on the lips. “‘Please’ what, Sebby?” He pushed himself down onto him a little harder, making sure to angle his hips so he hit his own prostate. He gave a quiet whimper when he did. “‘Please’ will I fuck myself on you? ‘Please’ will I ride you slowly so you can feel every second of it?” Jim moved his hips forward teasingly, for emphasis.

Sebastian gasped.

“P-please, sir… take this fucking thing off me.”

Jim paused and leaned down. He kissed him hard, nipping at his lip as he pulled away. His mouth kissed over to Sebastian’s ear to whisper to him.

“No.”

You two make my day, haha :D

Wed, 16 May 2012 15:03:00 -0400

Awww, thanks. :)

Oh and btw, I made an alert in my phone. So five minutes before midnight on the seventeenth my phone is going to start playing "Staying Alive" because that's my ringtone and then I'm going to wait for you to post. So yes :3

Tue, 15 May 2012 21:59:00 -0400

…

GNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. <333

EDIT: oh, but, sweetie, remember; it’s publishing at midnight on the 17th, eastern time. i’m in mountain time, so it’s actually going to be at 10 pm, 5/16 for me. make sure you’ve got it set right. :P

it’s alright, shhh <3

Mon, 14 May 2012 22:10:11 -0400

it’s alright, shhh <3

I WUV HUGS <3

Mon, 14 May 2012 21:25:00 -0400

WHOEVER YOU ARE

I LOVE YOU