#good Christ pull it back pull it back

[i-am-moss-the-boss]

Thank you for those who sent asks for that WIP ask game I reblogged! I decided to answer them all in one post so I'm not clogging anyone's feed.

🍄 name a song that represents your mc

The song that I think works very well for my MC, Oliver Phillips, is Land Of All by Woodkid. It's on my WIP playlist and it just seems to fit him the best.

☁️ wip you want to write but haven't started yet

Okay, so don't ask for specifics (because I don't have any) but I have a half-baked book idea simmering on the back burner. It's a mid-1800s horror western that somehow will involve a disease-based cult, an ex-freak show runaway, a working girl turned disguise-master vigilante, and lots of body horror. That's all I got so far. If I think about it too hard I fear I will abandon The Sepulcher and I can't allow myself to do that.

🥥 least favourite reading genre

No hate to those who partake, but I despise reading dark romance because of my own personal preferences. I'm also not big on dark fantasy, high fantasy, or contemporary romance. Like I said, just a me thing. If you read/write that, hell yeah, go forth and do so.

🍸 character who inspired your mc

Phillips actually doesn't really have a solid source of inspiration. To be quite frank, and to nobody's surprise, he started as a character that allowed me to work through my own insecurities, naivete, and fears. Since then he has taken on a lot of traits that I find interesting and/or admirable in others, whether real or fictional, and has become something of his own--thankfully. That being said, only one of my characters is even partially based on someone I know in real life: Clement Murphy, who is based in part on my maternal grandfather.

🌱 book that inspired your wip

This is going to be lengthy and I apologize.

No singular thing (and certainly no book) inspired my WIP; I've loved horror and ships all my life, and it made sense that I would combine the two at some point. I grew up on movies like Pirates of the Caribbean, Jaws, Master and Commander, and other similar, boat-y, high-tension films. I also played the game Return of the Obra Dinn a few years back and it changed how I see videogames--I cannot impress upon you just how much that game encouraged my love of complex narrative, non-linear storytelling, and mysterious, often gruesome deaths in stories.

About a year and a half into starting my book (and most of the way done with it), I watched AMC's The Terror at a coworker's suggestion and I absolutely fell in love (Terror mutuals I see you). I can't say it's inspired anything in my own writing (nor would I want to emulate something in fear of idea-thieving or unwarranted piggybacking), but I CAN safely say that it has given me hope that a dark, historical, ship-based and isolated horror setting is in enough demand that I have a chance in publishing. (I also read the book by Dan Simmons--the show was better, but that's neither here nor there.)

If there's anything theme-wise that inspired my WIP, it's the horror movies I watched way too young: Jaws, The Shining, The Thing (1982), and others of a similar ilk. I am scared pissless of isolation, watching people around me lose their minds, losing control of myself, freezing temperatures, drowning, and claustrophobic settings and situations. All of which I found early on truly frightened me--it makes sense that these themes end up in my own writing!

Anyway, that was far too much. Thank you for indulging me.

[phagodyke]

officially now have enough overtime to take an entire day off im gonna ask for this friday and if they don't give it to me I'm refusing to do any more overtime until they pay me the equivalent for it. WITH overtime pay. and I'll call in sick friday anyway lmao 👍

[tortoise-teapot]

thinking about belly buttonless solas

"uh. lostitinthefade."

[t-pose-to-assert-gayness]

i love how when you reply something thats clearly satirical on a post and someone with the most awful bio and reading comprehension youve ever seen jumps in like a year later saying something like "its actually impressive how much you missed the point of this post" and my original comment was this

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

taking one (& another & another & another) for the team | soap x reader x ghost | inspired by: @softaestluv johnny's pent up blurb

It started as a joke. "I'm gonna die if I don't get my cock wet soon," Johnny whined, sprawled backward over the couch, legs spread, hand draped over his forehead like he was seconds away from his last breath. *"Swear I can feel it in my fucking molars, mate. I'm gonna explode."

At first, you and the others ignored him. Typical Soap — loud, dramatic, a walking sexual frustration PSA. But it didn't stop. If anything, it got worse: every mission debrief, every meal, every late-night sit around the barracks, Johnny lamented his poor, poor cock like it was a national tragedy.

When he started describing how tragic his wanks were — "My hand's too fuckin' rough, not the same, need something wet, something tight—" — you snapped. Loud enough for everyone in the room to hear: "Christ, Soap, I'll fuckin' take one for the team if it'll shut you up."

Johnny sat up like you'd just offered him oxygen.

Which is how you found yourself bent over the nearest flat surface, jeans yanked halfway down your thighs, Johnny pressed tight to your back, rutting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck—fuckin' hell, love, yer savin' my life," he groaned, hips slamming into you like he was trying to crawl inside. "Warm 'n tight, fuck, could stay here forever."

You barely bit back a moan, hands braced hard enough to hurt. You weren't supposed to enjoy this, just do your duty to the squad’s sanity.

But then Johnny started whining again — not his usual loudmouth bitching, but these needy, half-choked sounds against the back of your neck.

"Need ya," he rasped, like he couldn't help himself. "Need yer cunt, fuck, not gonna be enough, need it again—'m not done—"

Even after he came — hot, messy, filling you to the brim — he didn't stop. Still rocking against you, still murmuring desperate filth into your skin, already hardening inside you again.

You realized then: You hadn't fixed the problem. You'd made it worse.

He barely pulled out before he was pushing right back in, thick and slick with his own cum, grinding into your overstretched walls like he could merge the two of you if he tried hard enough.

"Fuckin' perfect," Johnny slurred against your neck, teeth scraping along your skin. "Mine now, y'know that? Filled you up good—fuckin' claimed you—"

You tried to push him off, half-hearted at best — muscles trembling, brain fogged from how full you felt — but Johnny just wrapped an arm around your middle and held you there, hips rolling slow and filthy, fucking his own mess deeper inside.

"Nuh-uh, love," he muttered, pressing kisses to your shoulder, messy and possessive. "Said I'd lose my mind if I didn’t get to fuck you. Y’think one load's enough to fix this? After all that sufferin’?"

You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch again, fully hard despite just cumming. He chuckled low against your skin, voice dark and wrecked.

"Told ya I'd go mad. Now yer stuck with me, sweetheart."

He fucked you slow the second time — not like the frantic, desperate slamming from before, but a grinding, possessive rhythm, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you properly. Every time you clenched around him, he gasped, praising you in that ruined, filthy brogue.

"That's it, good girl," he breathed. "Take it all, take it like y'made for it. Fuckin' born to milk my cock, huh? Gonna pump you so full you won't remember what it feels like to be empty."

You felt him bulge even thicker inside you, grinding down into your cervix, every thrust stretching you wider, making you feel owned in a way that had nothing to do with orders or duty.

Johnny growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. You barely registered it before he was moving — hands gripping your hips, manhandling you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

"Wanna see," he panted, almost delirious. "Wanna see how fuckin' ruined you are for me."

Your legs were shoved open before you could think to protest, ankles tossed over his shoulders. Johnny leaned back just enough to look — and groaned, obscene and ragged.

"Fuckin' hell, look at that," he hissed, watching his cum leaking out of you, your cunt red and puffy, still clenching greedily around nothing. His cock throbbed in his hand, still wet, still ready.

"So messy, love. Drippin' for me already. Y'know what that means, don’t ya?"

You shook your head weakly, breath stuttering in your chest. Johnny just grinned, all teeth and danger.

"Means I’ve gotta fill you up again. 'Til you can't take any more."

Without warning, he lined himself up and pushed — forcing his cock back inside your sore, sloppy cunt in one thick, slow thrust. You cried out, back arching, and Johnny moaned like you were his whole damn salvation.

He didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Started fucking you immediately — deep, grinding strokes that had your whole body jolting with each brutal snap of his hips.

"That's it, that's it," he gasped, head tipping back, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it all, pretty thing. Gonna make sure yer stuck full of me. Walkin' round leakin' my cum for days."

Your brain barely worked anymore. Just open-mouthed whimpers, toes curling, walls spasming around him like you wanted it — wanted everything he was giving you and more.

Johnny's pace turned frantic again, slamming into you harder, the sound of skin against skin filthy and wet between you.

"Belong to me now," he growled, words punching out of him with each thrust. "No one else. Fuckin' mine."

You couldn’t even pretend to fight it. Couldn’t think past the way he filled you so perfectly, the overwhelming heat, the way his cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you until you felt tears spring to your eyes.

He buried himself to the hilt one final time, grinding down against you, hips jerking as he spilled deep again, thick and endless. You could feel it — the heat, the stretch, the way he pulsed inside you like he was branding you from the inside out.

Johnny didn’t pull out. Just collapsed over you, mouth hot and messy against your jaw, still twitching inside your wrecked cunt.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "Still not enough. Need you again, love. Gonna fill you 'til you’re round with me, swear it."

Johnny stayed buried in you for a long moment, hips grinding lazy, slow circles, as if trying to force every last drop even deeper. You could feel it leaking out around his cock — hot, sticky, obscene — and you whimpered, overstimulated and wrecked.

Johnny noticed immediately. Growled against your throat, feral.

"Leakin'," he muttered, almost offended. "Can't have that. Gotta keep it all in, love. Need you drippin’ full for me."

He finally, finally pulled out — and the flood of cum that gushed out made you sob, weak and broken. But Johnny didn’t give you a second to recover. He dropped between your legs, shoving two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep and obscene, scooping the mess back up.

"No wastin' it," he rasped, fucking his cum right back into your cunt with slow, filthy thrusts. "Take it all, greedy girl. You fuckin' need it."

Your legs kicked weakly at the overstimulation, but Johnny just grinned — wild and unhinged — before spreading you wider, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit while he stuffed you full with his fingers.

"Gonna breed you proper," he whispered hoarsely. "Fill you so deep you’ll be round with me. Belly all heavy, stuffed full of my fuckin' load—"

You sobbed, hips rolling despite yourself, body desperate for more even as your mind shattered into static. You should have known it’d be like this — Johnny didn’t do anything by halves.

He leaned down, mouth dragging messy, possessive kisses along your trembling stomach like he could will it to swell.

"Mine," he murmured. "All fuckin' mine."

And that’s exactly when you heard the door creak open. You barely had the strength to lift your head, vision blurry — but you saw a tall shadow in the doorway.

Ghost.

He stood there, silent, unreadable behind his mask — just watching. Johnny didn't stop. Didn’t even slow down. He curled his fingers inside you again, making you cry out, making more of the mess spill down your thighs.

Ghost's head tilted slightly, almost curious.

"Problem?" Johnny barked over his shoulder, voice wrecked but cocky as hell. Like he wanted Ghost to see — to know.

Ghost said nothing. Just crossed his arms slowly over his broad chest.

Johnny smirked and turned his attention back to you, dragging his fingers out with a wet squelch just to stuff them right back in — slow and possessive.

"That's right," he said lowly, clearly for Ghost’s benefit now. "Had to take care of it myself. Filled her up so good she's fuckin' leaking. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?"

You whimpered in response — too broken, too full, too wrecked to argue.

Ghost watched you for a long, heavy moment — chest rising and falling — before he spoke, voice flat and unreadable: "You better clean up after yourself, Soap."

Then, calmly — without another word — Ghost shut the door behind him with a click.

Johnny barked out a wild, breathless laugh against your stomach. "Come to help, mate?" he panted, fingers still lazily dragging through the wrecked mess of your cunt. "Think she needs it. Poor thing's so fuckin' stuffed already, can't hold it all."

Ghost didn’t answer. Didn't need to.

He stalked closer, heavy boots thudding against the floor, until he was standing right at the edge of the bed — looming over your trembling body. You watched through blurred eyes as he popped the button on his cargo pants, dragging the zipper down slowly, deliberately.

Johnny shifted you slightly, spreading your legs even wider, thumbs digging bruises into your hips to keep you open — presenting you like a ruined offering.

"C'mon, Ghost," Johnny muttered, voice rough and wild. "Don't leave the girl waitin'. Look how pretty she is—drippin' fuckin' ready."

Still silent, Ghost wrapped a hand around the base of his cock — thick, flushed, already leaking — and lined himself up.

He didn’t ease in. Just pressed the fat head against your already-used, dripping hole and pushed.

You screamed, body arching off the bed, overwhelmed instantly by the stretch, the pressure, the unbearable fullness of taking another man inside you without even a second to adjust.

Ghost let out a low, broken sound, not quite a grunt, not quite a moan, and buried himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"There we fuckin' go," Johnny whispered against your ear, laughing breathlessly. "Take him, love. Take us both."

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Ghost fucked you without mercy — slow, devastating thrusts that forced Johnny’s mess and his own spit to spill down your thighs in filthy, wet streams. He said nothing — just breathing harshly through the fabric of his mask, hands brutal on your hips, using you like a living, breathing fucktoy.

Johnny kept whispering filth into your ear — encouragements, praises, commands — while Ghost destroyed you from the inside out.

"That's it, good girl," Johnny crooned, petting your hair while Ghost slammed into you. "Take it like you were fuckin' made for it."

You felt your mind fracturing — pure overstimulation, pure broken pleasure — as Ghost fucked you harder, grinding deep, his cock stretching you to the point of tears.

And then Johnny shifted again — ducking low between your legs to lick around where you were stuffed full, his tongue dragging over your overstretched rim every time Ghost pulled out just a fraction.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny gasped, almost reverent. "Look at that, Ghost. Cunt's swallowin' you like she needs it."

Ghost let out another low, broken sound — and picked up the pace. The bed creaked violently under you, your body jolting with every brutal, punishing thrust.

You could feel it building — some dark, overwhelming climax you couldn’t fight — tightening low in your stomach, burning up your spine.

Ghost suddenly reached down and gripped your throat — not tight, just heavy, possessive — and that was it.

You shattered. Clamping down around him so hard Ghost actually groaned, thrusts going sloppy, brutal. And then you felt it — hot, thick, spilling deep inside you, Ghost’s cock pulsing violently, joining Johnny’s mess inside your ruined cunt.

You lay there twitching, barely conscious, as Ghost finally pulled out — slow, heavy — and watched as his cum immediately leaked out after him.

Johnny's hand was already there — catching it, stuffing it back inside you with lazy, satisfied fingers.

Ghost pulled his gloves back on silently, redressing with mechanical efficiency. Said nothing. Before he left, he pressed one gloved hand to your trembling thigh — firm, approving — and then disappeared out the door without a word.

Johnny leaned down over you, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

"Told ya, sweetheart," he whispered with a wicked grin. "Was gonna fill you proper."

And from the ache in your gut and the obscene mess between your thighs —you knew he wasn’t lying.

Morning hit like a slow, heavy sledgehammer.

You barely even remembered falling asleep — just flashes: Johnny fucking his cum deeper into you with lazy, loving thrusts while you sobbed into the sheets; Ghost’s heavy hand gripping your thigh one last time before disappearing without a word.

Now your entire body ached. Your thighs were sore, trembling even at the slightest twitch. Your pussy was a wreck — raw, swollen, still leaking a slow, lazy drip of milky white that soaked into the crumpled sheets beneath you.

You tried to shift — to roll onto your side — and whimpered immediately. Everything hurt. You could feel the mess drying on your skin, inside your cunt, coating your thighs.

And Johnny, of course, was already awake.

He lay stretched out beside you, arms tucked behind his head, a smug, satisfied smirk spread wide across his face.

"Mornin’, sunshine," he drawled, voice rough from use, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Sleep well?"

You glared at him weakly, too exhausted to even muster words. Johnny just grinned wider.

"Y’look wrecked," he said cheerfully, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. "Proper job, that."

You tried to move again — a pathetic, sluggish attempt — and Johnny laughed, full-bodied and warm.

"Aw, poor thing. Can’t even fuckin' walk, huh?"

His hand drifted down — over your collarbone, the bruises he’d left, the fingerprints, the possessive marks — until he palmed your lower belly, pressing down just slightly.

You gasped, muscles clenching reflexively around the lingering mess inside you.

Johnny's grin turned wolfish.

"Still full, are ya?" he murmured. "Good girl. Holdin’ it all for us."

He sat up slowly, bare chest gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat, and pulled back the sheets.

You whimpered as cool air brushed your ruined, sore cunt — thighs automatically trying to close, to hide yourself.

Johnny tsked softly, spreading you open with two rough hands like you were something precious to be displayed.

He hummed low in his throat — a sound of satisfaction.

"Ghost’ll be pleased," he muttered, almost to himself.

You blinked sluggishly at him, confused.

Johnny chuckled and gestured toward the nightstand. There — sitting neatly next to a bottle of water — was a simple piece of paper. No name. No explanation. Just three short words, written in Ghost’s heavy, blocky scrawl: “Hold it in.”

Your heart hammered painfully in your chest.

Johnny laughed again — delighted, wrecked — and leaned down to press a filthy, claiming kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh.

"Guess we’re not done after all, love," he whispered against your skin. "Orders are orders."

And from the wicked glint in his eye, you knew you weren’t getting a break anytime soon.

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley with a user who basically kidnaps herself. CW : Masturbation, mentions of oral

It started with the little things. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise more frequently. You heard heavy breathing and a slick sound at night coming from your slightly open window. A blank account following your public instagram account.

You then started seeing him. A tall burly man that seemed to always appear In the corner of your eye. You never saw his face because of the balaclava he wore. And that frustrated you.

Hell, if a guy is going to stalk you, the least he can do is not hide his face.

Eventually, you got sick of it. You let the brute of a man follow you home as usual. Let him watch you 'sleep' through your window while he fisted his cock. And then when he went home, you followed him.

You honestly thought he'd catch you. Feel you watching him. Following him home. But it seemed that his post orgasmic haze rendered him vulnerable.

You followed the man to a nice looking home. Not huge or anything, but It was cozy.

You then watched through a window as he drank a glass of whiskey, before walking through the home to his bedroom.

You quickly rushed to the bedroom window, glad the blinds weren't fully shut.

The man then sat down on his bed, pulling something from his bedside drawer-hey wait, are those your fucking panties you lost? Sneaky bastard. Those are your favourite.

And now he's fisting his cock again. Only this time, he's taken off that stupid balaclava to sniff them and-oh.

Oh.

Fuck, he's hot.

Those scars, the dirty blonde hair, the slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, Jesus H Christ.

Yeah. To say you were thinking of this mans face between your thighs was an understatement. He might genuinely be one of the hottest men you've ever seen.

You quickly went home, going to the blank account that had followed you, and with a few clicks, you found the guys private instagram. Simon Riley. He's not the only person who's good at stalking.

You then found out that he was in the military. A Lieutenant. Seemed to be really private. No matter though, you already knew where he lived.

The following day, you took the day off work, and broke into Simon's home. Moving almost all of your stuff in. He wouldn't mind.

Then, when Simon walked into his house he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you, sipping from one of his mugs, on his couch.

The woman he'd been stalking for nearly a year.

"I-what-what are you doing here?" He muttered, eyes wide as he took off his balaclava.

"You should have shown me your face earlier. I would have moved in ages ago" you shrugged.

"Moved in?" Simon almost squeaked.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

before you all panic, yes. There will be a part two :p

Edit! ~ there's a part 2 you thirsty animals ⟢ right here! ❤︎

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Doggy style with Simon 🤭 (nsfw)

The way he'll pound you as hard as he can so he can see your ass jiggle with each thrust. His huge hands grab onto your hips, holding you still as he fucks into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby, fuck, this pussy is so good,” he grunts, spanking your ass, grinning when you whine.

He leans down, pressing his chest against your back, one of his hands moving to fondle your tits, feeling them in his hands. He kneads and squeezes them before pinching your nipples, relishing in the way you writhe.

He pulls back straightening up again, and watches your back for a moment before pushing you down so your face and chest meet the mattress. Your back arches perfectly, pushing your ass up for him.

He fucks you harder. He's losing control.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you're so perfect,” he groans as he moves a hand under you, finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

Gonna come on my cock, baby? Gonna come on my cock like the good girl I know you are?” he asks, feeling your pussy clenching around him. “Yeah, you are. And then, I'm gonna come on this pretty ass. This perfect ass. Fuck, it's like you're just made for me.”

---

Taglist

@booboobear-12 @lilychristine01 @smzyyx @mxsatorisimp @akkahelenaa @crypticlxrsh

*if you wanna be added to my Ghost taglist, lmk ❤️

---

Blog masterlist

[jaesblogstuff]

You know that thing some married couples do where the husband takes a bite of cake and mouth-feeds the chewed part to his wife? Simon definitely does that at your wedding and some of 141 collectively lose their minds.

⸻

The cake was good—light, sweet, touched with something rich like espresso—but you barely tasted it.

Because Simon took the first bite. Not with a fork, not like a gentleman. Just lifted it with his fingers, slow and sure, eyes on yours as he bit into it.

Crumbs clung to his lips. Frosting kissed the corner of his mouth. He chewed slowly, jaw tense. That wolfish calm he always wore—under control, but always on the edge of something primal.

From the table nearby, Soap called out, “Oi, better be a clean split or there’s gonna be blood!”

Laughter. Glasses clinking. Someone whistled.

But Simon? Didn’t blink. He kept chewing, and locked eyes with you.

You leaned in slightly. Narrowed your gaze.

“Was that the last one?”

He didn’t look sorry. Just kept chewing. Shrugged, eyes glinting.

“You said you were full,” he said around the bite, voice low, half amused, half taunting.

You huffed, eyes flicking to the now-empty plate. “That was before I saw you licking the damn fork like it was divine intervention.”

That made his lips twitch.

Then—because he was ridiculous, and feral, and somehow the softest monster you’d ever loved—he leaned forward, chewed a little slower, and pulled you in by the chin with two fingers.

Mouth to mouth, he pressed the rest of the bite to your lips. Chocolate and salt and heat. Your breath caught.

You let out a startled laugh against his mouth. “You’re disgusting.”

“You wanted some,” he murmured, smug. “Open.”

You did. Because you were a little disgusting too. And because the way he was looking at you? Like the reception, the cake, the crowd—none of it existed. Just you, and his hand on your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like you were his favorite thing he’d ever tasted.

From the 141 table, a violent cough.

Soap, choking. “Jesus Christ—”

Gaz: “I think I just got pregnant.”

Price didn’t say anything, but you could feel the weight of his stare. The kind that said this is still a public function, son, even if his mouth twitched like he was holding in a smirk.

You swallowed.

Simon pulled back just an inch. His thumb wiped a smudge of icing from your bottom lip and, without looking away, he brought it to his own mouth. Licked it clean.

“Good?” he asked, low, rough.

You nodded, dazed.

“Thought so.”

Soap leaned into Gaz, muttering loud enough to carry: “They’re gonna shag on the damn cake table.”

You turned slightly, still breathless. “You’re just mad no one’s feeding you.”

“I’m mad I can’t unsee that,” he said.

Gaz: “You’re lying. You’ve replayed it twice.”

Price finally chimed in, cool and dry: “You feed anyone like that on my birthday, Riley, I’m pulling your funding.”

Simon didn’t even glance at them. Just pressed his palm to the small of your back, ring flashing, and leaned in until his lips were brushing your ear.

“Still hungry?” he asked, just for you.

God help you. You were.

And they all knew it.

[hauntingblue]

Oh my god why........ why would someone do this omg.... feminism would have saved them all... lesbianism too...

[tojigasm]

Loveeee the idea of Bucky being super talkative when he's balls deep in your pussy

he brings a hand to the nape of your neck, supporting your head and bringing your gaze to watch his thick cock slip in and out of you with lidded eyes.

Bucky presses a long kiss to the top of your head with a choked groan, "Yeah, look at that," his balls press up against your soaked folds and you keen, brows furrowing and plush lips falling open at the delicious stretch of him.

"you okay?" he asks against your hair, still pumping into you.

you nod shakily, letting a soft moan fall past your lips, "feels so good." in the same moment, you reach down between your bodies to spread the lips of your cunt open.

Bucky moans from above you — "Oh shit, yeah, I like that."

you whimper, wrapping a small hand around Bucky's metal arm for leverage when he sinks alllll the way into your sopping heat.

Bucky presses his forehead to yours, circling his hips with a soft groan, "christ, you're tight," he leans back some to watch your folds hug his girth as he pulls out and pushes back into you, earning a squeal from you.

"Juuuusssst like that," the smirk is evident in his lofty tone, "ain't that right, sweetheart."

"Mhm," you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Your tight walls squeeze around his length and you feel him shiver above you.

"You keep that up, and this isn't gonna last much longer."

You mumble a 'sorry,' that breaks into a heated moan when you feel his balls tap against your folds.

"Don't be sorry," he slips his thumb past your swollen lips, pulling your bottom one down, "just sit there and look pretty fr'me, 'kay?"

[tojisteddy]

Overstim with the 141

John is full of encouragement. His large hands caressing and pulling you in the most divine ways. He’ll hold you close, slowly thrusting into you during your second orgasm, forehead to forehead.

“So pretty honey, know you can give me another.”

“Love you so much, just fuckin- fuck- made for me, fuckin proud of you.”

He’ll plant such tender kisses on your lips, you can’t help but melt and shudder around him. He’ll continue praising you after, cumming himself just from getting you off.

Simon on the other hand, he’s getting that orgasm out of you whether you think you can or not. A bully. Rubbing your puffy clit till your withering and sobbing on his dick. Might stick a finger in your stuffed heat for good measure. He’ll suck on your earlobe, then make his way down your jaw. Finally creaming all over him just how he wanted.

“See? Wasnt that fuckin hard, was it luvie?”

“Pretty little cunt just needed a little guidance, huh birdie?”

Gaz, just has to talk you through it. Dirty talker at heart. Wont shut the fuck up. Definitely has your arms pinned behind your back, enjoying the perfect view of of your cheeks rippling every time he drags his length out and then rams it back in your sopping walls.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at how well you’re taking me. Pussy wont let me go, needs me right, here, yeah?”

“Shh, shhhh, listen angel. You hear all that? That’s allll you, fucking soaking me to my balls. You can give me another, show me how good you are.”

Soap, the idiot, will overstimulate himself while overstimulating you. You’re fucking shaking, telling him to take a fucking break but he’s pussy drunk. So pussy drunk, that even the idea of him pulling out of your tight pussy makes tears well up in his eyes, rambling, whimpering, pleading—

“Cannae get enough of ye bonnie, god, ‘nd ya want me gone? Not like this lass, ma ears ‘re shot. I can’t- ungh- why are ye suckin me like this, Christ-“

“Soo good- hnngh- too good- need you dove. Please, please cum, just once more! I swear, I promise-“

The fool, fucking you both dumb till he’s shooting blanks, cum leaking out of your overstuffed cunt, leaking down his thighs and he’s passed out, still inside you. Don’t worry! He’ll do it over again tomorrow :)

a/n: good morning, sluts, countryfolk, and working babes— lend me your ears!!!

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[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ becoming super needy and clingy during ovulation with rafe.

warnings — 18+. MDNI. cunnilingus (f. oral receiving), mentions of ovulation + being extremely 'needy', fingering, overstimulation.

cherie's note — ily c:

you'd been following him around the house like a shadow all afternoon — fingers brushing over his lap, soft whines slipping past your lips, pressing your body up against him at every opportunity. he hadn't said anything about it at first, just watched you with that curious little tilt of his head, that crooked grin plastered across his face. but after the third time you wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your cheek into the firm muscle of his back like a clingy little kitten, he couldn't find it in himself to ignore it anymore.

there was something wrong — seriously, wrong.

"baby," he muttered, blinking down at you. "what the fuck's going on with you?"

you shrugged, cheeks hot. you couldn't explain it — you just needed. every nerve in your body felt like it was under your skin and screaming for his. you rubbed your thighs together unconsciously, letting out soft whines and frustrated sighs.

you were too warm. too tight. too empty.

so you climbed into his lap without a word, straddling him like you were supposed to be there — like your entire body was aching for the drag of his cock against your cunt and you couldn't stand another second without it. you ground against the bulge in his sweats with a breathy, helpless moan.

you blinked down at him, pupils blown wide, lips wet from where you'd been biting them. "what do you mean?" you asked, like your aching cunt wasn't already soaking through your sleep shorts.

"you've been acting weird all day," he said, trying — failing — not to look down at where your tank top had slipped off your shoulder, showing the swell of your chest. he tried his best to ignore the way your nipples seemed to pebble under the fabric the further his hands moved against your hips, reacting dangerously to his touch. "horny as fuck. all over me."

you just blinked again, lips parting slightly, then leaned in close and dragged your tongue up the side of his throat like you were trying to mark him.

"you smell so good," you whispered, voice shaky. "i can't help it…"

he jerked back slightly, brows drawn tight. "okay, what?"

but you didn't answer. your mouth was already moving again — lips brushing his neck, teeth dragging down to his collarbone. you rolled your hips into him again, slow and filthy, a broken little moan slipping out as the pressure caught your swollen clit just right.

"i've been aching all fucking day, rafe." you breathed. "i can't stop thinking about your fingers in me. your tongue. i need it — i need you so bad."

his whole body went still, cock hardening instantly under you.

"jesus christ," he muttered, half-stunned, half-turned on. "you've been walking around the house like a cockdrunk little slut all day, and this is why?"

"feel how warm i am, baby," you whined, taking his hand and dragging it between your trembling legs. you pressed his palm against your soaked pussy, the thin fabric clinging to your folds. "i'm so fucking wet for you. i'd let you fuck me raw right now — i don't even care."

something in him snapped.

"you wanna act like a bitch in heat?" he challenged, rough hands dragging your shorts down your thighs. "i'll treat you like one"

you whimpered as the fabric peeled away from your soaked core, the cool air hitting your slick skin and making you tremble. his gaze dropped immediately — the mess you had made of yourself only inches from his wet mouth.

he yanked down your panties without warning, the fabric stuck between your folds, clinging from how wet you were, and he groaned as he pulled them off.

"jesus, baby," he laughed teasingly. you couldn't help it — your hips rocked up toward him, needy and instinctive, your plush thighs falling open wide like your body was begging to be used. your cunt was glistening, flushed and swollen, twitching under his stare. "you're dripping."

you were already so fucking close.

rafe's hands slid under your thighs, fingers curling in a firm, possessive grip as he dragged you to the edge of the couch. he didn't say anything at first — just stared.

"gonna ruin you," he muttered.

rafe buried his face between your soft thighs. he didn't start gentle. didn't tease. just buried his tongue between your slick folds and licked like he'd been starving for it — long, slow drags that sent jolts of heat down your spine, your body jerking in response. arousal dripped from you, messy and obscene, and he groaned into your cunt like he loved it.

and the sounds — oh god, the sounds were disgusting. wet and obscene, the kind of sucking and slurping that made your face go hot with shame, even as your body arched up into him.

your thighs twitched around his head, but he didn't let up — shoved them open wider and held them there like a punishment, tongue circling your clit in slow, cruel strokes.

and then his fingers — two of them — slipped inside of your soaked hole, and you whined.

"god, rafe—! please—"

"this what you wanted?" he rasped, voice muffled between your thighs. "walkin' around the house actin' like a needy little fuckdoll? you want me to stuff you full, baby? fill up this messy little cunt?"

you nodded frantically, face flushed, tears threatening behind your lashes. "y-yeah — fuck! please—"

he grinned against you.

"cum for me, sweet girl."

he didn't give you a choice. his mouth sealed over your clit, tongue lashing fast and precise while his fingers fucked into you deep and hard, curling just right, just right—

the sound of your moans bounce off all four walls, body shaking, thighs clamping tight around his head as you gushed around his fingers. your head dropped back, mouth falling open in a silent sob, whole body locking up as you rode it out.

and still, he didn't stop.

"rafe—rafe—too much!"

he growled into your cunt, "you said you didn't care, remember? begged me to fuck you raw. don't act shy now."

your second orgasm hit before the first had even finished — more intense, more desperate, blinding — your slick dripping down to the cushion below you, your body convulsing as each of your limbs twitched.

"gonna give you one more," he murmured against your clit, voice wrecked. "just one. want you cryin' when i finally fuck you."

[lovelyghst]

poor simon settling for just the tip with his pretty girl late at night, having just gotten home from work and finding her sleeping soundly in their bed. he gently coaxes you awake, going against every nerve in his worn out body to let you rest, and he asks you so, so nicely.

begs, more like it, and you simply can’t refuse.

with your sweet permission, he slicks up his cockhead and eases it into your little hole with some effort from the both of you, his eyes fluttering shut as he fights to maintain his promise. just the tip.

and he shows such good restraint for you! moaning through his clenched jaw as he slowly fucks the tip of his cock in and out of your pretty pussy, whining when the exposed length of his dick pulses from neglect. he’s sat back on his knees and heels with your hips pulled into his lap, not trusting his tired muscles enough for missionary. still, he can’t keep his hands off of you.

he may be desperate, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt or force anything onto his princess. that would be the true death of simon riley. he even runs a gentle thumb over your swollen clit to make you melt into the pillows, urge those lovely little noises from your lips, the same ones he’s been hearing in his daydreams while he’s at work.

they make his dick throb, the seasoned soldier’s hand trembling as it soothes over your lower tummy. gosh, he missed you so much.

and you read it all on his face; how much he respects your wishes, but also how badly he needs relief. the slackened jaw, panting chest, droopy eyes heavy beneath furrowed brows. it makes you frown.

“simon,” you whine out softly, and his eyes snap up to meet yours. the look on your face makes him stifle a choked moan. “c’mere…”

you reach up as he leans forward for you and, to his surprise, you tug him in by his neck for a needy kiss. you wrap your legs around his lower back as best you can, locking them tight in the divot of pure muscle, and you reel him in closer.

consequently, the rest of his cock fully sheathes inside you and the sudden stretch makes you whimper out, him groaning loudly like a whore as he buries his heated face in your collar. christ, he fucking came just from one stroke of tight, wet warmth. and it feels so good, too good for him. he works hard, you think, he deserves it.

you giggle as you hold your baby close, let him catch his breath and grasp his settings before he rolls over, you held clasped in his arms.

he falls asleep in the matter of seconds, with his face in your chest and his dick in your cunt, like a good soldier. probably mutters some strained apology in between, even though you couldn’t be happier.

[goaskangel]

nanami really loving you on valentine's day!

cw : aggresive, perv nanami, groping, dry humping, breeding(?), alcohol mention, yummy asfff

word count : 1.8k

you may have gone overboard with the cleaning. your apartment doesn’t look lived in, more like an IKEA showroom. it’s not like nanami’s an inspector, he’s your boyfriend. new though, you’re not very close and it’s only been a couple of months but he was manly enough to ask you to be his valentine, how could you resist!

he’s just so perfect, you daydream while flattening the creases of the couch’s pillow. golden and groomed blonde hair, ironed suits, old fashioned manners. how his voice goes softer when he’s speaking to you, his strong teeth and subtle smile only coming out for you. it feels like you’ve won a national prize every time you break his calm and collected attitude and manage to make his pale complex warm up. you dimmed the living room since you planned a casual movie-night with him, hopefully not too casual for him. 

god knows he’ll show up in his signature suit and sit up-right while you play a stupid rom-com. that would be kind of nice. finally all alone, together, on a comfy couch. you could crawl onto his lap, tug on his tie, lick on his collared neck. kiss him like you mean it, no fear of the public. 

you squint at your suddenly changed thoughts and get up with a sigh, knowing him, he might not make a move. but he’s only a man…?

you wait for the door’s bell. when it comes, you give yourself a few seconds and fix your hair before walking to the door. you can’t make it seem like you’d been waiting, that’d be ridiculous. suddenly your thoughts of changing your clothes because it’s a bit too chilly pass your mind when you see him. like lava streams in your blood, you warm up to a casual nanami. a pretty man dressed in a gray sweatshirt that painfully compliments his skin showed up timely to spend time with his girlfriend on valentine’s, you could faint!

“hello. picked up flowers on the way, these are for you.” he tilts the bouquet, your favorite, towards you gently, grinning warmly, making his eyes squint. you swear you could eat his face. 

“thank you, thank you!” you’re handed the flowers as he steps closer to you, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead as you take them, inhaling the floral aroma mixed with his peppery and woody cologne.

“i love them, but you didn’t have to, really.”

“it’s valentine’s day and the least i could do.” same soft smile on his lips. 

you smile, too hard, at his gesture and move to the side to let him in. he kicks off his shoes as you quickly close and lock the front door, placing the flowers on the kitchen counter. 

“it’s not too hot in here, i hope.” 

“it’s just fine,” he offhandedly observes the room, an appreciation for what you’ve done to the place. he tugs at his sleeves and rolls them up, revealing strong forearms. jesus christ. you snap out of your gaze and rush to sit at the couch, a thick blanket and a couple of fluffy pillows decorated the comfy space. rich chocolate and drinks already set at the coffee-table, and his favorite desserts from a bakery? you pat at the spot next to you and hold back a giggle when he sits next to you. his black pants spreading neatly over his thighs, your eyes carefully wandering to the seam of the zipper, your mouth pooling. 

“here, get comfy.” you toss the large pull-over on the both of you, taking in the sight of him, shuffling closer to you and warming up to the blanket around him. 

“quite a fine home you’ve got, it’s extremely cozy.” he throws an arm over you. 

“i try. it’s not usually this… tidy.”

“what? you’re trying to impress me?” he teases. 

“it’s your first time over, i wanna make you feel good an’ comfy.” 

“well, it’s working.” he smooths his hand over your hot cheek, the metal of his ringed index finger brushing over you.

you spend the remaining time opening chocolate and bakery boxes, feeding each other and occasionally kissing while a movie plays in the background. you hope for any move during the time he’s with you, any move at all. maybe a lingering kiss. it’s so distracting the way the shadows of the dark room and light source from the tv brighten his sharp features. you’re leaning into his warm chest as his fingers graze over your exposed thighs, sipping the wine you bought that he surprisingly, and thankfully, really enjoyed. 

another scene of the characters just talking and spilling lore, he sets the half-full glass down and focuses on you. eyes on the screen but his palm has splayed to soothe and grope over your thigh. he notices your obedience, spreading your legs just by the tiniest bit. his slips his hand into your inner thigh and that’s where you roll your body slowly. 

his eyes are now on you, and your bodies mingled under the sheet as you watch the movie. mmm, thank god you wore thin shorts and a random t-shirt. you feel as his fingers graze over your thinly covered cunt, tips coming down to rub your clit. your gaze stays straight but you don’t focus, you’re unable too.

“c’mere,” nanami fixes your slouched posture so you sit with your back on his chest, your legs open and pliable for him to touch and grope at your body. 

“kento.” you mumble, dazed, when his hand slides underneath your damp panties to tease at your folds. 

“mhm, you’re so beautiful.” he sniffs at your hair as his other hand grips under your bra to hold and fondle your breast. the wine was really getting to you both. a sudden pulse at your lower back as he grinds gently into you, how tight had his pants gotten? 

finally, finally, he got his hands on you. even under a blanket, you look down to watch the fabric move in waves as he rubbed your most sensitive parts, the alcohol heightening your senses. skilled hands pacing gentle but greedy circles on your buds as you gripped the remote. you appreciate his sexual activity, it’s just so much more aggressive than you thought he ever could be. his sweet words and gestures all hid his intrusive and perverse actions.

“god, i need to feel you.” he highlights his eagerness with an extra squeeze. you pathetically push the blanket off the couch and with trembling hands, you move yourself to face him. he lays himself down as you sit on his lap. you moan quietly when you feel him against your soiled shorts, bucking your hips down to get more of the twitching sensation below his belt. humping the fat chub under his pants, you craved it more than anything.

“uh-huh, that’s good. baby, you’re so good to me. that’s it.” his hands hold a bruising grip on your hips as you grind slowly but firmly on his hard cock. 

“couldn’t stop thinking about this,” he groans when you rub your fat cunt directly on his tip, “this pretty body on mine, you’re so fucking hard to resist.” his cursing going right to your achy clit. you hop off and watch him violently take his belt off, switching your spots and filling the void between your legs with his hips. pulling his sweater off and tossing it as you do the same with your top. his pale skin so handsome and soft with his softer muscles and a layer of fat on his stomach from eating all his favorite breads. so sexy, you wrap your legs around his waist. you shake your head at the condom he pulls out from his pocket. 

“needa feel you, your cock in me, please. don’t want anything between us, kento, please please. it’s valentine’s, let me do this for you.” 

“perfect girl, you’re gonna kill me.” but he complies, gladly tossing the latex and pulling the confinements of his cock down. you whine at his contents. big and hard, the first time you’ve seen this part of him. you love it, he hasn’t even fucked you and you already love it, love him. 

you nod aggressively when he lines his chubby, weeping tip against your soppy pussy. letting it catch a few times as he rocks back and forth, the moves of his sexy hips making you throb. he fulfills his own fantasies of his raw cock on his beautiful girl’s wet cunt whilst she begs for him to fill her up and make her his. 

“you want it, sweetheart?”

“more than anything, yes yes yes.” 

“no protection, nothing protecting you? you sure, love? it’s risky.”

“don’t care. i’ll have your babies if you want to, if i have to – jus’ give it to me.” 

“mmm, babies, huh… you sure that’s not the wine talking?” sick, even if it wasn’t the lust from being slightly tipsy, he wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop himself.

you could cry with all the teasing he’s doing but you lose your breath when he pushes himself into your perfect, tight cunt. all his. he takes your limp and delicate upper frame to his advantage and undoes your bra. nanami rolls himself deeper into you as he watches your pretty tits bounce with every move. 

“so good, ken, thank you..!” as he presses himself into the depths of your cunt. you're unbelievably tight and so warm when he bottoms out as far as he can without really breaking you in. 

he’s slow, eager and certainly not collected as he usually is but he takes his time to fuck you. you’re so drunk on lust and sex that you just agree to whatever he says. his pretty girl wants to be all his? have his kids? marry him and be taken care of and fucked so good daily? you nod and babble to all of it. as he speeds up, his sloppy kisses and skilled tongue on your nipples slow and he concentrates on making you both come. the movie ended a while ago and the rooms filled with groans and moans, sloppy and slippery squelches and slaps. 

his kisses his thumb wet and massages little circles into your sensitive clit. you writhe at not only the delicious friction but how you tighten up again around his cock, stretching you out all over again. 

“close, i’m close. keep fucking me, kento, yes, mhm. yesyesyes..” you jump at the overwhelming, intense orgasm and milk out every single ribbon of creamy cum into you. growling and furrowing his dark brows as he creams directly at your cervix. 

“good, good girl.” he snaps through his teeth as he finishes inside you. smoothing his hand over your pelvis and under your naval. gasping and panting as you both collect yourselves. he sinks down to rub his sweating face into your neck, kissing you gently again as you pull and stroke his blonde locks. ending such a day with all his love! <3

happy valentine's day you FREAKS

masterlist

[beloveds-embrace]

(a very low-effort post abt 141 x their new hacker- you. For better immersion, click on the song link during Soap’s workout! <3)

The first time you make contact, it’s through their personal phones.

Not the official military-issued devices- no, those would be too easy. You wanted to make an impression.

So when Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap each glance at their personal screens, expecting the usual notifications from Laswell, they’re instead greeted by:

(¬‿¬) Hello, boys.

Price sighs like a disappointed father, having been forwarned of your antics, and still immediately calls Laswell.

“Care to explain why my phone just got hijacked?”

Laswell doesn’t sound surprised. If anything, she sounds like she’s been expecting and waiting for this- for his phone call specifically about getting hacked. “That’s your new hacker.”

Price pinches the bridge of his nose, while the others exchange Looks of Consideration™️. “That’s how she introduces herself?”

“She’s efficient.”

“She’s cheeky.”

“She’s listening,” you interject, making them all jolt as your voice plays from the phone speakers, honey-sweet and undeniably smug.

There’s a long silence. Then Gaz whispers: “What the fuck?”

You giggle. (≧◡≦) flashes onto all their screens right after that, just as cheeky as your tone.

“So she’s just gonna creep around in our phones now?” Gaz asks after that, wary, an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.

In response, just his screen flickers, and a new message appears.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ Rude.

Laswell sighs again, much like an exasperated mother, and gestures at their phones. “Give her a chance. She is, despite everything, good at what she does.”

And so from that that moment on, you’re everywhere; they don’t see you, but they feel your presence. You’re in their systems, their devices, and their comms.

Ghost boots up his laptop one day, only to find that his standard background has been replaced with a pixelated skull and crossbones- like those they did on pirate ships in movies. Below it, in small text:

For the spookiest boy.

He says nothing, just tilts his head slightly before closing the laptop.

And when Price logs into the briefing room terminal, instead of the standard military insignia, the screen briefly flashes with the words:

WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN DILF.

Soap loses it. Price glares at him, then at the screen, then sighs, muttering, “Christ.”

Soap isn’t free from your shenanigans, though.

One day, while doing his usual workout, he pulls up his playlist. The moment he presses play, his music app forcefully closes and reopens with “The Drunk Scotsman” blasting at full volume.

“NO, NO, NO-“ Soap scrambles to shut it off as the entire base turns to look at him.

On his screen, once the app is blessedly closed, a message pops up:

(ʘ‿ʘ) Dance, pretty boy.

And then Gaz’s torture is quieter, but no less effective.

Every so often, while he’s texting, his camera light flickers on. Not long enough to take a photo- just a brief, eerie blink before an emoji appears on his screen:

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He groans. “She’s messing with me.”

“You mean flirting?” Soap smirks, leaning closer to the phone and chuckling as the camera light flickers back on for just another few seconds.

Gaz scowls. “…I hope so.”

Still, despite all your antics, you’re brilliant at what you do. And they learn this firsthand during their first mission with you.

“All teams, check-in.” Price orders as they move through a darkened compound.

Instead of Laswell’s voice responding, it’s yours. Soft, smooth, and playful.

“Five by five, Captain.”

There’s a pause- brief but notable. Then, Price exhales. “You hacking my comms now, too?”

“Wouldn’t be a very good hacker if I couldn’t, would I?”

Soap snorts, snickering with Gaz. “She’s got a point.”

Ghost, listening quietly, murmurs: “Thought you didn’t speak.”

“Only when necessary. Or when I feel like annoying you.”

Your voice is warm, teasing. If Ghost were anyone else, he might have smiled. And then, just like that, you’re all business.

“Sniper on the rooftop, two o’clock.”

Ghost adjusts, and then fires. A body drops.

“Price, your six.”

The captain pivots, taking down the enemy creeping behind him.

“Soap, slow down.”

“I got this,” Soap insists- only for a grenade to go off near him. “…I don’t got this.”

“Clearly.”

“…Shut up.”

With you in their ears, everything runs smoother. Their feeds don’t lag. Their encryptions are tighter. They feel- secure. With you and Laswell? Almost untouchable, but they don’t let it get to their heads.

When they return to base, exhausted but alive, their phones light up with a single message:

(￣︶￣) Good job, boys.

They stare at their screens, and then Price huffs a laugh. Soap grins. Gaz shakes his head. Ghost, unseen beneath his mask, smirks.

They don’t know your face. Haven’t met you in person.

But they decide you’re theirs, and they are yours. Even if you’re just unknown- for now, anyways.

[yukioos]

when katsuki’s copying your snaps so you pull a move

you sat, scattered across your bedroom with your friends. you decided you should all have a sleepover because you hadn’t hung out as a group in a while. as you all continued to giggle and watch a show on your television screen, your phone lit up.

a notification from katsuki, who you were sending photos of yourself to every couple of minutes. of course, he copied them with ease and without a care in the world.

but suddenly, your eyes widened, and you grinned like the cheshire cat. you had an amazing idea. you held the camera not too far away, and flexed your arm, showing your muscle. you giggled, would katsuki really fall for the trick and send you the same pose back?

less than a minute later, he opened the photo, but tsuyu sat next to you and leaned against her arms behind her. she asked, “are you feeling okay? you don’t appear to be interacting with the group as much.”

you nodded, “i’m okay, i’m just trying to get my boyfriend to do something,” then smiled at her clueless face. she was adorable.

you gained another notification from katsuki, so you clicked it and opened the photo.

jesus christ. his muscles were huge.

his shirt was off, and his bicep had a scar on it, he was looking into the camera with a glint in his red eyes and a smirk on his face. you blushed, and your lips stretched into a smile. you saved the photo to your camera roll, and he immediately texted you a message.

‘glad you think i look that good’

you rolled your eyes and smiled, and suddenly you heard a knock on your dorm door. the room went silent, and mina picked up the remote control and paused the show you were watching. everyone looked at each other, then at you. after a couple of seconds, there was another knock at the door and a sigh. you stood up and timidly walked over to the door, then opened it.

katsuki stood there in a black tank top with a white skull in the middle and sweatpants. his muscles still stood out even in his top and pants, and he smirked down at you, then raised his eyebrows.

you looked back at the quiet room and smiled, “don’t worry guys, it’s just katsuki!”

“y/n, he probably came here to be with you. you can let him in, you don’t have to ask us.” you smiled at kyoka’s words, then you squealed and jumped.

your boyfriend didn’t say many words, but you latched onto his bicep and tugged him into your room. he locked the bedroom door then you pushed him onto the bed to watch the show with the girls. you sat crisscrossed with him and switched positions frequently until you were comfortable.

once he laid down on your bed, you immediately followed after him and slung your leg and arm over his body. he groaned and gently pushed your head away when you tried to nuzzle into him, but you whined.

he grinned, knowing he was just trying to irritate you. he then placed his large hand on the back of your head and pulled it back closer to his body, and once everyone was looking away, he kissed your hair.

katsuki would never admit it, but he just wanted to lie down with you. didn’t care much to talk or show you anything, but wanted to be in your presence. you would always be the one to bring his mood up.

words weren’t needed to express his love for you, and vice versa.

but a couple of minutes later, the two of you were passed out, snuggled together in your bed. ochaco stood up from the bean bag and leaned over.

she whispered, “aww, look at those two! they’re adorable, i’ve never seen bakugo like this!” she placed her hands together and spinned.

but mina had a different idea.

“yeah, they’re cute, but eijiro can use this as blackmail, and so can i,” she joked. she took her phone out and made sure the flash was off, before smiling with malicious intent and looking at all the girls. they giggled, and she finally took the photo.

she sent it to eijiro, who texted back, ‘i always knew he was down bad for her’

hope u guys liked this one! tysm for so many likes on my first katsuki post