*spies an open request bar* hellllooooooo~ so can ask for some tender, classy top? Like just a reader who's glamorous, confident, and sophisticated, and that goes to the bedroom~ Up to you on who, have fun~
Hello there! First off, I can’t begin to express how wonderful your writing is. It’s such a pleasure to read, no matter who or what the subject is about. I look forward to everything you put out! So keep up the amazing work! With my gushing out of the way, could I please request Junkrat, McCree, Hanzo, and Lúcio with a female s/o who enjoys marking up her man, via lipstick and little hickies, and the boys absolutely LOVE it?? Thank you in advance!!
“Do it again.” he demands and tilts
his head to give you access to his cheek. The old mark has faded away
almost completely and so you cup his jaw and place another kiss on
top, leaving a faint mark of lipstick. Jamie immediately runs to
check it out and grins at his own reflection in the mirror, giddy
with the idea of everyone being able to see that he belongs to
you. “You know.” you say, leaning against the wall. “Most
men would be embarrassed to have lipstick marks on their faces.” He
looks at you with wide-eyed wonder and that’s the only reason you
brought it up. “Why?” he asks as if he can’t fathom anyone
reacting like that. You shrug, explain it as one of the many cultural
differences he’s been faced with since leaving the outback.
Usually he removes the lipstick before
going out, takes care not to let international law enforcement in on
his love life. It’s costing him, because at his core Jamie is so
happy with you he’d much rather shout it to the heavens how much he
The marks are his way of assuring
himself that this is real. And there are other ways of course.
“You’re out of my league.” he
whispers when he sits at your feet that evening, rests his head in
your lap and traces the subtle pattern of your stockings. You look up
from your book, nudge his head a little to make him look up at you.
“You are perfect for me.” you say, gently but firmly, and he
smiles happily and nuzzles your hand.
“Your skin is so soft.”
Not like his, he means to say,
roughened by a hard life. He never had a manicure in his life, though
you think that maybe sometime you should take him, see if he would
enjoy having himself taken care of. For now you guide him up to sit
in your lap proper and proceed to kiss every rough patch on his skin,
from the more visible scars to the tiny pocks and marks he
accumulated through the years.
He gets excited quickly, writhes under
your touch, bucks up against you in little jackrabbit thrusts until
you steady him by placing your hand on his hips and wrapping the
other around his cock. His eyes go wide, his mouth open in a little
o-shape as if he still can’t combine you with something as dirty as
It takes him time to gather himself
before he can reciprocate, careful not to rip your clothes in his
excitement and intent on mimicking you as best he can.
It’s slow, languid, both of you
mostly dressed and seeking contact more for the intimacy than the