#an actual drabble

[nerdieforpedro]

I wish you would write a fic where… Joel had been called to mentor Reader in shooting, but doesn't really want to and is being mean to her, but only because he has a crush on her and she’s younger than him.

I can try. It will likely be post-outbreak Joel. Pre-outbreak Joel knows how to shoot but doesn’t do it often because peace, work, caring for his daughter, etc. (This is how I picture pre-outbreak Joel so soft, so sad, so much work, so Joel.) 🥸

It’s required and encouraged by post-outbreak Joel. I haven't really written for post-outbreak Joel so this will be a first, here we go!

Pairing: Joel Miller x plus size female reader

Warnings: None really I think? 😎

Word count: 1057 (An actual Drabble?! Maybe)

Tommy and Maria had thought up this grand scheme. A plan rather to make sure Jackson is as prepared as can be in case clickers or raiders attack, all able-bodied adults would be taught self-defense and gun skills, both handguns and rifles. Joel agreed with this plan last month. It sounded great then, but now, standing across from this short plump woman who annoyed him to no end. She can barely hold it correctly. She can’t figure out how to remove the damn safety after showing her three times and she wasn’t able to take the gun apart or put it back together. What frustrates him even more is that he looks forward to teaching her, though he knows he’s doing a piss poor job of it. There’s nothing to show for the month as far as gun skills. 

Joel was halfway confident she would be able to break away from an attacker and get help or at least injure them. She did well with the knife and was able to aim for the chest, neck, and stomach to slow an opponent. The soft hands that pushed his chest in practice and wrapped her soft hands around his throat, barely able to touch the fingertips to each other, he found himself thinking about them after their sessions. It made him feel like a worse teacher, hearing her voice ask him, 

“Am I hurting you? I don’t know how hard push.” 

“I’m scared to get a good grip; you’re not actually attacking me. Mr. Miller.”

“Can I just use the knife? I’m really bad with guns it seems.”

“I’ll do better, I’ll practice after clinic hours.”

Joel couldn’t let her use a gun without him. He told himself that it was because she was so horrible at it. But now he was legitimately concerned that he may be sabotaging her efforts to learn. She seemed capable to learn the simple hand to hand techniques, but Joel couldn’t bring himself to ask another one of the scouting to instruct her either. He found himself becoming greedy when it came to his subpar pupil.

The older Miller brother stopped by the clinic, it appeared to be closed, but he heard her voice and a male one coming from around back. He crept around back and saw her speaking with Ted, a fellow scout and one who usually scoped out the Tipsy Bison looking for his next lay. The guy was closer in age to her, Joel being in his early fifties, and he was pretty sure she was in her late twenties or early thirties at most. The cold air displayed the steam coming from their conversation as Ted put a hand on her shoulder. A benign act that Joel took personal offence to, he strode over and slapped Ted’s back hard on purpose under the guise of greeting him. The younger man took the hint and left, leaving the clinician smiling at Joel. She did that too often as well. Who smiles that damn much at the end of the world? 

“Hey Puddin’. Ted give you any pointers?” Even if Ted had, he was going to point what was wrong with them and how she should follow his directions. She shook her head.

“No Mr. Miller. He said something at practicing at night. He clearly wasn’t going to teach me anything I needed know.” She shrugged her shoulders, she shifted her weight between her feet, Joel noticed she did this when she was nervous. “I-I haven’t practiced any shooting. I don’t want to injure anyone. Oh! I think I can almost get my hands to behave to aim at least. Having unsteady hands doesn’t bode well for hitting a target.” Her chuckle makes Miller sigh, she shouldn’t be learning how to shoot at all. She needs to be working the clinic and maybe relaxing in the evening with hot chocolate and a book. He pictures her as someone who would read in the evening curled up under a blanket, maybe her thick legs draped over him as he sipped some whiskey. 

“Mr. Miller.”

Joel was sure he’d need to talk to Tommy about this eventually. She really doesn’t need a gun.

“Mr. Miller? Are you alright?” She asked, grasping his coat sleeve and Joel yanked his arm away instinctively. He stepped back and crouched partially making himself ready for anything. The young woman stepped back and bit her lip, now he was angry at her again. 

Well maybe angry this time, before he just seemed perturbed with her lack of skill with guns. She felt someone as skilled as Joel shouldn’t be teaching her and the very thought of working with a novice like her drove him to such levels of vexation. She was sure he’d rather be doing anything else. At least she was okay in hand to hand, but guns scared her so much, knowing what they could do. That was the point of them, but still the thought of shooting someone caused her anxiety and Joel with his gruff booming voice, especially when she was sure he was going to throw the gun at her after she couldn’t get the safety off for the umptieth time.

“Shit Puddin’ you can’t just grab me like that. I’d cut ya,” He exhaled and regained his composure. Joel then realized that he had just threatened to slice her. He reached a hand out to her but she recoiled and stook a few more steps back.

“S-Sorry about that Mr. Miller. I didn’t mean to…Fuck I can’t do any of this right.” Her gloved hands covered her face in embarrassment. Not only can she not work any type of gun, she made her mentor have a fight or flight response. Maybe she would speak to Tommy and Maria, she wasn’t made to use a gun.

“Now look Puddin’ sorry fer scarin’ ya. I don’t do too well with touch.” He focused on the ground, he felt that he should do or say something else, but what? “Don’t worry yerself none. I reckon I scared you more than you did me Darlin’. I mma get going. Don’t cry. Nothin’ to cry ‘bout baby girl.” The elder Miller brother patted her head as he said ‘baby girl’ softly. Her sniffles slowed and he walked away, leaving her out back of her clinic.

[withoutaconscienceorafilter]

I like my ships the same way my love life always ends up: dysfunctional 😂😭

Anyway, case in point: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46397611

(Just a drabble.)

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?

fuck no.

those are not the only reasons.

if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.

when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.

and then... your eyes.

eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.

the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.

"f-fuck..."

toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.

the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.

you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.

he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.

but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.

you want more.

taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.

"toji?"

your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.

"look at me."

he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.

"please..."

his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.

"look at me, baby."

it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.

his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.

you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.

you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.

you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.

curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.

taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.

"fuck, come here."

his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.

he needs to give you his all.

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[tojisun]

!! suggestive-ish; dirty talking n insinuations; simon n his big body <33

"c'mon, sweetheart," simon murmurs, watching you with narrowed eyes. "won't you tell me why you wanna ride me?"

you puff a trembling breath, gaze turned away from him, before replying, "wanna feel you, s'all." you chew on your words, the rumble of your voice is so soft that simon almost missed it.

almost.

he doesn't bother hiding his smirk.

"is that right?" he sounds breathy even to his own ears. "anythin' else?"

he watches as you shake your head, still looking away from him, all shy and docile in your embarrassment. simon almost heaves a saddened sigh, but he sees the way your eyelashes flutter in nervousness, your bottom lip all bitten and nibbled on, and decides to take it easy.

well.

easy on his terms.

"you wanna take me to the hilt, yeah?" simon begins, his voice genuine even with the faint teasing tone. he adjusts the two of you on the sofa, grunting in satisfaction when your eyes flick up to meet his shyly.

"you wanna take control? wanna set the pace and do all the work?" he massages your hips, working his hands to grab fistfuls of your muscle and fat, groaning at the way your skin dimples.

he pulls you close to him, your chest pressing against his own, and simon tries his best not to flick his eyes down just to see the way your tits are all squished up against him. god, even just feeling the softness of them makes his cock stir underneath his jeans.

simon brushes his lips over the shell of your ears, purposeful in their teasing touch. then, "you wanna know how deep i can go in you, huh? wanna take your sweet time – or not, depends."

he lands a smack on your ass, the slap ringing between you two, and simon chuckles at your bit-off squeak. he watches as you tilt your head up to glare at him but simon just grins, teasing and meanly, before pitching forward to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

"no one's stoppin' you, princess." the words are mumbled into your skin and simon revels in the way you breathe in sharply, fingers trembling from where they are fisting his shirt, before groaning in quiet pleasure when he feels you rutting down onto his chub.

yeah. simon's gon' ruin you tonight.

[starsofang]

you love simon. truly. playing games with him in your free time was your favorite pastime, especially when you knew he was getting deployed and wouldn’t have the chance to join you for an extended leave. there was only one tiny issue.

the man is competitive. no matter the game, no matter if you were a team or against one another, he’s slipping you teasing comments that you’re 90% aren’t fully teasing and actually hold a bit of honesty.

some of the games he plays with you weren’t supposed to be competitive. some are even simple customization games that you had to beg him to play with you so you could create each other’s characters. now that he is playing them, you have moments of restraint to not shove his head into the screen.

“your colors don’t match the theme, lovie.”

“shut up, simon.”

“yes ma’am.”

“i think you need to spend more time in an aim training.”

“are you saying my aim is bad, simon?”

“no, ma’am.”

“how many times are you going to miss the damn jump?”

“i’ll do it again if you don’t shut up, simon.”

“you’re doing amazing, lovie, keep it up.”

it was utterly infuriating. but when the times came for his long deployments and the house was quiet, no snarky quips being thrown from beside you on the couch, you longed for it.

to hear him trash your aim, or tease you for not being as good as him — it may seem like he’s mean to you from an outsider’s perspective, but to you, it’s his love language, and you desperately miss it.

so, you’ll take whatever tease he throws. you know it’s his way of saying ‘i love you’, even if you want to rage quit every time.

[wttcsms]

domesticity with kageyama is when, before you’re married, before you’re even engaged, tobio will hold your hand under the dinner table, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your ring finger. it’s the way fans zoom in on his paparazzi photos, to catch a pixelated glimpse of his lockscreen; he’s a private person, but the lockscreen is definitely a selfie of the two of you. it’s the way he’s upset over court rules dictating he can’t have his wedding band on while he plays; he doesn’t like anything separating him from the feel of the ball, but his ring feels as if it’s always been a part of him. (it’s him looping the ring around the laces of his shoes, so he can always have you on the court with him). it’s having him be the designated Tall Guy; the person you look at and point to the top shelf of the cabinet or the highest shelf at the grocery store, and he’ll always be ready to grab the items for you. it’s you struggling to open the cap on a water bottle, and him always cracking open every water bottle before he leaves for an away game or big trip because he worries about you. it’s him always needing to have his toothbrush standing next to yours on the bathroom counter. it’s him being featured on a box of cereal, and you make a joke about how cute it would be to have a little kageyama enjoying breakfast promoted by his father; it’s the blush that creeps up on him as he can see it all perfectly in his head. it’s the way he can’t seem to sleep unless he’s holding you; even if you two don’t fall asleep cuddled up to each other, you can bet you’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find his arms wrapped around you, pressing your body against his.

[astrasng]

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WTF IS HAPPENING W CHRISTOPHER

credit to the content owners😭

i just wanna talk chan

trust i will be writing abt this

ps: here’s the fic i wrote lol

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

pure fluff, fem reader, not proofread, katsuki really likes the way you smell, talks of marriage, katsuki being an absolute demon, biting bc is it rlly a cash fic if it doesn’t involve katsuki biting us ? lemme know if i missed sum else <3

a.n.: ..so this came to me in the middle of the night and i had to write it down before i forgot about it…please do not perceive me🫶🏾

katsuki keeps sniffing at your wrist.

for some reason, he keeps bringing your palm towards his face and you imagined he’d kiss it if he was feeling a little sweeter than usual or he’d bite your finger if he was feeling like a little shit.

imagine your surprise when instead, he just sniffs you and goes right back to watching tv.

he does it for the fifth time in the span of a few seconds and you turn your head that was smooshed into his chest staring at the tv to stare at him with a brow raised.

“katsuki.” he only grunts in response, nose pressed to your pulse point. a deep, grumbled noise comes from the deepest part of his chest when you try to pull your arm out of his grip.

“quit squirmin’. ”

“katsuki !” you squeal, giggling. katsuki grunts into your skin, pulling your hand closer to his face.

“what’re you doing ?” you chirp.

“ya smell like somethin’” is all he offers you for a response, your lip pulls up in confusion. you tilt your head.

“like what ?”

“i dunno, s’like—” he cuts himself off, pulls your hand away from his face to stare up at the ceiling in thought, only to bring it back to his nose.

you can’t help laughing at his behavior “ like what ?” you urge.

“different.” he settles “this some new perfume or somethin’ ?” he asks seriously, lifting himself up so he can sit up against the couch cushion and you follow, no longer laying but sitting up in his lap.

“not really, it’s this new body wash i found at the mall !” katsuki grunts in acknowledgment “was walking around with a friend and she recommended it to me, so i figured i’d give it a shot.” you explain.

“smells good right ?” you ask excitedly. katsuki damn near growls at your wrist, then he drops it and stuffs his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you tightly like he’s trying to squeeze you to death, pulling you closer to him.

“so fuckin’ good.” he rumbles, the way his voice deepens has shivers going down your spine and has you impossibly giddy.

“what soap is that ? need ta stock up on it.”

you roll your eyes “so you can steal it from me ? no thank you.”

“m’ your boyfriend, you’re s’posed to share with me. what’s that saying? what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours ?” his voice is smushed against the fabric of your clothes because he can’t stay away from your skin for more than three seconds, going back for whiffs like an addict. you wrap your arms around him with a snort.

“isn’t that saying usually for married couples ? we’re not married.”

“yet.”

your heartbeat quickens and you feel your skin prickle and go hot at how casually he uttered the word. you play around with the hairs on his nape.

“..yet” you utter quietly. his nose is pressed against your addams apple, deeming it his new favorite spot to sniff at you like a dog. “so until then, my secret stays with me.”

“tch, stingy woman.” he scoffs “might have to marry you sooner than i thought.” he smirks.

you move to shove your head into his shoulder in embarrassment and he straight up laughs, the asshole. you’d be angry if you weren’t as in love with him as you were in this very moment.

“oi, i told you to quit squirming.” he jests.

“katsukiii !” you whine. he only chuckles, greatly enjoying the way he’s tormenting you.

“what ?” he snorts, his nose is pressed to your shoulder “don’t act brand new, you knew i was gonna marry you.”

“this is bullying.” he barks out a loud laugh at your flustered response.

“me puttin’ a ring on that fuckin—” he grabs your hand again and presses his lips to your ring finger “divine smellin’ finger of yours is bullying ?” he chuckles.

“you’re so weird.” you can’t help the smile that grows against his shoulder and he feels it too, the smirk against your finger only grows.

“right back atcha.” he snickers, then bites into your shoulder like he’s trying to take a chunk out of you.

“ouch ! katsuki !” you yelp, smacking his back lightly, all he does is snicker like the evil motherfucker he is.

“sorry, baby.” he apologizes but you can hear in the teasing lilt in his voice he regrets absolutely nothing “ ya smell so good i couldn’t help it.”

a.n. : i actually don’t know if that saying is usually for married couples but pls ignore it for plot sake thx 🤞🏽💓

[sqtorux]

being a mistress to the head of the gojo clan was more than you could ever dream of in your lifetime.

sure you're not his wife officially, but what does a piece of paper and some ceremony mean when all the affection and time satoru has is dedicated to you?

that didn't change when his supposed wife gave birth to a son— securing her place as the future heir of the gojo clan.

upon hearing a knock, you open your door revealing a grinning satoru who wastes no time in bringing your lips to his and his hands to your waist, pulling you closer.

"aren't you supposed to be somewhere else?"

"yeah, they told me to go be with my wife. that's what i did"

[beforeimdeceased]

ellie hitting it from the back and you're just completely in subspace, taking everything's she's giving you completely blissed out and brainless:))

nsfw! — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

omg the way she’d be fucking you so good you’d only be able to see stars. you’ll actually be drooling and brain dead like a cock drunk dummy lmao. her hand on the back of your neck keeping you steady while she hits your weak spot over and over and over again. you’ve forgotten what it’s like to not have her stuffing your walls. other hand gripping the plump flesh of your ass so hard you’re sure that it’ll leave a bruise. the kind you look at in the mirror that sends memories rushing to your stomach.

speaking of stomachs, she’s fucking you so deep you’re positive she’s blending your guts. turning you into a pleasure smoothie. and you feel like fucking jello because it’s all too much. you’re so gone you can’t even hear her talking to you. “you’re taking me so well. you can barely respond. fuck, can you hear that? you’re so fucking wet for me.”

and then she slows down. slow, hard thrusts. one after the next making you grip the sheets and stuff your face into the mattress. all while’s she’s got the stupidest smirk on her face. (probably thinking about how next time she’s gonna fuck you in front of a mirror and make you watch yourself become her cock slut.)

[moechies]

wakatoshi ʚɞ

“y’feel so good honey.”

your cunt sinks onto his meaty tip, pulsing erratically at the unfamiliar stretch.

“hah—.. h-help me, please!”

“take your time, you can do it.”

you try, you really do, shoving yourself onto your lovers cock. he holds you tightly but the fat of your hips, gently guiding your cunt to wrap more and more of him.

“eek— w-waka!”

he sighs, face flushed and eyes shut tight from the pleasure. he lays back into the soft of the bed, peeking out of one eye to watch your flustered expression and your body shiver with pleasure.

“please , n-need your help. i can’t do it m’self..” you mewl, body giving up and landing atop of his, sniffles muffled as you hide yourself into the crook of his neck.

“poor baby.” he teases, soothing over your hair with one hand, the other soothing across your shivering ass. “too much for my honey?”

you nod, bracing yourself as he flips you under him, forced to meet his eyes as he hovers above you.

“y’were almost there,” he stares down at the remainder of his cock you were unable to get inside your cunt, sloppy swipes over your clit in order to quiet his baby’s complaints. “y’gonna do better next time? so i don’t have to do all the work, hm ?”

“y-yes..! t-thank you waka, thank you f’helping me!”

he groans; what sweet pleasure it was to feel your plump ass meet his pelvis.

“no need. thank you f’this perfect pussy honey.”

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader

knight!suguru is more than glad to drop to his knees for his beloved princess.

his rough hands bunch up the skirt of your dress with haste, his pruple eyes blown wide with lust as you try to grab onto his shoulders for support. your knees feel weak, your body shaking with a mixture of excitement and pure adrenaline – this is improper, you shouldn't be doing this.

but oh, how good does it feel.

how good the knight's fingers feel as they dance on your skin, the tips of them ghosting over the soft material of your soaking undergarments. with his face hidden under your skirt, you can only imagine the hungry look he's wearing as they prepare to eat their heart out after a long, tiring day.

you rest against a bookshelf in the dark library, letting the wooden planks press into your upper back, into your soft skin. candlelight flickers across your flustered face, it being the only audience you could ever possibly allow.

what you're doing is risky, it's dangerous – but neither of you can fight the need any longer.

a quiet gasp echoes through the empty library when suguru presses a gentle kiss your core, his fingers tugging on your underwear. he can feel your legs tremble, he can feel the goosebumps on your skin; just like you imagine his expression, suguru does the same – how dark and low your eyes would be, how swollen your pretty lips. he'll get to see it all later, the masterpiece that is your blissed out face after he're done devouring you.

as his tongue lays flat against your needy cunt, the room gets flooded with hushed mewls; taking a hand from suguru's shoulder, you slot it in front of your mouth but the palm does very little to contain the sounds of pleasure that suffocate you. alongside with those, the noises that emit from under your skirt - your body feels as if its on fire.

suguru's hands knead your thighs – the very same hands that have killed, that have taken lives, are now caressing your skin with the utmost care and tenderness the knight could ever possibly muster up. this is his job afterall – to take care and to proctect, in every way imaginable; whether it's him on his knees as they get a taste of the woman they have swore to protect, or it's him dying at the end of a blade for the woman they love – it's the suguru's desire to serve.

he sucks on your clit, he tongues at your folds, drowning in your scent as he pushes you closer to your high with his skilled mouth. your nails dig into his shoulder, with most of your weight now leant against him as your body threatens to go limp, your brain turning into a mush. cries of suguru's name fall from your lips like a waterfall, with the letters coated with sickly sweet honey that reel him deeper and deeper into her core.

the obscene sounds grow louder by the second with suguru now lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, his good manners long forgotten in his clouded mind. there's a whine on the tip of your tongue, a shy and embarrassed one, but suguru doesn't falter even a bit – instead, he moves to raise your thigh up onto his shoulder, the new angle making your eyes roll back into your head with a loud gasp.

with the other hand, suguru guides you to grind against his face, his nose catching your clit with every roll of your hips and all it takes for you to finally let go, is to hear your beloved knight moan into your sopping cunt.

the back of your head meets the wall behind you with a soft thud and your eyes screw themselves shut as your whole body tenses up; you try to close your legs by pressing your thigh into the suguru's face but it's of no use because he simply digs his fingers deeper into your plush flesh and forces them apart again, so he can keep burying his tongue inside you. suguru can't let any of it go to waste – not the moment, not the saccharine slick that fills his mouth.

you clutch onto your knight as he let you ride out the high, your mumbles of 'thank you's' not going unheard in his keen ears.

before he pull away, suguru places one last kiss to your clit, gentlly as ever; his calloused hands glide over your calves and thighs when he places your leg down onto the wooden floor. with his finger hooked under the material of your underwear, he tugs them down instead of up and taps on your foot for you to raise it.

finally poking his head out from under the skirt, both of you need a moment to collect yourselves; completely disheveled, sweaty and fucked out, panting and heaving – your eyes are still heavy with a flicker of something tender inside them.

you watch the knight pocket the ruined undergarments with a kind of sly grin.

for later.

suguru stays there down on his knees, staring up at you like you're the one that hung the stars in the sky. in his head, you did.

when you try to shove his face to escape the wave of embarrassment that's creeping up your throat but when your fingers meet the slick that's covering the entirety of suguru's lower half of his face, you can't help but cringe at yourself.

and suguru falls for you more. deeper, harder.

"can— can i kiss you?"

your words are but a mere whisper, afraid to see the light, but suguru welcomes them with open arms nonetheless. the corners of his lips tug upward, his hands itching to hold her.

"of course, sweetheart."

you hold each other's gaze as he stands, the rhythm of your chests rising and falling matching in pace.

delicate fingers play with the material of suguru's shirt, a certain nervousness flowing through you despite the fact that you've done this many times before. but you always get like this – a bit shy, a bit timid, wishing to nuzzle your face into the his chest to hide from his fond eyes, the attention suddenly too much. it's the effect he has on you. but you still wants the kiss, you still want the love.

so you push through.

suguru's hand raises to his mouth, his eyebrow quirks up when he sees your eyes grow wider. "don't you want me to wipe it off?"

burns, it burns.

your skin burns.

"no..."

and it burns even stronger, even brighter, at the sight of his wolfish grin, shis sharp canines glinting at you inthe soft candlelight.

"no?"

a tease.

a shake of your head.

a searing kiss. a touch of love.

[heavenbarnes]

the obedience that came with your older bf!simon hadn’t started out as inherently kinky. it actually stemmed from a rather vulnerable admission, one that happened to come about as you were riding him.

“i need to follow orders”

it’d caught you off guard, but you’d been quick and accepting with it as your pressed your palms against his broad chest. you’d nodded, panting slightly as you tried your best.

“i want you to hold me down and really fuck me, si”

and that was it, he was gripping tight on your hips and jackhammering his own up into you until your head was tipping back and a fucking squeal was being torn out of you.

the rest was history.

simon explained it as he’d built a career off of following orders, he’d kept himself alive by doing what he was told- being in the right place at the right time.

if you wanted to see him at his best you had to tell him exactly what you wanted him to do.

after a particularly soft evening on the couch, one that would never leave the four walls of your home, where simon was cuddled into your front with your arms wrapped around him- he told you he felt safest when he had explicit instructions.

part of it was just easier that way, like when he didn’t really get the hype about sexting but you told him what you wanted and then you’d both be happy.

the other part of it was that security, he had someone who loved him enough to put him in the right place at the right time and eliminate as many variables as possible.

that didn’t mean spontaneity was out of the question, he could surprise you and you could do the same to him- but once you really got into things, he wanted you to tell him in graphic detail what you wanted him to do.

“just like that, don’t move your hand at all”

“cum inside me, please”

“bend me over, want you to use me”

“look me in the eyes, want to see you when you cum for me”

“lick my cunt, simon”

there was also something in there for him about you, sweet little you, looking this big man right in the eye and ordering him around.

made him weak in the fucking knees.

[alrightberries]

can't get the thought out of my head of pro-hero bkg being on patrol then getting the news that some burgular broke into your shared apartment and he's immediately dropping everything and just fuckin' blasting his way home. his friends thinks it's so sweet that he's in such a rush, frantic, in a panic to get back to you because he's worried about your safety.

but— no, fuck no, he's not worried about keeping you safe, he's worried about keeping the shithead burglar safe from his bored and antsy ex-villain of a wife who's been itching for a fight.

[moongreenlight]

Ghost knocks you up in the back of his truck during a one night stand btw.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Like you’re a bartender and you’re flirting pretty heavily with him and the rest of the force boys for a good tip because you know their type. He’s not exactly shutting you down but he’s definitely not dogging after you like the others. You shrug it off and figure that three for four still gives you decent odds.

You step out back for a quick break on the top of the hour as things are winding down, promise your coworker you won’t be five minutes. He’s lingering in the workers only smoking area out back because he’s a freak. And you’re a little sussed-out, but he offers his help when you realize you’d left your lighter inside. Tells you he keeps his in the car in an attempt to curb his habit or some shit. Doesn’t matter. You know what he’s really saying.

He guides you with an arm slung loosely around your waist and for some reason you’re inclined to indulge yourself. Live a little. Get some after a months long dry spell that’s left you a little out of your mind. He folds you over the bench seat in the back of his truck in a dark corner of the lot. Leaves your pants bunched around your knees and only unbuttons his own enough to let his cock free.

He doesn’t bother trying to cram himself into the back with you. Given the sheer size of him, you weren’t sure he’d be able to anyway. Leaves the door open and yanks your hips back until he’s lined himself up. Makes quick work of it for both of your sakes, but it exceeds expectations given the circumstance. He comes mostly on the leather under you, but his hips stuttered and you ended with a bit slicking your folds. You cringe when you tug your pants back on you feel some pool in your underwear.

It’s a bit of an awkward walk back, but he makes good on his promise of a light when he sparks the end of your cigarette before walking back around front. You forget about the exchange until about a month later when you finally realize you’ve missed your period by at least a week and a half. You take a test mostly for peace of mind. Even though you didn’t use a condom, you’re decent at remembering to take the pill, so it’s really not heavy on your mind. Not until the test reads positive.

You pull him to the side the next time he comes to the bar and stumble over a hushed delivery of the news. He’s shockingly stoic. Silent for a moment before making some dry remark about how the two of you should probably go to the courthouse and make things official if you want to get his military benefits.