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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

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dante-mightdie · 24 days

Note

How about blue collar Simon WITH white collar wife reader?? Like imagine the reader is that successful businesswoman who has never done any manual labour in her life and earns ridiculous amount of money with Simon who has never been into this whole upper management stuff but somehow they're a perfect match??? Bonus if they banged in her fancy office

😋

i’m barking

your colleagues all know you’re married but they’ve never seen your husband. when you tell them that simon is dropping by on your lunch break and to please send him to your office when he gets here, they immediately start speculating as to what kind of man he’s gonna be

he must be just like you, prim and proper. slicked back hair and a fitted suit with an air of sophistication around him. every time a man with a fancy watch comes to the desk, they’re ready to just send him your way

a few hours into the day and a man finally comes, requesting to see you. your colleagues recognise him as the man who was stood outside smoking a cigarette, stomping it out under his boot before walking inside with a swagger in his hips

“I’m ‘ere to see mrs. riley…” he grunts out, looking around the fancy reception and pulling a mildly impressed look

this man can’t be your husband, they assume. not with these dirty boots and slutty utility belt hanging on his broad hips. not with his intimidating gaze and calloused hands

“oh, you must be here to fix the aircon.” your secretary blurts out, not noticing the look of confusion spreading across his face, “i’ll take you to her.”

he follows them back to your office, pushing past to get inside once he sees that look of familiarity spread across your face, standing from your desk to greet him

“hi, darling! I ordered us food from that restaurant you like…” you chirp, placing a sweet kiss onto simons lips whilst your colleagues are all watching with surprise written on their faces

he places wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. you don’t even seem bothered by the state of his work uniform from an early morning on the site. you, who once had a meltdown when one of your nails got chipped on your keyboard

you both don’t seem to notice how everyone just stands still, not working and watching you both all the way up until you close your office door, lock it and close the blinds

probably the same way neither of you notice that your shirt is buttoned incorrectly and simon’s fly is undone when you leave your office…

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #bluecollar!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over

VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY

Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex

"You look so fucking sexy..."

large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.

One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.

"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."

Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.

In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.

"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."

Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.

Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.

"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."

"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."

His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.

Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?

You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.

You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.

You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

You should be happy, but you're not.

When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.

Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.

As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.

"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"

You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."

"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"

He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.

"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"

"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."

Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"

When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.

"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"

Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.

"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"

He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.

"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."

His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.

His name. "Mattheo..."

"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."

Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.

"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."

He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."

More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."

He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.

"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."

"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."

At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.

"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."

"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"

Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."

Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.

When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.

You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.

"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."

"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"

"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"

Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"

"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."

Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.

"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."

Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."

Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.

You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.

Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.

At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.

"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.

"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"

Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.

He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.

You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.

"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."

Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.

"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"

"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."

Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."

Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.

When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.

"Matty..."

Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."

You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.

As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.

"Mattheo, I swear to-"

A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.

"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."

You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."

His lips parted. "Good girl.”

His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.

"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"

"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.

"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.

"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."

"Please what?" He growled.

Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.

"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."

"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.

"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."

He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.

"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."

As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.

And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.

"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."

You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."

With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.

"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.

"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-"

A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.

"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."

Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.

You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.

As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.

"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."

When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.

"No," you whispered. "We aren't."

#smut #fanfic #harry potter #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddlesmut #tom riddle smut #tomriddle smut #riddle smut #theo riddle #mattheo x y/n #theoriddle #Theo smut #mattheo smut

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clandestineloki · 7 months

Text

strawberry bliss (nsfw)

the part 2 to strawberry sweet ❤️

summary: miguel loves using his strength on you ;)) and this little snippet of you guys watching a replay of his recent game shows just that, with some sweet lil fluff and playful banter :)) and then miguel fucks u so good he hits your factory reset and you go back to being a lil shy babie around him oh no :3

tw: he also finds out you have a daddy kink, mention of shane dawson (derogatory), mention of physical violence (bros a wrestler what did you expect), overstimulation, a bit of breeding kink, heavy praise kink, a bit of humiliation but on the sweet side

A/N: this takes place about a year or so after strawberry sweet, where miguel and reader are in an established relationship and make quippy cute banter with each other

A/N # 2: pls reblog so we can turn more ppl into whores 💖

💕 hope you enjoy!

===

"BABYY THE COMMERCIALS ARE OVER!"

Miguel runs from the bathroom and meets you in the kitchen, you with the tray of strawberry drinks squealing as he tickles your waist.

"AHH IT'S GONNA SPILL!!!" you scream, and he backs off, smiling as you regain your balance.

You balance the smoothie cups on the tray and move forward, but Miguel blocks your way.

"M'scuse me, I have a game to watch," you pout up at him, but he doesn't budge.

"Mister, my boyfriend will be very angry if he finds out I'm late to the game >:( "

"Aww, such a shame, pretty girl... can't I just get a little kiss?"

"Let me through!"

"Can't, hermosa, you gotta say the password right up against my lips~ the password is mwah mwah mwah i love you miguel you're so handsome miguel~"

"You're cheesy," you roll your eyes, and he laughs as you set the tray down in front of the bed facing the TV. "I want the old Miguel back, he was cute and he had actual rizz."

He slumps against the couch. "The Miguel that was a total pervert over your old smoothie girl uniform?"

"Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about the uniform!" You giggle. "I hated it. Did you know on my first day they gave me a size too small and they had the audacity to try and gaslight me by saying I got fat?"

"Fucking weirdos," he pulled you into his arms, your back against his chest." Glad I got you out of that mess, mm?"

"It was just one mess into another, Mig, you made me your sugar baby," you tease, and his face scrunches up.

"Bebita, I may be rich but I'm not your sugar daddy. I'm just two years older than you."

"But think about it, I was sixteen when you were eighteen! Like- that's two years but the maturity difference is huge! That's creepy, Miguel. You wanna go to jail?"

"Ay, por dios. We're in our twenties, we met in our twenties. End of discussion. And I've already been to jail. Twice."

"What?!"

"Ay! ay! end of discussion. The match is starting," he pinches your nose then turns to watch the TV just as the host's opening spiel ends. Miguel feels you sit up in his grip when the crowds on the TV cheer as he comes up on screen, flashing a grin to the audience.

"Ew, who's that?" you mumble, cheeks stuffed with popcorn and Miguel snorts, rolling his eyes.

"That's me, your boyfriend, the guy who's gonna absolutely obliterate downgraded Shane Dawson in about..." he snaps his fingers just as his opponent comes out on screen. "Fifty-eight seconds."

"I really don't see the resemblance, Miggy, you're just being a bully."

"Y'know," he pulls you closer, absentmindedly kissing your neck as he feels you squirm in his hold. "I don't get how you let the physical violence slide but I compare some white guy to Shane Dawson and you call me a bully."

Your face heats up a little, and you turn away, mumbling shyly. "C-cause you look really badass when you throw them around like that... "

"Mmm?" he teases, nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I do?"

He feels you freeze up and chuckles, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

"Y-yeah," you whisper... "a bit..."

"Oh, and you like how strong I am, hmm? Is that what it is?"

It's cute how you shake your head and brush his hands away to turn up the volume on the TV, when he just goes right back to kneading your breasts and riling you up.

"Querida, you gotta answer me, y'know I can't understand you when you mumble like that~"

"What was the question?" you mumble, looking up at him with what he knows for sure are the most adorable bunny eyes he's ever fucking seen.

"I said," he nibbles down on your ear with a little growl, "do you get off like a cute little bunny when I show off? Is my baby that kinky~?"

" I-I... maybe..." you twitch as his fingers toy with your nipples. "Miggy, please..."

"Please what baby? Please stop or please give me more?"

Miguel knows the answer, obviously. It's just that he can't get over the fact that he landed the prettiest girl with the cutest stutter when she's nervous.

"Please..." you whisper.

He chuckles against your ear, leaning in and lowering his voice just the way he knows you like it, especially when he's buried all the way inside you.

"Please what."

The tiniest gasp comes out of your lips. "Please... please f-fuck me... please?"

Before you can even finish, you're over his shoulder and on the bed as he kisses everywhere on your face, growling at the inconvenience of the fact that he cant hold you still and fondle your chest at the same time.

"M-Miguel..." you whimper, twitching in sensitivity. "You're always teasing me..."

"Oh?" he mocks you, flipping you over on your stomach and gripping your hips, leaning in real slow to drawl darkly in your ear. "I'm the tease here? When you're shaking your little ass all over me? You rile me up like this and expect me not to fuck you the way you deserve? hmm?"

"S-Sorry..." you mumble, and Miguel laughs breathily, having the time of his life making you all shy and embarrassed.

"S'okay, baby, you just gotta make up for it, yeah?"

With a playful swat to your ass, he rips off your shorts and his fingers tease your folds through your panties.

"Miguel..."

"Yes...?" he kisses the arch in your back, smirking when your thighs tremble.

"Please hurry..." you gasp.

"Don't worry baby, you'll be asking me to slow down real soon~"

===

His favorite sight of all time is you underneath him, with that blissed out look on your face and your chest heaving as he fucks every choked breath out of those pretty lips.

"Fuck, bebita," he whispers. "Creaming all over my fingers like the cute little plaything you are?"

You whimper, closing your thighs shakily, but his free hand just forces your legs apart and he curls his two fingers in you, tickling your pussy and making his hand even wetter.

"Hmm? What did you say?" Miguel mumbles close to your ear, and makes sure that at the precise moment you try to speak he speeds up his fingers, making your words melt away in warm red pleasure as more juices coat his fingers.

"S'too much..."

"Bebita, you asked for this," he whispers darkly. "We're not even halfway done."

You mewl out his name and turn your head to the side. He takes it as an opportunity to bite down on your neck and relish in the high-pitched pleasure drunk squeal that forces out of you as your little pussy sucks in his fingers.

"Shit. I can't take it anymore," he grumbles, his fingers moving even faster as he leans closer, forcing you flat against the bedsheets as you moan and cream all over his fingers like a cute little bunny, just too pleasure-drunk to utter even a word.

"Come for me baby," Miguel almost begs. "Come for me so I can fuck you the way I know you want me too, okay?"

You gasp at his dirty talk, and he laughs at the fact that you never stop getting shy when he says these things.

Or when your little pussy makes those wet noises when you're really really close.

"Fuck you're so cute," Miguel grins, licking the tears falling from your hazy eyes. "So sweet, letting me do whatever I want with you~ Come for me, gatita, you know you want to~"

Your moans make him grin and he thumbs at your sensitive little bud. His teasing sends you over the edge and you gasp and whimper, clinging onto him as he helps you through your third orgasm.

When you come down from it, Miguel is smirking down at you, and licking his fingers clean of your juices, humming lowly as his tongue traces his long fingers sensually.

"Wanna taste it right off your pretty pussy baby," he whispers, making you blush. "But I'll save that for later~"

He really means he'll save it for when you're too fucked out to close your pretty legs around his head.

Miguel kisses your hips as he flips you over again, tracing his rough hands over your ass and thighs, making you shiver and mumble something he almost can't hear.

"Daddy..."

His wandering hands freeze.

He grins.

"What was that?" he teases.

Your breath stutters.

"What- I-"

He leans in dangerously close, pinning you down on the bed with your ass right against his throbbing hard cock.

"What did you just call me?" he drawls, and you whimper.

"I-I called you Daddy," you bury your head in the pillows. "S-Sorry... if it makes you uncomfortable-"

Miguel thrusts his hips forward, sinking halfway into your wet, warm little cunt. The squelching of your little hole is nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated, sinful noise of pleasure that leaves your lips.

"Oh," Miguel groans. "That made me reallyfuckin' uncomfortable alright."

Your thighs shake as he sinks in really really slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him stretch you out.

"Say it again."

You gasp, tears forming in your eyes. "It's embarrassing..."

"Fuck, you really have to do all these things that make you so lovable, huh?" He groans, pulling your wrists and holding your arms behind your back. "Got the cutest little face, the cutest little pussy, and you always got these little kinks that make you so cute~"

He starts moving his hips, making you slur out his name and clench around him.

"My cute little milkshake girl, doing all these cute things for me and no one else," he whispers, and you nod helplessly,

Miguel runs his hands up and down your waist, making you sigh and whimper into the pillows.

"Wanna repeat what you said? No one's around, baby, just you and me. No need to be shy~"

"Daddy..."

"Fuck, you really are such the perfect little cutie, aren't you?" Miguel teases, pounding you harder.

It's music to his ears when you finally get to that stage of it, just uncontrollably whimpering and moaning and making all these noises of pleasure as you let him do whatever he wants to you.

"C'mon, say it again, another time won't hurt~"

"Such a t-tease..." you whine, and he chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck.

"Sorry, baby, not my fault you're so fucking adorable," he groans, shuddering when you clench down on him. "Daddy's close, baby, wanna come with me? Feel good together, hmm? Can you even understand me you dumb little baby?"

Miguel coos as you take in high-pitched breaths and gasps. Your tiny fists clench the sheets shakily, and your thighs thump helplessly with every thrust of his hips.

"Come back to me, baby," he whispers as his thrusts get sloppier. "Help me out one list time, kay? Wanna be my good girl?"

"Mhm..."

"Ah," he laughs. "Daddy broke his pretty baby so bad? Sorry, gatita, you just feel too good. Let's come together, okay? I'll get us there, baby~"

You whimper loudly one last time, creaming helplessly around his cock. Miguel pins your back down onto the bed, leaning in and growling right against your ear as his orgasm takes over as well, making sure you take every bit of his cum inside you.

The twitching of your thighs finally slows as Miguel pulls out, turning you onto your back and lightly running his hands up your thighs, waist, and breasts, kneading them softly and eliciting a whine from your lips.

"So sensitive," he pinches your nipple, making you gasp. "But I'll keep my hands to myself... for now."

You blush at those words, nuzzling into his neck as he chuckles at your bashfulness.

"Didn't know my good little girl had a Daddy kink. So cute," he whispers. "Got the sweetest little baby all to myself~."

Miguel brushes his lips against yours, smiling when he tastes a hint of strawberry,

His second favorite sweet thing in the goddamn world.

"Oh, baby~" he coos. "You felt so fucking good. Can we go again, gatita?"

You whimper, twitching helplessly, and blushing at the feeling of his fingers toying with the cum trickling down your thighs.

But you don't say no.

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #clndstnlki's strawberry sweet saga

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agnesafterhours · 8 months

Text

trophy | lee know. smut.

As team captain, your boyfriend has his priorities straight. Minho doesn't take neither his training nor role lightly, and, sometimes, you like to tap into this inflexible side of his. (3.7k words)

CONTENT: smut, dom!minho but he's more persuasive than physically controlling, brat!reader, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, slight degradation kink. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

You shouldn't get under Minho's skin when he's training, you know that. The hurried whispers of his teammates leaving the field after matches told you this much. But still, it feels a bit unfair of him to make you sit here, after a whole game, having to watch as he leads his team through a “just, like, thirty minutes?” practice. Although annoyed, you understand why he's so hung up on practicing as much as possible—winning this game meant going to the finals, after all. You knew how much this meant to Minho, so you tried your best to be patient whilst sitting on the bleachers.

Even though you're in a bit of a hurry to get him home, watching Minho play earlier makes it hard to deny that the field is his element, leading the team is his calling. You were completely stunned as you watched your boyfriend play—this being the first game of his you saw which you were actually rooting for his team. It was a bit of a rascal when the team captain introduced the cheerleader of their rivalling team as his girlfriend, but his mates eventually got over it.

Your relationship with Minho was fun. You were together for a couple months and the freshness and excitement of it all never failed to make your skin tingle each time he looked at you in a certain way. Like the look he's giving you right now—chin up, eyes down, head slightly tilted.

“I told you to wait.” His uniform's shoulder pads make him look even more intimidating, the bright spotlights behind him turning the white material almost blinding—his shadow casting on you.

“I have been waiting! It's been like an hour, Min! And you said you'd take thirty minutes…” You hope a slight pout would help your case and soften his heart, but he simply turns his focus to the field for a moment, before looking back at you. Minho takes a few steps closer.

“What’re you so eager to go home for?” He asks, voice a bit quieter. There's no need to speak this lowly when he's so close, especially when his teammates are so far away and everyone else has gone home by now—but you'll take advantage of whatever you can get from him. Even if it's just the feeling of his eyes on you.

You look away, arms crossing under your chest as he smirks.

“What? Cat got your tongue so early on, baby? Speak up.”

“I'll tell you when we get in the car.”

His eyebrows furrow. “I don't wanna wait ‘til we get in the car.”

“Well, then maybe you should hurry.” You turn around, eyes lingering on him for a moment before you make your way to the parking lot.

Your nerves make you jump a little when you hear Minho shout to his team they're wrapping up the practice—the parking lot getting darker and darker with the distance you put between yourself and the field's spotlights, a cool breeze awakening shivers up your arms as the night hugged you tighter and tighter. You (and the butterflies on your stomach) wouldn't settle until you felt Minho's presence. But you don't wait for him to catch up to you. You don't look back.

The few minutes you sit in the car feel like hours, your phone's screen lighting up with a notification from your boyfriend finally seizing the constant checkups of your hair and gloss.

min🖤: locker room

You: why im waiting for u in the car

min🖤: locker room:) im waiting

You: ive been waiting for longer what if i just dont go

You slam the car door shut, making a bee line to his location.

min🖤: if you dont come you wont get what you want when we get home

You: whatever

The building's back door shuts loudly behind you.

min🖤: if you dont come ur gonna have made me end practice for nothing

You: idc ur already mad anyway

You reach the locker room and as soon as your hand turns the door handle, you feel two hands on your hips pressing your back to the cold metal.

Minho's tongue is in your mouth before you can even notice he kissed you, the cold air seeping through the open windows contrasting his warm palms on your skin. You're covered in shivers as he controls the kiss—one palm running up your chest to your neck until he reaches the back of your head, tilting it as he pleases.

“Not mad enough to use numbing cream on you.” The bottle sits menacingly on the wooden bench. He spreads your legs with his thigh, pressing against your core. “So don't push me.”

You're completely helpless, hands grabbing fistfuls of his uniform as he lightly pulls the hair on your nape every now and again—his mouth latching desperately onto yours. The room is dark, the campus so empty it almost feels like you're in a different dimension, completely by yourselves. Air fills your lungs for the first time in a while—you didn't realize you were that breathless until gasps fill the room as he kisses your neck.

“I didn't even do anything.” He leaves a harsh bite at your words, sucking on the bruise a moment after. “Ah- I just wanted to congratulate you for winning-”

“If you wanted to congratulate me”, his voice drips with sarcasm, “you would've sat there and wait for me to finish practice.” Minho hastily pulls the front of your tank top above your chest, not bothering to fully strip you out of it before his hand reaches under your bra, massaging your breast. “You would've been patient until I had the time to bring my pretty little trophy home, hm?”

Air hitches in your throat when he rips your bra open, the cloth falling to the floor. You struggle through heavy breathing to talk back as he licks his thumb and brings it to your nipple. “I'm not just some trophy.”

“You're not? What are you, then?” His lips leave your neck so he can look you in the eye, finally allowing to rest for a bit. You don't like the distance.

You lean your head forward, chasing his smirking lips as he pushes you back against the lockers—the shuffling metal sounds strident in the dead quiet. Minho tilts his head back a bit, rejecting your kiss. “You didn't answer me.”

“Because I wanna fucking kiss you!” You whine through gritted teeth, leaning towards him one more time.

The grip he has on your hair stops you once again, but this time, he gets so close his lips touch yours when he whispers. “Tell me what you are, baby. ‘Cause sometimes you act like you're just a desperate little hole for me to fill."

Minho's dilated pupils stare right into your soul. Your eyes shake but you don't look away. “I'm your fucking girlfriend. It's not my fault you're not good enough of a fuck that I'm never satisfied.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.

You see, Minho wasn't the type to growl his demands and manhandle you into whatever position he wants—he always tries reasoning with you. He lets you know what it is he would like to do, and if you don't comply, he'd show you why that was the best option for you in the first place. Minho gets off on proving he knows better, showing how he knows what's best for you.

He takes a small step back, a click of his tongue letting you know his disappointment. “So I don't fuck you right? Okay.”

“I just- I didn't mean-”

“No, you're right, you're right. That's why I never make you come, right?” His sarcastic voice coming out a little bit breathless as he shoves your shorts and underwear down your legs, eyes fix on yours. You kick the clothes to the side with trembling legs, bambi eyes looking up at him.

You didn't exactly know what the outcome of your stubbornness would be, but you did not expect Minho's knees to buckle—his gaze dead set on yours as he reached the ground.

Suddenly, your boyfriend grabs your hand and latches it to the hair on the back of his head.

“Why don't you fucking teach me then?” He speaks through gritted teeth, throwing your right leg over his shoulder pad—the unusual angle giving him all the access he needed and leaving you much more exposed.

Unhappy with how limp your hand stayed in his hair, Minho grabs it once more, pushing himself against your core.

“Come on, baby.” He mumbles, leaving wet kisses over your outer labia. When he looks up, resting his chin on the skin under your bellybutton, the dim light coming from the window makes his profile glow blue—pearly white grin hypnotizing you. Minho looked like an incubus—eager to suck the life out of you. “Where's your attitude, hmm? Show me what you like.”

You can see your bare chest heaving with each breath as you look down at him. “Fin... Fingers?”

He tilts his head to the side, big eyes full of mischief. “Fingers? You're asking?”

“I… I don't-”

“You don't know? Of course you do. You're just not thinking straight. Maybe it's stress, right? ‘Cause I'm not good enough?” Without a warning, the tip of his tongue lightly zigzags up and down your pussy. Up, and down again—avoiding your clit each time.

“You see,” he says, letting his saliva mix with your arousal, “if I use my fingers now, you'll come too fast.” Minho leaves a long peck on your core. “I know that's what you want, but what about dragging it out a little bit? I think you'd like it better.” He flattens his tongue and your body squirms as he licks up. “But I mean, I wouldn't know.”

Minho's being painfully annoying, but you deserve it. He takes his time dragging his tongue through your core, lapping your arousal and smearing it on your cunt—making your legs shake every now and again. His right hand keeps your squirming hips still as the left one slowly caresses it's way up your body, until he reaches your chest.

He's looking up at you the entire time, watching every single twitch and reaction to the flow of his tongue on you. When he finally latches onto your clit, you swear you lose your mind a little. Your hips stutter and he follows you promptly, big brown eyes burning through you. The sight of Minho on his knees being illuminated by the moonlight is so ethereal it's almost haunting, and at that moment, you know you'll never really forget this view—you'll never forget how he's making you feel. He really is like a incubus in a way, imprinting his mark on the back of your mind forever.

Impulsiveness takes over and you force your hips forward, the hand in the back of your boyfriend's head thrusting him against your cunt. Minho's eyes turn impossibly darker, his smirk much more noticeable than before. When he closes his eyes and his eyebrows furrow, you already know you're gone—instincts making you hold onto his locks harsher than ever.

The soft sucking turns progressively rougher, your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue draws figure-eights on your clit very softly in contrast to how quickly his lips are working the same nerve.

When your eyes start to water from how overwhelmed you feel, the telltale begins. As soon as your body starts shaking and your hips squirm away from his hold, you open your eyes to look at him just in time to watch as he completely removes himself off of you.

Your heart drops, hot tears running down your shamed cheeks as you wobble a bit, trying to find balance without his hands on your hips.

“Fuck, can you even feel anything, baby?” You feel the ghost of gentle fingertips on your labia, following up and down the slit.

You can tell through your watery eyesight and the poor-lit room that he's now paying attention to the way his fingers play with your cunt, smirk wiped clean off his voice as he watches your arousal coat his fingers. “If I try something like this-” He gently pushes his ring and middle fingers inside you, slowly curling the tip of his fingers in come-hither motion, low voice filling up the emptiness, “does it feel good?”

Does it feel good? You're long, long gone. Minho's voice sounds like it's coming from inside your head, the stimulation feels like it reflects in white orbits in your vision. You can no longer force yourself to open your eyes—it's for the better, anyway. You'd probably pass out if you caught a glimpse of his pretty brown eyes by now.

Does it feel good? You don't remember how you got yourself in this situation—you don't even have the brain power to form a phrase involving anything but religious chants of his name. You've become nothing but a warm body for Minho to touch and use as he pleases, you'd be satisfied with the smallest of touch he'd be kind enough to reach for.

His pouty lips find your clit again and suddenly, fireworks start setting off in your insides way too fast. Your stomach muscles contract in a way that's entirely new for you and you feel like you'll fall to the floor if he doesn't support all your weight. Your start to feel your throat straining, the constant whining suddenly getting higher. Your eyes are shut so tightly you can see blobs of colour behind your pitch-black eyelids. You think you're out of it for a little bit, but you can still hear his voice.

“Yeah, I don't think I'm doing it right.” The raspiness of his tone almost puts you to sleep—his fingers are still inside you, now pumping back and forth, very slowly. You can hear the embarrassingly loud gushing sound of his fingers moving inside you, and you open your eyes to find your boyfriend's face and chest covered in your arousal.

“I, I-” You don't know exactly what you have to say, but his loving eyes and the kiss he pressed to your thigh were not helping you find it out.

“You ruined my fucking jersey.” His lopsided smile makes your breath hitch.

“Need you.”

He tilts his head again. “Do you? Really?”

Your head is heavy as you nod, and you try your best to not lose focus. You know what he needs to hear to finally drop the act, and you know you should give in before your body gives out completely, but there's a little twisted voice inside your head asking how far you can take this—your body seems to be addicted to the thrill, moans immediately spilling out your lips when his fingers pick up pace.

“You're not satisfied?” He asks, voice sugary sweet. His pouty lips pepper quick pecks on your inner thigh, expectant eyes looking up at you. “I’m not sure I can help you, though. I mean, if it doesn’t feel good it’ll just get painful at some point.”

You stutter your words through a strained voice. “I’ll let you know if it does.” It takes your entire being to attempt to sound demanding. “We can keep going for now.”

An amused countenance takes over his sharp features. “Oh, we can? Alright, ma’am. Thank you so much for letting me know.” He stands up, and the sudden shift in atmosphere rising goosebumps on your skin as he now looks down on you.

Minho stands tall before you, the lighting no longer illuminating his doll-like eyes—shadows now cover most of his face, long hair hiding his gaze. As if he can hear your heartbeat picking up pace, he gets close to whisper against your lips, eyes hazy as he looks down at you. “I think we gotta stretch you out a bit more, hmm? If it didn't feel good, you're probably still tight.”

Good God, you hate this man. You know what he’s trying to get out of you—you’re just not sure if you want to give him the satisfaction yet.

So, you look up at him with the sweetest eyes you can possibly muster. “Don’t worry, bunny. You’re not that big.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, the smile on his lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bench. On your back.”

Although it seems you’ve worn his patience thin, you stare back. The cogs in your brain working their full capacity trying to figure out a way to make his life a bit harder. A disappointed sigh leaves his lips as he walks towards his locker, looking for his stuff to leave.

As always, his action is effective. Minho really doesn’t need much to convince you to give in, after all, you know what you’ll get when you do.

Silence fills the room as you discard your shirt all the way and lay on the bench, legs bent at the knees, heels resting on the cool surface. Anxiety bubbles under your sensitive skin when you hear Minho taking off his clothes. You rest you weight on your elbows to watch—his jersey was gone when you got to look at him, shoulder pads following suit.

“What made you change your mind?” He opted to leave his white tank top on as he unbuckles his belt, one knee—supported by the bench—between your legs. The moonlight now shining entirely on him.

“Don't like the emptiness…” Your voice trails off, and you don't mind staring shamelessly as he puts on a little show for you—one hand on your knee and running down your thigh, the other stroking his cock.

He scoffs, “You say shit like this but doesn't like it when I say you act like a hole.” He taps his tip on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. “Make up your mind, bunny.”

Minho stays kneeled before you, the cloth of his tank top so thin you could make out the lines of his chest and abs—the muscles on his pale arms shining iridescent in the lighting.

Your boyfriend moved his hips, slowly grinding over your slit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head without much resistance, mouth watering with each nudge of his tip to your clit. “Whatever you said about me not being too big…” He leans down to leave a quick peck on your lips. “Keep that in mind.”

With absolutely no warning and much faster than your brain would've been able to process, Minho buries himself as deep as he possibly can inside of you. He lifts your hips off the bench with ease, sitting on his heels—his hold on you so tight you bounced back against him with each thrust of his.

The stamina of the man above you is unfaltering. You can't do much besides watch him: his biceps flex to support the weight of your hips every time he slams you back on his cock, veins prominent on his arms. Minho's face and neck are covered in the prettiest shade of pink—his wide chest, blushed with the same colour, is struggling with each breath he takes. The moonlight highlights the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck, and he can't seem to decide whether he wants to throw his head back or look down at where your hips align.

Keeping himself together is the hardest when Minho looks down at you. He got his pretty girl all splayed out for him; her eyebrows furrowed in utter pleasure as the whiniest sounds constantly pour out of her pouty lips. The way your body reacts to him is hypnotic—it's so fun for him, how every little thing he does makes your eyes roll back. The power trip he gets when he watches your skin shiver wherever his hands touch is better than anything he's ever experienced. All because it's you. Because he gets you to feel like this. The fact you're so drunk on Minho gets him even more addicted to the feeling of your body shaking under him. So when your hips suddenly spring back to life rolling desperately against his and Minho's name seems to be the only coherent thought your brain can formulate, his desire increases tenfold.

You have no control over how loud your moans or the smack of Minho's hips against yours are. He lowers you back on the bench and is fully above you in the blink of an eye—holding your face as he kisses you so deeply you struggle to keep up. His thrust become less timed but continue as deep as they were. Minho throws his head back, moaning loudly, but quickly brings his gaze back to your lips. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips touching yours as he whispers.

“Come on, baby. You know how much I love to feel you coming around me. Be good.”

Be good, be good. Of course you want to be good. When his lips touch yours again, euphoria explodes inside of you. Your eyes being squeezed shut seem to enhance your other senses a bit—you feel every inch of Minho's cock grinding inside you, his hands burning hot where they touch, his loud moans and the wetness spattering between your legs being the only things crystal clear in your cloudy mind.

“Holy shit, fuck. I'm close, I'm so close.” He pants, face buried in your neck.

Your weak hands gently soothe his back, you mindlessly mumble your words, “Wanna feel you coming inside me, love. Want it so bad.”

His strong arms wrap around your waist when he comes, cock buried deep inside of you. Minho shudders with each movement of your hands against his skin, as you now gently scratch his back under his tank top. It feels like a long time has passed until he breaks the silence.

“We're taking the numbing cream home, by the way.” He gets his face off your neck and rests his weight on his elbows. His right hand cups your jaw, thumb playing with your drooled lips. “You're not done paying for that attitude.”

#can u tell minhos outfit at kcon also inspired this #can u tell #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho smut #skz x reader #lee minho x y/n #stray kids x y/n #skz x you #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader

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heich0e · 2 months

Text

the itadori house always smells faintly of clean laundry.

it's not because the two boys who live there are particularly diligent about staying on top of their housework—the towering pile of recyclables in the corner of the kitchen is proof enough of that—but it's because the first time yuuji had tried to do his own laundry, he used way too much detergent. the ensuing tsunami of soap suds had flooded nearly half-way across the tiny apartment—coating the floors, the baseboards, and anything else in its path, in a slippery (though pleasantly fragranced) froth that took DAYS for the two brothers to clean up. it must have sunk in to the floorboards, or there must still be traces of it lingering in nooks and crannies that they couldn't reach, because even now, years after the catastrophe, the scent still lingers.

even though the mere mention of the incident still makes a vein of irritation throb in sukuna's forehead, and makes yuuji hang his head in shame, you don't mind the smell. it's familiar after all these years. it reminds you of this place.

you burrow your face down into the cushion of the living room sofa. it's raining today, and a bit humid, so the scent of detergent is particularly strong.

you're nearly asleep when a voice interrupts your quiet moment of relaxation.

"i should start charging you rent, y'know."

you don't open your eyes, even once you hear the words that come from above you. even without looking, you can picture the scene: sukuna leaning over the back of the sofa that you're sprawled across, his weight resting on his elbows as he peers down at you with his usual scowl. it's not the same scowl he shows to everyone else—the one that makes people shrink back under his gaze—this is a softer version of the same expression, dulled by familiarity. if you were more optimistic you might even say it was blunted by affection.

"stop pretending to sleep, kid." you feel his hand grasp your hip, shaking you lightly. "i know you're faking."

you feel a smile threatening to pull at your lips so you turn your face towards the pillow—the one you bought for the sofa, since the itadori brothers' idea of home decor is limited to creased posters for old mafia movies nobody's ever heard of and women with their tits out taped to the wall—and you burrow down to hide your expression from view.

"you're such a nuisance," sukuna groans, and then you feel the sofa dip. you figure he's pulled himself over the back of it now, based on how you feel him kneeling overtop of you with your legs straddled between his own. you're on your belly, but you can feel him rest back on his haunches, trapping your feet underneath him as he sits. "can't you nap at your own house?"

"too tired," you finally rasp out, daring to peek at him over your shoulder.

"and i'm not?" he scoffs, lifting his hand and pushing his hair back from his face. he's still half-dressed in his work uniform—a pair of slacks from the security company he's been working at part-time for the past few weeks, and a white t-shirt that he usually wears underneath the short sleeved button down that matches the trousers. "i just worked a double—been up since 4."

he does look tired, now that you have the chance to look at him. his hair is a bit dishevelled and he's got dark circles under his eyes. sukuna always looks a bit exhausted—and has since grandpa passed away and he took on the responsibility of raising yuuji. but it's particularly noticeable right now.

"and i can't even come home and take a nap on my own couch because there's a freeloader here."

you bite the inside of your cheek, wiggling around a bit underneath him so you can lay on your back.

"charge me rent then," you parry back to his complaint, and he cocks an eyebrow at your challenge. "i want a bed though. s'only fair."

"we'll get bunkbeds for yuuji's room, then," sukuna quips.

"don't wanna bunk with yuuji," you counter again, "he snores."

sukuna pauses, staring down at you. he leans forward slowly, his hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of your waist as he dips towards you. "only one other bedroom in this place, y'know—"

you do know. it's why you said it.

"—and i have no plans to give up my bed."

sukuna is close to you now. too close, in any other circumstance, but this is one entirely of your own creation. a circumstance that feels more like an inevitability than anything, given the tension that's been crackling between the two of you lately, ever since he rescued you that night at the bar.

"didn't ask you to give it up," you say quietly, your eyes flickering across his features until they eventually settle on his lips.

sukuna makes a little noise in the back of his throat, close to annoyance, but not quite. distinctly tortured in nature.

"you really, really are a nuisance, y'know that?"

his hands are on your hips now. not like when he'd shaken you awake—this touch is greedier, needier than that passing graze. his fingertips slip up underneath the hem of your shirt until they brush against your bare skin, and the contact makes your body flush with heat.

"yuuji's gonna be back from class soon," you murmur softly, your gaze flickering back up to sukuna's heavy-lidded eyes. his nose twitches a little in annoyance, knowing you're right.

sukuna backs away a little, his hands slipping back out from underneath your shirt.

you sit up and catch his wrist in your hand, and his eyes widen in surprise. your faces are close together now—so close you can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. he stole a pack from you a few days ago, and clearly he's still chewing it.

you can't smell the laundry detergent anymore.

"i didn't tell you to stop," you remark lightly, leaning back so you're splayed out against the sofa once more. you stare up at him, waiting for him to process what you've said—watching the thoughts play out across his uncharacteristically shocked face. "i just meant that you should hurry up and do it already."

#sukuna x reader #big brother!sukuna #i did not proofread/edit/or reread this before i posted i typed it with my heart and hit post w my pussy #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing

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joonipertree · 8 months

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Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.

Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????

But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."

Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.

If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"

You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.

God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.

Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.

IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA

I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.

Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.

If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.

You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.

I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?

If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.

Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."

People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.

Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.

You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'

But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.

You came close and kicked him on the shin.

I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.

The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.

If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.

With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.

The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.

It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.

Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.

Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.

And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.

"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.

"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"

Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."

The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.

"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."

The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.

"Only you can....treat me like that."

Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.

Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.

I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.

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nadvs · 2 months

Text

cam girl (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

“Make sure to bend down real low.” Rafe’s deep voice startles you.

You’re kneeling down as you fill the freezer with the groceries that were just delivered. You thought you were alone in the massive kitchen, but sure enough, Rafe is taunting you again.

You don’t even need to turn to look at him to know he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. A depraved part of you is excited he’s there.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you mutter, your attention still focused on your work. It’s your go-to phrase whenever he bothers you. Professional, but not exactly friendly.

“Yeah, is that the only uniform they give you?” he asked. “You don’t have anything tighter?”

You stand and turn to finally look at him. His baseball hat is on backwards and his arms are crossed, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

You smooth down the loose gray knee-length dress you’re wearing and you swear he’s undressing you with his coy blue eyes. You hate that it arouses you when he looks at you like that.

You’ve gotten used to Rafe teasing you. You’re almost sure he gets off on degrading you. There are other maids but you’re the only one he does this to.

“Nope, this is it,” you say curtly. If you didn’t need this job, you’d cuss this man out. Probably even slap him. But you need to stay cordial, and he knows that, riding the power trip whenever he can.

“Too bad.” Rafe knocks on the kitchen island before turning to leave. “I can tell you’re hiding a nice ass under there.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you go back to work. You only come to work at the estate on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the days can’t go by fast enough.

You appreciate every dollar you can make these days as a struggling college student. Thankfully, your other job as a cam girl has been bringing in more and more money.

After you finish up your day at the Camerons’ estate, you drive your rusted, old car to your apartment in the south part of the island. The space is tiny, but it’s yours, and it’s good enough for now.

You go live for half an hour at 10 pm every other night of the week. Getting your start as a cam girl took some time, but now you have 32 subscribers and are starting to make good money off the website.

Tonight, you’re dressed in a black push-up bra and matching thong. You never show your face higher than your lips, refusing to risk anyone recognizing you.

This is just for the money, although you can admit to yourself that you find pleasure in knowing you can turn on so many strangers with your body. You sit on your bed, your toys ready off-screen.

Over your last session, a new user with the screen-name figure8 joined your chat. It threw you for a loop for a moment, prompting you to worry it was somebody you know from the Kooks’ part of the island, but the chances are slim. Figure 8 is a general term and the man could be from anywhere.

“Hey,” you say slowly. “How was everyone’s day? Mine was so long.”

figure8 didn’t say anything the other night, just watched and subscribed at the end of the stream, but tonight, he types something a minute into the session as you sit in front of the camera, running your hands over your satin bra.

figure8: you gonna show those perfect tits?

You giggle, immediately stepping into your cam girl persona. You check to see that twelve users are now viewing your stream.

“You’d like that, huh?” you ask, peeling off a bra strap. “Anyone else wanna see what’s underneath?”

You notice the bouncing dots on the screen that tell you that viewers are typing.

v2bo: yes

dragon89: take it off

stonyon: play with your tits

You strip off your bra, touching yourself, your breath hitching as arousal tightens in your core.

Without hesitation, you picture Rafe’s hands on you. He’s always on your mind during your cam sessions as you impulsively imagine his broad frame on top of you, dominating you.

You try to play it off when he taunts you at work, but it’s not until you’re touching yourself that you realize just how much it turns you on when he talks to you the way he does in his deep, mocking tone.

figure8: you like to get your tits played with?

You smirk, surprised someone is asking you what you enjoy. Typically, viewers like to simply compliment you or order you around, but you never get asked about your preferences.

“I love getting my tits played with,” you purr.

You press your arms to squeeze your tits together.

figure8: you like a cock between your tits don’t you princess

The sexy nickname makes you quiver a little. You bite your bottom lip.

“I’m so wet already,” you moan. “And thinking about a cock right here…”

You take a dildo you keep off-screen and place it between your tits. You part your lips as you rub the toy up and down, hearing the chimes of tips from your chat coming in.

figure8: bet you’re so good at sucking dick. i’d fuck your tits and that pretty little mouth so nicely

“You wanna see how I use my mouth?” you tease.

v2bo: deepthroat

You put the tip of the dildo on your tongue, flicking and rolling it. When you finally put your mouth around it, you close your eyes, thinking of Rafe in his kitchen, thinking of getting on your knees and sucking him off.

dragon89: put it in your pussy

A new notification pops up on your screen: figure8 is requesting a private show. Your heart-rate skyrockets.

You’d never gotten the request before. You had set the rate at $250 for a private session, half-expecting that you wouldn’t get any takers. You’re excited about the money and the fact that this new, intriguing viewer is the one who requested it.

You quickly type privately to figure8: This session ends at 10:30 and then I’m all yours, baby.

You continue to play with the dildo using your mouth, getting it wet all over, when a private chat comes in from figure8: how much for u to end the live and go private with me right now?

You don’t want to risk asking for too much and scaring the man away, but the possibility of making more in a private session than you would in a live one is compelling.

You never know much the live sessions will bring, but a private show is guaranteed money. Ending your session early might piss off your subscribers and maybe even make you lose some of them… but you impulsively reply: $1000.

Within a few seconds, you get a tip notification.

figure8 tipped you $1000.

You quickly end your live session, deciding to later tell your subscribers that your internet went out, then open the private session with figure8.

“Hello,” you whisper. “You want me to be your own personal toy, huh?”

figure8: i dont like to share

You laugh. If he’s willing to continue to pay you for private sessions, you’re happy to oblige.

“What would you like to see?” you ask. “You wanna see how I’d suck your cock?”

figure8: tap it against your mouth

“You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” you whisper. You tap the dildo on your lips, sticking out your tongue.

figure8: princess i’d go so slow with you until you’re soaked and begging for my cock

You feel yourself get wetter reading his words. He’s not like any of the other viewers you’ve had. He’s asking what you like, calling you a sweet name, not rushing anything.

“You want me aching for it, huh?” you purr. You put the dildo in your mouth again, slowly sucking and slurping.

figure8: that mouth is so fucking pretty

You continue to lick and suck, moaning on the toy, your panties drenched now.

“I want it inside me,” you say, realizing you’re not even speaking through your persona anymore. You’re actually turned on by him, actually wanting to fuck yourself with the dildo.

figure8: not yet. keep sucking it

You giggle, half-frustrated, and obey him.

“You touching yourself right now?” you ask.

figure8: yeah. wanna see?

You have the option of enabling media from viewers, but you never thought you’d want to see a stranger like that. But this man is something else. You click on the button to allow him to send you a photo.

“Send it so I can imagine you hard in my mouth,” you purr.

A few moments pass before the picture comes in. He’s lying down in bed, showing a bit of his toned stomach, his large hand at the base of his dick. It’s thick and long and so damn perfect.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Such a nice cock. I don’t think I could fit it all in my mouth.”

You’re not just saying it to flatter him. He’s huge.

figure8: you could if you tried hard enough

You lick your lips, pushing the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging a little.

figure8: the way you choke on it is so hot. fuck

“How am I doing?” you coo.

figure8: such a good girl. let me see how you touch your pussy. keep the panties on

The praise makes you ache for it even more. This started off as a job, a way to make money, but now you’re genuinely excited, wishing this guy could fuck you for real.

You tilt your laptop down, spreading your legs in front of the camera as you sit on your bed. Your thong is still on, but it’s see-through. You watch yourself on the screen, tits still in view as you put your hand over your pussy.

figure8: be slow with it

“You’re torturing me, you know,” you giggle. “I’m not a patient girl.”

figure8: i’ll make u be patient. i want u to beg

“Please let me take these panties off,” you whimper. “I need to touch myself.”

figure8: put your panties to the side

You obey, moaning at the pleasure of your fingers finally on your clit. You rub in circles an up and down, trembling.

figure8: wish i could eat you out right now. you want my mouth on your pussy?

“Fuck, I’d love that,” you say, imagining Rafe looking up at you through his beautiful eyes as he licks your pussy.

figure8: show me how wet you are. put your fingers up to the camera

You do as you’re told, showing him your wetness as it shimmers in the white light from the screen.

“See how much you turn me on?” you say.

figure8: take the panties off and stretch out your pussy lips

You eagerly slide your underwear off and throw them beside your bed. With your legs spread again, you pull your lips apart, giving him the perfect view.

figure8: good girl. you listen so well

You get a notification that he tipped you $500. You never thought you’d make this much money in one night.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggle. “You love this pussy, huh?”

figure8: ur so fucking perfect. i want to cum inside u. put the dildo in nice and slow, princess

“Finally,” you say. “Your cock would slide in so easily right now. I’m so fucking wet.”

The toy fills you perfectly, making you quiver. You start to slowly thrust it in and out, but the chat chimes again.

figure8: i know you’re needy but i said slow. put the dildo in and move your hand. i wanna see it inside you

“Sorry,” you tease. You move your hand so he can see the toy inside you. You watch yourself in the screen, the dildo hugged perfectly between your walls.

figure8: you’d squeeze my cock so fucking well

“What if you’re too big for me, hmm?”

figure8: princess we’d make it fit

You’re nearly writhing at this point. You scroll back up to see his nude photo again, imagining it inside of you.

“Your dick is so fucking nice,” you groan.

figure8: show me how you like to be fucked. make yourself cum. don’t fake it. i wanna hear u cum for real

You obey, thankful he’s finally letting you orgasm. You hold the base of the toy and plunge it in and out of you, the lewd sound filling your bedroom, and use your other hand to rub your clit. You whimper, making sure to keep your face out of frame, imagining this stranger thrusting into you.

You let the sounds of pleasure spill out of your mouth, uninhabited, knowing he’s stroking his dick to you right now.

The orgasm hits you hard, your legs shaking. You’re panting as you look at your screen to see what he said.

figure8: i just came so fucking hard

“I wish your cum was inside of me,” you say breathlessly. You try to catch your breath as he continues to type.

figure8: what’s ur favorite position?

“Doggy,” you say, surprised he wants to know more. “What’s yours?”

figure8: thats mine too. you can show me next time, princess

“You wanna do this again, huh?” you tease.

figure8: i dont want you showing your body to any other guy. i’ll pay you double what you make on your streams if you only do private shows for me

The idea intrigues you. It’s sexy how he doesn’t want to share you at all.

“How often you want to do these, baby?” you ask.

figure8: every night. i’ll give you 1000 for every show and tips for when you deserve it. i want to buy you some things and watch you use them. you’re mine and mine only

The thought of making $1000 a night is unbelievable. This guy is loaded with cash and wants to spend so much on you.

You would lose the following you worked hard to get, but you’d undoubtedly make way more money being this man’s personal cam girl.

“Deal,” you finally say with a disbelieving laugh. “Same time tomorrow?”

figure8: don’t be late

The chat window notifies you that he left. You’re still breathless, shocked at how you didn’t have to fake the orgasm with him.

You scroll to find his dick pic again, as if you’re addicted to looking at it. You turn your camera off and now that you can angle your screen up, you can take a better look at the image.

Your stomach drops. The gold ring around his forefinger. The bedsheets you change twice a week. You know who it is.

The man you just orgasmed with was Rafe.

{ read part two here }

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #mine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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celestialscatterbrain · 4 months

Text

1. Natal Chart Observations

1. Libra Moon: decision paralysis that comes from feeling two contradicting ways about an issue. “I want my cake but I want to eat it too.” I feel like libra moons are the most sentimental of the air moon signs. Libra moons can constantly weigh out the pros and cons for every emotion you feel. “I want to do this but I don’t want to deal with how messy it’ll make things.” When libra moons are feeling a little lost, they can over-schedule themselves and their commitments to friends to avoid thinking about overly-vulnerable feelings. There is zero tolerance for imbalance in relationships. Poor behavior from a partner will be met with matched behavior to tip the scales back to a balanced one, even if the overall locational of the scale is descending into negativity. “You get what you give” mentality. Libra moons can be keen on the idea of karma. “Come to me with sweetness, or don’t come to me at all.” Daydreaming about romance is a relaxing way to pass time. Before maturity, libra moons might suffer from social anxieties when they find themselves in group settings where there isn’t a cohesive vibe. If someone around a libra moon doesn’t look like they are having a good time, it subconsciously makes it difficult for a libra moon to relax. The libra moon will then play the role of a diplomat or host/hostess to ensure the vibes equalize to restore their peace.

2. Mars in the 10th house: these natives are always making money. They are known for their side hustles too. They are always looking for new ways to make money and I feel like they are good at getting clientele. They will get their hands dirty for their job. For a man, this can point to a “blue collar ‘manly’ job.” I noticed 10H mars can be pretty generous with their money and services, but feel extremely terrible about getting help from others. If these natives aren’t confident where they are in their career or skill set(s), I noticed that they are likely to undersell themselves or undercharge for their services/time. It can also point to people in the workplace as perceiving the 10H mars person to be brash and outspoken. The authority figures in their career can feel a sense of competition with the 10H mars person, or wants to humble them in some way. I feel like it’s really easy for them to get good jobs or climb up the ladder when they do things the right way. They get impatient when they aren’t growing in their careers as fast as they want to. “Why am I not a millionaire yet.” They work hard for what they want and are very ambitious once they find their niche. I feel like these are often people who can find jobs that don’t necessarily need a degree. Their career mistakes feel explosive. They can be seen as “sharks” in their fields because they go in for the attack. They like to be the best and the most competent at what they do, and want their colleagues to see them as competition. “I’m the best and no one will tell me otherwise.” They can be known for being assertive and extremely determined in meeting their goals. They will work themselves to the core and utilize all their energy towards elevating themselves career and reputation wise.

3. Mars in the 1st House: These people might often be noticed for their bodies. They might be seen as someone you shouldn’t mess around with. They look athletic. Maybe they are known for fitness or for being athletic. These natives can be associated with the military, and probably look incredible in their uniforms. This is a man-eater or womanizer placement, for sure. “I get what I want when I want it.” They look like they have a rough exterior, even if they are sweethearts. They can be into martial arts. Commanding presence. They can make wonderful personal trainers. Regardless of gender, they can come off as being comfortable with their masculine energy. Reds look great on them. They might have thick eyebrows and a nice jawline. They look attractive when they are angry. They know how to make someone feel sexy. They have people chasing them or falling for them fast.

4. Pisces and 12th house placements: these people have no problem ghosting you. Pisces placements and 12H placements are always made out to be innocent and naive, but they are attracted to people and situations that have something a little “bad” about them. Savior complex. They can go through feelings where they feel detached from social settings and those they love, where they cannot fully escape the role of observer. They will always be able to fully escape into their internal landscape and get consumed by it— but it seems as though no matter how hard they try, they can’t have that same presence in the material world. This can lead to frustrating feelings of disconnection from the world and people around them. They can be smiling and staring off, but you will never fully know what they are thinking. They can make people really curious about them, because their thoughts always catch you off guard. Having an existential crisis on the daily. Casual things might have a bigger internal meaning to them that others might not always understand. We can find plenty of people attractive, but if the spark isn’t felt in the soul and doesn’t pique a deep curiosity, we will get bored and swim away. Liking people who are a bit “mean and dark” but wanting them to be sweet and soft with you. Using music to paint your daydreams, or to escape. Finding music that relates almost entirely to whatever they have on their mind feels like striking gold. They can like someone just for having the same interests as them. Feeling like a ghost in a flesh suit. Enigmatic. Can embody different vibes and personas depending on who they are around. They are sensitive and can adapt to the situations at hand. Too much self awareness can lock them in their heads. “I only jump into waters with the depth of an abyss.” Laying down for hours just to daydream and process your thoughts. Long baths feel like therapy. Moderation isn’t in our vocabulary. We love what we like, and we want to get lost in what we love. Not being able to properly process your day or interactions until you’re alone and can replay them in isolation.

5. Taurus Placements: I noticed Taurus moon women get spoiled financially by their partners. The type for their partners to say “don’t worry, I’ll work and you can be at home,” or that being their partners goal at a point. I noticed Taurus placements can enjoy the occasional shoplifting. They are not going to compromise their comfort, and if you come after that it will be met with intense stubbornness. They can seem nonchalant about a lot of things, but can be extremely unwavering in their opinions on certain things. In some cases, they can have strange eating habits or relationship to food. Thankfully, the Tauruses I’ve been around don’t project that on those around them. It’s more internal from what I’ve noticed, and they can enjoy feeding those they love and care for. They can have great taste in food. They love sensual vices and sex. They look great with pearls. They master an aesthetic and can stick to it. They are fiercely protective of those they love. They can be lazy at their worst and will not want to do anything that requires too much effort. They can be impressively good at couponing. Making money from home is the ideal setup for them. They will spoil their loved ones too, and can be great gift givers. They don’t cheap out with presents for their loved ones. They get much enjoyment from decorating their spaces and hosting their loved ones. They can be prone to overthinking and some may obsessive behaviors or crippling anxiety as well. They can honestly make the best scammers, as terrible as that sounds. They can sell someone a dream and make it sound beautiful, but can be lying through their teeth. Their jealousies can sometimes come from a place of vanity. Watch out for envying others, and appreciate your own beauty. They can focus so much on the beauty around them they forget about their own. They can be the image of beauty and grace, or strive deeply for that. They have pretty and soothing voices. Taurus placements can easily be the funniest person you know when they are in a joyful mood. I also noticed Taurus placements are wonderful at finding vintage pieces and re-selling them!

-D

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nomercyanywhere · 4 months

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mr. gojo and his cute but dumb little student (non-con ish + mentioned pregnancy :3)

ーーーーー

its already dark outside, the ac buzzing is the only thing filling in the silence right now. that, and his shoes tapping on the wooden floor waiting for you to finish answering the extra activities he had given you.

"tell me if you need any help okay?" he's sat on his desk, reading and checking paper. you had been failing his subject and he's got no other choice than to give you extra lessons., you nod at him, looking back down om your paper, you're so certain that most of your answers are wrong. you called him three times already.. oh, how desperately you wanted his help with this question, but you can't help but feel guilty! he's already explained the topic and methods or techniques you could use, countless of times.. if only the piling papers on his desk would just disappear so all of his focus would be on you!

its been an hour, already seven at night, almost all the school staff has left. mr. gojo was sure that only you two were the only ones left in school.

"uhm.. sir? aren't you tired?" you let go of the pen, and wiped your sweaty hands on your uniform. you prayed to the gods that he'll make you go home. you waited for his response.. he looked at the clock, and sighed "are you done? if so then hand me your paper and you can go home." oh god, you could tell he was exhausted, the circles under his eyes were already very dark, not the mention the amount of times he laid his head on the desk.. you gulped "i.. have only seven more questions left sir..." you embarrassingly admitted. he stood up, causing the legs of his chair to loudly drag the floor, startling you a bit. the buzzing from the ac was no match to how loud your heart was pounding.

when he got your desk, he wrapped his left arm around your chair and bent down next to you, scanning your unfinished paper. you felt the heat from his face, could even hear his breathing.

"c'mon, i taught you this already.." you heard the tired and annoyed in his voice. how humiliating, "what the- how did you even get that?" he stood straight, rubbing his face with both his hands before dragging another chair and setting it down next to you. "c'mon, could you tell me how you got your answer? hm? how did this equal to that." you were scared, the pressure in the atmosphere made your tummy churn. "i.. i- i dont know.." your throat was dry. you couldn't think. couldn't even hold the pen properly.

the more he asked you questions, the more the noticed how nervous you grew. satoru heard the shake in your voice whenever you answered him. he couldn't help but feel bad for you, so cute and handsome yet so dumb.

he sighed, getting up and walking to his desk again. "come here.. and bring your paper" he beckoned you, so, not wanting to agitate him even more, you quickly grabbed your paper and pen. on the outside, you were as pale as a banshee, while in the inside, a small bit of you jumped in relief and exciting because he'll finally let you go home. if only you knew, how wrong you were.

toru checked the time, 9:58pm, if he were at his house around this time, he'd be resting by now, but no, who would've thought he'd have the schools dunce sitting on his lap, squirming and moaning.

"tch... last fucking question, c'mon." he fucked your sensitive cunt while watching you dirty your own paper with drool, sweat or cum and what not. you had dropped the pen an hour ago, but you were too fucked silly to pick it up. "no offense, but were you dropped on the head as a baby? even elementary schoolers could answer this." you only respond with small whines and mews.., at this point, you've already lost count of how many times you've squirted on him and on yourself. clit pulsating so much and your poor sweet spot getting abused by his ridiculously long, thick fingers. "fuck me... what's the prime number before nineteen? do you fucking know the answer or not?" you shook your head, "mnoo.. sir i dont knooow.." you held his hand, which were way bigger than yours, in place as to stop him from finger fucking you.

he yanked your hair back, forcing you to take a good look at the scowl he's wearing. how'd you even get in college being this stupid?

"It's seventeen, it's fucking seventeen, say it.," he had a tight grip on your jaw "s-seventeen... nnhh..", "good fucking boy, now, y'know what else is seventeen? hm?" he had on a smug smirk, "w-what..?" he pulled out his hot dick and splayed it in between your soft thighs. "the amount of times you're gonne be cummin' on this fuckin' cock~" ah- is that even a normal size for a human? he was too big! too long and too fat! how could you possibly take all of him?!

1:13am, your feet off the ground, the papers now torn, crumpled and scattered on the floor. your tongue hung out while saliva seeped from the corner of your mouth and tears spread all over the other students papers, loud moans along with grunting now drowned out the annoying buzz from the ac.

"ah fuck, holy shit if this keeps up m'gonne get cha fuckin' pregnant hehee~" he's already came inside you five times, and you've wet yourself ten times! you felt like you were gonna die! by god, you knew you were gonna pass out if you came one more time. "ya feelin' the smart yet? im fuckin' the stupid outta ya y'know? five more loads then you'll outshine the top student of the school~!"

ーーーーー

a/n: woah, i kinda went ham on this one i think

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo thirst #gojo smut #ftm reader #m! reader #male reader #nomercyanywhereliterature

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oct0bra1ns · 5 months

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knockout!

Synopsis: So what if the referee was his obsession Pairing: Yandere boxer x referee reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others, yanderes , breaking bones notes: i read a 13 pages manual for this, appreciate me pls, also imma make my masterlist soon >.> reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Yandere boxer! Who was your friend and gave you the idea for applying to the job, sure it’s an underground ring but hey, money’s money and he assured you it wasn’t that bad.

Yandere boxer! Who gives you a smirk the first time he sees you in uniform, sure it looked horrible on everyone else but it looked good on you. He leaves you alone before the match, his relationship with you was only between the two of you.

Yandere boxer! Who keeps you in his room, asking you stupid questions just to take up your time, i mean, why should his opponent spend any time with you.

Yandere boxer! Who can’t help but make you flustered when you check over his gear, especially with how delicate your hands are when you remove his piercings, scolding him for being stupid enough to leave it on.

Yandere boxer! Who’s a completely different person when he steps into the ring, he goes from being your friend to being one of the most respected boxers in the place, someone who was known for being ruthless.

Yandere boxer! Who can’t help but have a look of pride and also amusement when you try to enforce the rules, challenging people who were basically criminals. A bit silly but he doesn’t mind.

Yandere boxer! Who completely ruined his opponent’s life and limbs after they had the nerve to lay their hands on you, accusing you for foul play. This was an underground sport, what did the pest expect?

Yandere boxer! Who checks over you, making sure you weren’t badly injured after the match and making sure to patch any injuries you had.

Yandere boxer!who never loses in his official matches but comes home battered and bruised just so you can take care of him.

Yandere boxer! Who stops caring about the rules and walks around with you before the match, making sure no one touches you.

Yandere boxer! Who broke his boss’s hand when he tried to get you away from him, no matter what you were staying.

Yandere boxer!was a force to be reckoned with in the hidden fight clubs, but it was the you who held your heart outside of the brutal confines of the makeshift rings

#octo writes #tw yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x willing reader #yandere boxer #male yandere #yandere male #yandere headcanons

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slut4thebroken · 5 months

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Cheerleader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | stepdad!Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary | You finally got on the cheer team and are excited to show your stepdad the uniform, but he has some concerns.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, mildly dubious consent, large age gap (unspecified), wedgie lmaoo, dry humping, grinding, groping, spanking, praise, daddy but not the kink?, technically incest??, ionno what else lol

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | I honestly don’t even know what this is… like I can’t tell if I hate it or not💀😭 Also for legal reasons… we’ll say reader is 18 and in college 👀 (just a reminder though: this is fiction. Treat it as such lol)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Hey, love, how was school?” He called out from the kitchen and you all but bounced into the room.

“I got on the cheer team!” You said excitedly.

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you, baby.” You could tell his tone was genuine, but he was still focused on whatever food he was preparing.

“Turn around, daddy.” You giggled and he set down the knife before turning to face you. His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock as he took in your clothes— your body. “Do you like it?” You asked, twirling around for him to see the whole thing.

“I-it’s… a little short, don’t you think?” He choked out.

“Well duh. How else would I do this?” You showed him a kick and his gaze snapped down to where the skirt rode up, exposing your matching shorts.

“You have to wear this for everything?”

“We have a long sleeved top for the winter time, but yeah.” You smiled. “What do you think?”

“C’mere, love.” You walked over and stood in front of him, waiting. He started on your waist, then dragged his hands down to your hips, his thumbs rubbing over the exposed skin of your tummy. He suddenly got down on his knees and moved his hands to just above your ankles. He snaked them up your legs, teasing you, until they reached the bottom of the skirt.

“Daddy?”

“Shh… I'm just getting a closer look, baby.” Duh. What else would he be doing? You thought with an internal chuckle. His hands moved up to your hips, over the skirt, then snaked behind you.

“Daddy!” You gasped when he squeezed your ass and pulled you closer.

“Turn around.” He ordered, moving his hands to your hips to start turning you. Once you were facing away from him, he was groping you again and you bit your lip to contain any sounds. “Bend over.” He said suddenly.

“W-what?”

“Bend over. You can lean on the counter if that’s easier.” Hesitantly, you obeyed. You leaned down and placed your hands on the counter. “Further.” With a blush of embarrassment, you lowered yourself so that your arms were crossed, resting on the counter, holding up your chin.

“This is what counts as school appropriate nowadays?” He scoffed, making your blush darken. “The skirt doesn’t cover anything.”

“T-that’s what the shorts are for.” You said quietly.

“I’d hardly call these shorts.” He was groping your ass again now, this time under the skirt. “They’re so fucking tight.” He gruffed. “I can see the outline of your pussy.” His thumb brushed over your mound, making you shoot up.

“Daddy!”

“Down.” You froze when you heard his tone, then slowly lowered yourself back down. He reached under the fabric where your ass met your thighs, then took it in a firm grip and roughly pulled up, making you gasp and grab onto the counter. His hands settled on your bare ass and you couldn't help the way you started squirming. The fabric of your shorts and underwear being pressed so tightly against you was almost painful, but it made you needy too.

“Every little immature boy at your school is going to want a piece of this.” He removed a hand, but brought it back down quickly, with a sharp smack. You jolted and gasped out a moan, caught off guard by the sudden pain. “I can’t let that happen, baby. But I‘m not gonna make you quit, not when I know how happy it makes you.” Another slap. “I’m gonna make sure you won’t let any boys come near this pussy.” Another slap, then his thumb was brushing over your mound again.

“Please,” You whined, but it cut off into a choked moan when he spanked you again, twice in quick succession. “Won’t let any boys come near it!” You tried, gripping onto the counter when he spanked you again, but he wasn’t listening. He ignored you and continued toying with your ass, sometimes squeezing it, but mostly spanking it. “It hurts, daddy.” You whimpered.

“Does it, baby?” He asked innocently, making you pout.

“Yeah…”

“You can handle a little more.” He decided, then continued until your ass felt hot and your clit was throbbing and your eyes were watering. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled, rubbing soothing hands over the burning skin, but his touch was just making it hurt more. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I hate when I have to punish you, but you need to learn.”

“I know..” You whimpered, then his hands were gone. You heard him standing up and he grabbed your hips to push you closer to the counter. “Are you done?” You asked quietly.

“Not yet, love.” You dreaded having to endure even more spanking. When you heard his belt, you stiffened. Next was his zipper, then fabric was rustling a little and he reached for your shorts again. He looped one hand through both of the leg holes, making the pressure on your clit get a little harder.

When he suddenly lifted you up, a pained cry left you as your shorts and underwear were forced deeper between your ass and even between your folds. Your feet were barely touching the ground and you reached back to try and push him away, but he just landed another slap on your ass.

“Stay still.”

“I-it hurts, daddy… I can’t.” You whimpered. In response, he adjusted his grip and lifted you up even more, making you cry out. The very tips of your shoes were barely still on the floor and the pressure on your clit was becoming more of a painful pleasure now. Emphasis on ‘painful.’

When you felt him press up against you, your breath caught in your throat. He still had his underwear on, but he was grinding his bulge on your pussy because of how high he was holding you. His free hand grabbed your hips to stabilize you as he sped up.

“Daddy…” You whined. Everything was so contradictory. Your ass was still burning, as was your clit from the prolonged wedgie, but it also felt good as he rubbed his bulge against it. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to stop or do more.

“I know, baby… Just a little longer.” He said quietly. Letting out a low groan, he continued humping you, his breathing getting more and more ragged. He moved the hand on your hip to help hold your shorts and underwear, then took a couple steps back. When you weren’t being supported by the counter anymore, you fell forward with a scream, your whole body weight now being held by the wedgie. You grabbed onto the counter to lift yourself up a little so your face wasn’t inches above the floor, but you couldn’t get close enough to put any weight on it.

“Daddy! Daddy— wait!” You cried out, making him moan at your struggling. His hips got more desperate, rutting against your clothed heat, making you more desperate as well.

You tried squirming, but he just lifted you even higher. Your feet kicked around as you tried hopelessly to find some footing, now being completely suspended.

“Please! It hurts!” You whined loudly, but he ignored you. “Please, daddy! I can’t take it anymore..”

“Shh… Yes you can, love. I’m almost done.” He cursed under his breath and his movements sped up even more. “Such a good fucking pussy.” He groaned under his breath.

“Who’s allowed to touch you here?” He asked, clearer now.

“You!”

“Who owns this fucking cunt?”

“Y-you..” You whimpered, hoping if you just agreed to everything that he’d give you mercy.

“That’s right, baby. Your body is only for daddy to touch, okay?” You were nodding before he could even finish.

“Yes— yes.. Please let me down now.” You rushed out. You’ve learned your lesson by now— you won’t let anyone come near you. His hips stopped, but he didn’t drop you. Instead, he stayed pressed up against your cunt, then started bouncing you up and down by your shorts and underwear, stimulating his cock like that instead. Each time you went down, a sharp cry was forced out of you. You could feel tears in your eyes again as the pain got worse and worse. He started rutting into you, but still moved you up and down, never even faltering.

“Please!” You cried. He moved you forward again so you were bent over the counter. Your feet still weren’t touching the floor, but at least some of the weight was taken off.

“Fuck—” He choked out, panting and moaning quietly. He took a step back and removed one hand, making you drop a little so that your toes were now on the floor. Then his moans were getting louder and louder until you felt heat spurting all over your ass. You whined and squirmed as your whole face heated up from humiliation. He cursed under his breath and slowly lowered you, releasing your shorts. He panted for another moment, then tugged your stretched out shorts and underwear back down, over his come. You felt completely and utterly used. But you also felt completely and utterly desperate for more.

“That’s better. Covers more of your ass now.” He said through a breath, giving you one last spank.

I fucking hate the title lol so give me ideas for a new one💀🙏🏻

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#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

I feel like Graves would end up with a really soft and innocent s/o just because he loves being the 'strong man' lol and even though they're maybe even smaller than him all sweet and shy- he is absolutely whipped for them! Especially if they can cook and be a lil housemaker for him??

♡♡♡ warning(s): nsfw + sfw, fem!reader

─── graves and his homemaker s/o ❤︎₊ ⊹

there's no one on earth more loved and adored by him, despite the stigma surrounding the dynamic you two have. he doesn't pay any mind to their judgements. in his heart, he knows how tender he is with you behind closed doors. and in yours, he hopes.

you never pictured it to end up this way. before, you were like any adult. busting your ass at work, ending each week exhausted and struggling to buy yourself groceries.

and then you met him. chivalrous and borderline self-obsessed. but you weren't being patronized when he acted with traditional courtesy. you weren't a body to be claimed or a trophy to hang on his arm.

you were merely his. all his within months of meeting, and that meant you were to be taken care of. spoiled rotten, some would say. what better way to have it? compared to your old life of hardship, it was paradise.

everything paid for, without a second of hesitation. what little savings you had idle in your bank account, untouched when he's around.

he can and will take care of you — in every way. it's in graves' nature to provide.

no different than he does for his men, only you've been appointed the privilege of seeing the gentler side of him, when the uniform of a commander is rid of his scarred body.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈nsfw under the cut!

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙˖⁺₊˚⊹♡ it's only fair, to be taken care of in every way possible. you've been so good to him, so good for him, right? there's no quicker way to his heart, than someone who enjoys being smothered with his praise.

what better sight, than opening the door and seeing you concerning with such trivial things. he spent the day making life or death decisions, and you're there; concerned with which centerpiece looks best on the dining table. some men would see it as a means for competition, or a degrade — but graves finds it irresistible.

the house smells divine; your scented candles, the fragrance you spritz, and whatever you have baking in the oven. he can practically feel the tension leave his shoulders, how his senses come alive when greeted with the comfort of your shared home.

you've dressed nice for him again, though he always gave no pressure for you to do so. clothes to match the summer heat, hair styled and pinned back to stay out of the way.

you, in your domestic, relaxed state — the one thing better than all the trivial pleasures in life, better than the house you were both standing in.

though you usual greet him, you're immersed in the centerpiece debate. you hold the two pieces up to him, "do you think I should go with the silver candle candleholders? or how about the brass ones?" it's a genuine question, but it's only met with an amused scoff — a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

graves sets aside his luggage, stepping closer to you and your very concentrated gaze. "why do you ask me, sweetheart? it's up to you. and if you don't like 'em, we'll go buy more." he examines the decor in your hands briefly, but his eyes end up back on you permanently.

"just want it to look nice in here," you sigh at his dismissal, turning away to resume contemplation. "we have that supper planned in a few weeks, don't we?" you add, setting the options back on the oak table.

as if the place could be more meticulously decorated. there was barely a trace of him in this house, except for his nightstand and office. you had free reign to adjust the home to your taste, considering you were the one who spent most of your time there.

a gentle chuckle rang from him, followed by a click of his tongue, "don't think it can get much nicer in here, darlin'. i reckon you've left a touch on just about every inch of place, haven't you?" you shoot a flustered look, even though his words are truthful.

it was a silly dilemma, considering not a soul would be criticizing your centerpiece decision. "oh, c'mon, don't do that face... my guys will eat anything you slide in front of them, you know that? could host the damn supper in the closet and you'd charm the daylights out of 'em." he says, soothing every worry down to a simmer rather than a hard boil.

he's definitely good at shutting you up. only, in the most embellished of ways. without fail, a charmed smile spread on your face — as did a surge of warmth. graves cupped one of your cheeks, running his thumb along it, "see? much better than a scowl. now, tell me, what's cooking?"

"you know the rules. i can't tell you until the timer beeps. besides, it's supposed to be a surprise." you replied, making a meek escape from his gentle grasp. displayed on the small screen; eight minutes remained.

with a hasty yank and then a stumble on your end, your back was against his chest. "i don't like surprises, do i?" you felt the sensation of his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck, all in the midst of his patterned kisses. when he was this close, he got deep whiffs of your intoxicating perfume, the freshly shampooed hair on your head, the detergent you insisted he buy. heart-stopping — like it was every time he pulled you close.

it was true, he hated them. the tickle of his lips made you squirm — a futile attempt to slip away and leave him hanging. that never worked, and you knew it. "we're down to five, time's a-wastin'."

somehow, someway, neither of you made it up the stairs this time. all he did to prepare was send the stacks of mail flying from the island; the one you found yourself sitting on. graves stood between your legs, his caressing fingers your means of preparation. though, by the times your legs were exposed to the breeze — you and your body were eager enough for him.

the minutes decreased no matter how hurriedly he moved, and he always stuck to his rules. if there was a time limit, he'd get it done before zero.

"been thinking about you all day," he breathes. "by the looks of it, you have too, sweetheart." his tip prodded at your slick entrance, while the other hand hooked around your thigh to keep it hiked up with ease. wasn't the first time he ravished you on the kitchen counters, it certainly wouldn't be the last. slowly at first, then all at once — he thrusted inside of you.

once he got situated, there was no stopping him. every rock of his hips was purposeful and deep, yet his kisses remained delicate and tender. your moans muffled against his mouth, his lips pinkish and coated with saliva as it roamed your warmed face.

soon, your back was flat against the island with your legs still hanging off and in his grip. with every methodical movement, your walls tightened around his length and edged him closer to a finish. by now, you were certain your appearance was faulty; either ruined by sweat or the constant hands graves had on you.

despite being close within the first few minutes, he had gotten carried away ogling you. your gasps, your squinted eyes, the teeth indents on your bottom lip from how harshly you sunk into it. however, now there wasn't any restraint left in him. the tight coil in his abdomen begged for release, no matter how much stamina that remained in his body.

as the clock struck zero, he bottomed out with the force of his whole body — spilling every last drop inside of you. the oven beeped three times, as if on cue.

a string of curses against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you, sneaking in a few sloppy thrusts afterward. "i'll make it up to you later, make it worth your while." he pecked along your jaw, adjusting the strap of your top that had slid down your arm.

"it was worth my while." you replied between catching your breath, voice still quivering slightly.

he chuckled, fingers still playing with the fabric, "so, what's cooking? have i earned my right to know?" he was right; you always told him once the meal was ready, and that's what it was right now. the aroma hit your nostrils, as intoxicating as he found yours.

your eyes flicked over to the digital screen, still flashing and urging you to remove the pan, then it beeped for a second round as a reminder. "just a roast your mom taught me. thought you would've recognized the smell by now." you uttered, tracing your fingers along his blond stubble.

"hm, something must've distracted me, darlin'," he ran a tongue along his bottom lip, now gazing with admiration rather than hunger.

then, his brow raised with interest. both in humor and intense dread he added, "you've been calling my mother?"

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #phillip graves cod #graves x you #graves smut #graves x reader #graves headcanons #commander graves #shadow company #task force 141 x reader #141 headcanons #cod headcanons #philip graves

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mrslankyman · 4 months

Text

Let me lick on your tattoos

Midas (fortnite) x (fem) reader

->SMUT

-> reader works for Ghost agency

-> 3k words

-> not proof read yet

You walked around the Agency. One of the many agents working under Midas and the Ghost organization. Your white suit hugged you beautifully. The accents of gold matched the Agencies aesthetic.

Midas seemed to just love gold. As it was apparent by his hands and touch. You smirk as you remember the last incident with him. He had come back to his office after a long day. He always seemed so gruff and angry.

The second you entered his office he sat up. He never wanted to be seen slouching. He didn’t want anyone seeing him in any way except vigilant. He needed to be known as a stone cold leader.

The curse he was given now seemed to aid him in his missions. Easily just turning enemies to gold. Though he could somewhat control his power he longed to just be able to touch someone.

It seemed while his agents trusted him he noticed none would ever touch him. Not even a brush on the shoulder.

Except you.

You’d come in and grab the papers he handed you without hesitation. Hands brushing on his cold golden ones.

He would hide his blush by turning away in his chair and dismissing you.

He hadn’t had someone touch him since his late wife. That was long ago.

Jules was off somewhere else. He wished her well.

She would not like the idea of her father with some random agent he hired.

Or would she?

He always found himself wanting to make her happy. She was the last thing he had to be happy over.

Till you.

Now every mission seemed like a death sentence. He would send you out and desperately wait for your radio back to make sure you were okay.

He would never show that side. He came off as cold and aggravated half the time.

A hot kind of anger.

You’d annoy him on purpose. Giving him attitude or telling him off when you knew you were right in an argument.

You headed down past his office. Assuming he was leaning over his desk with his brows furrowed, hands clasped together deep in thought. That’s how he was always there.

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to just be in there with him.

Not getting in trouble for some mishap on a mission.

Just in there with him.

Maybe you had to admit you had a slight attraction to your boss.

He was quite handsome.

His tie, slender build, cold demeanor and that scowl he wore on his face.

Oh and those tattoos.

How you ached to see the ones under his uniform.

Good thing the second you walked past he radioed you to come into his office.

You obliged and turned back around.

Heading back to his office and opening the door without knocking.

How he got so annoyed at that.

“Forgot to knock.” His deep voice hit your ears.

“Oops habit.” A smirk tugged at your lips as you sat in the chair in front of his desk. Legs crossing slowly. He watched you cross your legs, his one good eye taking you all in. Oh how he wanted to just shove you against the wall and fuck the attitude out of you. He fought back those thoughts and rolled his eyes at your response. God how he just wanted to press his lips to your moody ones.

“You gonna stare at me or tell me why you need me in here?” Such a sassy response. He bit his lip slightly and held his hands together. He leaned over the desk a little, his eye cold. “I called you in here so I can ask you about the most recent mission. You thought it was a good idea to seduce the Shadow guard?” His voice seethed of anger and what else was that? Jealousy?

“Hmm it was a good idea, he fell for that sweet talk and I just flashed him. Nothing bad.” You shrugged and leaned back in your chair. He scowled at the idea of you doing that.

“That is outrageous for you to be doing out on missions! You are a sophisticated agent, you should not be going around flashing your breast to random enemy agents!” He slammed his fist against the desk. The part where his hand met the wood turning to gold. His anger was really showing.

You simply smiled at him. Not affected by his anger. It turned you on more than it put you off. You saw how his nose and eyes scrunched in anger, his jaw clenched and his face turned slightly red.

“Seems someones a little jealous that they weren’t the ones getting flashed.” You bit your lip and slowly slid your leg that was crossed over down. Spreading your legs open a little. His eye instantly traveled down and then back up.

“Why would I be jealous of that.” He eyed you suspiciously. You sat up a little bit and leaned over.

“You just give me a lot of reasons to think that.” You statted matter of factly as you unbuttoned your blazers single button. Popping it off and sliding it behind you on the chair. Your hands traveled up to your white dress shirt collar. Undoing its button and then traveling down, just enough to expose your bra.

His gaze traveled down to your chest. He bit his lip ever so slightly. He had a good way of showing he didn’t care on the outside but on the inside.. God his body was churning. He could feel himself hardening in his jeans. He looked you in the eyes. “I’m not jealous of that Shadow agent.” He stood up from his chair. His imprint in his jeans is noticeable. He didn’t care right now. He wanted to show you that he in fact did not give two shits about someone else seeing you in ways he longed for.

His body loomed over you. His head titled just enough to show off some of his tattoos better. You bit your lip and pulled your bottom lip down with your pointer finger. “Is that your gun or are you just happy to see me?” A teasing remark slipped through your lips. Soon enough you found his hand gripping your chin. He leaned down to your level slightly.

“I’m not happy to see you, I'm irritated by you.” He warned in a low whisper. His lips were close to your ear and it was honestly so hot. To hear his voice even lower, your eyes flicked down to his crotch. Seemed like he was enjoying being this close to you. No matter what he says.

“Oh I'm so sorry that I irritated you.” Your hot breath hit his neck. He instinctively leaned closer. Wanting no longing for you to take this further. Despite what he says. He would deny deny deny but he truly wanted you.

“Perhaps I could.. Irritate you more.” You kissed his jawline and slid off your dress shirt. “Unclasp my bra, I know you want to.” He groaned, the small kiss on his jawline had made him increasingly hard on worse. He gave in and unclasped your bra. “I’m doing it so you’ll leave me alone.” He lied, he wanted to see you. He wanted you. Simple as that.

If exploring your body was a mission he would be the first one to jump on board.

“Okay yeah, sure boss.” You hummed in fake agreement as he let himself take in your naked top half.

God he just wanted to get these tight ass jeans off and feel any part of you around his dick. He didn’t care if it was your mouth, hands, or pussy. He just wanted you. In any way you’d let him have you.

“Fuck you.” He groaned out as he watched you jiggle your breast.

“Oh you wanna fuck me? You really know how to get to the point huh?” You bite your lip, tugging him closer by grabbing his tie. “Admit it Midas.. You want me. Don’t lie. It’s just me and you. No one is going to judge you for giving in. Showing a little.. Affection.” Your eyes flicked down to your lips; voice laced with lust.

“You really are the observant agent huh?” He gave in slightly running his cold golden hands across your exposed breast. You moaned slightly as the coldness of his hand touched your nipples. He felt his body react to your noises. He himself let out a low grunt.

“You better pray that no one walks in, or your ass is in trouble.” He sneered in your ear as he picked you up. The quick sweep off your feet made you giggle slightly.

“Oh ya? My ass is in trouble? You're gonna spank it or something.” You quipped back running a hand through his hair as he shoved things off his desk to set you down.

“Something like that.” He nodded and grabbed your knees. Spreading your legs apart and pulling you to the edge of the table.

He put himself between your legs and pressed his hard on up to your core.

“Oh ya, you seem very irritated by me.” You teased and he groaned in annoyance as well as pleasure.

“Shut up or I’ll make you shut up.” He growled in your ear.

“How are you gonna make me?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes fluttering as you asked.

“Either I'm gonna shove my dick in your mouth or I'll kiss you so hard it bruises your lips.” He breathed on your neck, teasing you with his hot and drawn out breaths.

“I think I like both options..” You snickered and ran your left hand up the back of his neck into his hair. He shook slightly as you ran your hand through his hair.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long..” You leaned in closer. Kissing his neck and licking over the lines of his tattoos. Following the designs with your tongue. You had never heard a man moan so slowly as him.

“Fuck.. you’re such a damn tease.” He breathed out as his body shook from your licks and kisses on his neck. “I love your tattoos.” You said between kisses on his neck. Leaving a few hickeys. “Oops..maybe we should take off your vest and shirt.. I’d love to see all your tattoos.” You leaned back from kissing his neck. You wanted to know what the tattoos looked like fully on him.

His response was a low moan, his head rolling back. Your hands ran down his vest and unbuttoned it. Sliding it off him in one quick motion. He was like a rag doll.

Moving with your motions; not protesting at all.

Then his tie was off.

You took your time unbuttoning his shirt. Tattoo after tattoo coming into view. You took in every one mentally drawing out routes for your tongue to take over the patterns. You didn’t even notice how he watched you gaze at his body. Once his shirt was finally off he stood only in his dress pants. A sight to see. The outline of his dick was almost screaming to be released from its prison.

“Fuck.. “ He whimpered.

You bit your lip gripping his chin. He looked down at you, from the angle his head was at his eyes had that pissed off look. The one that screamed: you better watch what you do.

“Don’t give me that look, you can say you like this. You’ve made enough noises for me to know.” You teased in such a seductive tone he almost just gave in. Dropped the demeanor of trying to keep his dignity.

Your hands traced over his shirtless body now. Fingers tracing over every line and loop of the ink that painted his body. You wondered how much pain tolerance he had. Must not be much if he can’t stand the boner in his pants for longer than 5 minutes.

You pushed him back gently, hopping off the desk. His eyes watched as your breast jiggled from the slight jump.

You smiled up at him and looked at his chest. You kissed his shoulder. He closed his eyes as your lips traced down to his chest. You licked over his inked skin. Following the lines of the tattooed wings. Gliding your tongue over his nipples a few times to tease him. Moans escaped his lips a few times. The way you glided your tongue over him and bent down slowly. Getting lower and lower.. Fuck you were good.

The lines of his tattoos stopped right at the him of his dress pants. You looked up at him with a teasing smile. His response was an eye roll and a lip bite. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me too.” You said it so sweetly, going to get up from the ground.

“Fuck, just suck it.” He demanded unbuckling his belt in annoyance. Not at you but himself. He sighed a little as his belt released some of the pressure on his dick. You shook your head with a smirk. Going back down and sliding his pants to his dress shoes.

“Oh I think I'll have fun sucking it.” Your tone was soiled with lust. You could feel yourself growing even wetter.

You palmed him through his boxers, those beautiful moans of his escaping his lips without hesitation this time. “Don’t fucking tease or I’m just gonna fucking shove it in your mouth.” He warned, his voice sounded almost deadly.

“Yes sir.” Your said submissively sliding off his boxers quickly. Watching as his dick sprung up. You got to work. Taking him in your mouth. Going slow to antagonize him at first. His response? Gripping your hair and shoving himself fully in your mouth. You gagged slightly but took it. After he let go you continued at a faster pace. Taking whatever you couldn’t reach with your mouth with your hand. His moans filled the office so loud it wouldn’t surprise you if the whole agency heard.

Before you could feel the warmth of his cum in your mouth he pulled you off. “Get on the desk. Now.” He growled in such a low demanding voice you could feel yourself getting wetter every second. You sat back up on the desk. Legs spread slightly. He kicked off his shoes then his pants. Walking up to you. Sliding off your pants so fast you almost forgot you had them off. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to go on any missions for a week.” He whispered in your ear as he got closer to you. Lining himself up with your entrance before sliding in. Despite his current threat of fucking you so hard, he slid in slowly. Letting you get used to the feeling of his dick in you.

“You gonna fuck me hard or fuck me like i’m your new virgin girl friend?” You teased grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. He grunted and slammed his hips into you. You moaned, leaning your head back before getting used to the slams. He kept up the fast pace letting out his own moans and groans. Your tongue found his neck tattoos all too quickly. Tracing over the designs. Your teeth leaving sweet love bites all over.

“You’re so fucking.. Fuck.. I’d turn anyone into gold for you.” His voice shook in your ear. He was sweating and grabbing you so hard. “Oh yeah? Would you do anything for me baby?” You asked as you leaned closer to his face. He opened his eyes and looked at you.

“I’d do anything for you, baby.” He offered the pet name back. You laughed quietly and kissed him softly. Countering the rough pace he was going.

You two shared a sweet and soft kiss, as the feeling of his dick ramming into you was also present. He loved how soft your lips were. How you let a few moans slip out allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth.

Your tongues danced around each other before he pulled away. Letting out a low moan: a warning of the orgasm he was about to hit. You too let out a soft moan. He slid his cold golden hand down. Circling your clit with his pointer finger, urging you to cum. With each circle you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“Cum with me baby, just let it out.” He groaned his request into your ear, with that you felt your self com undone. As you hit your climax a second later he hit his. The warm cum filled you to the brim, he didn’t pull out right away. He sat for a second catching his breath. He looked even hotter here. Your arms had wrapped around his shoulders, his hair sweaty and messed up, eyes droopy from finally hitting his biggest high.

“You were so good..Maybe i’ll put down a special mission for you to just come in here and-”

“I’d like that.” you cut him off giving him a kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed back pulling out of you after it ended.

He walked off to get some tissues to clean you and himself up. Afterwards you stumbled to the door. He rushed over. His tie was crooked and your suit was all wrinkled. Neither of you cared. He helped you down to your room in the upper end of the agency.

“I’ll see you later, baby.” He flashed a genuine smile before walking out. Your heart skipped a beat. He never smiled.

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