#need him in ways god would not approve of

[urfavfakeblonde]

ₚᵣₒbₗₑₘ ₛₒₗᵥₑᵣ

what if fantasies could really come to life?

warnings: sex fantasies, oral (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), heaving makeouts, and prob more let me know what I'm missing <3

"god, please James, feel's so good," I whine, head falling back against the back of the couch. My fingers dance through the short strands of his hair, eyes fluttering down to meet his lustful gaze between my legs. I bite my lip, relishing in the feeling of his skillful tongue against my sopping core. His hands are gentle, yet firm as they keep my thighs open and atop his shoulders. His tongue moves quicker against my folds as legs start to shake violently around his head. "fuck! please, please, pl-"

"Y/n? You okay?" Bucky asks, staring me down. I blink and refocus, stirring the pasta sauce that was tempted to burn. He remains leaned on the counter, setting down his beer. "Yeah sorry," I sigh, leaning over to grab some spices. I open and sprinkle a little into the pot one by one, enjoying the hum of music in the background. It was always easy like this--with Bucky. Silence was never awkward, and often enough words wouldn't need to be spoken to know how one another felt. But this time? This time he definitely wouldn't know what was going on inside my head. I hope. "Do you want me to take over?" He asks, walking to the other side of me to pour the pasta in the boiling water. God, he really is that innocent isn't he? I could think of a few way he could take over but "it's fine, I got it." With a smile on my face. He returns the small smile, something that rarely slipped out. Bucky was closed off, which would make since after everything -- but not so much with me. Before, when we first decided to share an apartment because he needed better decoration skills, and I needed someone to make sure it was organized, he would only force a smile if he had to. But on nights like these, when it was just the two of us after a long day-- his smile felt like it was reserved for me. Maybe that's what started my fantasies in the first place.

He grabs the pasta, pouring it into the boiling water. He moves effortlessly around the kitchen, grabbing a spatula and a strainer. I watch him in awe, moving my spoon in slow circles in the sauce. When he returns to the pot, his hand flex's has he stirs, the sight making me drool, literally. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, clearing my throat. I focus on the sauce, and turn the heat off. I grab a spoon and dip it in before bringing it to my mouth, taking in the flavors. "Is it good?" He asks, glancing over at me. I have to look away, those blue eyes making me weaker. "Yeah, you wanna try?" I dip the spoon in again as to give it to him. He takes it and brings it to his mouth. I groan internally, dirty thoughts clouding my senses. He hums in approval, setting the spoon down in the sink. "Delicious," he says, stirring the pot of pasta. I swallow hard, clenching my thighs together. I mutter a small thanks, grabbing some plates and forks. He pours the sauce in the pasta, glancing over his shoulder as I set down our plates on the island bar. He leans over the counter, placing portions on the plates as I fix up a salad. All of this was in silence, a comfortable one for him, but aching and desperate for me. Dinner was the same. My chewing came to a stop when I looked over at his beautiful form, he wasn't sloppy at all when he ate. He was careful, deliberate, savoring every bite. And so what if my mind started to wander? It's not my fault really, he's such a tease.

He kisses me, lifting me up onto the island, helping my anxious hands unbutton my shirt. "Relax, sweetheart. We got all night," he whispers into my ear, vibranium hand snaking down to rub my covered clit. I whine into his mouth, wrapping my arm around his neck to bring him impossibly closer, the other clenching white knuckles against the cool marble. I kiss him feverishly, grasping at his shirt, hair, everything. He gets my shirt unbuttoned, throwing it on the floor. He helps me shimmy my panties off, hands sliding up my legs, waist-

"What are you thinking about?" Bucky's voice brings me out of my daze, and suddenly I realized that I was just in a button up shirt and panties. I swallow my bite and glance at him. He's finished already, casually sipping a beer. Now this? This was too much. My thighs clench together again, which didn't seem to go unnoticed by the man beside me. "You ask a lot of questions," I say cooly, sipping my drink. "You never ask Sam this many questions," I state. His eyebrow raises as he sets his drink down. "Do you only talk to Dr. Raynor?" He asks, a playful smirk on his face. "No." Maybe I answered that too quickly. Or too harshly. Or maybe both. "Sorry," I say quickly, standing up to gather the plates. I sigh as I set them in the sink, washing out my cup. He comes up behind me and takes a plate. I make room for him, setting the sup in the dishwasher. "I don't like talking to Dr. Raynor," I finally say, picking up a fork. "Why?" As his voice always been this raspy? "Because I don't feel like talking about my problems with her. It's not like she can fix them." I say with a huff, taking his plate to put in the washer. He hums, finishing off the other utensils. "You can talk to me you know," he says, turning off the water. I exhale sharply, "I already told you about...my problems." I groan, going to sit on the couch. "Yeah, that's why I know you've got something else on your mind." He says with a smile, going to sit in the armchair. I roll my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest. His gaze stays locked on my figure, blue eyes searching for mine. I bite my lip, clenching my thighs together. "I don't wanna talk about it." I say quietly, looking out the window. It's silent for a moment, the faint sound of the dishwasher filling the apartment.

"Why don't you show me then?" He says calmly, sipping his beer. My head whips back to him, my feet returning to the floor. "What?" I gasp, giving him a confused look. He smirks at me, setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Just come here," he says with a small smile. I swallow, slowly standing up. I eye him suspiciously as he keeps his eyes on my face. I walk to stand before him, crossing my hands over my chest. "Look, I told you I'm fin-" he pulls my gently down into his lap, his ever piercing gaze still locked onto my eyes. I let out a shaky breath, uncrossing my hands to stabilize myself on his shoulders. God, I should have worn more than just panties, because in this position? Fuck, their soaking. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He says quietly, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. My face flushes, eyes avoiding his gaze. "Why do you do this to me?" I ask, eyes meeting his gaze again. He gives me an innocent look, placing his hands on my waist. "Gonna have to be specific sweetheart," he grins, vibranium hand shifting with a mechanic whirr as his hold tightens. I roll my eyes, biting my lip. God, I want to kiss him so bad. "I don't wanna look like...I'm obsessed or something, you know?" I say quietly, hands firm on his shoulders. He smiles at me, hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "Who would think that?" He asks, taking my hand in his vibranium one to bring it to his lips. He kisses the back of my hand softly, eyes trained on mine. "You know, you've got quite the staring problem," I smile. "So I've been told," he responds, with a playful look in his eyes. I hum in agreement, swallowing hard. I sigh, tongue poking out to wet my lips. Before I can even get a word out, he steals the words right out of my mouth. "Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you," he says, hand trailing up to the back of my neck.

I let out a small gasp, hands reaching around to play with his hair. "You want to kiss me?" I ask quietly, staring into his blue eyes. He smiles, cupping the back of my neck to bring me closer. I hesitate, just for a moment to consider the consequences. As I leaned in all the way, I couldn't really think of any. The kiss started off slow, like the moment was being savored. It felt like a daydream, I was kissing my roommate, James Bucky Barnes and fuck did it feel amazing. And then, like he became impatient and desperate, the kiss turned feverish. Tongue dancing, teeth grazing, swollen lips kind of kissing. I moaned, no, actually whined into the kiss, leaning back as to force him forward, the ever-present bulge pressing right onto my excuse for panties. He gently bites down on my bottom lip, pulling away as it releases back with a soft pop! I let out labored breaths, the need in my stomach growing by the second. "Has it ever occurred, that I may be obsessed with you?" he says, eyes full of lust. My lips tremble, wetness threating to seep through my panties. "Fuck," I whine, reconnecting my lips with his. My fingers find my buttons, shakily unclasping each one. Swiftly, he replaces my fingers with his own, kissing down my jaw. I moan softly, biting my lip. He gets it unbuttoned, slowly, torturously, sliding it down my arms, keeping eye contact all the while. I sigh as it hits the floor, hands finding themselves on his thighs. Bra-less. How could I have forgotten I went bra-less too? It's like I was begging to get fucked.

My nipples harden at the sudden coolness, goosebumps rising on my skin. He leans down, pursing his lips together. He lets out a gentle blow of air over them, a sharp exhale leaving my throat. "Sensitive," he mutters, hands reaching up to cup my breasts. The sensations were different- right one under the cool touch of metal, the left warm from the flesh of human. "Shit, that feels so good James," I groan, eyes meeting where he touched. His soft lips connect with the hardened bud, a gasp leaving my lips. My thighs try to clamp together, however his own made sure I couldn't as my slick seeped through my panties. He lets his tongue swirl around the bud before sucking gently, letting it go with a pop! as he moves to the next one. Impatiently, my hand reaches down to his throbbing bulge, helping him relieve some pressure. He groans, kissing up my chest to my collarbone. My fingers find his jeans, undoing the button. He kisses up my jaw, softly sucking at the skin below my ear. Unzipping his jeans, he stops my hand with his. "Let me look at you first," he says, leaning back. I bite my lip, taking a deep breath. "Want me to take those off?" He asks, fingers slipping under the sides of my panties. I nod, standing up, in between his legs. He leans forward, leaving kisses down my thigh has he slides them off antagonizingly slow. I step out of them, shivering as he places them on the edge of the chair. He sets his hands on my waist, slowly spinning me around before pulling me back down into his lap. Oh.

I nearly moan at the bugle pressing into my ass, the wetness in-between my legs practically soaking his jeans. God why is he still in his clothes? "Hey, why do I have to be naked when you're--shit..." his vibranium hand slithers down my front, ghosting over my aching core. My head falls back against his shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the chair. My eyes flutter shut as he applies pressure to my clit, the cold metal sending jolts through my body. I let out a whine, biting my lip as he rubs slow circles, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. My legs begin to tremble, desperate to close around his hand, (which would fail to stop his movements anyways) but his thighs continued to spread my legs open. His movements only increased in speed, yet somehow still gentle. Moans slipped from my throat, desperate pleas of his name mixed with labored breaths at his movements. It didn't take long for the coil to snap, crying out as my body shakes in his touch. I rested my head on his shoulder as I caught my breath, my firm hold on the chair's arms releasing as the ringing in my ears dissipated. He leans down to capture my lips in a kiss, smiling as my eyes fluttered shut. "You okay sweetheart?" he asks softly, lifting me up into his arms. I nod, keeping my eyes shut. He walks to his bedroom, placing me on the bed. As he starts to stand up, I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him on top of me.

"Wasn't done with you yet," I whisper, kissing him feverishly. He hums into the kiss, surprised. "Not too tired?" he asks, pulling his shirt off to be discarded onto the floor. "Not for you," I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck.

[scho17]

“It's all Dick can do to not imagine himself in Danny's shoes. Clutching a rescued Jason as they sobbed together. But Danny got to her in time. Dick didn't.”

oh that was wicked work just OW OWWWWWWWWW MY FEELINGS WHAT THE FUCK. I feel like I got sucker punched, granted, I really did ask for it and God, did you deliver.

Tim, in the bg who has absolutely no idea who these two are or what's going on but can really only infer based on what he can barely make sense of/hear over the unintelligible dialogue through the rain: So. Human trafficking?

Neither Danny or Ellie can exactly say no because well, yes, but it's government funded and sanctioned and, well, for it to be considered human trafficking that would imply them to be considered human, sentient, something of that realm which the governing body obviously does not think them capable of being.

DEATH DEFYING!! 🔥🔥🔥 It happens later down the line and is slow going. Alfred feels like he's watching Harvey and Bruce 2.0 because here are these two incredibly intelligent witty young men who do nothing but yearn for each other and it's so clearly obvious to anyone with eyes BUT THEM. It's truly painful to watch.

Punching the air. It’s Dick watching Danny’s retreating back, Ellie in his arms sound asleep with a soft but longing smile. It’s Dick babysitting and not knowing what the fuck he’s doing but doing it anyway and it’s all worth it after he hears either of them laugh, even if it’s at his own expense. It’s Dick learning to cook and take care of himself again after Jason’s death because while his passing shattered a piece of himself there are othes who need him too. If he can’t help even himself then what use is he as either Dick Grayson or Nightwing?

Fast forward to a couple months to a year or two in the future and Dick is sitting on their shared apartments couch, staring at a photo of Jason. It’s a photo of them at a fair, Dick only about seventeen in it with an arm around the shoulders of a barely thirteen year old Jason Todd. Both of them carrying cheery twin grins on their faces as Jason held out a large floppy teddy bear for the camera. Dick had won it for him at one of those scammy ladder climbing games and Jason had smiled so hard Dick’s cheeks had ached in sympathy.

He can’t help but wonder if Jason would be happy for him. He wonders if he has the right to have any of this when his little brother who deserved so much more will forever remain fifteen. Alive only in photos.

But Dick will only grow older. He's got a father and while they're never completely on the same page, he's there. He's got two younger brothers, one in the ground and the other still flying across the grimy Gotham midnight sky, both work like Atlas, and both 60% genius and 40% scheming little shit. Dick’s got a darling boyfriend and a little girl he thinks of as his own and it's good. So, so good. 

He wonders if his parents would approve. Dick thinks they'd be happy for him. He would like to think Jason would be too. 

For all that Bruce had called him irresponsible for bringing Danny into the fold in the beginning Dick could never regret it. Not when it lead to all of this. Their apartment feels so full and homely in a way it hadn’t when it was just him alone. 

AGH OH AND THEN JASON COMES BACK. Guys. Guys. I can be. Good. Normal actually. Wait guys how do we feel about dad friends Roy and Dick because I have. Thoughts.

There are crayon drawings plastered all over the fridge, letter magnets and cartoon ones pinning them in place. A throw blanket over the couch cushions, a rack holding shoes by the door - something Dick would have never thought to buy - there are tapestries and posters hung up and an eclectic variety of plates, bowls, cups, and utensils with residency in their cupboards because their little girl flat out refuses to use the forks that have too-long prongs or spoons with broad handles (“It’s just bad vibes Pa!” “Okay, well what about this one?” “No! That ones too heavy and it has patterns on the handle,”).

In some fucked up way it was kinda funny. 

Guy on the run goes to Bludhaven to keep a low profile and catches the attention of a vigilante. The universe is laughing at him, surely. 

Everything was fine up until a month ago. Really, it was. Danny had obtained his own shitty apartment and yeah, maybe his dead end job made him want to eat dirt more than usual but everything was fine. There weren’t any eyes on him and now there were. A certain bird didn’t know how to leave him alone.

“Can I help you, Nightwing?” Danny says in a flat tone, leaning his forearms against the rails of the fire escape. He isn’t a cigarette type of guy but if ever there were a time this would be it.

“Mhum. I want names, same as always.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “We both know I can’t tell you anything.”

“But you could.”

“I could,” Danny acquiesced with a shallow nod. “And then what? When they can’t get to me, they’ll get to you.” He sighs, feeling infintely tired “in any case, the big bad bat isn’t known for leaving things he doesn’t understand alone, and I’m not really looking to be a lab rat again. Zero out of ten do not recommend. Turns out being vivisected fucking hurts, man.”

“Why won’t you let me take them out for you? Besides, I’m not weak. I can hold my own just fine.”

And thats the million dollar question, isn’t it? Dannys gaze fixes upon the ill looking moon, pallor as he peers through the smog of the dingy city and into the sky. “Because he told me to wait.”

“Who?”

Clockwork. 

Clockwork told him to wait. To do the one thing he hates more than anything in the world. To do the unforgivable - to sit idle when they had Ellie. As much as he’d love to spit venom and recite every reason why the GIW needed to be taken care of much sooner rather than whenever Clockwork had in mind, he can’t. He’s - and Ancients, he’ll never forgive himself - scared. He’s scared.

Logistically, he knows he’s strong. Stronger than anyone in any of those facilities compounded. Stronger than Vlad in terms of raw power if not in wiles, he’s stronger than Pariah Dark. Danny has tested his mettle against the worst of the worst and came out on top but he’s still fucking scared. Isn’t that something? Crown prince of the Infinite Realms is scared. 

There’s no one to magically make it better. No one to lean on because he’s the strongest, he’s it. And if the strongest can’t stand up because they’re too busy having a panic attack at the sight of a lab coat then really, what use are they?

“I can’t tell you that.” He glances down to the alleyway below them. It’s filthy. Wet newspaper plastered to the pavement, old gum cemented in place like spots on a dalmatian. It looks a lot like how Danny feels most days.

Nightwing frowns. “I can help you,” he says. It sounds painfully earnest, like he believes he really, really, could. 

“That's a nice offer, Nightwing, but I can’t take it yet.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

There he is. That’s the boy the bat raised. “Can’t.”

*

The next time Dick sees Danny it isn’t in Bludhaven. 

It’s months later in her sister city, Gotham. Crime Alley, to be specific. It was during the tail end of a joint patrol with the newly minted Robin, Tim, whom he had sent back to the cave early. His eyes snagged on the figure of a young man carrying a child in the middle of the wet season, a thin thoroughly soaked through navy blue sweater clinging to him like a second skin. It was pouring down like the heavens didn’t know how to stop grieving. 

It seemed as anguished as Dick was in the immediate absence of Jason. He blinks tiredly and washes the thought away. There’s a little girl cradled in Danny’s arms with hair just as pitch black as his own, burrowing her small face in his neck, tiny arms clinging as the man himself runs his hand soothingly on her back, murmuring apologies into her hair. “I know, I know, I’m sorry Ellie, I’m sorry. It’s okay, it's- We’re out. We’re okay.”

It’s a painfully private moment, one that he feels guilty for witnessing. The girl - Ellie, sobs into Danny’s chest. It isn’t his place to watch, to witness this. All the same, he wishes he could comfort them somehow. 

[itoshhi]

𝜗𝜚 sae itoshi | bleeding spot

❕smut mdni, period sex.

no, he doesn’t find it gross. i swear sae itoshi loves to see his penis going in and out of you when you’re on your period. hear me out…

when he sees you writhing in bed with your period pain, he’ll first try to massage you and ease it, and he’ll try to help you by bringing things like a hot water bottle —even though it’s going to be classic. when your pain gets worse and you start whining “sae…” he’ll realize that you really need more for this.

“Did you know that orgasms reduce period pain?…” and yes, he saw this article while he was scrolling through his phone, searching for something your period, and here you are, about twenty minutes later. he’s on his knees between your legs, kissing your lips softly. slower and more delicate than usual, like he’s trying not to break you.

“sae, slow down, okay?…” you whined between kisses, murmuring to him and tugging his hair with your hand. he gently rubbed his penis against your already sensitive pussy and pulled back, his lips still on you. he slowly moved down and started to suck and kiss your neck.

he growled softly, his patience thinning but he managed to slow down his movements, gently hooking his arms under your thighs to lift your legs higher against his chest. he looked down at you, his eyes narrowed, “calm down…” after a few minutes, he will try to enter you softly. he will really try, because even just the tip will make you whine. he knows you are sensitive. he will not break eye contact for a moment as he rubs your thighs with his hands, trying to relax you. he is not doing this to embarrass you, but it would be a lie if I said that seeing you get nervous does not harden him.

he will watch your face closely as he enters you. you look different — sensitive, your cheeks reject, your body twitching more easily. he mutters, “damn period...” he then carefully pulls almost all the way out before sliding back in, watching your reaction. he adds softly, “does this hurt?” he will give you time to adjust as you slowly nods your head.

god, when he pull back he’ll look down and the blood on his skin will drive him crazy. i swear to god he can’t help but lose control right now. your insides are hotter than ever and you’re squeezing him tighter. you nod slightly as he looks at you for approval, telling him he can move. he slowly pushes himself back inside you.

he leans down and rests his forehead on yours as he continues to move slowly and carefully. his voice comes out low and gruff, “i’m trying to be gentle, alright?” he starts to press soft kisses to your cheek. “don’t take shaky breaths, you’re making this harder than it needs to be…”

he’ll control his own movements as his kisses travel down your neck. he’ll memorize your sudden reactions and whimpering. “you’re so sensitive, relax baby…” the way you hold onto his biceps, the way you lean your head back into the pillow and whine, and more…

i’m sure. i’m sure he'll memorize the way you took him so softly with your sensitivity, the whimpering as he moved in and out of you while he rubbed the sides of your belly to ease your cramps, the warmth, and everything that happened at that moment.

the middle player who pressed on the bleeding spot will be addicted to it. congratulations girl, you have a good player to cure your cramps.

© itoshhi 2025 {do not copy, translate, steal, modify without permission.}

— someone asked me for this and here you are, i hope you like it.

[abby-iv]

The Way You See Me; C.S.B

AN: Hiii!!! This is very self indulgent honestly, that picture of soobin really did a number on my and I had this dream!!!! I just had to put it into words!! Hope everyone likes it! <3

__________

SYNOPSIS

Soobin has spent months trying to ignore it—the way he craves her approval, the way his heart stumbles when she looks at him, the way he needs to prove himself to her.

She’s his superior—sharp, composed, untouchable. But late nights at the office reveal the cracks in her armor, the pressure she carries, the weight of proving herself.

After a costly mistake in front of senior management, Soobin is desperate to fix what he’s broken. Forced to stay late, tension builds, boundaries blur, and he sees his chance—not just to redeem himself, but to show her exactly how much he wants to be worthy of her.

———————

Pairing: OfficeWorker!Soobin x female!reader

drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish), forbidden love?, implied smut

tags: age gap, office au, superior-subordinate relationship, mutual pining, soobin really wants to make oc proud, really self indulgent work tbh

wc - 3.5k 

———————————

The first time Soobin met her, he was convinced she was the most intimidating woman in the entire company. Not because she was mean—she never raised her voice unnecessarily, never belittled anyone, never acted superior despite her high-ranking position—but because she carried herself with a quiet authority that left no room for incompetence.

She was always polished, always precise. Whether it was the way she spoke in meetings, the way she drafted proposals with sharp efficiency, or the way she could command a room with nothing but a measured glance, she was impossible to ignore.

And yet, despite all that, she had a way of softening around him.

It wasn’t obvious—not something anyone else would pick up on—but Soobin felt it. The way her sharp eyes would linger on him a second too long during briefings. The way her lips would twitch ever so slightly when he stumbled over his words. The way she would press a cup of coffee into his hands during late nights at the office without a word, as if she knew he needed it.

And, perhaps most of all, the way her confidence sometimes faltered when she thought no one was watching.

It had started during those late nights they found themselves stuck in the office, the rest of the building empty, just the hum of computers and the occasional rustle of papers filling the silence.

Soobin had noticed the way her fingers would linger an extra second over an email before sending it. The way she would double-check, triple-check a report that was already flawless. The way her brows would knit together in frustration when she thought she hadn’t done enough.

She always wanted to be better.

One night, when they were both exhausted from an impossible deadline, she sighed and muttered under her breath, “If I mess this up, they’ll never take me seriously.”

It had been so quiet, so vulnerable, that Soobin almost thought he imagined it.

But he hadn’t.

And from that moment on, he had started seeing it more—the small, unspoken pressure she carried, the weight of proving herself to senior management.

He never mentioned it but it made him admire her even more. Because he understood.

Soobin had his own demons to wrestle with. He wanted to prove himself, too—not just as someone competent, but as someone worthy of standing beside her.

And yet, no matter how much he wanted to close the distance between them, it was dangerous.

Not because she was his boss—technically, she wasn’t, though she was still his superior—but because she was older, more experienced, and so utterly out of his league.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

He liked the way she carried herself. He liked the way she pushed him to be better. And he liked—God, he loved—the way she would let him call her Noona.

The first time it had slipped out, she had only raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

“Are we close enough for that, Soobin?” she had asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Soobin had turned bright red. “I—uh—no, I mean, yes, I—”

And then she laughed. Not a full, unguarded laugh, but a small, amused chuckle that made something tight coil in his chest.

After that, it became a habit. He only used it in moments where he wanted to fluster her, to see if he could get a reaction. When he handed her a report early? Here you go, Noona. When he caught her yawning at her desk after a long night? You should take care of yourself more, Noona.

And every single time, she would just give him a knowing look, never confirming nor denying if she liked it.

But the tension was always there.

Little moments. Little glances. Little touches that lingered a second too long.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

Until now.

__________________________

The conference room was silent.

Too silent.

Soobin’s pulse pounded in his ears as the weight of every gaze in the room pressed down on him.

He had rehearsed this presentation a dozen times. He knew the numbers, the strategy, the key talking points. But as he stood there in front of senior management, his mouth felt dry, his hands clammy.

And then—he froze.

It happened so fast. One moment, he was clicking through his slides, explaining their proposal with careful precision, and the next…

Something was wrong.

The figures on the screen weren’t the ones he had prepared. The projections were off. The revenue forecast showed a steep decrease when it was supposed to remain steady. And worst of all—

“Wait.”

Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Soobin’s stomach dropped.

All eyes turned to her, who had been sitting to the side, listening intently—until now.

“There’s an issue with these numbers,” she continued, her brows knitting together as she gestured toward the screen. “These projections don’t match what we reviewed earlier this week.”

Whispers rippled through the room.

Soobin felt his throat close up. He scrambled to find his mistake, flipping through the report in his hands.

He found it.

His heart sank.

The numbers had shifted. Somewhere between finalizing the report and submitting it, a miscalculation had thrown off the entire forecast.

A miscalculation he had made.

God.

His fingers gripped the edge of the podium, his breath uneven.

“I…” He swallowed hard. “I must’ve made an error when I was updating the file.”

Silence.

One of the senior managers, a sharp-eyed man with graying hair, leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “That’s a costly mistake.”

Soobin’s nails dug into his palm.

She let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temple. She didn’t look at him.

“Soobin, we went over this twice,” she said, her voice controlled but firm. “This was supposed to be accurate. How did this happen?”

Soobin opened his mouth—then closed it. There was no excuse.

“I…” He lowered his gaze. “I don’t know.”

The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than anything.

She straightened her back, nodding once before turning to the executives. “We’ll correct the figures and send out a revised report by the end of the day.”

The meeting carried on without him.

Soobin sat through the rest of it in silence, his ears burning, shame curling hot and heavy in his stomach.

When it was finally over, he was the first to leave.

But before he could escape completely, his phone buzzed.

YN: Come to my office. Now.

________________________________

Soobin stepped into her office, feeling like he was walking into a storm. The door clicked shut behind him, locking them away from the rest of the office.

She stood near her desk, arms crossed, frustration still evident in the sharp line of her jaw.

Soobin barely had time to take a breath before she started.

“Sit,” she ordered.

His body reacted before his mind did, sinking into the chair across from her desk.

She stayed standing, hands planted on the wooden surface, looking down at him with eyes that had seen through every excuse, every attempt to soften the blow.

“What happened, Soobin?”

His chest tightened. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “We spent days on this. We reviewed every single number, every forecast, every detail. You knew how important this was.”

“I do know,” he said quickly, but it didn’t matter.

She shook her head, pacing now. “Then why?”

Soobin clenched his fists, swallowing hard. “I thought I had it right. I checked—”

“Clearly, you didn’t check enough.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they cut.

Soobin felt heat crawl up his neck. He had already beaten himself up over this, but hearing it from her made it worse.

“Senior management was watching, Soobin,” she continued, voice tight. “Do you realize what this does to our credibility? What it does to my credibility?”

His stomach twisted.

She exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I should’ve reviewed it one more time,” she muttered under her breath.

His head snapped up. “Noona—”

“I should have made you run through it again this morning. I should have double-checked the reports myself before they were submitted—”

“No.” Soobin’s voice was stronger now, firm despite the way his heart pounded.

She looked up, brows raised.

He shot up from his chair. “Don’t do that.”

Her lips parted slightly, but he didn’t let her interrupt.

“This was my mistake,” he said, stepping toward her. “I was the one in charge of the final numbers. You did everything right. I was the one who—”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “But it’s my project, Soobin.”

And just like that, the words hit.

He felt it—the weight she carried, the pressure she put on herself to be perfect in front of the executives.

She needed to prove herself. Just like him.

His breath was unsteady. “Noona…”

She didn’t look at him. She just exhaled, ran a hand through her hair, and finally dropped into her chair, pressing her fingers against her temple.

“So now we fix it,” she muttered. “We stay here as long as it takes, and we fix it.”

Soobin hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

_____________________________________

The office was silent except for the quiet hum of the city outside.

After hours of revising, correcting, and analyzing every detail, YN finally leaned back in her chair with a tired sigh, rubbing her temples.

Soobin glanced at the clock. Past midnight.

The air in the room was heavy—exhaustion clinging to their skin, the weight of the mistake still hanging between them.

“You should rest for a bit,” he murmured.

She huffed. “So should you.”

Soobin hesitated, then nodded toward the couch near the window.

“Five minutes,” he offered. “Then we’ll get back to it.”

She sighed, but for once, she didn’t argue. Instead, she pushed herself up and walked over, sinking into the cushions with a quiet exhale.

Soobin followed, sitting beside her—but not too close. Close enough to feel her presence, close enough for the air between them to crackle with something unspoken, but still safe.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

Then, softly—

“This project is everything to me.”

Soobin turned his head.

She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling, her fingers loosely intertwined in her lap.

“If this goes well, I’ll have a real shot at the promotion,” she continued, voice quieter now. “I’ll finally get the recognition I’ve been working for.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “But if we screw this up…”

She didn’t finish the thought.

Soobin swallowed, his chest tightening.

He had always known she put pressure on herself. He had seen it in the way she stayed later than everyone else, in the way she never let herself slip, in the way she constantly had to prove herself.

But hearing her say it out loud—it made something ache deep inside him.

“I let you down,” he muttered.

She finally looked at him.

“Soobin—”

“I did,” he insisted. “You trusted me with this, and I messed up.”

His fingers curled against his knees, his voice dropping.

“I wanted to prove myself too,” he admitted. “I wanted to show them I could handle this. That I deserved to be here. That I deserved to stand next to you.”

Her breath caught.

Soobin hesitated before continuing, his voice quieter now.

“And… I wanted to make you proud.”

Silence.

Then—

“You already do.”

Soobin’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

She held his gaze, unwavering.

“You work so hard,” she murmured. “You care so much. More than anyone gives you credit for.”

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “You have nothing to prove to me, Soobin.”

His throat tightened.

Because she saw him. She always had.

And suddenly, it felt like a door had opened—one they had both been standing in front of for months, waiting for the other to push it first.

Soobin let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding.

“You act like you’re untouchable,” he whispered. “Like nothing ever shakes you.”

She blinked.

“But I see you.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t stop him.

“I see the way you double-check your work a hundred times before submitting it,” he continued. “I see the way you stay late, even when you’re exhausted, just to make sure everything is perfect.”

His voice softened.

“I see how much this means to you. How much you need them to take you seriously.”

She let out a quiet breath, but she didn’t look away.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Noona,” Soobin murmured. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap.

And then—hesitantly, slowly—she reached up, smoothing back a stray lock of his hair.

Soobin froze.

Her touch was featherlight, lingering longer than it should have.

“I see you too, Soobin.”

His breath caught.

“You try so hard,” she whispered. “You put so much pressure on yourself. You think you have to be perfect, but you already are.”

Soobin let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “I don’t feel perfect.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted.

Silence stretched between them.

They were close now—closer than they had ever been.

Soobin could see the way her lashes trembled slightly, the way her breathing had slowed, the way her fingers hadn’t moved away from his hair.

And then, softly—

“Soobin,” she murmured.

His throat went dry.

Her voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way he had never heard before.

And then, barely above a whisper—

“Can I kiss you?”

A sharp inhale left him.

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

And then, softly—desperately—

“Yes.”

She moved first.

The moment her lips met his, Soobin melted.

The exhaustion, the frustration, the weight of the night—it all vanished in an instant.

There was only her.

Her warmth. Her scent. The soft press of her lips, hesitant at first, then deeper as she pulled him closer.

His hands twitched at his sides, unsure if he was even allowed to touch her.

And then she sighed against his lips, tilting her head just slightly, and Soobin broke.

A quiet, broken sound left him as he finally gave in—his fingers gripping the fabric of her blazer, holding on like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

The kiss ended, but the moment didn’t.

Neither of them moved.

Soobin’s breath was uneven, his forehead resting against hers, his fingers still curled into the fabric of her blazer as if he was afraid to let go.

His mind was a mess. A beautiful, dizzying mess.

Because this was real.

This was her.

Her lips, her warmth, her everything—it had all been right there, and she had let him have it.

He pulled back just slightly, just enough to see her face.

And God.

He had always thought she was beautiful—always been painfully aware of it—but right now, in the dim glow of the office lights, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes softer than he had ever seen them…

She looked like something out of a dream.

A dream he had spent too many nights chasing.

He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, and before he could stop himself, his dimples peeked out—deep, boyish, dangerous.

Her eyes flickered down to them, and for a brief second, her breath hitched.

“You’re smiling,” she murmured.

Soobin exhaled, pressing his forehead back against hers. “I can’t help it.”

He felt her lips twitch, like she wanted to fight a smile of her own, but she didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her hand, tracing a single fingertip along the edge of one of his dimples, like she had been waiting to do it.

Soobin went still.

His stomach flipped, and suddenly, the air felt different—charged, heated, something deeper than before.

His voice dropped. “You’re killing me.”

She hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Am I?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching against her waist.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, voice raw. “How long I’ve wanted you.”

Her fingers stilled against his cheek.

Soobin exhaled, his dimples fading slightly, something hungrier settling in his gaze.

“You make me crazy, Noona,” he murmured. “Every time you look at me like that, every time you say my name—” He inhaled sharply. “I can’t think straight.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest.

“And now?” she whispered.

Soobin let out a quiet, desperate laugh.

“Now, I don’t want to think at all.”

Her breath caught.

And then he really looked at her—saw her.

The way her lashes trembled slightly. The way her lips were parted, waiting. The way her eyes, sharp and calculating in the boardroom, were now filled with something else entirely.

Something soft, something just for him.

It was unfair, how she could unravel him so easily.

And Soobin—young, eager, desperate Soobin—wanted nothing more than to worship her.

To show her that he could.

That he could be everything she needed.

That he wasn’t just some younger guy with a crush.

That he could make her feel good.

His grip tightened slightly, his fingertips pressing into her waist, and he felt the way she shivered against him.

“Tell me you want this too,” he pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath was uneven.

And then, after a second that felt like forever—

“I do.”

Soobin broke.

This time, he kissed her.

And it wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was fire, pure and consuming, months—years—of unspoken tension unraveling all at once.

Soobin groaned against her lips, his hands sliding up, cupping her face, tilting her head back so he could kiss her deeper.

She gasped, fingers tightening in his shirt, dragging him impossibly closer.

And just like that, Soobin stopped thinking entirely.

Because now, all he could focus on was her.

And all the ways he was about to prove himself.

The moment Soobin kissed her again, there was no turning back.

He wasn’t just kissing her—he was devouring her, hands tightening on her waist, pressing her into him like he could somehow merge them into one.

He was hungry, but not just for her touch.

For her approval.

For her pleasure.

For her.

She let out a soft, breathless sound against his lips, and Soobin swore he felt it in his soul.

His grip tightened, but there was a hesitance in the way his hands trembled against her.

Like he wanted to touch more of her. Like he wanted to ruin her.

But he was waiting.

Waiting for her.

She pulled back just slightly, just enough to see the wrecked look on his face—lips red, pupils blown wide, his dimples completely hidden beneath the haze of his desperation.

“Noona,” he breathed, and God, his voice was wrecked.

She arched a brow, fingers trailing lightly down his chest. “What is it, baby?”

Soobin froze.

His breath hitched—barely audible, but she felt it. The way his body tensed, the way his fingers twitched against her waist, the way his lips parted just slightly, like he was aching for more.

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. Oh, he liked that.

She ran a single finger down his jaw, nails scraping lightly against his skin. “Tell me what you want.”

Soobin let out a quiet, shaky breath.

“I want to make you feel good.”

The confession was raw, unfiltered, filled with something deeper than just lust.

She had never seen him like this before—so utterly lost in her, so needy, so willing to do anything just to prove himself.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until her lips brushed against his ear.

“Then be a good boy,” she murmured. “And show me.”

Something in him snapped.

The moment the words left her lips, Soobin broke.

His breath hitched, his grip tightening on her waist, his whole body shaking with restraint. She had given him permission. She had given herself to him.

And he was going to earn it.

His hands moved first—big, warm, shaking with need—gripping her hips before sliding up her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her blouse like he could memorize the feel of her.

“Baby,” she murmured, watching him carefully. “Take your time.”

Soobin let out a sharp, unsteady breath. “Noona, you don’t understand…”

His voice was wrecked, thick with something between adoration and desperation. He swallowed hard, his fingers flexing against her.

“I need to make you feel good.”

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes as she traced her fingers along his jaw. “Then go ahead, baby.”

That was all he needed.

Soobin moved instinctively—his body pressing her against the couch, his lips everywhere—her jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. His hands, big and trembling, traced every inch of her—learning, memorizing, worshiping.

And then, finally—his fingers slid lower.

He paused. His lips hovered over her skin, breath heavy, body tight with restraint.

“Noona,” he rasped. “Let me—”

His voice broke. He was already ruined for her.

She reached down, guiding his hand, whispering exactly what she wanted.

And Soobin?

Soobin obeyed.

And when he finally touched her, really touched her—

She swore, no one had ever made her feel this good.

__________

[annqer]

victorian maiden lookin ass

[hauntingblue]

BIG NANA STARTED SPEAKING IN THE INTRO TOO!! ABOUT BUILDING HER A HOUSE BEING FOR REALS??? ALRIGHT

[theorist-fox]

Johnny's invited to dinner

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Word Count: 900

18+

CW: smut!!! this is literally smut. blowjob, handjob, various jobs that don't involve a salary. smug johnny. assertive dom simon but soft with you and you only.

Masterlist 🦊

“Agreed to have ya ‘ere to look, not to talk, MacTavish.” 

Simon’s voice is a growl that unfolds like an earthquake, reverberating in your skull. It cracks at the edges when your lips, wrapped around his cock, slide a little further down.

Johnny stands less than a foot from where you kneel, fully dressed but with his dick in hand, stroking idly and passing his thumb over the slit every now and then. 

“Ach—but she seems to like it.” Johnny’s lips quirk in an impish smile, and his hand travels the space between you and him to tangle his fingers in your hair. “Don’t you, bonnie?” 

Simon pierces Johnny with a look. It’s smothered by the way you moan appreciatively around his cock.

Johnny chuckles hoarsely. “Aye, she does.” 

And then he pushes your head forward—slowly but ever so demanding. You comply, following Johnny’s lead, until your nose is buried in Simon’s curls and your eyes are shining. 

You gag around him. Simon smacks a fist on the bed. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He’s quick to recollect his bearings and uses his thumb to wipe a tear down your cheek. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, and he takes that attempt at a smile as eager consent. One he makes sure to have, once again, by cocking his head inquisitively—you nod, or try to, and he sighs. Gently, Simon smooths the hair away from your forehead in silent thankfulness. 

“Fuckin’ hell, alrigh’.” Johnny grunts, too focused on the sight of Simon’s cock disappearing in your mouth to notice the silent communication happening. He speeds the movement of his hand, tugging at the foreskin right above his glans. “How's she feel, L.T.? Gimme the details.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Johnny tuts. “Ye gotta tell me—been selfish with her for too long. I get why, but don’t keep me in the dark now, uh? Feel like we're past that."

You start bobbing your head, gently guided by Johnny’s hand, while holding onto Simon’s thighs. He feels completely corded, like a rope ready to snap.

This is not what he thought would happen when you offered to have Johnny over for dinner.

But fuck it if he's going to complain.

Your head is cradled everywhere around it like it’s something precious and fragile—Johnny’s hand at the back, Simon’s palms now both at your cheeks.

“She’s warm.” He replies flatly, burying grunts and growls deep in his chest.

“Aye—coulda guessed that.” Johnny huffs. “Elaborate, will ye?” 

It’s then that you shift your head from side to side to accustom your jaw to his girth. Simon’s tip touches somewhere deep down your throat, and you choke around it. Your nostrils flare, and your eyes drown in tears Simon catches with his thumbs. 

“Fuck—” He grunts, rolling his eyes. “She—she’s fuckin’ melting me, Johnny. Tha’ enough?” 

“Yeah?” Johnny croaks. “Takin’ you deep—aye, sir?” 

“’Firmative.” 

“Can see ye bulgin’ down her throat,” he says, and Simon feels the sick need to go and check with his thumb. God help him, Johnny’s right. 

“She’s tight.” Simon pants. 

“Bet she is,” Johnny croaks. “Can’t wait to feel her myself. Right, hen?”

Simon watches you struggle to find a way to reply. You can’t speak because your mouth is busy elsewhere; you can’t nod, or you’ll choke. You opt for your hands, wrapping one around Johnny’s thigh and squeeze, digging your fingernails into the denim of his jeans. He stumbles forward, just a tad closer.

Johnny rewards you by massaging your scalp with his pads, a hoarse hum of approval passing through his lips. 

“Trained her right, L.T.” He chuckles.

Simon gives him a look that would normally freeze him on the spot, but it only prompts Johnny to stiffen and bite back a moan. 

“Didn’t train her, you twat.” Simon huffs gruffly, giving a tender brush of his thumb on your cheek as you work your mouth down his shaft. “She ain’t a dog.”

Johnny’s smirk falters, but Simon’s sure it’s not because he’s being reprimanded by his lieutenant but because he’s on the verge of finishing. Judging by the heavy furrow of his brow, he clearly doesn’t want to—not yet.

“Aye she ain’t.” He agrees, voice cracked and breathy. “But she’s a learner. Look at how she takes ye—that ain’t talent, can’t be.”

Johnny winks at you when he catches you struggling to look up. 

You huff from your nose, rolling your eyes fondly. His lips quirk, and he softens you up by grazing his nails down your scalp until your skin rises in goosebumps.

You push your head back against Johnny’s hand, and he takes that as a sign to go on. 

“That’s fuckin' hard work, right there.” He growls, and then guides your head down Simon’s cock once again. His thighs tighten under your fingertips, spine straight and knotted when you swallow him all the way down.

“Careful, Johnny.” Simon warns through gritted teeth. Even though he’s on the verge of toppling over, his voice still sounds delightfully rich—stern and commanding.

Then, he directs his eyes to you.

Yours soften, probably because his cheeks are awfully pink, and the crinkles of his eyes stretch in that way he reserves for you only. “Alrigh’?

You hum in reply, blinking up at him with clumped lashes and happy, bloodshot eyes.

“Three taps on my thigh when you need, yeah?” He says. “Go on.” 

You tap Simon’s thigh three times. He brushes his thumb down your cheek before placing his hand over Johnny’s wrist at the back of your head.

He squeezes it until his knuckles turn white, and then he nods his way. Johnny swallows a rock lodged in his throat when he meets Simon's hooded gaze.

“Go on, Johnny.” His hand on your cheek remains soft and soothing, but his eyes, locked on Johnny’s flushed face, hold a darkness you’re not allowed to see.

“Make me cum."

Hey!!! We officially reached 1k people so I thought I'd scare you away with some filthy smut.

I love you all. Truly. Thank you for being here and making my days 10 times better.

-theo 🦊

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."

[bi-writes]

What do we think about price x young!Wife reader who is kept away from the team (for obvious reasons) and when she is on base to bring some important files to his office, world collide

I think it would be really cute if she gets mistaken for a recruit

he's not moving fast enough for you.

you roll your window down even more, sticking your head out, and you slide your sunglasses down your nose so you can meet eyes with the muppet standing guard at the gates.

"repeat that for me?"

"you're not on the list," the man repeats. he narrows his eyes at you. "all guest personnel must be approved before they enter. i don't make the rules, but i do enforce them."

you raise a brow. your manicured finger slides down the steering wheel, tracing the leather of it, and you let out a deep breath before laughing humorlessly.

"okay. i need you to get on your stupid radio and get captain john price on there. then, you're going to tell him who exactly is waiting here, and then after he informs you that you will let me through, i'm going to make sure you spend the next two weeks scrubbing fucking toilets." you sit back in your seat. you don't mean to be rude or mean, you're usually very kind and very considerate, but you are about to blow the roof off of your patience after the day you've had, and you just want to drop john's things off and go.

the guard scoffs, picking up his radio. he rolls his eyes at you before he goes back into his little office. after a few minutes, he comes back out. his eyes are on the floor, and he comes up to your window and gives you back your id. you toss it into your purse, and he clears his throat nervously.

"i-i'm so...i-i'm so sorry, mrs. price, i--"

"save it."

you put your car in drive and step on it. the purr of your pretty german car leaves the guard in the dust, and you park haphazard, taking up two spots, but you just grab your purse and john's papers and turn the car off anyways.

you're mrs. john fucking price. you'll park how you please, and they can get over it.

you're dressed more casually. you're wearing dark green cargo pants, a white t-shirt, sneakers, and one of john's army-green jackets. when you see yourself in the reflection of a window, you realize you kind of dressed appropriately for the setting, without even meaning to.

you open the door to the building john texted you about, and you walk in with your sunglasses still on. there's a lot of desks around, offices, an ugly mess of couches around a tv that a bunch of recruits are playing team fortress 2 at. they're whooping and yelling, but you pay them no mind as you follow a sign towards the office number john gave you.

you bump right into a big chest. you stumble backwards, scoffing, and you pull your sunglasses off as you tip your head back and glare up. there's some big, giant bear-man standing in your way, and he isn't moving.

"excuse me," you say firmly. "do we have a problem?"

the big dude tilts his head to the side, like he's sizing you up (which is stupid, since he's probably bigger than anyone). he's wearing a DIY skull mask, something messily sewed and painted with thick fingers, and you really want this halloween-enthusiast to get the fuck out of your way so you can leave as soon as possible.

"we? i don't got a problem."

his voice is deep. all gravel, very low, and his tone is very condescending. you may be smaller than him, but your teeth are sharper.

you're sure of that.

"but you've got one," he continues, narrowing his eyes. "those nails aren't regulation."

"excuse me?"

"you heard me."

"i did, but you must be fucking out of your mind if you think i answer to you."

"listen 'ere," the man spits. "i'm a fuckin' lieutenant, and y'r gonna talk t'me like i'm one before i have y'r arse--"

"get out of my way!" you snap at him. "as far as i'm concerned, i outrank every single idiot in this entire fucking building. i don't care if you're a sergeant, a lieutenant, i don't care if you're fucking royalty! move, or i'll make you, so help me god."

"simon."

at the sound, the bear turns around, stepping aside. when peek around his arm, you see your husband, arms crossed over his chest casually as he leans against the wall. he's got a relaxed smile on his face, boonie hat tipped back a little.

"well, this isn't how i wanted you two to meet," john chuckles.

"what, you know this meathead?" you scoff, and the lieutenant, simon, snarls like a dog at your response.

"simon, this is my wife."

simon steps back from you as if you'll sting him. he swallows, his face relaxing under the mask, and you glare at him. you don't expect an apology from someone like him, but you guess the way he reverts his eyes from you is the equivalent of it. you don't think a man like him ever feels out of place or threatened.

"love, this is my lieutenant."

"the lieutenant."

"quite right."

you let out a harsh breath through your nose. you don't say anything more to simon, just give him your back as you walk past him towards your husband. he's saved your husband's life before, so he can be let off easy.

this time at least.

when you lift your hand to give john some papers, simon zeroes in on the giant rock on your left hand, the several carat diamond that sits there.

fuck.

"next time you need something from home, i'm gonna need the red carpet rolled out for me, understand me, john?" you tell him. john smiles, crow's feet deepening, and you narrow your eyes. "say you understand me, john."

"mhm. i understand."

"i don't mean just making sure my name is on some list, i mean an escort and a voss water. in the glass bottle."

"of course, sweetheart."

he bends to kiss you, and you let him. you put a hand under his jaw, thumbing at his beard, and the hat covers the way he lets his tongue slip out and into your mouth. if you didn't have an audience, the taste of tobacco on his tongue would be enough for you to kneel and suck his cock, but he's busy, and you have a hair appointment to get to.

you pull away slowly, touching his bottom lip.

"you better be home in time for dinner," you say. "seven. don't be late."

"won't be late."

his baby blues are so bright, even in the awful fluorescent light. you kiss him again, cupping the back of his neck, and when you pull away, you put your mouth to his ear.

"your office? got ten minutes?"

"no, sweetheart," he murmurs. "don't have it."

"john..." you grip the sides of his tact vest, pouting. "please? please?"

john sighs, shaking his head. he kisses your forehead before nodding behind you, to his lieutenant that still won't leave.

"walk her out, simon. make sure she leaves alright."

"olright."

simon opens your car door for you, and when you get in, you shove your seatbelt into place, angrily starting the car up again. you're having a bad day, and you're horny now.

"goodbye, lieutenant," you say smartly. "by the way, there's some smartass at the front that i told would have to scrub toilets. i trust that you can carry that out for me."

"'ow long?"

"told him two weeks, but i think a day will do just fine."

"'n why's tha'?"

"well, i'm not mad at him anymore, but i'm still a price. and price's follow through on their threats, lieutenant."

you put your sunglasses on, and the window goes back up. simon watches with rapt attention as you pull out with a rev of the engine, and when he glares at you, you smile, raising your hand to flip him off.

the big diamond on your hand blinds him as you drive off.

[militaryapple]

WHATS YOUR SAFE WORD?

synopsis. you ask caleb to degrade you, and when he agrees with his own terms you take it as a challenge.

cw. fem!reader, mild degradation, asphyxiation, fingering, cunnilingus, caleb has you in a headlock, marking, he gets hard when you call him colonel.

add ons. hope everyones having a wonderful monday

wc. 1.6k

"you want me to what?" caleb said surprised. degradation? it wasn't his forte. It's not like he didn't want to degrade you, tell you how much of a fucking slut you looked when you begged for him to fill up every little crevice of your throbbing cunt. he couldn't help but praise you though, you always took his cock so nicely. it was practically made for you. the sounds you made whenever he would go deeper in your sweet cunt, how perfect you looked when he fucked you senseless. it just rolled off his tongue naturally!

"caleb" you whined softly. he thought about it. oh he couldn't help but say yes to you, he couldn't say no. not when you look up at him, batting your eyes in a way that makes you look oh-so-innocent. he couldn't help but have a wide grin fall upon his face. "okay okay, fine pipsqueak." he said playfully "but-" and there it was.

your once gleeful face dropped. of course there was going to be a "but" this is caleb after all. why did he have to make this more difficult than it needed to be? it was just gonna be like.. a test the waters thing.

"hey don't look so sad on me now, I know why you're asking me to do this anyways." he clicked his tongue after finishing his sentence, pushing his hand into his pocket before pulling out a sheet of paper, and you felt your heart drop.

oh god.

oh lumiere.

"100% masochist.." how did he?

"98% rope bunny?" take it back.

"87% experimentalist?" your face flushed, you felt like you were burning before rushing towards him and grabbing the small piece of paper. dammit! this is why you don't do things with your friends after you drink! you leave evidence of shit around! you hit Caleb as hard as you could before he ducked and laughed. how could he even find this?! you swore you hid it well. well enough that after you woke up with a very bad hangover you forgot where you placed it.

"i know everything about you pips. you think I wouldn't be able to find a small little paper you attempted to hide away?" caleb said, almost mocking you. "did you forget who took care of you last night? I'm glad I looked at it when I did. i'd be a little sad to miss something this interesting about you." he shifted over on the couch where he was seated. you plopped yourself down next to him in embarrassment.

fuck your life.

"ah- back to our conversation, my only 'but' was that we have a safe word." his gaze shifting from the paper now peering at you. his face smug. like he fucking knows everything. "you go through my things, you make fun of me and now you want a safe word? ha? do you think i'd need to tap out or something?" you snarled back at him

caleb shifted from a comfortable position to a more.. open one. his legs widened as he couldn't help teasing you. look how flare you get? how your cheeks puff and your eyes burn into him. shit you were sexy like this.

"i'm just saying pip-squeak, if you cant handle it anymore, just say the word and i'll run a warm bath for you. we can cuddle and.." he trailed off as you moved to him, placing yourself on top of his lap as his gaze, once shifted downwards to meet your eyes now looking up.

"the safe word is apples. I won't need it since you're obviously challenging me." you retorted. there was no way you were losing some sort of game to caleb. he might have physical strength but you have mental strength, and that's more than enough.

caleb hummed in approval before grabbing you by your sides and swaying your hips on his crotch. oh fuck did it rub you just right. "I know everything about you." he whispered in your ear, his breath hot. fiery. you could feel the dent in his pants rising as the friction only made you feel so much better. you couldn't give in now, you both were just beginning.

caleb dug his face in the crook of your neck his kisses moving up as he bit the side of your neck, hard enough for you to feel it but not enough to make you bleed, softly coating the area with his saliva. "I know what you like," his nibbles becoming more and more prominent, "what you hate" the feeling was euphoric for you. "what you need." oh fuck, was he marking you?

you didn't have time to react before you were flipped to your front side. it didn't take any time before caleb unbuckled your pants and undoing your zipper. one of his arms putting you in a headlock, not quite hurting you but squeezing you, while his free hand made its way down your pants and in your panties. you would be lying if you said this wasn't turning you on, and caleb knew.

"you're drenched for me baby. what is it? you like the feeling of my big arms being wrapped around your pretty little throat? its almost pathetic." his arm tightening at the feeling of you wiggling beneath in, ah ah. you weren't getting out of this that fast. he rubbed your clit slowly, kissing the back of your neck as you pleaded for him to move faster. this was torture.

caleb was more than amused, he watched as you wiggled and writhed under him. oh how he would love to just give into you but he couldn't, not when you wanted him to be mean, and that's when he heard it.

"colonel, please."

could you say that? it didn't matter. he was rock fucking hard. hearing that from you was like sweet music to his ears. caleb rubbed your throbbing clit faster, your hand grabbing on his arm wrapped around your neck keeping you stern in place. "say it again, call me colonel, tell me how much you fucking need and how you cant do anything without me." you could only shake, you were so close to your release. your head fuzzy from the low oxygen you were getting, and the feeling of you creaming your pants.

caleb moved his hand away, moving it on your thigh as he rubbed it. you begged for him to touch you again. for him to make you cum all over him. "i know baby, just say it. say you need me, say you need your colonel." he coos. you felt fucking stupid. drunk off his slim fingers which made you feel so divine. all you could do was nod your head and let out a small "okay". caleb kissed the side of your head. "see baby? you're not that stupid."

he moved his finger back as he kissed and smothered you. rubbing your sensitive area as you babble out whatever you could. "I need you colonel. please, please I need you in so many ways. I'm nothing without you, I need you." it was a melody for him, a tune that would play over and over in his head until the day he actually dies. you shook as he felt you tense up. the familiar feeling he knows all too well. "you came? who said you could do that? jeez you are slutty."

he scooped you up and brought you to his room, throwing you down as he undid his pants. he looked over and noticed his work gloves, and a bright idea came to his head. caleb walked over and grabbed his gloves, sliding them on before towering over you and moving his hands to pop right inside your exhausted pussy.

"you cant expect me to just stop now. i wanna feel good too, until you call quits is all." caleb made fun of you. you weren't going to give out, even if he felt so fucking good, and the way his fingers slipped in and out of you. fuck the gloves were cold, but they felt so so good. you shivered underneath as he hit all your good spots.

you squirmed, your body aching for more, you grabbed on his arm and looked up, babbling for something, anything. though you were met by the soft coo's of caleb. "come on use your words, I know you can." he held you down while his fingers abused your cunt.

"please caleb, please just fuck me already." it was those few words that made him flip you upside down and slide his cock in you. he moaned and held on you while he got into a somewhat steady pace. in and out, in and out. his balls hitting your clit while his tip kissed your sweet spot. "yeah? you like that? nasty little thing." he coo'd.

you couldn't take anymore, you had to cum. your body shook. you were close, so so close it was like you would fall off a ledge. you grabbed caleb whining. "please colonel, let me cum, please I've been good." you pleaded. caleb drowned at your words, he was rearing his end too. "okay baby, yeah, cum for me, okay? come on come on." his body slammed into yours, feeling a wave of euphoria wash of you. it took Caleb a few more slaps before he eventually slowed down. he slid out of you, watching your every movement.

"I told you" you said sweetly. "we didn't need a safe word. I can take you." you were right to some extent, but you were still fucked out. as for Caleb, he moved back to admire what he had done to you, before letting out a small chuckle.

"what pip-squeak? you think that we're done? you haven't tapped out yet, which means we aren't done."

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[issues4him]

how rafe would react to innocent!reader wearing lingerie under her dress for valentine’s day

cw : sexual themes, cussing, foreplay, mentions of sex, idk guys i’m just horny

rafe’s lips were slick on your neck and hands tight on your waist. he walked you backwards slowly until the back of your legs met the end of your bed. his hands traveled up towards your shoulders, fingertips sneaking underneath the fabric or your dress’ sleeves. “my beautiful girl…” he whispered against your neck, his breath was hot—god, he was hot.

his fingers hooked underneath your sleeves, pulling them down your arms. but stopped midway down your bicep.

“what the fuck is…“ rafe’s deep voice halted as he saw the lacey, pink bra strap peeking out. he glanced into your eyes for a second before tugging the sleeve of your red dress down your arms.

“well, i…i just thought—y’know maybe you’d like it…” your voice was quiet, nervous for his reaction to the bubblegum-colored lingerie your beautiful body was clothed in. slowly, rafe’s gaze hardened as he pulled your dress all the way down to your ankles, letting it pool around your feet. he bent down on one knee, gripping your hips, keeping his blue eyes attached to your mid drift.

the lingerie itself wasn’t anything crazy intricate. you were much too scared to spend more time in that store than needed. your hands were already sweaty earlier that afternoon just staring at the bright pink victoria’s secret sign inside the mall. “i’m doing this for rafe, im doing this for rafe.” is what you kept telling yourself as you tip-toed through the store, ultimately grabbing the first valentines-ey set you seen. embarrassment flooded your face as you walked to the register. the cashier smirked at your bashful demeanor. “your face is as red as a rose, honey. how festive.” the older woman snickered and scanned the price tag—$100?!?!

rafe’s large, rough hands caressed the back of your thighs, pulling you slightly closer to him. the tip of his nose tickled just under your belly button. his eyes fluttered shut at your new “sexy” and “irresistible” perfume scent—or that’s how the cashier described it.

his puppy dog-like eyes peered up at you, gripping your thighs a bit tighter. awe—you thought to yourself. your hands came up to pet his buzzed head, soaking in the sight beneath you.

“y-woah!” you yelped as your boyfriend picked you up almost effortlessly and plopped your body onto the bed. he didn’t even bother taking off his clothes as he crawled on top of you. your lips met in an intimate, warm kiss.

he pulled away, moving his sloppy kisses down your body, your breath quickening with each passing second.

he paused right as he got to your soaked panties, giving them a small kiss before looking up at you. “where’d you get this outfit?” he asked as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

“victoria’s secret.” you answered, supporting your upper body on your elbows. rafe looked back down at your pussy, moving the fabric to the side. his mouth watered at the sight of your glistening cunt, drenched in arousal. he glanced up at you with a stupid, boyish grin and an approving nod.

“keep it bookmarked in your apple maps f’me, baby.”

[11keu]

NEEDY | S.JY

SYNOPSIS. Waking up in the middle of night at the height of your fertility cycle leaves in you desperate need of some relief only your boyfriend can provide.

PAIRING. Sim Jaeyun x Fem! Reader

GENRE. Smut, fluff. Established relationship. Short, self-indulgent drabble. Soft and sleepy. Reader calls him ‘Jae’.

WORD COUNT. 1.3K

WARNING. Smut under cut, minors do not interact.

CONTENT. Profanity, almost no foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it up), very lazy sex, the opposite of dialogue-heavy, nipple play, fingering, spitting / saliva, mutual masturbation.

How perfect he looked, knocked out and completely unaware of the animal in heat possessing you right now.

Your eyes raked over Jake’s peaceful features, taking in his messy hair and the way he would swallow, slightly lift his head and then drop it back down onto his pillow, before nuzzling the side of his face against it to get comfortable again. Not to mention, his bare torso and arms. You were practically drooling at the sight of his muscles tensing with every movement. He was so unbelievably sexy to you right now. It pissed you off that he could be sleeping right through your aching need, as clueless as could be.

You tossed and turned, trying to cool off both physically and emotionally. With your face buried in the pillow, you groaned softly in defeat.

Your eyes flickered back over Jake’s features, silently willing him to wake up. But you didn’t have time to wait on wishes to come true, so you shifted closer. His arm reached out for you, a foolproof tactic of yours. The hold he had on you was heavy, strong, as he pulled you flush against his chest — your head tucked under his chin, his fingers trailing half-assed lines up and down your back beneath your t-shirt.

A soft hum left your lips, and you hoped it was loud enough to at least stir him a little bit. His heavy eyelids lifted slightly, one eye squinted as he looked at the time on the digital clock across from him. It wasn’t even five in the morning.

‘What’s up?’ He sleepily mumbled, yawning before he could even finish the two-word sentence.

You frowned at the feel of him yawning above you, feeling slightly guilty for waking him. You created some space between the two of you, his hand sliding from your back to your thigh, gripping the flesh to keep you there. As you locked eyes with him, you took in his offended expression.

‘Go back to sleep, Jae,’ you murmured.

‘You’re up, I’m up,’ he protested, eyes falling closed again. ‘C’mere.’

He tugged fruitlessly at your thigh, pouting as you didn’t shift. With every ounce of strength he had in his sleepy state, he pulled you flush against him and hooked your leg over his hip. The soft gasp that left your lips was all the proof he needed. He smiled against your neck, pressing one soft kiss to the skin.

‘Just can’t get enough of me, can you?’ He teased, drawing his head back.

‘You’re such a dick,’ you retorted.

His hand slid up your thigh and over your ass, fingers pressing against your dampened panties. He groaned, eyes closing once more as he applied pressure to your clothed clit. You sighed, content to just let him rub you to an orgasm, and then pass out and get a good night of sleep for once.

But no. You knew Jake got hard at just the thought of you being wet, so it was no surprise when you felt his growing bulge press firmly against your front.

You slid up on top of him, finding his lips in a kiss. His hands were under your t-shirt, rubbing softly at your waist. Your hands cupped his face, holding him to you as you kissed. Kisses that were half soft and sleepy, half firm and needy. The kind of kiss that made you think; god, this it. I could die right here, right now. You hummed and sighed against his lips, one hand moving to gently rub at his scalp.

Jake’s hand slid between your thighs, pulling your soaked panties aside to slide two fingers between your folds. Warm and slick, as always. He hummed in approval, lifting you slightly to pull down his pyjama pants. The stereotypical ‘dad style’ pants you begged on your knees for him to start wearing.

How you even kept your hands to yourself at all after he agreed was an achievement in itself.

He jerked his cock for a second, getting fully hard before he tapped it against your entrance. You sat on it, rubbing your slick folds from the base to the tip a couple of times. He groaned into your mouth, hips just barely jerking up into the feeling.

You lifted your hips, giving him the space to press his tip to your entrance. He gently pushed into you, letting you slide the rest of the way. The kiss broke with the sated sighs that left each of your lips.

Falling flush against his bare chest, you considered just sitting there. But your boyfriend wasn’t a fan of cock-warming, and neither were you when sex with him felt that good. After a moment, you began to gently roll your hips. Struggling with the angle, you sat back. Jake watched you with hungry eyes, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as you rocked against him. His hands moving to your hips helped you bounce slightly.

Knowing you’d get nowhere with the lazy pace you’d set, he began to fuck up into you. The bed rocked, soft sighs and moans falling from your lips that dissipated into the surrounding darkness.

A soft yelp fell from your lips as he hit your cervix, his apology almost as soft as your sound. But the way it made you clench around him, sucking him in, made him want to do it again. He tightly gripped your hips, holding you still as he continued to piston in and out of you. He was moaning breathlessly beneath you, a sinful image you were going to take back to sleep with you. Your moans turned into little whimpers as he fucked up into you hard and fast.

When he grew tired, he slumped back against the bed. You went back to rolling your hips and bouncing slightly, his hands roaming your body making your skin feel even hotter. He cupped your tits, massaging and groping. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, making you gasp and your movements jerk. You tightened around him, knees digging into his sides as you struggled to keep moving.

‘Fuck,’ he groaned, lifting you off him.

He replaced his cock with two of his fingers as you sat back on his thighs, letting you fuck yourself on them as he thrusted them in and out of you. After you spat on your own fingers, you rubbed at your clit with desperation. Jake began to jerk himself off messily, using his non-dominant hand for the sake of fingering you properly. Your eyes were fixed on his fist, the way he gripped himself tightly and twisted his wrist with every drag of his hand.

With the way you were clamping down on his fingers, Jake knew you were close. He picked up the pace of both his fingers and his hand, struggling to get you both off at the same time. You came with a gasp, dropping your head back in ecstasy.

Jake let out a whiny moan, cumming all over his fingers and his stomach. His fingers were stilled inside of you, but you were still rocking softly against them, riding out your orgasm. Your head dropped forward to see the end of his orgasm, watching the last few spurts of cum coat his fingers. Your twisted mind wanted to lick them clean, but you decided against it as you pulled out a few tissues from the box atop his bedside table.

You helped him clean up, the soiled tissues being tossed across the bedroom floor. You slid off of him and immediately knocked out, mumbling a half-assed confession of love.

Published by 11keu on Tumblr, 28th January 2025.

NOTE. i wrote this in an hour.. i’m down bad it’s 2 am

[kashverse]

gojo’s sweet tooth is a menace. you learned that early on when he asked for “a bit” of sugar in his coffee and ended up turning it into something closer to a dessert syrup. so, of course, when you bake a pear and berry pie—already sweet enough, mind you—he sneaks in extra sweetener when he thinks you aren’t looking. he’s not very subtle about it. the first time, you almost missed it, but then you saw his telltale smug grin, a bit too pleased with himself as he “innocently” leaned against the counter.

"toru," you deadpan, arms crossed.

"what? i’m just appreciating your hard work," he says, licking a stray bit of filling off his finger like he's in a commercial.

"you’re ruining my pie."

"nah, i’m improving your pie," he corrects, already reaching for another spoonful.

nanami, on the other hand, is far less chaotic. he keeps things simple—apple pie, nothing fancy. no extra fillings, no surprise ingredients, just a good ol’ classic that never lets him down. it’s his go-to for the weekends, whether he makes it himself (precisely measured, no shortcuts) or picks one up from the bakery he trusts more than some of his coworkers. sometimes, you’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in the middle of rolling out dough with the same focus he has when reading financial reports. if you joke about him being a househusband, he’ll sigh, wipe his hands on a towel, and say, "do you want pie or not?"

toji doesn’t bake. he doesn’t have time, patience, or, honestly, the self-control to wait for something to cool down before eating it. but after a long day, when you casually hand him a slice of pumpkin pie, he takes it without a word. he’s not big on admitting things, so he just eats it, nodding once in approval, like that’s the most gratitude you’re going to get. but the real giveaway is how he never turns it down. ever. even if he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

geto loves pecan pie. no debate. no discussion. no hesitation. the man would probably start a war over it if necessary. you once offered him a slice of something else, and he gave you such a disappointed look that you almost felt guilty.

"you’re really this attached to pecan pie?" you asked, watching as he took slow, deliberate bites like he was savoring each one.

"it’s a masterpiece," he said, as if that explained everything.

choso is all about cherry pie, mostly because he likes the tint it leaves behind. after eating it, he’ll glance in the mirror and smile a little at the way his lips look stained, like a kid who got into something he shouldn’t have. sometimes, he’ll grin at you with his mouth still full just to make you roll your eyes.

"cho, you look like you just drank blood."

"cool, right?"

and then there’s sukuna. you have to physically stop him from turning a normal, innocent chicken pie into something… horrific.

"you can’t put human meat in it."

"why not?"

"it’s a chicken pie."

"so?"

you glare at him. he stares back, unbothered.

"suku, if i turn around and find out you’ve replaced the filling, i swear to god—"

he smirks. "you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"i would. you know why? because i would throw up."

he just laughs, because, really, who needs horror movies when you live with him?

[gojhoes]

satoru's brain was struggling to work properly as he was completely overcome by the sensation of you. your skin was unbelievably soft, your breasts sat so nicely without any clothes, and god, that pussy sucked him in with a vengeance. it was as if he was being punished for not fucking you sooner.

your body was perfect. the curve of your waist and hips drove him crazy- he dug his fingers into the soft flesh below your ribcage and urged you closer. your back arched as you pushed your ass into him to fuck yourself on his cock. he drove into you maddeningly deeper, and your walls fluttered around him in approval.

"you're so perfect," satoru breathed. he leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back so he could kiss the side of the neck. "can't believe i waited this long."

you moaned loudly when his cockhead rammed into your cervix, and you flinched bodily. the sound of your whines made him feel drunk with pure lust; he'd needed you so badly for far too long. satoru placed his hands on either side of your head for stability and snapped his hips into your ass at a dizzying pace.

"satoru, mmmph-" you cried out. his cock twitched with pleasure at the sound of his name in your mouth. "you're so big."

he let out a chuckle through his shortened breaths. "i know. bet you're stuffed full, yeah?" you nodded your head frantically, pathetically. "no one's ever fucked you so good, huh?"

you shook your head, and the frustrated whine you let out next sent a wave of heat from his head to toes. "fuck, satoru, i need more."

satoru groaned at your shameless plea. electricity shot through his cock, his heavy balls twitching as he felt a warning of his approaching release. you were so good, too good. he needed you like this for the rest of his life. the strong-willed, bratty, independent sorcerer reduced to a pliant, dripping, pathetic mess underneath him. he loved every bit of it.

"touch your clit for me," satoru commanded. and you did, instantly, obediently. he would do it for you, but he was so pussydrunk that all he wanted to focus on was fucking you right. he leaned back and grabbed you by the hips and thrusted at a pace so quick it surprised even himself. your moans matched his own, only fueling him even more. "give me one more. cum on my cock, pretty girl."

the praise and instruction were your undoing. your entire body trembled with every wave of pleasure as your third orgasm ripped through you. your pussy clenched around him rhythmically and fuck, did you just squirt or were you always this wet when you came?

and he was lost, completely fucked out and drowning in the bliss that was having you like this. his muscles tightened and his hips moved erratically as his breaths came in shorter and shorter. you'd gone limp beneath him, but you still managed to meet his every thrust with one of your own as though you couldn't bear not to have him as deep as possible. one last flutter of your cunt sent him over the edge, and he came hard. spurt after spurt of his seed painted your walls with every twitch of his cock. the sounds that left his mouth were unlike any he'd made for anyone before, a testament to how long he'd wanted you. your name slipped off his honeyed tongue like a prayer until he stilled his movements.

you sucked in a sharp breath as his cock slowly slipped out of your tight, warm walls. satoru was in awe when he caught sight of his cum beginning to trickle out of your puffy, ravaged folds. and, he thought, what a waste it would be it leaked onto the bed. before you could roll onto your back and off your knees, he shoved two long fingers back into your cunt and smiled at the way you cried out and squeezed him tight.

short scene for my longfic

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. “Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

dukedom au masterlist