#damn you task switching!!!!

[enby-catgirl]

so hungry… but the doll clothes need organizing…

[aomiiine]

HE LOVES HIS OFFICER!

𐔌  .   𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆  ୧ ──── PRAEDATOR! SYLUS + ENFORCER! FEM READER

W☆RNINGS. N!SFW/MDNI (18+) — cockhead pinching, hate fucking vibes, orgasm denial/orgasm delay, cock ring, handjob, cock slapping (once), feral sylus, tame(?) bdsm-ish vibes, restraints (chains obv), a bit predator/prey dynamic, slight praise kink (reader), might be ooc sylus but idc lol, switch m & f, overstim, hints of corruption (sylus -> you), quite heavy degradation (reader to him & him to reader. ie; slut, bitch, animal, etc.), that tongue scene lmaoaoa, kind of (not canon) improvised lore at the end, ‘kitten’ is used twice i think, all smut no plot, not proofread wordcount is 1.7k edited to 1.9k

TAGLIST. @tinycatharsis @jellysix @wonryllis @tsukkisukkii @wonuwuuuuu

author’s comment. thinking ab making a small event for valentines day w the lnds guys based on the new banner.. tell me what u think abt this one though! also, this is just me exploring these kinks so pls pardon me if they aren’t well written :’) Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated !! <3

“As if the frenzy enhancer wasn’t enough, you had to put a fucking cock-ring on me when I’m already this fucking hard, you slutty minx.”

Chains clanged and rattled from Sylus’s writhing, hands balling to fists in his attempt to yank the metal cuffs off him. It was in vain, of course, but you couldn’t blame him. You were tasked to interrogate him by your superior but here you were—absolutely torturing his big cock by denying every single orgasm.

It was almost sad honestly. The way his dick curved to his belly, abs flexing with every ragged breath he took. His tip leaked what seemed to be a steady stream of pre-cum staining his stomach, his arousal making a mess of the white nest on his pelvis, swollen shaft throbbing like a fucking heartbeat in anticipation on what your next move would be.

“The cock-ring was a necessary measure taken for you to speak. Since your mouth wont tell me the information I need, maybe your stupid cock will,” you scoffed at his glower, landing a slap onto his stiff cock, earning yourself a hiss. His teeth gritted and bared at you in obvious agitation from the endless heat running through his veins and the frenzy enhancer.

“Maybe if you stopped being a cruel bitch and let me cum already, I’d fucking speak.”

“Information first, reward later,” you replied swiftly, hand reaching out to wrap around his needy dick, stroking him half-heartedly, not even bothering to pay a sliver of attention to his weeping tip.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“No, thank you.”

Sylus groaned loudly, wrists tugging on the biting metal cuffs hanging over each side of his head. His breath quickened, guttural moans rumbling from his chest from the lazy strokes you gave him.

Sylus felt utterly humiliated that he was being so damn sensitive at the weak jerks of your soft palm around his slick cock, his hips rolling to fuck into your fist. His ego was bruised, but he wasn’t one to dwell on it. Instead, he’d like to move on and have you kiss fuck it better.

“Do you not know how to stroke a cock, kitten? Is my little enforcer a virgin?” Sylus’s voice was low and husky when he spoke, hands relaxing on the chain to lean down forward, his large and tall frame looming over your smaller one just before you could retaliate his remark.

The shadow sylus’s figure casted over yours was undeniably intimidating—especially so when his nearly crazed eyes gleamed at you in a predatory gaze. His head dipped closer to yours, stray strands of his white hair falling over his eyes as he searched for your irises.

It took every will in your body to not flinch, refusing to show him a single shred of weakness to exploit. Except, Sylus merely grinned at your bravado, tongue darting out to lick his lips as if he was staring at prey.

“Scared of a little proximity, my dear enforcer?” The mockery in his voice grated at your nerves, your features contorting into a grimace on instinct.

“You animal,” you seethed, grasp on his cock tightening to a point bordering on pain. Your praedator gasped sharply, leaning away to throw his head back in relief when you began stroking him, fast.

Every deliberate flick of your wrist brought hot white pleasure to his strained body, eyes closing shut with nothing but deep, drawn out groans leaving his throat. The chains began rattling against, muscles flexing with effort when he felt himself nearing an explosive orgasm.

“Yes— oh fuck, yes, make me cum, you dirty bitch,” he grunted in a near whimper, hips rocking upward uncontrollably when your hand began focusing on his crown. Your index finger and thumb created a circle around the head to stimulate his glans continuously, pads of your fingers purposely rubbing over the sensitive frenulum.

“Calling me a bitch when you’re the begging to cum like a manwhore,” you tsked disapprovingly, quickening your strokes while your glared intense at his deep red cock, the cock-ring tight on his base to keep him rock hard.

You didn’t miss the way his slit continued to leak, his arousal betrayed by the way he kept producing natural lube for you to use. “At least I’m honest—agh—fuck! I wanna cum so bad, baby, please,” Sylus stammered, head hung low with droplets of sweat falling down his flushed skin.

You considered showing him mercy at his plea, truly. His cock was throbbing around your fingers, balls drawn up tight to his body with pent up cum—why couldn’t you just let the poor man cum his brains out already?

“I don’t know.. I’m not getting the information I want,” you uttered teasingly, not truly contemplating the thought. Even if you did, the answer would always fall on ‘no’.

You could see how Sylus was on the edge of cumming with how his legs quivered subtly, abdomen muscles flexing and relax with each stroke. His cock was steaming hot in your hand, warm with fresh cum flowing up to his shaft. Yet just moments before he was about to release, your ministrations ceased, two fingers stopping just below his glans to pinch his sensitive flesh, forcefully halting his orgasm.

“Motherfucker—I was just about to fucking cum all over your uniform, you—” he snarled, nostrils flaring with every intake of breath. His nose scrunched up briefly in pure infuriation, eyes closed as he leaned his head back, the corners of his lips twitching to a smile.

“When I get out these chain, kitten, I’ll get back at you so fucking good, you’ll be crippled for weeks,” he huffed in a scoff before punctuating his threat with a harsh tug on the metal cuffs restraining him to the metal bars of the cage, the chains clattering loudly. His throat was stretched and exposed for you to see, skin glistening with perspiration and Adam’s apple bobbing.

The sudden motion startled you, sending your heart beating faster than it already was. Your assigned praedator was unhinged, you knew that much from his files—but you didn’t expect him to be this unhinged.

Despite that, it sent your heart racing rather than falling into the pit of your stomach. You felt excited, fucking thrilled even. Your pupils dilated as if you just found your fix, like a cat setting its sights on its newest toy.

“Mmhm, sure,” you muttered with a faint yet noticeable tremble to your voice. It caught Sylus’s attention in an instant.

the sweat sheened praedator finally lifted his head, tilting to the side with intrigue glinting in those crimson irises. “Are you liking this, kitten?” He said with his now hoarse voice, smirk stretching more than it should. “‘S that why you decided to make this cage for me? Using this place as your personal sex dungeon? Yeah, I see it. The eyes of the depraved.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed with sadistic glee, no doubt pounding with satisfaction at the thought of corrupting his righteous enforcer and throbbing with an ongoing orgasm, cock still held in place by yours unwavering fingers.

It took you a moment to regain your composure, still reeling from the shot of adrenaline he gave you. Eventually, you caught yourself again, inhaling deeply before dropping your eyes to his cock between your digits, shaft still pumping with kept cum.

With a bite of your tongue, you released him of punishment, letting his cum spurt out onto his stomach in ropes.

”yesyesyesss— mmph, god fucking damn it!”

His balls pulsed with his length as thick, hot stuttering streams of semen dripped to the floor, your hand not hesitating to wrap around his girth, pulling his stiff dick towards you and letting his cum make white messes on your dark coloured uniform.

“There, I let you cum.” You spoke sounding just as winded as Sylus who was basking in the mind-numbing relief of emptying his balls to the fullest after accumulating it all in his cock for what felt like hours.

“You did.. Yes, you did, you good girl,” he slurred, no doubt basking in the afterglow shameless, hips thrusting shallowly into your hand for the slightest bit of friction.

A brow twitched when you heard him call you good girl all of the sudden. Your lashes batted at him, lips parted in surprise until your head dipped once more, averting your gaze.

The cock-ring at the base of his dick was slid off him, his body chasing your heat as you pulled away and tucked his cock back into his pants, zipping him back up. You allowed him slump bonelessly with his hands tied up above his head, leaving him panting for air.

He must’ve said it ‘cause he was drunk of the high, not because he meant it, was a mantra you repeated in your mind to convince yourself. Regardless, you couldn’t deny how it sent goosebumps up your nape, hair standing at attention, couldn’t deny how a single fleeting praise made your throat go dry and breathing quicken.

“I expect full cooperation tomorrow morning, Sylus.” you blurted, focus moving back to him before you backed away a few steps and stormed out his cage, locking it securely behind you.

You practically sped walked out the prison underground, heading straight to the elevator leading back up to your office.

Once you were in the metal box, you fished for a handkerchief in your pocket, frantically using it to wipe the stains of his seed on the front of your uniform.

With quivering hands, your rubbed it off you the best you could to fade the colour so you could excuse it a spill of chemicals or something to your colleagues—even if that wasn’t what really happened.

Your little rendzvous with a praedator—a SSS ranked dangerous praedator at that—risked more than your job. You yourself could be detained for being suspected of having intercourse with a praedator. You’d be an experiment, again, for researchers to exploit if sex could turn you into a praedator.

But unfortunately, deep down, you knew you’d come back to him again. After all, nothing intoxicated you more than dancing with that red eyed devil tied up at your mercy.

Finally reaching your office floor, you got off the elevator, walking in a bee line past your busy colleague, eyes on the ground to avoid contact with any of them. You didn’t know if you could handle speaking or explaining (lying) about your situation to anyone right now.

you pulled on the back of your chair, taking a seat and immediately holding your head in your hands, rethinking your life choices—the one where you decided to change your occupation from Hunter to Enforcer. Your hands slid down your face, eyes falling to the handkerchief, a reminder of your earlier affair.

Only then did the events dawn on you, your entire body processing the audacity and brazen display you showed Sylus. Now you crumbled in the solace of your safe space away from his predatory gaze.

A hand came up to your mouth, lips capturing a finger to nibble on when your thighs rubbed against one another, making you realise how fucking drenched your panties were. That damn praedator had you this wet in a rut without laying a finger on you—how pathetic of you.

One thing was for sure, you’d call in leave early to rub this compiled arousal off quick—it didn’t matter if you had to wet your sheets with cum, you needed this feeling gone, asap.

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

shower sounds

It was wrong. It was immoral.

But Simon 'Ghost' Riley couldn't help himself. He just couldn't.

You were his neighbor. His sweet, smiling, food-bringing goddess next-door. You had shared conversations with him, a few bottles of wine from time to time, too many cookies for him to count- you shared walls with him.

For the most part, the walls you shared with him weren't a problem. Sometimes you had your TV volume up too loud, sometimes you sang a bit too loudly to whatever music you were listening to, but that never bothered Simon.

Sometimes he could hear your cat jump up to her cat tower. He could always hear (and sometimes feel the vibration) when she would launch her chubby self up to the tower, and the tower would always knock against the wall you shared with Simon. It made him scoff quietly every time. He had a fondness for that fat cat, whether he would admit it out loud or not.

Maybe her owner, too.

His excellent hearing was partially to blame, so he never made it to be a big deal. He never wanted you to know he heard you that much, didn't want to make you feel bad for some reason.

And those noises really weren't all that bad. In fact, he looked forward to hearing those mundane sounds. Sometimes a cupboard would close a bit too loudly; he never imagined you being the type to go randomly slamming cupboards shut, and he would wonder if you were alright. If he didn't hear anything else, he wouldn't worry as much.

It was a different kind of noise that Simon 'Ghost' Riley was bothered by that came from your unit. Noises, rather. And it was always one kind of noise that led to another…

The first time it happened, he felt almost ashamed of himself. Almost. Maybe he'd be more full of shame if he hadn't felt so damn good after.

Simon had been lounging on one end of his couch, TV remote in hand. He was switching between channels when he heard the familiar sound of your shower turning on. 

There was always this almost ringing-like sound that would come through the building's old pipes when the water was on, especially in the showers. The sound was always the same when the shower turned on, though if you adjusted the spray of the shower head, it would become higher or lower pitched depending on the intensity of the stream of water.

He heard you turn on some music before he could hear the shower curtain being drawn back and forth as you probably stepped into the shower, naked-

Simon shook his head, trying to focus back on the task at hand, picking something to watch on TV.

But there was nothing on.

He decided to give up on that. Right after his television went black, he heard the familiar high pitched noise of the building's old plumbing go up a few levels.

Simon wouldn't have thought anything of it if his apartment hadn't been dead quiet, and if he hadn't heard a small moan through the shared wall between you.

Simon's eyes widened as he listened, his ear turned towards the wall now so he could listen more closely. He could hear the harsh spray of your showerhead, his mind racing with what you could be using it for and where the stream was being directed on your body.

He felt a spark of something, and his body began to respond to the intimate sounds you were making that echoed into his apartment through the wall. His breathing began to slow and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds. He could hear your soft whimpering and short gasps even clearer now.

A lump began to form in his throat as his body continued to react, his heart racing with excitement. His hand instinctively went to his groin, his fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal. He knew he shouldn't be standing there, his ear on the wall between you, his eyes closed, listening to you pleasure yourself in the shower-

But he just couldn't help himself. The sounds were drawing him in, making him feel like he was part of something intimate and-

Simon's eyes snapped open, and he moved away from the wall, trying to compose himself. He couldn't believe he was getting turned on by listening to his sweet, adorable, sweets-and-food gifting neighbor getting herself off in the shower. He needed to put some distance between you. He needed to get out of there, to clear his head and calm down.

He had taken the first step to move into another room when he heard a faint whisper through the wall.

"Oh, yeah..."

Back against the wall he was.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was stuck, his ears glued to the wall, listening to the sounds coming from the other side.

The sounds were getting louder, and Simon could hear you more clearly now. You were whimpering and moaning, your breathing a little shallower now.

He continued to listen, unable to move away. His breathing was ragged and sharp, his body reacting to every single noise on the other side of the wall.

Simon's hand went back down to the waistband of his jeans, his fingers tracing the material. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he realized what he was about to do, but he didn't stop himself.

He unbuttoned his jeans, his hands moving urgently as he listened to the sounds coming from the other side of the wall. He was getting more and more turned on as he heard your moans and whimpers growing louder, the sounds getting more frequent.

He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one swift movement, his other hand grasping his already rock-hard length.

He stroked himself slowly, his hand still pressed against the wall, his ear inches from the spot where your voice seemed to be coming from.

His eyes closed once more as he imagined what you might look like, pleasuring yourself in the shower, as he stroked his throbbing cock, already glistening at the tip with precum.

To keep his own pleasured sounds from getting too loud, in fear that you would hear him and maybe stop, he bit down on his own tongue, quickly tasting copper in his mouth as a muffled groan escaped his lips.

He imagined you in the shower, how wet you must be in so many ways, how slick your skin was as you touched yourself, and how much you wanted this, needed this release just as desperately as he did.

With a low growl, he began pumping his shaft faster, harder as he imagined your wet skin, your curves, your breasts, your ass... He could picture it all so vividly, thanks to the erotic symphony playing through the thin wall separating them.

He was stroking his thick, angry cock faster now, his hips rocking slightly, the sound of his own heavy breathing mingling with the distant echoes of your pleasure-filled cries.

"Fuck," he heard you whisper breathlessly before letting out a soft whine. You were getting close. He could tell.

So was he.

The sound of your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Simon found himself matching the rhythm of your strokes, pumping his own cock in time with your breathy pleas.

His grip tightened around his shaft, the veins bulging as he worked himself closer to the edge. The image of you touching yourself, lost in pleasure, fueled his desire, making him ache to be inside you.

He could almost taste you on his tongue, feel your slick heat enveloping him as he thrust deep. The fantasy was so real, so intoxicating, that he swore he could smell the sweet musk of your arousal carried through the thin partition.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as he quickened his pace, chasing his impending climax. Precum dripped steadily from the tip of his cock, leaving a sticky trail on his fist as he pumped faster, harder.

Then, he heard what he had been waiting for most of all, a sound he knew was coming but wasn't sure what exactly it would sound like. And it was more delicious than he could have ever imagined.

He heard you cry out through the wall, in the shower, as your orgasm washed over you. He really hoped that your sound of released pleasure distracted you enough to not notice his own.

Simon's entire world narrowed to the sound of your climax, a whine that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of his reality. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and it shattered his last semblance of control.

He knew he was about to be loud. He needed to do something, fast, that wouldn’t mean biting his tongue or lip off-

Simon bit down on his clothed arm as he came undone, his orgasm ripping through him like a hurricane while the pain from biting his own arm threatened to tip the scales of pain and pleasure towards the former, but maybe that made him like it even more. Hot spurts of cum spurted from his cock, painting the wall he leaned against in thick, viscous streaks. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the aftershocks, his vision flashing white behind clenched eyelids.

When Simon finally returned to Earth, he was left looking at the aftermath of his actions as he caught his breath, breathing in and out with his eyes closed, still listening intently through the wall just in case you had any more delicious sounds in you.

masterlist

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chicken scratches ☆

synopsis : katsuki tries to surprise you...but he's taking too damn long !!

an. merry christmas(if you celebrate) n happy holidays yall !! i love my boyfriend as usual,,btw have yall seen that new hori art ??? dreamy sigh my man so stupid..

cw. itty bitty manga spoilers, but otherwise nun !!

when katsuki manages to hold a pencil again and write with his right hand, it looks absolutely horrendous.

switching from writing with their left hand then back to the right one would've been disorienting for most, and it probably was for him, but he didn't show it much aside from the occasional grumble and scoff at his trembling grip. nothing ever holds him back after all.

you sigh "can i—"

"no. don't look yet." katsuki has his back turned to you, sending you a sharp glare. hunched over his little piece of paper like how he'd hide his page from kaminari's peeking eyes during an exam, always so dramatic. he turns around with a huff and you snort with a roll of your eyes.

you had come over to his room after he’d told you to, mumbling out a quick “come over.” over the phone and hanging up before you could say a word.

and so here you were. waiting.

“katsukiiiiiiii—”

“shut up,” your boyfriend grunts, his scribbling sounds harsher, in a bit more of a rush. “so damn impatient..”

“but i wanna see what you wrote !” you kick your legs up in the air, pouting at his back sitting in his office chair. “i’ve been waiting for decades to see you write with that arm again.”

katsuki scoffs out a snarky laugh “yeah, well how do you think i feel ?” you groan, whining at his dark joke, he laughs again. “just stay put. ‘m..almost done.” he trails off, focusing back on his surprisingly long task.

you do know that despite being able to use his arm again, it had gone slow—surely, but really slowly. then again, he originally wouldn’t have been able to use that arm at all, so you’ll honestly take anything.

but the excitement is getting to you, and you really wanna see what he wrote ! so slowly, surely, you quietly try to sneak the short distance to his desk to peek behind his shoulder. however, your boyfriend has some crazy spider senses.

he sighs “if i turn around and you’re not sittin’ your ass on the bed i’ll—HEY !”

busted. katsuki catches you mid creep, so close to seeing his paper until he swiftly turns in his chair. he reaches out with his left hand, reflexively, and grabs a hold of your arm.

“you can’t ever just—do what you’re fuckin’ told ! knew you were being too damn quiet ! ” he complains between gritted teeth, trying to wrestle you away from him.

“i just—wanna see !” you shriek. when he suddenly remembers he can use his right hand again, and it almost feels nostalgic the way he jams it in your side to tickle you, dropping his pencil in the process. you think you hear it rolling on the floor, but your own noises of surprise overpowered the sound. he’d really gotten better at using that arm again, you could cry if your boyfriend wasn’t actively trying to shove his entire hand inside your ribs and push you away.

during the light scuffle, his hurried movements magically make the paper fly away with a harsh whip of his arm and a gust of wind, you thank every god when you notice it, just a second before he does. you’re half sure the world slowed down as you slide down to the floor and clutch the piece of paper in your grasp like the fate of the world depended on it.

the little piece of paper makes your heart jump, with its crumpled up edges and wonky writing and all.

I love you

both the o’s are too long, his u trails off towards the end and the e looks like he'd written it with the pencil in his mouth. it looks nothing like his usual handwriting.

but it was him, unmistakably, undeniably him and all of him and all of his efforts. all his efforts coming down to this. being able to write i love you and to show you.

your heart does more than jump, it restarts in your chest.

harshly, your flipped over by katsuki. he’s red all the way down to his neck and his eyebrows twitch angrily. but his hands, both his hands are gripping your cheeks hard and pulling at them and you can’t help but laugh.

“little shit. can never jus’ lemme be romantic..” he pouts, pouts like the adorable tryharding asshat he is, and you’re so so happy. your cheeks hurt cus he's tugging at them but his right thumb is digging into your cheek. you can feel the little callous on his middle finger because he holds his pencil with too much pressure on it.

“you’re so adorable.” it tumbles out between a watery laugh before you can stop it, katsuki’s jaw ticks and he gets even redder if that was even possible—he uses his right hand to squish your nose shut mid breath so your ears pop.

“shut it, shut up. ya ruined everything.” ducking down, his teeth make contact with your cheek and your chin knocks against his when you jump with a little scream. "i literally just finished. was just about to hand it to you, but noooo—everythin' has to go your way.." he angrily mumbles into your neck.

you press a kiss to his nape and he stiffens "i'm sorry for ruining your perfect surprise." he scoffs, biting at your shoulder. "i'm really happy though, it was unfortunately very worth it."

"you're a fuckin' fiend." he spits out, and you really can't help but laugh "love you too." you snort out, and his hands, both of them squeeze your sides hard, your cheeks hurt and you can't help but laugh.

[deansbeer]

✷ ◟ ECHOES OF DESIRE ৎ᠀

library introduction minors do NOT interact!

SYNOPSIS. you never expected to hear dean's thoughts this clearly—especially not when they're about you in the most unexpected way.

WARNING(S). mentions of masturbation | f!reader | overwhelming thoughts | telepathy | physical sensations triggered by another person's thoughts | heavy unresolved romantic/sexual tension | mutual pining | awkwardness | emotional vulnerability | telepath!reader | older!dean | reader is in her mid twenties | light jealousy (man gets jealous of a bunny. wild, huh? believe me, i know.) | tension-filled misunderstandings | new unexplained ability reader develops.

KARI'S NOTES. ignore the fact that my blog is a mess of things & i've changed the layout for my fics many times :) can this also be considered an early bday gift for dean ??? i have a lil something planned for his special day but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ this is somewhat cutesy ig lol + tiny disclaimer <3 the photos above r used solely for aesthetic purposes !!!!

it's late in the bunker—the kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing against your ears as you sit alone in the library. sam and dean have both retreated to their rooms for the night, finally giving in to the exhaustion that comes with long hunts and endless research. but you? you're wide awake, as usual, hunched over a pile of lore books with your bunny, bolt, nibbling on hay in a little pile you set out for him. the faint sound of his chewing and the occasional rustle of paper are the only things breaking the stillness.

you pop another blue peanut m&m into your mouth, the faint crunch grounding you as your eyes scan the faded text in front of you. you're so close—so damn close—to deciphering the last piece of this puzzle for their next case. you can feel it right there, just out of reach, the answer dancing at the edge of your mind.

but then, like a radio station suddenly switching frequencies, you hear it.

someone's thoughts.

you pause mid-bite, your jaw tightening as you inwardly groan. who the hell is thinking this loud so late at night?

it's not unusual for you to pick up on stray thoughts; it's part of being a telepath. but this? this is loud. intrusive. like someone shouting directly into your brain. you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to block it out, to focus on the task at hand. you've gotten good at tuning people out over the years, but some thoughts are harder to ignore than others.

you shake your head, turning the page of the lore book in front of you, determined to push through the distraction. but the thoughts don't stop. they keep coming, louder and more insistent, like waves crashing against the shore.

and then you realize something.

these thoughts… they're familiar.

at first, you think it's sam. he has a tendency to overthink even in his sleep, his dreams sometimes bleeding into his waking thoughts. but no, this isn't sam. his mind is quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with deep, dreamless sleep.

it has to be dean.

your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as the realization settles in.

dean.

you grip the edge of the table, your fingers curling tightly around the wood as his thoughts flood your mind. he's begging. it's desperate, raw, like he's pleading for something he can't have. but it's not just his words—his emotions are pouring through, too, overwhelming you with their intensity.

your chest tightens, your heartbeat quickening to match his. there's a strange knot forming in your lower abdomen, a heat that spreads through your body, and you have to clutch at your stomach to steady yourself. biting down on your bottom lip, you try to hold back the whimper threatening to escape.

he's calling your name. not out loud, but in his mind. over and over, like a prayer.

and then it happens—something that's never happened to you before.

you see through his eyes.

for a moment, you're no longer in the library. you're somewhere else entirely, looking through dean's gaze as he lies in bed. your breath hitches as you take in the scene before you: his hand, moving with a rough, almost frantic rhythm over himself, and in the other hand?

a polaroid.

your polaroid.

it's a picture he took of you during one of your outings, the sunlight making your skin glow as you posed for a photo. you remember the moment vividly—how he insisted on taking the photo despite your protests, how he teased you about how good you looked in your little dress.

and now he's using it.

you let out a tiny gasp, the sound startling bolt, who looks up at you with wide, curious eyes. you're back in the library now, your cheeks burning as you try to process what you just saw.

dean. was. masturbating. to. your. photo.

you shake your head, trying to banish the image from your mind, but it's too late. it's seared into your memory, the raw need in his thoughts still lingering like an echo.

you don't get much sleep after that.

the next morning, you're in the kitchen, trying to shake off the haze from the night before. bolt sits at your feet, munching on his breakfast as you make yourself a cup of coffee. you're dressed in one of your favorite nightgowns, a tiny blue satin thing with lace trimming, paired with a matching silk robe. it's comfortable, soft against your skin, and you don't think much about it as you move around the kitchen.

you're lost in thought, replaying everything from the night before, when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. you turn, startled, and there he is.

dean.

he's rubbing his tired eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his t-shirt clings to his chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare. he doesn't say anything at first, just grunts in acknowledgment as he heads for the coffee pot, but you can feel the tension radiating off him.

"morning," you say, your voice light, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

"mornin'," he mutters, his voice rough with sleep.

you take a seat at the table, bolt hopping onto your lap as you sip your coffee. dean follows a moment later, his eyes flicking to the bunny and then to you.

"does he have to sit on your lap?" he grumbles, though the jealousy in his thoughts is loud and clear.

you can't help but smirk. "why are you so jealous of a bunny?”

his eyes narrow, and he shoots you a pointed look. "stay out of my head, sweetheart."

but you're not about to let him off that easily. setting your coffee down, you lean forward slightly, your gaze locking onto his.

"how come you were begging for me last night?"

he freezes, his jaw tightening as his eyes widen. for a moment, he looks like a deer caught in headlights, and you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i don't know what you're talkin' about," he says quickly, his voice stiff as he avoids your gaze.

you frown, not buying his act for a second. "dean."

he tries to deflect, asking you something about the research you were doing last night, but you're not letting this go.

"don't lie to me," you say softly, your voice firm. "i know what i heard. i know what i felt."

his cheeks flush, a rare sight that only makes you more determined. but DEAN WINCHESTER is nothing if not stubborn, and he's not about to admit what you already know.

two idiots in love, too afraid to take the leap.

and yet, the truth lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniable.

SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @figthoughts @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @lustagel @rafespreciosa @jasvtsc @voidsuites @t3l3vangelism . . . ☆

[daryltwdixon]

Teach You IV

Summary: Daryl can’t seem to get ahold of himself after the night you spent together. For days, you're all he can think about—your voice, your touch, the way you've unleashed a part of him he never knew existed. Nothing else matters, nothing else feels right, and when he sees you now, he knows he’s coming back for more. Always.

warnings: smut, MDNI, dirty talk, Daryl is a man possessed, pinv, oral, fingering, Daryl's POV

a/n: the amount of messages I've gotten about this fills my little heart with so much joy, you guys!!! thank you for loving what I do :')

not super proofread! sorry! will check later

The late afternoon bathes the room in golden light, casting soft shadows as Daryl watches her. She’s standing there, completely absorbed in some meaningless task—folding laundry, shifting supplies, something so mundane he can’t understand how she’s focused on it when he’s right here. She’s been taking up all the space in his mind, all the air in his lungs, and she has no idea.

Well, maybe she does. She’s the one who did this to him. The one who made him feel insatiable, so utterly out of control over his own thoughts and body.

Daryl leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, but it’s just to steady himself. His blood is running too hot, his heart pounding too fast, and it’s all because of her. His gaze drags over her, over the way her shirt clings to her back, the soft curve of her hips, the little furrow in her brow as she concentrates. She’s so calm, so collected, like she hasn’t absolutely ruined him.

Ever since that first night—hell, every night since—she’s been all he can think about. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her. Feels her. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she felt under him—warm and soft and his. His cock has never been this hard, not at midnight, not first thing in the morning, and definitely not all goddamn day. And it’s all because of her.

His jaw clenches as the memories flood back: her taste, sweet and heady on his tongue. The way she whispered his name, gasping and desperate, like he was the only man in the world who could make her feel that way. Taking her for the first time, the way her body shifted and shivered beneath him as he rocked into her. It was like a switch he didn’t even know existed had flipped inside him, and now he’s nothing but want, need—fucking hunger.

His hands twitch at his sides. He tries to rein it in, to give her space, but it’s useless. His thoughts are wild and untamed, like he’s been starved his whole damn life and she’s the only thing that can satisfy him. He wants to feel her again, taste her again, bury himself so deep inside her that neither of them knows where one ends and the other begins.

And she’s just standing there, so calm, so unbothered. How can she not feel it? Doesn’t she know what she’s done to him?

“Alright,” he growls, the sound low and guttural as he finally pushes off the doorframe, done with just standing by and watching her as he unravels.

Her head snaps up, her hands pausing mid-motion. “Daryl?” she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion at the intensity in his voice.

But he doesn’t answer. He can’t. Words won’t do it, won’t scratch the itch clawing at him, the fire burning through his veins. He crosses the room in a few quick strides, his movements rough and purposeful. His hands grip her waist before she can react, lifting her clean off the floor and tossing her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing.

“Daryl!” she squeals, her fists playfully tapping at his back, though there’s laughter in her voice. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

He doesn’t bother answering, doesn’t stop. He’s already heading for the nearest surface—the couch, the bed, the table, he doesn’t fucking care. All that matters is her, laid out for him, ready for him to take her apart.

When he reaches the couch, he lowers her just enough to drop her onto the cushions, her legs still dangling over the edge as he looms over her. She looks up at him, her chest rising and falling as she takes him in, her eyes widening slightly at the look on his face.

“You’ve ruined me,” he growls, his voice like gravel as his hands cage her in on either side. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you feel. About how you taste. I can’t think straight, can’t sleep. You’ve fucked me up, woman.”

Her eyes widen, her lips parting as she looks up at him, her breath catching in her throat. She’s not used to this—him talking so much, his words spilling out in a frantic, unfiltered rush. He knows it too. Knows he can be a little aloof, a bit of a dick when it comes to talking about what’s on his mind. But she’d broken him, shattered whatever walls he’d kept so carefully constructed, and now he couldn’t stop the rambling, couldn’t stop the truth from pouring out of him.

His hands travel up her body, sliding over her sides, his rough fingertips grazing her skin, skimming over her stomach. He slots his hips between her legs, pressing her further into the couch as her thighs fall open for him.

“I—” she starts, but he cuts her off, his hands finding her waist, his touch rough but trembling.

“Please,” he mutters, his voice low and desperate, almost trembling with the weight of his need. His hands glide over her sides, brushing against her ribs, feeling the heat of her skin through her thin shirt. “I need you. Every inch of you. Right fuckin’ now. Tell me yes. Please, say yes.”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, the red blooming across her neck and chest as she stares up at him. And then, slowly, her hands lift, sliding up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice a soft, breathless sigh. “Yes, Daryl. Always yes.”

It’s all he needs. An inhuman noise rumbles deep in his chest, primal and desperate, as his lips crash against hers, needy and unrelenting. His hands grip her thighs, pulling her flush against him as he kisses her like a man possessed, all teeth and tongue and sheer, insatiable hunger.

"Goddamn," he mutters against her lips, his voice shaking as he pulls back just enough to look at her. His hands slide further up her legs, gripping her ass, his thumbs imprinting into the soft curves of her skin. "You've got me so fucked up. I can't think about anything else. Just you. Just this.'

His lips trail down her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point as his fingers hook into her shorts. He doesn't wait for permission this time; he knows she's all in, knows she's just as wanton as he is. He tugs them down in one rough motion, taking her panties with them, leaving her bare and spread out before him.

His gaze drops to her center, and he groans, his head tipping back for a moment as he fights to keep himself together. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and reverent,"So fuckin' beautiful. So goddamn perfect." His hands grip her knees then, spreading her wider as he lowers himself between her legs.

His breath is hot against her skin, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses along the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer to where she wants him most. Her sex glistens for him already, the sheen of slick luring him in.

"Daryl," she whines breathlessly, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips lift off the couch.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he dives in, his tongue pressing flat against her slick heat, dragging up to circle her clit with slow, deliberate precision. The taste of her hits him like a drug, and he groans, his hands tightening on her thighs as he pulls her closer, needing more. 

"You taste so fuckin' sweet," he mutters against her, his voice muffled but filled with awe.

Her cries spur him on, her thighs trembling against his shoulders as he works her over, his mouth relentless and hungry. He licks and sucks and nips at her, devouring her like she's the only thing keeping him alive, like her pussy is the last source of water in a barren desert. He still didn’t know how to do this right, not really, but he knew what her gasps meant, knew what the shiver in her thighs told him. And God, he just wanted to keep making her feel that way. His tongue falters for a moment, unsure if he’s going too fast or too slow, but then her hips roll against him, and he takes that as a sign to keep going.

"Daryl," she whimpers, her voice trembling as her fingers tug harder at his hair. "Oh, fuck-don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Her pleading only fuels him, his tongue moving faster, his lips sealing around her clit as he slides two fingers inside her. Her body arches off the couch, her moans turning into desperate, breathless cries as he curls his fingers, stroking her exactly where she needs him. Her body responds instinctively, her words no longer coherent as her hips buck against him, riding the wave of her climax as it crashes over her.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. His mouth and fingers work her through every shudder, every breathless gasp, coaxing every ounce of pleasure out of her until she’s trembling beneath him, her chest heaving as she collapses back onto the cushions.

But he’s far from done.

She’s still shaking when his pace begins to slow, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to her slick heat as if to soothe her overstimulated body. Her breath comes in sharp, uneven bursts, her fingers gripping the cushions beneath her, but before she can catch her breath, his fingers curl again, pressing against that spongy spot inside her.

A sharp cry tears from her throat, her hips jerking involuntarily as the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through her.

“Daryl—” she starts, her voice trembling, but he just hums against her, his tongue dragging over her clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“Want another,” he mutters, his voice muffled against her skin, his words punctuated by the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers working her over. “Want more. Gotta see you like this again.”

Her head tips back, her body arching as overstimulation teeters dangerously close to overwhelming. “I—Daryl, it’s too much—” she gasps, but the words are lost in another moan as his fingers curl deeper, stroking that spot inside her with an almost maddening precision. If there was anything Daryl learned from their first time together, it was that he needed to know every single nook and crevice of her that made her come undone. Either with his mouth, his fingers, his cock. He was determined to learn her body inside and out. 

“You can take it,” he growls as his lips seal around her clit again. His tongue flicks against her, faster now, relentless, as if her pleasure is the only thing that matters. “You’re so good for me, baby.”

Her body tightens beneath him, her nails clawing at the cushions as her thighs tremble around his head. She’s teetering on the edge again, the line between pleasure and too much blurring as his words and his touch send her spiraling. The second always comes so much faster than the first, it’s like a domino falling inside her lower belly.

She was falling apart because of him. He couldn’t believe it—still didn’t really know what he was doing—but her gasps, her moans, they told him he was doing something right.

“Cum for me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse but commanding. “Wanna feel you again. Wanna hear you,”

Her body responds before her mind can catch up, her hips bucking against his mouth as another wave crashes over her. She cries out, her voice raw and broken, her walls clenching around his fingers as she tumbles over the edge for the second time.

He groans against her, his tongue slowing as he works her through it, coaxing every last shudder and gasp from her trembling frame. When she finally collapses fully against the couch, her body spent and trembling, he presses one last kiss to her inner thigh, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

As he moves to kneel between her legs again, her hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring him to her. She’s still trembling from her release, her body pliant and warm beneath him, but she reaches up to capture his lips in hers, tasting herself on his now swollen, wet lips.

“Please, Daryl,” she says against his lips–now it was her begging him, and God if it didn’t take every last drop of restraint to wait for him to hear what she wanted next. How the hell did she look like that, sound like that, just because of him? He didn’t understand it, didn’t feel like he deserved it, but he was desperate to be worthy of her. He’d give her anything. Anything. 

“What is it, baby? What do you want? Tell me,” he groans against her, his hips rutting into her, the wetness of her center staining his jeans where his bugle meets her clit. “Need you,” she whines, gasping when he drags his hips against her harder, “Please. Fuck me, Daryl.”

That’s all he needs. His hands fumble at his waistband, his urgency making his movements clumsy as he shoves his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself. His cock is already hard, throbbing and aching with need as he grips the base, positioning himself at her entrance.

He pauses, his breath ragged as he meets her gaze again, his forehead pressing against hers. “Tell me if I’m hurtin’ you,” he murmurs, his voice low and shaky.

“You won’t,” she reassures him, her hands sliding down to rest on his arms, her touch grounding him. “I trust you.”

The words send a wave of warmth through him, his chest tightening as he pushes forward, the tip of him sliding into her with an agonizing slowness. He groans, low and guttural, as the heat of her surrounds him, and her gasp mirrors his, her nails digging lightly into his skin. 

This is all he’s thought about for days—taking her on the nearest surface, spreading her open, and burying himself deep inside her. The way she’d feel wrapped around him, her body clenching tight, pulling him in. But no amount of imagination, no desperate strokes of his own hand, could have prepared him for the way the real thing feels.

“God,” he mutters, his voice breaking as he sinks deeper, his hands trembling against her hips. “You’re so—fuck, you’re so tight.”

Her walls flutter around him, pulling a low groan from his throat. He can barely hold himself together, the heat and wetness of her stealing every coherent thought from his mind.

She moans softly, her hips tilting to take him in further, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “It’s too—too much, too big—” she breathes, her voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and something he can’t quite place.

His movements falter, his body stiffening as a rush of panic washes over him. He freezes, afraid of hurting her, afraid of pushing too far. His hips still as her words echo in his head, his hands trembling where they grip her hips. “Am I hurtin’ ya?” he asks, his voice tight with worry, his brow furrowing as he looks down at her.

Her hands slide up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his scruff. Her breath is shaky, her cheeks flushed, but there’s no fear in her eyes—only heat, only need.

“No,” she breathes, her voice trembling but steady. “It’s not that. I just—” She pauses, her lips parting as her head tilts back slightly. “I’ve never—never had someone so goddamn big.” Her voice breaks, her hands tightening on his arms as her hips shift beneath him. “You stretch me so good, Daryl. It’s just… overwhelming. In the best way.”

Her words send a bolt of heat straight through him, his cock twitching inside her as a low groan escapes his lips. “Jesus,” he mutters, his forehead pressing against hers. “You can’t say shit like that, woman. Gonna make me lose my mind,”

She laughs softly, the sound breathy and full of affection, and leans up to kiss him, her lips warm and teasing. “Then let me take over,” she whispers against his mouth, her fingers sliding down to his chest. “Let me show you how good you make me feel.”

He hesitates for a moment, his hands flexing against her hips. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low and rough, his gaze searching hers.

She nods, her smile widening as she cups his face again. “I’m sure,” she murmurs.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, his arms steadying her as she shifts beneath him. When his cock slips out of her, both of them hiss at the sudden loss of warmth, but she gently pushes at his chest to move up. And he moves with her, settling back against the cushions as she straddles his hips.

The sight of her above him, her body glowing in the soft afternoon light, takes his breath away. Her hands rest on his chest for balance, her legs bracketing his sides as she sinks down slowly, taking him back inside her inch by inch.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hands finding her thighs, his fingers pressing into her soft skin as his head tips back. 

Her moans match his, her body adjusting to the stretch, the fullness of him. “You feel so good,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she begins to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. “So good, Daryl.”

His hands slide to her waist under the hem of her shirt, steadying her as she sets the pace, her movements growing bolder with every passing second. The rhythm she creates is intoxicating, her body rising and falling above him, her warmth enveloping him completely.

“Let me see you,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent as his hands slide up her sides, his thumbs brushing over her ribs, his touch deliberate and worshipful. “Let me see these incredible tits, hunny.”

Her smile widens, her lips parting as her hands slide up her body, grazing over where his own rest on her waist. She takes her time, teasing, before finally gripping the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. The discarded fabric lands somewhere behind the couch, forgotten, as her bare skin is revealed to him.

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t hesitate. His head leans forward like he’s being pulled by some gravitational force he could never—would never—ignore. His lips find her breast, his mouth latching onto a nipple with a low, guttural groan.

His tongue flicks over the hardened peak before drawing it into his mouth, sucking softly. Hands tightening on her waist, his thumbs brush over the curve of her ribs as he holds her steady while her hips continue to rock over him. 

She gasps, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as her hips grind against his. “Daryl,” she breathes, her voice trembling with pleasure. “God, yes, yes, yes,”

Her words spur him on, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his mouth moves to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. His tongue swirls, his lips pressing kisses along the soft swell of her skin, as though he’s worshipping every inch of her.

“You’re incredible,” he mutters between kisses, his voice hoarse and thick with awe. “Fuckin’ incredible.”

Her head tips back, her moans spilling from her lips as her hips roll against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through them both. “You’re the one making me feel this good,” she whispers, her voice thick and breathy. Her hands slide down to his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin as she pulls him closer. “This is all you, Daryl.”

Her words ignite something primal in him, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, guiding her movements as she rides him. The pace quickens, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, their breaths mingling as the tension builds between them.

“You’re all I want,” he mutters, his voice breaking as he looks up at her, his gaze dark and full of need. “All I fuckin’ think about.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” she sighs, kissing him between breaths, “You’re all I ever think about, Daryl,” you shift your hips and panting, add: “Only man I want, that I need.”

And then it happens. The control he’s been clinging to, the restraint he’s forced himself to maintain, snaps like a taut string stretched too far. Something wild and unhinged breaks free inside him, the monster he’s tried to keep buried roaring to the surface.

Before she can even register the shift, his arms are wrapping around her, pulling her down against him so her stomach is flush to his chest, her breasts pressed into his face. She lets out a surprised yelp, her hands scrambling for purchase against his shoulders, but it’s quickly overtaken by a sharp, guttural moan as he buries himself deeper inside her.

“Daryl!” she gasps, her voice trembling as her hands cling to him, the couch, anything she can grab to stay steady.

He holds her tight, his muscles flexing as his arms cage her in, his body taking over completely. His hips snap up into her, relentless and unyielding, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with her cries and his ragged groans, creating a symphony of raw, primal need.

Her head falls back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she screams his name, her voice hoarse and broken with pleasure. And if she wasn’t moaning loud enough to disturb the neighborhood before, she sure as shit was now. The sheer force of his movements has her teetering on the edge of oblivion, her body trembling and she takes everything he’s giving, not able to form words or coherent thoughts anymore.

“That’s right, baby.” he growls, his voice raw and unrecognizable, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he knows he’ll leave marks. “Take that fucking cock, you’re so good, so perfect for it. Like your sweet pussy was made for me,”

The words pour out of him without thought, his mouth brushing against her chest, her neck, her collarbone, anywhere he can reach. He’s barely aware of what he’s saying, barely aware of anything except the overwhelming need to take her, to claim her, to lose himself completely in the heat and softness of her. He’s never known anything like this, where the words are even coming from, where this monster in his chest has escaped from.

Her body arches against him, her moans turning into desperate, breathless cries as she clings to him, her nails digging into his scalp, pulling his hair, “Daryl—I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it,” he growls, his hips driving up into her harder, deeper, his cock swelling as his own release builds. “Wanna feel you. Wanna hear you scream my fuckin’ name.”

And she does. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as her release slams into her like a tidal wave. She cries out, her voice raw and ragged as her walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, her pleasure washing over her in uncontrollable waves.

The way she tightens around him, the way her body shakes and shudders in his arms, is enough to send him spiraling after her. He groans, his head tipping back as his hips jerk erratically, his cock pulsing as he spills into her, filling her completely.

His chest heaves as he holds her against him, his body trembling from the force of his release. They stay like that for a long moment, tangled together, their breaths mingling as the intensity of what just happened sinks in.

When he finally loosens his grip, his hands slide to her back, stroking her soothingly as her head rests against his shoulder. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his lips brushing against her ear.

She nods, a breathless laugh escaping her as she lifts her head to meet his gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair sticking to her damp skin, but her smile is soft and curious, a hint of awe in her expression.

“I’m more than okay,” she whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of lingering pleasure and surprise. Her fingers trail lightly over his chest, and her lips curve into a teasing grin. “But… I feel like I unleashed something in you I didn’t know was there.”

His brows furrow slightly, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he looks away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…” he mutters, his voice rough with embarrassment. “Ain’t never felt like this before. Never had—never been like this with anyone.” His gaze flickers back to hers, unsure but steady. “Guess you… bring somethin’ out in me.”

Her eyes soften, her fingers tracing along his jaw as she tilts his face back toward her. “Something incredible,” she says softly, her smile widening. “I like it. A lot.”

His lips twitch into a small, lopsided grin, his hand coming up to cup her face as his thumb brushes over her cheek. “You… you’re somethin’ else,” he mutters, his voice low and full of affection. “Don’t even feel like the same person I was before you.”

Her heart swells at his words, her chest tightening as she leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. When she pulls back, her smile is full of warmth. “Guess I ruined you in the best way, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, his forehead pressing against hers as his arms tighten around her. “Yeah,” he says, his voice soft but sure. “Guess you did.”

“S’okay,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing lightly over his shoulder. “Think you’ve ruined me too.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, his breath stuttering as his grip on her tightens. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and low, like he doesn’t quite believe her but wants to more than anything.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a soft smile as she breathes in, her forehead still against his, “Never thought I could feel like this—this full, this… complete. It’s all you, Daryl. You’ve changed everything.”

For a moment, he can’t speak, his throat too tight, his chest too full. Instead, he presses his lips to hers again, the kiss deep and slow, filled with everything he can’t quite say.

[nikovraskol]

Okay, seeing the one where we have to get permission to have a job is kinda funny. Especially since in the state I live, at 16 or older you're able to get a job without a parents permission. If it doesn't require extreme labor, NDA's, or requires being 21 and allowed near drugs or naughties.

So, what job was Reader going for? Secretary work? Lol, if we just decided to work at a cafe or something, we wouldn't have to worry about a permission slip.

Which leaves me to wonder, if Alfred set Bruce on Reader, but Reader said nothing and got a job? Bruce finding out Reader has a job, instead of just asking for money?

Especially if Tim recognizes Reader after getting a drink? But he's questioning why we're working there. He chooses to sit back and observe. Only to watch as an absolute Karen yells at Reader and dumps hot coffee on them.

oopsy poopsy i am NAWT familiar the usa child labour laws, but honestly imagined mc as just snatching the first job she sees, like yk when u apply for a bunch of jobs only for like the worst one to call you back?

like u apply for 30 jobs, each of them being like a barista or a cashier or something normal but the only one to reach back to u is a taxidermy LMAO (true story)

masterlist

honestly, you getting some minimum wage job as a barista -- working in some relatively nice area of gotham then one day you just see tim.

just sat there, some over-expensive drink in his hand as he stares at you in confusion? why is his sibling working at a coffee shop? bitch, your dad is bruce wayne WHY are you working a minimum wage job?? if you wanted a job so bad, you should've applied for wayne enterprises or something!

he tries to talk to you only for you to ignore him, acting like you don't know him, it stings. you were preening for his affection a month ago, how could you casually just ignore him?!

whatever plans he had, cancelled, he spends the day sat in a booth, watching your every move. anytime one of your co-workers come up to him and ask him to leave he just tips them like $100 to shut them up.

then, he sees you handling yourself and sighs, maybe you're okay at this, it's good for you, as helpless as you are, to get some experience.

until a nasty customer comes in, shouting at you and berating you, all you can do is lower your head and apologise -- because it's a customer! you can't fight back because if you get fired you'll have to go job hunting again, you'd rather get beat up by damian.

but the sight of you, your head lowered and a frown on your face. well, tim just can't have you working in such environments, he'll just let bruce know.

you pull up home, you're tired from working a 9-5, you smell like caffiene and your social battery is in DEBT only for your father to put his hand on your shoulder and sigh,

"quit your job." he says softly, as if he's doing you a damn favour. when you obviously refuse, he says nothing, just sighs.

and then you pull up to work the next day and your manager tells you you've been promoted and will now work at wayne enterprises ?!

bruce bought the coffee shop just to have you work with him! isn't that great? he can keep an eye on you AND you can spend time with your family!! don't worry, he won't let you do any hard work, in fact, the only thing you're tasked with is spending time with your family !!

just remember to thank tim, he got you a better job AND he gave you oppurtunities to spend time with them, that's all you've ever wanted, right?

if yall sent in a request i PROMISEE i will get back.. i'm just switching between writing the next chapter and giggling at all the nice things yall r saying >3>

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[alchemistc]

Donato spots it first - Tommy's been fidgeting with the just-too-short sleeves of his shirt for the past ten minutes, fingers curling into the ends of the arms, thumb sliding along the hem like maybe he could make them long enough to fully cover his wrists just by thinking really hard about it. It's stretched tight across his shoulders, the neck hole feels too high, biting into his skin, and Tommy is absolutely certain it's been hemmed in at the fucking waist, because he can barely keep the damn thing tucked into his pants.

(The cost of having those fucking magnificent gazelle legs is apparently torso space.)

"You shrink your shirt in the wash again, Kinard?"

Tommy's been begging their vendor to switch to a jersey blend for years because 100% cotton undershirts are a goddamn bitch and a half to maintain.

Tommy thinks about ignoring the question entirely. They've been razzing him for weeks about the way every single smile line in his face has been putting in overtime lately.

And then she gets a closer look at it. The merch is usually the same cross-department, but every once in a while some probie will get stuck with the task of ordering a few extras to have as backups around the station and they'll go a little too hard on customization. Like, for example, the one he'd picked off the top of his clean laundry basket without looking in his rush out the door this morning.

Lucy's eyes narrow. She reaches forward, pinches the 118 emblem blazing across the breadth of his shoulder, takes in the color and sturdiness of a shirt he definitely can't play off as being old enough to have been from his own time at the One Eighteen.

Donato grimaces so mockingly Tommy nearly warns her that her face'll get stuck like that. "Christ, Kinard, how fucking domestic are you two?"

(Three days off together after a week of getting by with random texts, their schedules nearly opposite, and when Evan had stared at his overnight bag on day two and realized he didn't have any spare undershirts he'd pouted up a storm about the fact that if he had to go back to his place it didn't make a lick of sense to turn right back around to Tommy's, so Tommy had just thrown Evan's dirty undershirt in with the rest of his own laundry. And then prompted Evan to throw all his other stuff in the wash too. Halfway across the city, Evan is definitely rolling too-long sleeves over his palm with the tips of his fingers and Tommy does not have time to think about how much he likes the idea of that )

"He doesn't even know my how I take my coffee," Tommy snipes, like that avoids the question, and across the locker room Johnson slams his locker shut with a snort.

"Because you've been using his increasingly more desperate attempts to figure it out as some weird intricate mating ritual for three months now."

"It's about --."

"--the journey, not the destination," they both interrupt, eyes rolling, and Tommy doesn't bother to try to hide the grin in his face.

"He just wants to get it right so bad."

Donato's face is unimpressed. "Ugh. Can you please stop being so smitten right in front of me? I'm gonna throw up."

Tommy leans in for the kill. "Your wife ever buy you flowers, Johnson? Because I've been trying to decide how much thought went into the arrangement he brought me on Saturday, and I figure -." He dodges the palm Johnson extends towards his face with a bark of bright laughter.

---

Evan 2:15 PM

Boyfriend privileges are a SCAM

Evan 2:15 PM

Why is YOUR NAME on the back of this shirt? There's no way that's standard

Evan 2:16 PM

Chimney's being homophobic

Evan 2:19 PM

Nvm Gerrard saw it and now I'm just sad he didn't actually have a heart attack about it

[starlightkyeom]

building blocks | yjh (teaser)

(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)

pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader genre: university!au, strangers to ?? | fluff, some angst, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI (for the full fic) word count: 842 for the teaser (est. 12-14k) warnings: none for the teaser (full fic: smut, drinking, eating, etc.) full fic: september 13th!

a/n: i wanted to drop a teaser of my fic for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing 🥰

join my taglist here or leave a comment to be tagged in the full fic!

Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that you’ve gotten. There are times that you wonder if it’s all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if that’s also a little conceited. It’s all you want and you’re so close to getting some much needed room to breathe. 

Except…

You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Master’s program. You had been able to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. That’ll put you in a good position to carry on for your Ph.D, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation won’t just give it to you to recognize the years you’ve put into this. No. He implies that there’s something he needs from you.

Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. It’s just that you didn’t really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choi’s introductory structural engineering course. It’s the course that weeds out who’s actually going to carry on with the civil engineer branch of the Master’s program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isn’t a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and it’s the last thing you need during your last semester. It’s also hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. It’s also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.

Whatever.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that. 

So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once he’s done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Master’s level course and you don’t really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though they’ll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so what’s the point in trying to change his system? You’re not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go. 

When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though you’re not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out.

“Well, I’ve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?” one student answers.

It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be serious. There’s no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.

“Why did you really join the program?” you ask. That’s what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.

“That is why I joined,” he says with an infuriating smirk. 

“What did you say your name was?” you ask.

“Jeonghan,” he answers without anything else.

You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know you’re going to have to keep an eye on. 

“Did I get a star already?” he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.

“Something like that,” you say and then turn to the person next to him. “And why did you join?”

i hope you enjoyed it! and less than a week til the full fic is posted 🫣

taglist: @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @okiedokrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @jelly-n (strikethrough means can't tag)

[ace-turned-confused]

spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

-

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

-

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued… 

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

-

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase. 

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

-

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

-

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

A Game Night to Remember

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Reader


Warnings: Fluff, playful banter, minor cursing, competitive chaos, mild suggestiveness, Ghost casually flexing his strength, Price being a dad-gamer
Author's Note: Game night with the 141 is a battlefield, and nobody is safe. Enjoy this silly thing, it’s by far my favorite story so far-
Masterlist | Movie Night
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It started as a simple game night—a friendly competition to unwind after a long week. You had spent the whole day setting up in your living room, arranging snacks, picking out a selection of games, and mentally preparing yourself for the absolute chaos that would inevitably follow.

Price, ever the responsible leader, had suggested a low-stakes game like Uno or Monopoly. Ghost immediately vetoed Monopoly, stating it "ruins friendships and leads to violence." Soap, on the other hand, was all for it, declaring that he could "absolutely crush anyone at the game." Gaz sided with Ghost, purely because he knew Soap was a sore winner.

So, you settled on Uno.

Tonight was no different than the usual game night—except you were currently curled up in Soap’s lap, enjoying the way his arms wrapped securely around your waist as he half-focused on the Uno cards in his hands and half-focused on teasing Ghost.

“Ghost, mate,” Soap smirked, shifting slightly beneath you as he played a Wild +4 on the masked man. His fingers traced idle patterns on your thigh, absentmindedly affectionate, as he prepared for the inevitable fallout. “Hope ye don’t take this personally.”

Ghost’s stare was nothing short of deadly. You could feel the tension radiating off of him as he slowly, methodically, picked up four cards. His fingers flexed against his own hand of cards, and you swore you saw his knuckles go white.

“You sure you wanna do that, Johnny?”

Soap just grinned, his chin resting against your shoulder. “Aye, I’m sure.”

You let out a soft laugh, reaching up to brush your fingers along Soap’s jawline in silent amusement. Meanwhile, Gaz, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you, caught your eye and gave you a look that screamed, Soap is a dead man. You reached out and ruffled his short curls, a gesture that had him rolling his eyes but leaning into your touch anyway.

Ghost didn’t retaliate immediately. No, he played the long game. Price, sitting to your left with one arm draped lazily along the couch, was watching everything unfold with the kind of tired amusement only a man with too much patience could have. He reached over, fingers brushing against your knee as he gave you a knowing glance.

“You might wanna switch laps soon, love. Soap’s about to be in trouble.”

You snickered. “I think I’m safe. Ghost wouldn’t dare get me caught in the crossfire.”

At that, Ghost’s head turned toward you, and even though his expression was unreadable behind the mask, you could feel his amusement.

“Wouldn’t I?”

And then he played a card.

A +4.

Directly on Soap.

Soap immediately sat up straighter, arms tightening around your waist as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Ye bloody bastard—”

“Just playin’ the game,” Ghost cut in smoothly, leaning back against the couch. You could tell from the way his fingers tapped against his knee that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Gaz burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “Oh, this is so much better than the mission briefings.”

You giggled, shifting slightly in Soap’s lap, only for Price to tug you gently toward him. “Alright, c’mere, sweetheart. You might as well sit somewhere safer before Johnny flips the whole damn table.”

You hummed, making a big show of considering it before dramatically sliding into Price’s lap instead. His arms came around you immediately, warm and steady, pulling you comfortably against his chest. He pressed a light kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Smart choice.”

Soap shot you a betrayed look. “Traitor.”

You shrugged playfully. “Self-preservation, Johnny.”

Before Soap could argue, Gaz suddenly slapped down his own +4 card—right on Ghost.

The room froze.

Soap inhaled sharply. Ghost turned slowly toward Gaz. Price let out a quiet chuckle against your ear, his grip on you tightening slightly as if preparing for the inevitable chaos.

Gaz, to his credit, only grinned. “Just playin’ the game, mate.”

And then? All hell broke loose.

Ghost didn’t react immediately—no, he sat there for a moment, completely still, fingers tapping against his thigh. Then, slowly, he reached forward and placed down a Reverse card.

Directly back to Gaz.

Gaz’s smirk faltered. “Wait—”

Ghost dropped another +4 after playing a skip on Soap.

Soap howled with laughter, practically bouncing in his seat while ignoring the fact he was skipped. “OH, THAT’S BRUTAL!”

Gaz groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face as he picked up his cards. “Okay. Fine. I deserved that.”

Ghost didn’t respond—he just sat back, crossed his arms, and let the mask hide whatever smug satisfaction he was surely feeling.

Still grinning, you turned slightly in Price’s lap, shifting to face Soap. His expression was still alight with amusement, but there was a touch of something else when his blue eyes met yours—something soft.

“Ye abandoned me for this?” He gestured to Price, feigning heartbreak.

Price chuckled, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to the side of your neck before murmuring, “C’mon, Johnny. You really think I’d let them sit anywhere but here?”

Soap huffed, but his lips twitched. “Aye, fair.”

Feeling a little playful, you reached for Soap’s hand across the table, your fingers tracing over the scars on his knuckles before giving him a light squeeze. “I’ll make it up to you later,” you promised, voice warm.

Soap exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a smile before flipping your hand over to kiss your wrist. “Better.”

Gaz, meanwhile, was glaring at his new stack of cards. “Alright, alright. Just wait until I get my revenge—”

Before he could finish, you gently reached out and brushed your fingers through his short curls, the way you knew he liked. His irritation melted almost immediately, his eyes flickering toward you as his expression softened.

“You’re too cute when you’re mad,” you teased.

Gaz rolled his eyes but let his head tilt slightly into your touch. “Flattery won’t save you from the next round, love.”

You giggled, only to gasp when Ghost suddenly gripped the back of the couch and—with almost no effort at all—pulled the entire thing closer.

For a moment, you just blinked at him. The casual show of strength had you momentarily stunned, especially when his large, gloved hand came to rest lightly on your knee, thumb tracing slow, idle circles through the fabric of your sweatpants.

Price didn’t even react—he just let out a huff of amusement against your temple, like this was completely normal behavior. Gaz gave Ghost a flat look, something between really? and of course you did.

Soap muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ, big man.”

And Ghost? He acted like nothing had happened at all.

“You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” His voice was low, gravelly, laced with that rare touch of fondness he reserved just for you.

You felt your cheeks warm. “Mhm. I like seeing you guys all riled up.”

Soap grinned. “Oh, love, ye haven’t seen riled up yet.”

Gaz leaned forward, eyes playful. “One more round?”

Price exhaled through his nose, a half-sigh, half-chuckle. “You lot are gonna be the death of me.”

You turned in his lap, cupping his face gently between your hands. His beard tickled your palms as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But you love us,” you reminded him, all honeyed words and knowing smiles.

Price’s lips quirked. “Yeah, yeah.” He kissed you slow, deliberate, savoring the taste of your affection before pulling away just enough to murmur, “Let’s get this over with.”

And so, the next round began.

And this time? Mario Kart was next.

——

Mario Kart Snippet- Down the Rainbow Road

Mario Kart with Task Force 141 was a whole different battlefield.

The second the game started, Soap immediately went for chaos, spamming bananas and green shells without a second thought. Gaz played it smart, drifting around every turn with near-perfect precision, aiming for first place with ruthless determination. Ghost? Oh, he was the silent menace—the kind of player who saved his red shells for the worst possible moment, right before the finish line just to watch you suffer.

And Price? He played like a dad who had no idea what he was doing but was somehow still winning.

You were in third place, completely focused, when a red shell suddenly appeared on-screen.

“NO—”

Your desperate protest was drowned out by Soap’s evil cackle. “GOODBYE, DARLIN’!”

The shell exploded against you, sending your kart spinning out of control just as Gaz zipped past, shouting, “Thanks for taking that hit for me, love!”

“You traitor!” you gasped, watching your ranking drop.

Across the couch, Ghost sat perfectly still, the only sign of his amusement being the slow, smug shift of his mask as he tilted his head. His kart cruised past you effortlessly.

You turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“You did that on purpose.”

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying, but the way his gloved fingers tapped idly against his controller said everything.

Price, meanwhile, was squinting at the screen. “What button do I press to—”

And somehow, he still finished in first place.

The room erupted in protest.

Soap groaned. “Yer lyin’!”

Gaz threw his controller down. “He doesn’t even know what he’s doing!”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I feel betrayed.”

Ghost just sat back, voice amused. “We’re playin’ another round.”

And so, game night continued—because nobody was walking away until justice was served.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[simplyholl]

The Bet

Summary: Loki has an interesting punishment when you lose a bet.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Vibrating panties.

A/N: Inspired by that scene in The Ugly Truth.

See my Masterlist Here

“You can’t be serious.” You take the garment from Loki, wishing you could smack the smirk off his face. “You lost the game. So you have to wear them.” He explains, crossing his arms as he leans against your doorway.

“I’ve never lost a game of Uno in my life. You were cheating.” You exaggerate, trying to talk your way out of it. “Put them on. I’ll know if you don’t.” He walks away, leaving you alone.

You and Loki were always competitive with each other, placing stupid bets on frivolous games. Two days ago, you were playing Uno when Loki wanted to make the game interesting. You had beaten him three times already, so you thought you had it in the bag.

If you win Loki had to spend an entire day doing your chores naked. He hated menial tasks, oftentimes he would pay someone else to do his cleaning and laundry. So you knew he would hate it. As for the naked part, you had eyes. You might not get along all the time, but Loki was beautiful.

You had let your dishes pile up, your laundry basket was overflowing, your floors were sticky. You had been busy with missions and Nick Fury made you attend meetings all week so you were behind.

Loki smirked when you told him what you wanted if you won. “If you want to see me naked, you only have to ask.” The devilish smile that accompanied his quip made your skin heat up from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“If I win, you will wear the clothing of my choosing to the meeting on Friday.” You accepted, he would probably make you wear a burlap sack or a silly costume. You weren’t easily embarrassed, so whatever he picked wouldn’t be an issue. Fury would be mad with your theatrics, but you had been doing his bidding all week. He owed you.

The game had been going well. You had three draw four cards in your possession, using them strategically. Then the unthinkable happened. Loki won, placing a red card with a number two on top of your card. He had to have cheated somehow. He didn’t even know how to play until a few days prior when Steve taught him.

With only seconds to spare, you slid your panties down your legs replacing them with the pair Loki gave you. They were black and lacy. You were a little unsure why he wanted you to wear these specific panties. He had to be up to something. He wasn’t the God of Mischief for nothing.

You put them on, feeling something hard under the fabric. You straighten your sun dress and fluff your hair. You look at your phone, you were already late. You didn’t have time to take them off and inspect them. You weren’t a sore loser either, so you would wear them to the meeting.

You rushed down the hall to the elevator. You get on with three others, from their white coats you could tell they worked in the labs. You waited impatiently as the elevator stopped on the tenth floor letting them off. You were five minutes late now. You dreaded whatever smart ass remark Fury would have for you.

Finally, the elevator stopped on the sixth floor. You rushed out, running down the hall to the conference room. Fury stopped speaking to turn and greet you. “It’s about damn time.” He said, returning his attention to the smart board behind him.

You looked around the table for Natasha. She always saved a seat for you. But on her left sat Thor and Loki was on her right. The only empty seat was beside him. You curse him in your head as you walk around the table to take your seat. You wonder how he got Thor to switch from his usual seat beside Steve.

Fury starts talking again, calling on Tony to explain some new technology he was working on for all of you. You try to hide your yawn behind your hand. This stuff was always so boring. Why did you have to be here while they discussed how cool they thought this was?

You try to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, afraid you would fall asleep. A small vibration from your panties knocked the tiredness right out of you. It caught you off guard, but it was tolerable. You turn your head to look at Loki who is staring straight ahead, completely focused on Fury.

That little shit. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you, so you raised your hand asking a question and pretending you couldn’t feel yourself growing wetter. You sneak another glance at him, his prominent nose scrunching as he keeps his eyes forward. The vibration speeds up once, twice, three times. You ball your hands into fists, nails digging into your palm.

The device rolls in waves against you, brushing your clit. You bite your lip until you taste blood to keep from making a sound. It hums rhythmically, each pulse bringing you closer to orgasm. You can’t hear what Bruce says when he stands to pass out folders filled with the layout of Tony’s design.

He hands it to you, expecting you to take it from him. But you can’t, one hand is wrapped around the side of your chair, the other is clawing at Loki’s leg silently pleading with him to stop this madness. When you don’t reach for the folder, Bruce looks you over, taking in your frazzled appearance and the bead of sweat sliding down your neck. He mouths “You okay?” You nod a little too quickly and he sets the folder in front of you.

Loki opened your folder, bringing out the page Fury was discussing. His gaze lingers on your face for a second, and you think he’s finally satisfied and going to turn it off. The glimmer of mischief shines in his eyes as he returns his full attention to Fury. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not yell in frustration. Then you realize his momentary kindness was only to distract you.

The vibration hits its peak, and you lose control. Your fist slams on the table. All eyes are on you. “Do you have something you’d like to add?” Fury asks, assuming your interruption was about the stupid technology you had no idea about. The ripples flutter against your clit, your lower stomach clenching with the onset of orgasm.

“Yes!” You stand up surprising yourself and Loki who lifts a brow. You can’t think clearly so you hope walking will help. You pace the area behind Natasha, every lift of your leg moves your panties, causing the vibe to reach new angles. “I love this! I love it! I lo-ove it!” Your voice raises a few octaves. Tony smiles, excited someone is showing interest in his hard work besides Bruce and Fury.

“This is the kind of enthusiasm I expect from the rest of you.” He says pointing an accusing finger at the others. “What do you love about it?” He prompts you. You stop behind Loki’s chair, he turns to watch the show you were putting on. You clutch the top of his chair, as the vibration sends you over the edge.

“It’s the best! God, the best!” You look in Loki’s eyes as your legs tremble. “Oh fuck! It’s incredible!” Tony is beaming, hands coming together to clap. “Thank you! This is the kind of reaction I was wanting.” The vibration finally stops, as you wobble a few steps to your chair. Loki gives you his hand to help you sit down. You reluctantly take it, settling back in.

The meeting was finally over five minutes later. Everyone rushed to leave except for you and Loki. “Asshole.” You playfully slap his arm. He stands, gathering his phone and folder. “If you need assistance cleaning up that mess you made” He gestures to your legs, “I’d be happy to help.” He flashes that irresistible smile before leaving you to recover in the conference room.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokisgoodgirl @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @lokischambermaid @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @mushycore @marygoddessofmischief @queenshu @jasmine-pudding @kcd15 @jiyascepter @daddieslut1 @macnbriee @sammichdog

[killergee]

Here’s Part 2! Thanks to everyone who read the first part and commented! This could be read as a stand-alone as well, so I hope y’all enjoy!

Soshiro x Reader fanfic where after discovering your crush on him, he does everything in his power to get you to confess. It seems that he can't help himself when it comes to you.

P1 P2 P3

Tags list: @surprisemodafakas @yrxhyes

-----------------------------------

Okay, so playing stupid may not have been your best move. But your damn pride kept you from admitting to anything. Luckily, Hoshina seemed to drop the topic after your silence and switched to talking about getting ice cream. Much to your surprise, he's let you off the hook entirely and never spoke about the little incident again. However, that didn't mean he didn't tease you in a different way.

In all honesty, you don’t know how much more of his teasing and flirting you could take before you bashed your head against a wall. It’s like he’s doing everything in his power to make you admit to what you said or to address the elephant in the room. The elephant, of course, being your feelings towards him, which you obviously don’t have.

He's definitely changed since the incident. You couldn't forget how one time when you were patching him up as usual, he used your focus against you.

Treating him used to happen at a respectable distance, but since he knew how absorbed you always were when treating him, he took the opportunity to shift and spread his legs apart, slowly moving you to stand in between them. It wasn't until you felt his hands rest on your hips did you jolt back to awarness and finally notice how close he's brought you. When you tried to yell at him and take a step backward, he threw on a lazy grin and curled his hands, fisting them into the material of your uniform. His grip stung, but not enough to hurt. No, it was only enough to leave you with a hunger you oh so desperately tried to push down. Anchoring you in your place, you didn't know if he knew his effect on you. If he knew if he wanted to take you right there, you might just let him. The dark satisfaction that lurked in his mischievous eyes told you yes, but all he does is lie about how roughly you were treating him and whine at you to be more gentle. In your annoyance and frustration, you don't notice how he's been getting more injured lately.

After that, he became bolder and much more forward, testing more and more every day how far he could push you. He always seemed to find a way to make you touch him. To make it so that your sole focus was on him and only him. Tasks such as examining his suit to make sure there weren’t any faults became an almost daily occurrence. You knew he knew you didn’t know anything about how the suits worked, and yet, he’d tell you to touch the planes of his arms to make sure none of the ridges were poking out. Or he’d guide your hand himself, pretending to teach you what it was you should be looking for. The examination would end with him slyly saying “your turn” and you turning red and storming out of the room.

While he does his best to make you touch him, he puts the same amount of effort into touching you. A touch to your wrist when asking if you need any help with your paperwork. A hand on your waist to move around you when there’s plenty of space. A whisper in your ear as if telling you a secret, but he instead says something completely mundane. Or a casual arm around the back of your seat as if marking you as his. If not directly touching you, he'd still maneuver in a way to intrude into your space. Be it with a hand on the table behind you to keep you close and shielded from the eyes of others or by making sure the only seat available was the one next to his.

The constant touching and proximity left you feeling the burn of his touches for days after. The façade you’ve worked so hard to keep up cracks more and more every passing day.

The worst part of it all was the fact that he seemed so casual about it while you were internally combusting each time. Like the one time when you tried to move away from him, he asked, "y/n-kun, what's wrong?" And moved even closer in faux concern, failing to hide the smirk that lurked beneath his smile. "Ya don't look so good," he continued as he moved to graze your cheek before resting his palm on your forehead. "My, my, your face is so hot and red."

"I... uh-"

He chuckled, reveling in how you were struggling to form words. "Even your ears too," he whispered almost fondly as he continued his exploration of your face. With that, he tucked your hair behind your ear and kept his hand there, playfully tapping the tip of your ear. It was too intense for you. Too intimate. The way he was looking at you. The soft smile on his face. You felt his breath ghost over your lips and all of a sudden you're pushing him back and looking down at the floor. "P-p-probably overexertion, I'll be fine...please excuse me," you said hurriedly, leaving the situation. "Alright, see ya later," he sighed out, and if you thought you heard disappointment in his voice, then you would be right.  

But now is not the time to hope about whether or not he was dissapointed. You should get back to work before he-

“Are ya gonna keep staring or are we gonna keep working?” he asks, interrupting your thoughts. Fuck, he noticed. You didn't mean to think about him and all the shit he's done. But in this office, lit up only by the moonlight, you can't help but soften a little. The way the moonlight lights the side of his face is captivating. Not to mention his stupid habit of biting his lip is even more tantalizing than it used to be. It doesn't help that you two are sitting so close together that you can smell the faint scent of his intoxicating cologne. It also definitely doesn't help that your gaze ended up on him while you were lost in thought.

"Sorry,” you murmur, embarrassed, making sure to busy yourself with the file in front of you again.

"Ah, sorry, I forgot I’m quite distracting,” he teases with a smirk as he rests his head on his hand, giving you his full attention.

“Don’t know what you’re referring to,” you retort back a little too quickly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, you were curious if he was still looking at you. With as much discretion as possible, you shift your gaze towards him, only to be met with his waiting eyes.   

Breathtaking is all you can think of as his eyes seem to glow in the light. Your fingers twitch slightly as you have the urge to move the hair threatening to cover his eyes. Of course, the ever-observant Hoshina notices. He always seems to notice everything about you.

"Struck by the desire to touch me?" 

"Yes, to throttle you, actually." 

He lets out a low whistle and a chuckle at your response, and you try to focus all your energy on your work. Tonight feels different from the other nights. Something about the atmosphere told you that you’d regret running away or saying something you didn’t mean. So instead, you fiddle with the edge of the paper like you always do when you want to calm down your nerves.

Hoshina places a hand on top of yours and stills you. He says, "stop that," but the fondness in his voice seeps through even to your unwilling ears. It could have been due to the exhaustion that your senses were dulled or perhaps the night made you crave his touch a little more. Whatever it was, you didn't move your hand. Slowly and hesitantly, as if scared he'll break whatever trance you were in, he begins to lace your hands together, one finger at a time. His slow pace gave you ample time to pull away. To tell him to back off. To turn him down like you usually did.

But you don't.

So he holds your hand within his, providing you a warmth you didn't know you longed for. Something about his grip makes you feel safe in a way only he ever could. It wasn't tight enough to make you feel trapped, and it wasn't loose enough to let you slip away. With only the sounds of the crickets outside and your beating hearts, you two remain frozen in time. You're trying to remain as calm as possible but as you're moments away from ripping your hand out of his and making a run for it, Hoshina startles you by dropping his head onto the table and resting it in the crook of his free arm. Despite his body angling itself away from you, his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly. 

"W-what is wrong with you!?" You exclaim in embarassment, also turning to look away. With your free hand, you cover the lower half of your face. You didn’t want him to know you were blushing.

"Nothin' just really happy," he replies, his voice a bit muffled by his arm. "It's just better than I expected," he mumbles so quietly that you almost missed it.  

If only you had turned around to look at him. You wouldn’t have missed the bright blush that covered his neck.  

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Don't Ruin It | Agent Lenny Miller x fem!Reader

summary: Sexual tension comes to a head (literally) when a younger female agent (you) makes a move on her superior agent, Lenny Miller, after a successful undercover mission.

warnings: Infidelity, power-imbalance, hazy consent, praise and dubious humiliation, smut.

word count: 3,300k

ONE SHOT! Who would’ve guessed…

Taking What's Not Yours- TV Girl 🎶

That's so True- Gracie Abrams 🎵

You were partners. Partners. And he was married. Married. There were so many fucking ethical reasons why you shouldn’t but damn it all, you did. 

“I need your wire,” Agent Lenny Miller said over his shoulder as he sorted the equipment back into their cases. Your heart was still racing from the conclusion of your mission, your body was thrumming with adrenaline. You turned to face the hotel mirror and unzipped the back of your dress. When he was done with his brief task, Miller turned and after a moment of hesitation, approached you slowly. He clenched his jaw as he brushed the zipper away so that he could reach the mic-pack secured to the band of your bra. His pale fingers lingered an extra moment longer on the bare skin above and below the clasp as he pulled the pack off. He blinked his heavy eyelashes slowly, wetting his lips as he followed the wire up your back to your ear. His finger trailed over your skin, pretending to hold to the wire as his eyes glanced up to meet yours in the mirror. You removed the mic from your ear and turned back slowly to hand it to him. Miller looked down at you, still holding the pack, his heart racing too but his eyes deadly calm, keeping a level head just like a good agent would. Staring for a moment at the mic-pack, Miller finally exhaled slowly and nodded, taking the mic pack and wire. He switched the device off and looked back down at you again, face-to-face. 

You were a young agent, fresh out of training with an expertise in languages. Agent Lenny Miller was a senior agent, a typical dark, brooding type with attitude issues and a soft-spot for intelligent women. He was always arrogant, but it was because he was always right. God, it was so fucking infuriating. When he wasn’t smiling (which was most of the time), you could barely make out the beginnings of crows’ feet at each outside corner of his eyes. He was in his mid-forties, married with a son. He wasn’t technically your boss but that didn’t make it any more ethical. These were just the things you told yourself as he continued to look down at you with his pale blue eyes. 

He was standing with his feet shoulder-length apart and his jaw still painfully clenched. You reached around to the back of your dress and unzipped it all the way, your chest rising and falling quickly. Miller inhaled deeply as he saw what you were doing. Your black dress slowly slipped down your body to pool at your feet. He let himself look down at your body, covered only by your underwear. He stepped closer, just half a step, his lips falling open as he looked down at your lips. You rose onto the balls of your feet, offering your mouth but he inhaled sharply again and ran his hand over his mouth. 

Miller stepped back and turned. He walked to an armchair in the hotel room and sat down on the edge of the seat, his hands steepled. 

“Len-” you started but he held up a hand to stop you. 

“Shhh, don’t ruin it, don’t ruin it” he whispered gently and looked you over again from the chair across the room. You stood silently in your underwear for a moment until you felt brave enough to move your arms to undo your hair. Your hair fell around your shoulders and you ran your fingers through it, picking out the knots quickly. Once that was done, you looked back at the man and asked him point-blank. 

“Is it your wife?”

“Don’t ask me about her, Y/N.” He responded calmly, his hand still resting against his lips as he stared at you. You raise your chin slightly and inch closer until you're right in front of him. He looks up at you in appreciative silence, like he’s at an art gallery or the symphony. He lets you step between his knees and run your hands down the back of his head starting from the crown. His eyes close slowly and he sighs as your hands stroke his dark hair. 

“If only you knew…” you whispered as your other hand slid down his cheek. Agent Miller’s eyes opened and he smiled softly, leaning into your hand. 

“Know what?”

“How much I want you,” you answered breathlessly, your heart fluttering beyond beating. Miller chuckled in discomfort and inner turmoil. He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, out of reach of your hand. 

“You know as well as I do that we can’t do this, Y/L/N.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” You responded cooly, taking a step back as he watched you, his eyes helplessly trailing over your body. Miller leaned his chin against his closed hand, wetting his lips again as you put more distance between you. You could make out the half-hard bulge in his trousers that he tried to ignore. You two stared at each other for a minute on end, neither speaking as your eyes spoke to your individual desires. Finally, Miller sighed and reached out his hand, palm up and beckoning. 

“C’mere.”

His voice was gentle but sure, as if there were absolutely no hesitation behind his request. You waited another moment before finally stepping back between his legs. His arms opened, inviting you to sit on his lap. You sat on his upper thigh, within the cage of his arms. Miller used his other hand to pull your legs across his lap, so that you were sitting completely across his legs like a child. His open hand rubbed up and down your thigh furthest away from his chest, slipping all the way down to your calf. You looked down at him and exhaled shakily. 

“I-” he started but you pressed a finger against his lips, shushing him gently but firmly. 

“Don’t ruin it.” 

He smirked softly behind your finger and looked at your lips as you moved your head close to his. You dropped your finger and held the curve of his jaw instead, brushing your lips against his. The short stubble on his jaw tickled your fingers as you pushed them down his throat. His hand moved to hook around your waist and his lips fell open, responding to your tease. You exhaled shakily again, this time against his lips before finally kissing him. The kiss was so soft that your lips barely touched, barely moved. He looked up into your face, exhaling tightly before pulling you closer once again. You kissed again and just as softly as before. When you pulled away, you stared at each other in tense silence, the world around you was shrill like a static that separated you two from the rest of the world. 

“Do you want to stop?” You whispered, looking between his blue eyes and his button nose. He briefly pressed a finger against your lips, dismissing your question, before kissing you again. His kiss was harder, stronger, as if he’d finally made up his mind without saying so: he was going to fuck you because damn it, he wanted you so badly. His teeth caught your bottom lip and you moaned against him as your fingers found the buttons of his collared shirt. The process was slow but expertly coordinated as if you already knew each other’s bodies as well as your own. You unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing his undershirt once each button slipped out of its eyelet hold. He wore the same undershirts that your dad used to wear beneath his dress shirts, the ones he wore to work, the similarity brought a strange sense of comfort as your hands felt the fabric beneath your hands. 

Miller pulled you to straddle his lap so that you were completely facing him on your knees. You rested your butt on his legs, waiting patiently until his shirt and undershirt were completely removed. He held his arms over his head so that you could pull the shirt away from his bare skin. Agent Lenny Miller was by no means a largely muscular man, he’d left his field days behind him, but he was still fit, still lean and handsome. His arms were still muscular and you could feel the tension of his muscles every time he moved them around you. You sat back, ending your kiss for a moment so that you could look down at his bare chest. His pectoral muscles were tight and defined, his stomach shallow and taught. There was a dusting of freckles across his pale chest and a thin line of dark hair beneath his bellybutton. You pressed your hand against his lower stomach and felt the muscle meet your hand as it tensed. He laid his hands on the chair’s armrests and watched you with a calm expression on his face. 

You slipped off his lap and opened his legs so that you could kneel between them. He ran his hand over his lips as he watched you, his eyes glued to you. You placed your hands on his knees and rose for a moment longer so that you could run your tongue across his collarbones. You dragged your tongue up his sternum, up to his throat, and ended at his jaw with a gentle nip. He shook once beneath you and groaned softly, so quietly that you barely heard it. When you returned to the place between his knees, his lips fell open in a helpless way, as if he were stuck in a trance. When his pants were undone, you ran your hand over his now-very-hard-cock and looked up into his eyes. 

“Go on then,” he whispered, smirking softly as if he were joking. You smiled and pulled down his boxers just enough to find his erection. When it sprang free, he groaned audibly and leaned his head back for a moment. You rolled your tongue around the head slowly, relishing the taste of his precum, showing you just how much he wanted you too. Your hand gripped his shaft and squeezed gently, making him jerk his hips. He cursed beneath his breath as you moved your mouth farther onto his cock. You sucked softly, just wanting to prep him, not to make him cum. His hands tightened on the armrests, his nails digging into the red leather upholstery. You took his cock as far as you could without gagging and rolled your tongue before bobbing up and down. 

“Ah fuck, girl. Slow, slow” he praised gently and closed his eyes as you sucked. When you could hear the distinct sounds of masculine whimpers, you stopped and looked back up at him. Miller exhaled tightly and ran his hand over your hair, fixing how it fell at the side of your face. His hand dropped to your shoulder and played with the soft skin there before pulling one of your bra straps off of your shoulder. You waited as he did the same to the other strap. He sighed as you stood slowly and stepped backwards towards the hotel bed, never used. Miller removed the last of his clothes and followed you slowly, his hand reaching out for your body. You let him pull you closer and kissed him as he felt for the clasp of your bra. He undid it easily and pulled it off of your arms so that he could feel your breasts. He nearly growled as he squeezed your breasts, feeling the hard nipple between his fingers. Miller picked you up easily and laid you back on the bed. He took your knees and pulled them apart so that he could stand between them. Still kissing you, he fit his hands beneath the bands of your thongs on your hips. His hands rubbed back and forth on your love-handles, in no rush to take off your underwear. 

“Turn over, agent Y/L/N,” he muttered against your lips. 

You nodded slowly, your lips starting to feel swollen and hot. You flipped over onto your stomach and felt his hands cup your butt before pulling down your underwear. He pulled them down your knees, over your calves, and off your ankles. 

“Look at you. Good girl…” he whispered and tossed the underwear to the side. You pushed your butt up, signaling your need for him. Miller chuckled briefly in understanding and spread your knees again with his hands. With one of his hands, he feels over your wet cunt and leans over you to nip your shoulder. 

When you moan he nods, “I know, I know. Me too.” 

His long, rough fingers teased you cruelly as you bit your lip to keep from whining. 

“Miller…” you whispered after a while of waiting and teasing. The senior agent smiled and leaned closer to your ear. 

“Patience, girl. It’s an agent’s best virtue.” 

You rolled your eyes and started to respond snippily before you felt him press against you, groaning. He pumped into you, hitting your ass with each quick gentle stroke. His hand that wasn’t being used to support his body went to your chin and pulled your head to lie flat on the side. 

“How does it feel?” He asked. 

“Hhha,” you tried to speak in a small breathless voice. He moved his hand back to your hip so that he could thrust deeper. 

“Mmm fuck, you’re tight,” he panted and moved faster, harder. You cried out in pleasure and arched your back as much as you can beneath his body. “Tell me when you’re close.” 

He groaned in pleasure as he found a good rhythm, your cunt gripping his cock better than his wife ever could. You moaned loudly, nearing yelling as he held you down and subjected you to the brutal honestly of his fucking. 

He leaned down over you to rub his lips against your smooth upper back. He kissed your shoulder blade and slowed his thrusts, savoring the intimacy of your bodies. He moved his hips forward in a slow and flexed manner, straddling the line between climax and continuity. 

“Good girl. Good. fucking. girl.” He muttered, his lips still barely touching your back. 

“Shit I’m close,” you whined, your thighs shaking out of your control. As soon as the words left your mouth, Miller pulled out and picked you up by your hips. Nearly cradling you in his arms, he swapped places with you and placed you on top of his freckled upper chest. 

“Sit,” he instructed calmly, “I’ll finish you off,” he gripped your thighs, waiting for you to move onto his face. You were panting and red in the face and it took a moment for you to realize what he was asking. With another reassuring nod from him, you shifted your body up and slowly lowered yourself down onto his face. You were skeptical and awkward until you felt his tongue glide over the lips of your sex. His nose rubbed against your clit as he sucked and lapped at your cunt. Your mouth fell open and your thighs immediately reacted by quivering. You placed your hands over his, still on your thighs, and cried out. 

“That’s it,” his voice was muffled but still clear as he felt your orgasm building again, “I won’t stop you this time.” 

Your body tried to jerk away from his mouth as your climax came on fast and strong but Miller kept you close to his lips. His arms didn’t let you leave even as you writhed from pleasure. You panted loudly, whining, until you finally orgasmed. Miller felt you orgasm against his mouth and waited until you had ridden it out before letting you pull away. You moved back enough for him to sit up. You were both panting and high on pleasure which made it impossible to speak. Miller looked you up and down, his way of asking if you were ok. You nodded softly and he nodded in return. 

“You didn’t finish,” you observed breathlessly, straddling his lap as he leaned against the headboard.

“No?” He raised a brow, pretending to be ignorant. 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“You’re observant, good for you agent Y/L/N,” he responded evenly, raising both of his brows so that his forehead creased into that judgmental look he did so well. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Already did. Try again,” he tilted his head to the side slightly and nearly smirked. His biceps curled as he ran his hands up and down your arms. When you cocked your eyebrow back, calling him out on his bullshit, he sighed and resigned. 

“That was for you, not for me,” he explained calmly, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Making me finish, you mean?” You asked slowly, your brows furrowed more. 

“Yes,” he nodded slowly and pursed his lips, “that was for you. I wanted to make you come.” 

“And now what?” 

“What do you mean?” Miller asked, confused. 

“What do we do now?”

“We put on our clothes and go back to doing our jobs,” he answered with a half-hearted shrug. You scowled and shook your head. 

“No.”

“No?” He repeated. 

“You want this too, as much as you try to deny it and shame me for it. I’m not just a pity-fuck. Look me in the fucking eyes and say that you didn’t want me,” your voice dropped and you grabbed his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles. He held your gaze calmly but his heart beat faster. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he considered his response. Deciding against words, Miller grabbed the back of your neck and forced you into a hard kiss. You were caught by surprise and moaned tightly as he pulled you close and found your tongue to suck on, delirious with passion. His hands wrapped around you and flipped you over where you were then lying on your back beneath him. 

“Fine, how’s this? I’ll look you in the eyes while I fuck you,” he growled and helped himself inside you. Like this, you could see his bright blue eyes as he held himself up over your body. He was already grunting and panting as he started to move back and forth. Both of your mouths fell open and you cried out in more pain than pleasure at this overstimulation. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, his thumb playing with the ridges of flexed muscles as you panted beneath him. His eyes only left you once when he dropped his head to your breasts to take one of your nipples between his teeth. He didn’t press hard, just enough to make you whimper. He flicked his large tongue over your breast, teasing the nipple with quick aggressive flicks. Your back arched and he growled in pleasure against your chest as he allowed himself to feel his orgasm. He returned his head to its original position so that he could watch your facial expression as he came. His mouth was open, his lips wet and pink. His cheeks hollowed everytime he panted, hitting your hips hard with his at the same time. He said nothing as he came, just slowed his thrusts, focusing instead on going as deeply as he could. His eyes closed and he shuttered, cumming inside you. 

When it was over, Miller remained fixed above you, his grip loosened around your neck. He traced his finger up and down your throat in a strange show of affection. 

“Alright?” Miller asked in a deep, heavy voice. You nodded and ran your hand over his chest. 

“You?”

“Alright.” He nodded once. You stared into each others’ eyes, panting and exchanging hot breath. 

“Alright,” you whispered. 

Another moment of silence passed. 

“Alright,” he repeated, staring now at your lips. Slowly, Miller inched closer. Slowly, your lips touched once more. 

Alright.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 55 || The Filth

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ just... just filthy smut okay.

[ { A/N } ] ➤ Another chapter written as I was in heat btw. ;)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 6.7k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AND ALTHOUGH CHOSO’S PERFECT for you, after about a week of dating, you’re ninety-nine percent sure he-, your boyfriend has a damn switch inside him. Something in him would just shift into this man whose mouth became so damn filthy with you.

Was it bad that you enjoyed it too? You think it was something about it being unexpected as to why your cunt was dripping like crazy as Choso’s cock slid down your throat.

He wasn’t mean to you during the day or anything. As stated before, Choso was perfect and as your boyfriend, he was even better than perfect somehow. He was such a gentleman, so kind and careful with you, attentive, understanding, and just a giant walking green flag.

Now, after seven days of dating the man, you have addressed his possessiveness and tendency to get jealous over the smallest things— which he promises to work on just for you. Choso would do anything for you so something as simple as changing the way he thinks or feels about certain things was nothing to him.

But, all that greatness aside, during sex he was different. And god damn you were not ready for it. You’d think after sleeping with Choso countless times before, things wouldn’t really change when you were dating but… something had changed, he had changed.

Hence why it’s suspected that there’s a literal switch in his head because something just flipped as you tried to surprise him with a little reward for being such a wonderful boyfriend. The night of your date, neither of you had sex so it’d been a while since you slept with him-, weeks since you slept with him.

Even so, you didn’t recall Choso’s mouth being this filthy with you? Nor do you remember him being so… in control. Usually, midway through sex Choso would let you have your way with him or things would go the other way around, either way, dominance was an off-and-on thing.

But tonight? Oh dominance was all the way on and you had nothing to prepare you for it. And Choso’s sex drive was through the roof for some reason too…

Anyway, you think it’s because of your little surprise. Maybe you should be more careful the next time you decide to wear lingerie for your boyfriend…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

But, as stated before, nothing could’ve prepared you for him. Hence why you stood in the bathroom of his apartment minutes before that all happened, checking yourself to make sure you looked good. 

It was yet another Friday night and you’d been back and forth to Choso’s place these past few days. The semester had started up again but since it was the early weeks, school wasn’t too harsh yet, nothing but introductory assignments and small tasks here and there.

Even so, you stood looking in the mirror toying with the strap of your vibrant red shaded bra that lay beneath the baggy white shirt on your body— the shirt being Choso’s of course. 

You did have on sweatpants but since you wanted to surprise him, you quickly rid yourself of those and you were going to reveal the lingerie set to your boyfriend by stripping yourself of his shirt in front of him. He’ll love this, you thought to yourself with a slight smile on your face.

Mhm, you had it all planned out. You were about to go into his room, not-so-innocently see what he’s doing, tease him a bit, and ultimately have sex with him for the first time since you started dating. In your head, you thought Choso would want to take it slow with you and make love with you so that’s kinda why you bought lingerie.

And even if he didn’t want to take things slow and lovingly, you wouldn’t complain if he tore you out of the pricey fabric and completely ruined you.

All those thoughts aside though, as you finally walked out of the bathroom, your feet lightly walking over the hallway floor whilst you sneakily made your way to his bedroom, you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face. Would he blush at the sight of you? Or would he shower you with compliments instantly?

You soon approach his room, the door wide open and the light seeping out into the hallway you walked through. In Choso’s head, you were supposed to be in his living room right now watching TV— that being the last thing you told him you were gonna do a few hours ago.

Your head popped around the corner of his door frame to get a peek into his room only to find Choso’s back to you as he sat at the art desk in his room. A smile spread across your face as you noticed a pencil in one hand and his other laid against a piece of paper.

Slowly, you slipped into his room as quietly as possible and crept up behind him. Once you stood directly behind the man, you took a peek over his shoulder and saw he was sketching some kinda design. After a second of admiring his progress, you raised your hands up and covered his eyes gently before moving to his ears.

“Guess who?” You whisper playfully.

Choso’s hand stops mid pencil-stroke and he smiles. The fact that he didn't even flinch or seem phased by your sudden presence made you think he heard you or something, “Guess who? Well, I’m hoping you’re my wonderful girlfriend…” He replies.

You keep your hands over his eyes, “Wronggg,” You tease.

He chuckles, “Wrong? Okay, thennn… my amazing girlfriend,” Choso corrects, to which you snicker, “Orrr, my beautiful girlfriend. Playful girlfriend? Or, y’know, maybe all of the above and the woman I love.”

Taking your hands off his eyes, you pull away from his ear and his head turns to you. You giggle, “That’s a lot of girlfriends you have…”

“Nono, that’s all my one and only girlfriend,” He says, playing into your joke.

You narrow your eyes tauntingly, “Yeah? She sounds like a handful.”

“Ehh,” Choso shrugs a little, “She’s my handful and I love her just the way she is.”

His words make your smile widen before you lean in and plant a small kiss on his lips. Choso reciprocates the action, grinning against you as he does so. After the small kiss, you pull away and glance down at what he was doing before you interrupted.

“What’s that for?” You ask curiously.

Choso follows your gaze down to his sketch and he sighs, “It’s for one of my classes,” He hums.

You blink, “How? The semester just started…”

“Well, this is due later on but I just wanted to get an idea or two out on paper,” He explains, “Did you need somethin’ though? If so, I can stop.”

You chuckle a little, “I just wanted to see what you were doing,” You tell him innocently as you stand up, “But, I do also have a little surprise for you…” Your words come out in a mischievous hum and you start to back away from where he’s seated.

Choso began to spin his chair around slowly, “Oh? What kinda surprise?”

His head turns before the rest of his body and you watch his eyes drop to your frame, scanning the way his shirt looks hanging off you so loosely. Choso can’t help but smirk when he finds that the white fabric of the top stops just at the start of your thighs— having not even paid attention to the obvious bright red beneath the shirt you wore.

He always gets distracted when you wear his shirt, always torn between wanting to cuddle you in it and wanting to fuck you in it. But, after his few seconds of studying you, your hands go to the bottom of the shirt and his eyes widen as you start lifting it up.

“I’m not sure if you’re into this kinda thing but,” You say casually as you pull his shirt up and off your body, revealing the red lingerie set you purchased just for him. “Well… Surprise,” You hum sweetly, tossing his shirt off to the side and looking at your boyfriend.

Choso blinks once. Then twice, then a third time. He’d yet to turn his chair to you fully, stopping about halfway so, his body was facing your right but his head was turned to you and his eyes were… his eyes were everywhere.

First, they dropped to your crotch and you could hear the way he swallowed, studying the vibrant fabric on your skin and how it looked on you. Then, Choso’s gaze lifted to your torso and he smiled for only a second— you wish you knew what he was thinking. Second to last, he looks at your tits, and fuck does that lingerie set make them look good.

Choso clears his throat and, ultimately, his eyes find their way back to your face after a long moment. When you meet his gaze, you see how lidded his eyes have become and no smile or words is coming from him yet so you wonder if he even likes it.

Oh, he liked it alright-, loved it even. It took one little glance at you and his cock was twitching like crazy. His hips shifted in his seat ever so slightly, the tip of his dick leaking pre in reaction to you. The effect you had on your poor boyfriend was insane.

Tilting your head, you swing your hands behind your back, “Cho? Do you-”

“Come here,” Choso says, his voice low.

Oh. A chill slipped down your spine with the way his words came out. His eyes were so intense on yours and you almost didn’t move.

Choso raises a brow when he notices you froze and he spins his chair around to face you. Leaning back and parting his legs, “Baby, I said come here,” He emphasizes as his gaze grows more serious and stern with you.

Your feet began to move and you brought your hands in front of you, slightly nervously playing with your fingers as you approached him. Then, you stopped just about one step away from him and Choso sighed.

“Closer,” He orders, spreading his thighs further apart so that you have enough space to stand in between them.

When did your body grow so hot? Or maybe that’s because of him… Seeing as your eyes dropped down to his crotch, you couldn't help but find it attractive the way he manspread right in front of you, gray sweatpants clung to his body so nicely-

Choso suddenly starts leaning to sit up and your eyes and body jump when his hand creeps toward you. He reaches to your hip, and your hip only, hooking a single finger beneath the strap of your panties and tugging you toward him. Your feet shuffle against his carpet floor and come to a stop when you stand in between his legs.

Your boyfriend unhooks his finger and his hand caresses your hip for a second before the touch slips off and he leans back again.

You swallow, “Well? Do… Do you like it-“

“Shut up,” Choso suddenly says, your lips zipping closed instantly. “Don’t say a word, princess. Just uh,” His hand raises to his face and he wipes his mouth before rubbing his jaw a bit, eyes down on your body again, “Just lemme’ process… this.”

You nod a little, still keeping quiet as he just studies you. You really wish you could read minds because you damn sure couldn’t read his facial expression. If only you knew about the things going on in that man’s head right now.

Choso never knew himself to have this much patience and self-control because he definitely had half a mind to toss you on his bed and fuck you long and hard enough to have this same expensive fabric covered in his cum. His mind was hazed with the idea of it, the idea of watching his cum slip down your body, against the lingerie, and maybe even out of you.

“Turn around,” Choso breathes out after a minute or two. 

His words make you stiffen, “Wha-“

Choso looks up at your eyes, “Turn. Around.” He repeats, his voice low.

You swallow down your nerves and turn slowly, soon facing away from your boyfriend and having your back to him.

“Mh,” You hear Choso hum, then there’s a slight creak as he leans forward in his chair, “Now bend over.”

Your eyes go wide and you look over your shoulder and back to him, “What? Choso-“

“You heard me,” He claims, “I said bend over. Don’t make me say it again.”

You gulp and then release a long breath of air before facing forward again. Then, you tip your torso forward and bend over just as he’s asked you to.

Choso nods his head and his hand moves to tap the outer side of your thigh, “Good girl,” He praises, words going straight to your core, “Now spread your legs a bit so you’re not uncomfortable.”

No matter how you spread your legs, you were going to feel awkward bent over in front of him like this. “C-Choso-“

His hand goes to your ass and he suddenly slaps it, making you flinch and your eyes go wide. “What.” He says, sounding almost irritated.

You gulp, “Why… Why do you want me to-“

“Needed’ a closer look,” He cuts off, his hand rubbing over the same area of your ass he just slapped as if to soothe you. Then, his palm shifts, and his fingers trace against the outline of your panties, sliding down and down and down until he takes his hand off you.

There’s a moment of stillness and silence before Choso’s thumb makes contact with your clothed cunt, slipping against the fabric of your panties and in between your folds— the contact makes your lips part and a breathy sum of air leaves you.

“Cho,” You whisper, to which he smirks.

“Hm?” Choso hums, feeling your cunt twitch beneath the fabric in between his finger and you.

You swallow, “You never uh… You never said if you liked it or not,” You point out shyly.

He nods even though you can’t see him, halfway processing your words as the slick sound of his thumb sliding against your cunt distracts him. 

“Damn baby, the fuck did you get so wet from?” Choso asks, voice deeper and lower with you. He feels how your pussy squirms against his thumb and he smirks, “Ohhh, me? You got this wet from me, princess?” He asks.

Though, it didn’t sound like he was talking to you?

Choso’s thumb rolls a circle over your sex and you start to bring your legs close together again, to which he scoffs and moves his free hand to one of your thighs, prohibiting you from moving anymore. His thumb then hooks over and onto the fabric of your panties and he pulls at them, a slip of air brushing over your wet cunt for a moment before he releases the fabric and allows it to slap over you.

He then takes both of his hands and places them on your thighs before pulling you back a bit more and leaning his face forward. You start to turn your head back as best you could but all movement comes to a halt when his lips press into you.

Then… Then it’s his tongue. Choso’s pierced tongue slides in between your folds and he licks a stripe against you and your panties, not even bothering to move them aside just yet.

You inhale sharply, “Choso-,”

His lips cup your cunt and he hums against you, fingers gripping onto your outer thighs as he does so. “You put this on f’me?” Choso mumbles into you slowly.

“Uhuh,” You breathe out.

He pulls his head away from your sex and licks what little of your taste he got off his lips. Choso smirks and then pries his hands off your body, leaning back into his seat and rolling his hips up to comfort himself.

“Turn to me,” He requests, moving a single hand over his crotch and palming his erection. He was struggling so hard to control himself.

How was he supposed to react to this? His pretty girlfriend coming to him in a lingerie set to surprise him? Fuck, the thought alone made his cock ache. Choso swore he was about to moan when he first laid eyes on you.

And here you are now, turning to face him again with that innocent little look on your face. You had no idea what you were doing to him, did you? How crazy you drove him? Choso found it cute that you were clueless as to what he had planned for you tonight.

He didn’t even have to say anything and you were already getting down on your knees, leaning toward him and replacing his hand with yours to palm his cock through his sweats. Your eyes went wide at how painfully hard he was. It seems you got your answer as to whether or not he liked it…

Choso sighs heavily as his eyes settle on your dainty hand running over his dick print, feeling the way your fingers rubbed over him and needing to suck his lower lip into his mouth to conceal a groan.

“Baby,” Choso mutters, his breathing grown heavy already, “Are you gonna’ tease me all night or are you gonna suck me off?”

You smirk at his impatience and tilt your head as you lift your gaze up to his face, “Someone’s bossy tonight…”

He scoffs, “Shut up, you like it.”

You roll your eyes at him and slip your hand up to his waistband, tauntingly running your fingers beneath it and feeling against his tense skin, “I dunno Cho… This isn’t like you.” You hum.

Choso stares down at you, “Well how else am I supposed to react to my girlfriend wearing lingerie for me?” He replies sassily, “You look so fuckin’ pretty in it ‘nd jus’ lookin’ at you got me so damn hard.”

You start tugging his sweats down and he lifts his hips to assist you, watching with hooded eyes as your hands move agonizingly slow toward his briefs. 

Choso couldn’t take it anymore. As pretty as you looked on your knees and moving so teasingly for him, he quite literally couldn’t take it— quickly reaching his hands down and tugging his cock out with a heavy sigh leaving him.

You blink as you gather the sight of his dick in front of you— so big and veiny, leaky tip just begging for your attention. You couldn’t help but watch in a daze as Choso wrapped his fingers around his shaft and gave himself a few strokes, his low-lidded eyes locked onto the sight of you watching him.

He groans out your name and your cunt flutters around nothing at the sound. Choso’s voice had to have dropped at least two octaves because it was so damn low and deep with you all of a sudden, heavy with arousal and need for you.

You flick your eyes up to his face and jump at the sight of his gaze on you already. He looked so intimidating.

Then, Choso moves his free hand to the top of your head and urges your face closer to his cock, nodding his chin down to your mouth, “Open.” He orders.

You were left wanting to tease him about his neediness and wanting to obey his every command at the same time. Ultimately, your mouth opens for the man and you keep your eyes on his.

Choso heaves out a pant and parts his thighs all the more further before angling his cock into your mouth. The second his flushed and dripping tip slips over your tongue, you go to lick him and wrap your lips around his member— an instant and guttural groan leaving his throat.

His hand leaves his shaft and yours quickly replaces it as you focus your mouth on his tip. You slick your tongue through the slit of his cock and Choso’s brows tense in satisfaction, “Mmgh… hah, fuck.” He breathes, tipping his head back against his chair.

You tilt your hand and start sucking on only the tip of his cock, the rest heavy and twitching in your hand as you start to pump his length. He bucks up into your touch a little and scoffs.

“Princess,” Choso calls out lowly, “Your throat, take my cock down your throat,” He directs.

And, naturally, you listen to him and start to take him into your mouth. A lustful smile spreads across his face as he feels himself enter the warmth and wetness of your mouth, hissing at the way your tongue slicks over the underside of his cock.

You felt him twitch in your mouth and you swore he was getting impossibly harder, veins pulsing against your tongue as you sucked on him carefully. 

Your head bobs up and down a few times before the sound of Choso’s voice makes you moan around him, “Deeper, princess, deeper.” He instructs again, to which you take more of his inches into your mouth and hum around him, “Yeahhhh, fuck, that’s it.” Choso moans.

You pull off him slowly for barely even a second, only to bring your mouth right back down and suck him off eagerly.

The sound of his slight pants was causing you to pool in your panties as you bobbed your head up and down and took him in and out of your mouth. Normally, Choso wasn’t much of a talker when you gave him head— he’d usually just groan and moan.

But tonight? Oh tonight was much different. This is exactly why you moan again when he whines a little as he speaks, “Uhuh, suck my cock jus’ like that baby…” Choso urges.

You start to lift your head again but his hand suddenly shifts into your hair and pushes you right back down, “C’mon, go all the way down, princess,” He utters, “Show me how you use that tongue-,” He’s cut off when you suck him in deeper and your tongue gets dangerously close to his base, “Mhm, y-yeahh… there you go…”

There’s been numerous times you’ve sucked Choso off and yet, you still struggled to take him all the way in sometimes. Just barely would his tip knock into the back of your throat here and there but in the end, his cock was just so much bigger than your mouth. 

And there he was, sitting with a hand over your head and his fingers curling into your hair as he started to guide you through it. Up and down, Choso watched in a daze as your mouth sucked on his cock, head bobbing so cutely below him.

His shaft was covered in a messy mix of your saliva and his precum, your movements steadily growing sloppier in a way you knew he liked.

Choso grits his teeth when you suddenly dip all the way down, your nose making light contact with his pelvis and his dick pressing into the back of your throat as you relax it just to take him all the way in. 

“Hahh… S-So fuckin’ tight, shit…” He groans, “All this f’me?” Choso asks, his hand carefully pulling you up only a little just to force your mouth right back down, “Wearin’ lingerie, suckin’ my dick like… like a fuckin’ slut, for what?”

Your eyes flickered back and you whimpered out a moan against his cock in reaction to him suddenly degrading you. He’s never done that before— Choso’s never called you anything like that but god damn it made you so stupidly horny.

“Hm?” Choso hums as he lifts your head up and allows you a chance to breathe, “What’s all this for, huh?”

You clear your throat and then swallow, licking your lips as you make eye contact with him, “F-For bein’ such a good boyfriend.”

The corner of Choso’s lips quirk into a slight smirk, “Yeah? This is what I get for bein’ good to you?”

You nod, “Mhm…”

“So, I treat you like you should be treated and in return,” Choso tilts his head and flashes that slight but sexy lazy smile of his, “My girlfriend turns into a lil’ slut f’me?”

He sees on your face how flustered his question got you and the way you’re looking up at him was driving him insane— Choso swore he was seconds away from releasing all over your expression.

He moves a hand to his cock and shifts to tap your lips with his tip, “Hm? Answer me, baby.” Choso requests.

You nod, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah? So if that’s the case then,” He smirks again, “I can treat you like one, right?”

“Uhuh,” You nod again, more eagerly this time.

You were so cute. Choso removes his hand from your head and suddenly stands to his feet, causing you to shuffle back on your knees a bit so there’s room.

“Y’know,” Choso grunts a bit as he starts fisting his cock in quick pulls, “I didn’t realize you liked bein’ degraded this much, princess.”

You swallow, “I like it when you degrade me.”

Choso bites his lower lip, “Oh yeah?”

Your thighs draw together in a slight attempt at giving yourself some kind of relief, “Mhm..”

He tilts his head and his strokes grow faster and rougher, “Alright then, open your mouth f’me again ‘nd jus’ sit there lookin’ pretty while I fuck your throat,” Choso breathes out.

Your jaw is quick to drop for him and you lean closer, lips parted for the man as you keep your eyes up on his. One of his hands goes to the top of your head and the other maneuvers his length into your mouth, quickly and roughly thrusting his hips forward and making you gag around him.

“Mmgh-,” He hums deeply, the vibration of you gagging around him so suddenly making his body twitch, “Fuck that felt good… hah, you’re gonna’ make me cum…”

With only one hand atop your head, Choso starts to fuck his cock into your mouth. You just sit there and let him use you like a pretty cocksleeve, moaning and gagging each time he pushes in a bit deeper than you could handle. At some point, he slows for a second and the hand on your head forces you to move.

Back and forth and back and forth, Choso has you gulping and sucking on his cock so messily. Saliva began to escape from the corners of your lips and sloppy wet sounds filled his room along with his groans.

“Faster baby, c’mon…” He urges.

You try your best to suck him off in quicker pulls, tongue rolling and lulling all over his dick and even tracing against his veins. 

Choso whines a little, “Yeahh… keep goin’, fuuuck…” He starts panting again and he grunts, “Fuckin’ slut-,” He chokes out, “Makin’ me feel so good…”

“Mmh,” You hum against him as your eyes grow teary.

“Yeah? My slutty girlfriend, fuck. Baby,” He moans lightly, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard after this.”

You choke around his cock, realizing he plans on going at it all night.

Choso’s member twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he’s close as his voice starts to pitch, “Pretty pussy deserves some attention too, doesn’t she?” He asks you in a husk tone, “Not jus’ your mouth… Gotta’ fuck your cunt too, feel her’ squeeze ‘round me for hours… hahhh, ahh… m’gonna cum jus’ thinkin’ about it-,” His words die out as a pornographic moan leaves his lips.

You’re dizzy and cockdrunk at this point and Choso’s back to just thrusting and thrusting into you, getting fucked out by the messy feeling of your throat and the sounds of your choking and gagging.

“M’gonna cum,” Choso whimpers, “Y-You’re so fuckin’ loud ‘nd messy baby, makin’ me cum so quickly like this…”

Quickly? Just how long was he planning to use your throat like this?

With another groan, Choso pulls out of your mouth and jerks himself off quickly enough to drive him over the edge— the slick and sloppy sounds of his movements filling your ears just moments before he releases all over your face and the upper half of your torso. Ultimately, his cum lands all over you and especially on the lingerie just like he wanted.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

And as he said, moments later he had you on his bed sobbing and moaning into his sheets— panties pulled to the side as he fucked you down into the mattress.

With a hand on your head and the other forcing your back to arch further for him, Choso was pounding his heavy cock into you like there was no tomorrow. You were so wet when this started that he didn’t need to prep you for anything and every inch of him slid into you perfectly.

“Fuckin’ pussy was made to take my cock,” Choso groaned out to you, “Right baby? That’s all you’re meant to do right? Jus’ take cock for hours ‘nd hours ‘nd never get tired?”

His words were driving you insane, cunt gushing and fluttering around his cum covered member. You came so much already and your legs were quivering below the man.

Nodding dumbly into the sheets, you couldn’t even think straight more, “Yeahhh…ah-, fuck… Choso-, ha-ahh…” You moaned, fingers curling into his bed sheets as if to brace yourself.

The hand on your back slid down your arch and against your spine until he got to your ass and smacked it, grunting at the sound and the sight of his hand having left a mark on your skin. The rest of your body was decorated in hickeys, bite marks, his cum— everything. The man had you ruined as someone else once had you before.

The two of you had been in almost every position by now, and in each one Choso was so mean and aggressive with you. He was so deep inside you, burying his cock to the hilt of your cunt as you whined and whimpered.

From you’re takin’ me so well baby to such a good slut f’me, keep ridin’ me jus’ like that—don’t fuckin’ stop, Choso’s mouth was just on a roll with you today. One moment it’s praise and the next he’s telling you how his cum makes you look ten times better and that sluts like you needa’ be covered in it. 

Sometimes he was just babbling and other times he was fully serious with what he said, especially when he was able to groan his words into your ear. Choso told you how you were his slut, his good girl, and that only he gets to fuck you to this point.

That point being where you’re trying to reach a hand back and push him away or get him to slow down as his pelvis crashes into your ass and his balls smack against your puffy clit over and over again. You were so out of it but he didn’t care.

That bra of yours that you wore for him was gone, somewhere in his room decorated in his cum and even broken. Your panties were all you had on and Choso’s fingers hooked around them to keep them pulled to the side to rut into you properly.

He stared at the fabric and how it looked straining against your skin due to his tugs, the item sure to leave even more marks on your body.

Choso himself wasn't even spared from the marks. His back had been clawed earlier when the two of you were in missionary and his shoulders and arms had more scratches from when he forced you to bounce on his cock. He had a hickey or two but you didn’t really get much time to leave them on him since he was far too in control.

In one night, you experienced so much with this man— from him choking you while his hips snapped into you, to his fingers shoved deep into your mouth as he told you to shut up and take his cock, and even to him biting your shoulder while forcing your hips back on him.

Choso loved you, yes. But he also loved fucking you like a man who hadn’t had sex for months— which was true, he hadn’t had sex since Christmas so, it was almost another two months he went without you.

He fucked you at such an animalistic pace too, just pounding and pounding into you for hours. All this over some lingerie… You could only imagine how he’d be under different circumstances— how feral the man would become.

Choso was so addicted to the way your body felt against his and you even learned something new about him— he apparently has a thing for your thighs.

At some point into the night, after squirting all over his cock at least five times in a row and nearly passing out on him, you were obviously tired but he wanted to keep going. Each time his dick went down, he’d simply look at you and that damn red fabric hugging your skin and he’d spring right back up. 

But, in courtesy of your lack of stamina, Choso decided to do something different to get off. He wrapped an arm around your legs as you laid on your back and he lifted them up, pressing them to his chest before sliding his cock in between your thighs. You were pretty dazed but you watched him use your legs to get off.

The way the tip of his cock was just dripping in cum and getting all over your legs was utterly sinful. Tiredly, you lifted your gaze to his face and saw heavy pants and cute whines leaving his wet parted lips. His face was red, his eyes were so low, and his hair was loose and completely disheveled. Choso was beyond drunk off of you and fucked out.

“Hahhhh…” Choso breathed, slowly making eye contact with you as he shallowly thrust his dick in between your legs, “Fuck-, thank you for this baby…” He murmurs.

Your voice is so soft that it sounded as though you may have lost it, “F-For what?”

Choso tips his head back and he moans, “This… Lettin’ me use you like this. Shit-, you’re so perfect. Such a pretty and perfect girlfriend I have,” He babbles out to you, “Love’ you s’much, princess.”

You chuckle wearily, “Uhuh, love you too, Cho…”

“We should probably shower after this, yeah?” He offers, smiling a bit before rolling his head back into place and raising a brow at you.

Your eyes were down on the way his cock looked rutting in and out of your inner thighs that were smushed together, watching how he starts to cum for the nth time of the night. It was so sloppy but spurts of his warm release covered your torso and your legs all over again— leaving you in such a lewd state.

“…Cho,” You whispered, “You c-came s’much…”

He nods and flashes a drained little smile, “Yeahh, I know… M’sorry baby, I saw that pretty set of yours ‘nd wanted to empty my balls onto it…” Choso hums innocently.

You roll your eyes, “I’ll be more careful next time I decide to do this…” You tell him.

Choso chuckles at you before shifting your legs so that he can lower himself down to your body, moving to kiss your jawline once he’s close enough, “Next time m’not lettin’ you get any sleep.”

You scoff and glance over to his nearby clock, “Choso it’s three in the morning.”

“Mhm, I know,” He hums against your skin, smirking a bit.

“You’re crazy,” You sigh out in response.

Choso sucks on the area below your jaw softly before running his teeth over it, “Crazy for you, yeah,” He laughs, “You wore lingerie f’me and told me you’re my lil’ slut, how am I supposed to react?”

You shrug sheepishly, “I dunno-, and wait, I told you what?”

He smiles, “You really are out of it aren’t you baby?”

Choso moves to hover his face over yours and you blink as the two of you make eye contact. “I called myself your slut?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah,” He smirks, “And even though you kept whinin’ about me goin’ too fast, you kept pulling me closer and creamin’ around my cock like you didn’t want me to stop-“

“Choso,” You cut off.

His smirk widens, “What?”

“Enough with the dirty talk, please.” Your request comes out gentle since his words were flustering you.

He tilts his head to the side, ruffled hair swaying as he does so, “Why? You’ gettin’ worked up again? I can go another round, especially if we’re going to the bathroom. I could fuck you against the shower wall, oh, orrr in the tub-“

“No Choso, m’tired.” You say sternly.

He pouts, “Jus’ the tip, princess?”

“Absolutely not,” You huff.

Choso starts laughing and then he leans down and plants one little peck on your lips, nodding and accepting his defeat in convincing you. “Alright, yes ma’am.” He hums lightly before moving to get off you.

You just lay there for a while as Choso moves around. Before you even realized it, your eyes were shutting and you were falling asleep.

By the time Choso returns his attention to you, having gone to straighten up the mess of disregarded clothes on the floor, he coos at the way you look resting so peacefully despite the filthy mess he’d made of you.

He obviously wasn’t going to leave you like that so, Choso did his thing as your boyfriend and moved to lift you, quickly taking you to his bathroom and carefully cleaning you of his remnants. He really did cover you in his cum— it was all over you and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he cleaned you off.

After bathing you clean, he carried you out to his living room couch so that he could finish cleaning his room and the two of you could sleep there peacefully.

Choso hurried to do so, changing the messy bed sheets and pillows and tossing the soiled ones into the wash in a hurry so that he could bring you into the bed as quickly as possible. The last thing he wanted was for you to wake up on the couch and have a repeat of what happened that one time when you thought he left you.

Hell, even then he was worried like crazy— nearly locking himself out of your apartment. Luckily though, because he was running out quickly that night, all he’d done was borrow the set of apartment keys you had lying on your kitchen counter.

He returned them when he came back and he’s kinda glad you never asked about it because, at the time, he did have thoughts of doing other things with those keys… Not that he ever acted on them though, they were just thoughts.

All that aside, once Choso was done, he hurried back out to you, lifted you from his couch, and transported your resting frame to his bed. He only put one of his spare shirts on you so that you were somewhat decent and on himself was nothing more than some sweats.

After getting you into bed, Choso got in behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist, planting a little kiss on the side of your neck and whispering a soft I love you to you despite you resting.

Then, the arm around your waist gripped onto you a bit tighter and Choso shut his eyes, hugging you in a way that said he’d never let go, no matter what you did— you were his now, and he was yours.

Nothing and no one would change that.

Any issue ever brought up in the future, he’d work through with you. Anything about him you don’t like, he’d change. There wasn’t anything Choso wouldn’t do to keep you happy with him.

All his. Finally, you were all his.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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