#wc roach

[anormalf1sh]

RUN

[ghostbiter]

Been forever since I’ve posted art BUT!

Happy [albeit late] BIRTHDAY CHEER!!!

Drew the houndster for you, because he’s a fan favorite <333

@cheerclaw

[eggfeather]

roach

[marmosetpaw]

[shallowbreeze]

Roach

Roach is a muscular, ragged silver-gray tom with green eyes.

[transmoonpaw]

Roach design requested by anonymous!

[wicked-west-cats]

Peculiarity seems to run in the family when it comes to Shadowbelly and his sister Roachshade. With a stoic personality and matter-of-fact attitude, it's very easy to tell who she is related to.

Roachshade is a rather small molly and it is easy to miss her if you aren't paying attention. She tends to sneak up on everyone without meaning to.

Considered very pretty, many toms try to court her but all their attempts tend to go right over her head. She has more important things to pay attention to...like the amount of pawsteps it takes to reach the borders, or how the flight patterns of birds are changing for the colder seasons.

[janadog]

What the whopper dude

Just wanna say I believe my biggest improvement through out this year was drawing objects and cats better!

What do YOU think my biggest improvement was?

[nightstripe]

Run! Now! Make this count, Violetpaw!

[wonryllis]

INTERRUPTING THEM WITH A KISS ✶ 𝒽𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 & 𝒷𝖺𝖼𝗄

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen melting into you like it's a habit. contains fem!r, fluff, lots of kissing, pg 15. wc 1657, approximately 0.24k each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat requested.

──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

lee heeseung swears he's never found anyone or as a matter of fact, anything as annoying as you. you're like a roach up his ass, the bane of his existence. yet when he looks at your cherry stained lips as you crash into him outside the club— he can't deny: that the idea of them against his own doesn't seem half as bad. probably the alcohol, heeseung convinces himself.

"if you don't get off and at least a hundred feet away from me right now, i swea—" and your lips crash into his. intentionally, to get under his skin? accidentally, because of the shots? who cares! heeseung can literally feel the breath leave his lungs as you move your lips against his.

but you pull away before he can do anything,"shut up jer—" and it irks him for some god forbid reason, alcohol again? oh fuck the alcohol! imma kiss that attitude outta her. not even a fraction of second passes before heeseung is grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a kiss.

you want to breathe? forget it. lee heeseung is not having it anymore. a chance to put you in your place, he's not letting it slip through his fingers. he does not want to.

"you shut up." the tendencies of an enemy with his deepest desires unknown to him; kissable lips on an enemy is the most sinful and irresistible thing ever. probably why you annoyed him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

jay's thighs feel warm against your own as you sit still on his lap, his legs shaking subtly while he rambles about some clothes. the tiny smear of vanilla ice cream near the corner of his lower lip, bothering you more and more with the seconds ticking by.

"and then i had to get the pants exchang—" you don't even realize it yourself when you lean in to capture his lips and lick at the sweetness. his own words dying down as he stares down at your face, completely dumbstruck. come on, that's your girlfriend idiot! kiss back! it's probably the twelfth time you both have kissed since you got together three months ago; it's not like he's keeping track of the kisses but... yeah you make him too nervous so, he is.

"b-baby..?" your hands cup his cheeks and he shuts down again. ears burning hot, and lips parted to let you do what you want. if there's one thing jay can't help, it's letting you have your way. whenever, wherever.

it takes him approximately ten seconds to overcome that nervousness and respond to the kiss. mouth closing in on your chocolate flavored lips in a soft and gentle smooch. after smooch. after smooch. the tendencies of a new boyfriend still reeling in; having the girlfriend of your dreams is not something you can get used to just like that.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

jake has been hanging out and around you for months now. it should have gotten easier by this time, he thinks. but no, every look, every conversation, every subtle touch feels like it burns hotter than the last time. are these the side effects of a crush? of getting closer to them? or of behaving normally after accidentally pecking? jake checks all the boxes.

"yeah so it's supposed to go like this. did you get i—" jake looks up from the project files on the desk, his voice and his life dropping down to his ass at the touch of your lips on his. what the hell is happening? are you actually? is he dreaming? jake cannot decide on what he should think. kiss back obviously! what's more to think?!

the kiss is short and sweet, and it doesn't satisfy him. hand immediately grabbing your throat to keep you from pulling away as he begins responding to the kiss. lips engulfing yours in a deeper and longer one, like it's the nth time you are kissing. like he's so used to it, like he's addicted?

“what— what was that?” jake pants out, somehow managing to pull away. his demeanor shifting drastically from the one that had just possessed him. the tendencies of a crush finally getting a taste; once you get hooked, there's no going back. not after a kiss uncalled for like that.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

he has slept once with you, just once sunghoon reminds himself— grounds himself; for he feels way too obsessed with the thought of you for having only had you once in that way. is it normal? probably not. will he do something about it? probably not.

so he acts like normal, tries to. his hands in his pockets as he walks with you to his car, head hanging low even though his eyes keep stealing glances at you while he tells you about his upcoming tournaments. stopping to open the passenger seat door for you, still speaking of his fears of lack of perfectionism.

"there's still parts i need to work extra o—" but instead of getting right in, you get onto your tiptoes and pull him by his collar into a kiss. if a body can function with a disjointed heart, sunghoon swears it's him.

his heart skipping beats in a row and all of a sudden feeling like it's stopped entirely. yet his hands and lips move without a second thought, without waiting for even a millisecond. grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you right back, nibbles and suckles and tongue and everything.

"you'll do well, don't worry too much," the tendencies of a one night stand turned friend; it's probably not the best idea to become buddies with someone you slept with, especially if you want more.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

the hallways are crowded as always, loud and bustling, drowning out your and sunoo’s laughs and giggles. talking about anything and everything while you wait for another friend.

sunoo's known you for a few years now, not a lot but enough to know when something's up. “he didn't check it properly and then.. hey? are you oka—” and he notices it on your face a fraction of a moment before you pull him into an abrupt kiss— mid conversation.

frozen, nervous and confused. yet all he thinks is actually how uncannily decent it feels, almost encroaching a feeling way too good. “i’m so sorry sun. i told my ex we are dating and he looked our way when he passed by and i panicked—” sunoo shushes you all too quickly, regretting not having kissed back properly.

“i get it, we can pretend. i don't mind it,” he doesn't know what comes over him as he proposes the idea, but he definitely expects to get into situations like these. why? he has no clue. he just wants it.

“everything you need to do to convince him, i’m all in,” his gaze trails over your lips, leaning closer unintentionally. another kiss right in the middle of the hallway. the tendencies of a friend offering to help in a non friendly way; fake dating a friend you feel like you could possibly develop feelings for is like digging your own grave.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

four months, seventeen days, twelve hours and probably thirty-six minutes. jungwon’s counting with all he has. this relationship, or whatever is going on between you two; beyond friends and bordering lovers, is bugging him down to his core. it's eating away at him.

“you just called me your friend,” leaning against the elevator wall, hands in his pockets, jungwon tries to behave— be as nonchalant as he can. jealousy? what's that? look me in the eyes and tell me i'm just a friend look.. no he isn't looking at you like that. snap out of it yang jungwon!

“you really think i’m just a friend? after all that we have don—” two steps closer, bodies pressed, eyes locked and your kiss that shuts him up. oh to hell with being normal with you. your hands slide around the back of his neck and his words die down against your lips like kissing you is his second nature.

“boyfriend? you want that label?” the mumbles against his lips, the sound of your soft breaths and the taste of your lipbalm, it's like jungwon is high.

“again.” catching your lower lip between his in a languid nibble. he can't help but keep wanting to kiss you, the ding of the elevator drowned out behind all his thoughts of you. the tendancies of a situationship with obvious feelings; being friendzoned by your girlfriend-to-be gets you jealous, he'll admit it now.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

friends. friends. friends. riki chants internally, again and again. and again. poopy diaper, runny nose, screeching tantrums— he thinks everything unpleasant about you, everything he possibly can. childhood friends ripping each other's hair out, neighbours annoying each other across the bedroom windows, classmates snitching out on each other's crushes. everything that's just friends.

nothing more. never— impossible. riki soothes himself, his mind and heart still jumbling all around after your question earlier, ‘what if we kissed?’ disgusting! right? he's not sure if he's answering or questioning his sanity.

and though the conversation is stirred clear of the topic, both of you nestled on your bedroom floor talking about club applications; his eyes staring right at you, seeming as unfazed as ever, his psychological state is nowhere near willing to calm down.

“what do you think about the drama clu—” your lips don't last even a second on his, before he is pushing you away, like he's allergic to kisses.

“w-what are you doing!” riki exclaims, fingers rubbing over his mouth,”i told you earlier,” and then slowly reaching forward to brush them against yours as he leans back in, involuntarily he insists. “i know but this is, so weird.. i’m not supposed to like it,” soft mumbles and lips grazing. the tendencies of a lifelong friend crossing an improbable line. locking lips with your childhood friend just for a ‘what if’ is the worst plan ever, or maybe not so much.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[almostempty]

Never made it as a wise man

(joel miller x f!reader)

Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 

However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 

You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 

Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre

ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 2 here | part 3 here

Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  

WC: 4.2k

You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 

Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 

At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 

That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 

The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 

You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 

Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 

Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 

You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 

You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 

After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 

You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 

The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 

You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 

The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 

The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 

You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 

You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 

Still, no Joel, however. 

You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 

As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   

The next moment is a blur. 

“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 

You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 

“What are you doing here?” he barks. 

Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 

He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 

“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 

“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 

“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 

But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 

Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 

He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 

Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 

You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 

“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 

“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 

This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 

You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.

He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken

For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 

“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 

You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 

“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 

Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 

His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 

“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 

“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 

“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 

He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 

They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 

He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 

Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 

Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 

The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 

You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 

Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 

He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 

He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.

“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 

“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 

You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 

“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 

His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 

He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 

A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 

“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 

“You need more?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 

“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 

But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.

“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.

“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 

Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 

“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 

“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 

“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 

When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 

Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 

The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 

You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 

Joel

Attachment 1 image

part 2 here | part 3 here

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh

[lumiambrose]

✰ dealers choice

kinktober 24 - day thirty

featuring: sae itoshi x f!reader

summary: sae's always wanted you, and after your friend rudely tries to steal you from him, he can't help but make you his.

tags: smut, worshipping, sae is obsessed with you, manipulative sae ig, violence, virginity loss, oral (f!receiving), praise, soft sae, this man is hungggg (very biased)

wc: 3.7k -> skip to the second divider if you're just here for the smut ;)

isn’t it funny how you can be so infatuated with someone you barely even know?

well, that’s the case for sae itoshi. he’s been watching you for quite a while now. being shidou’s pretty best friend, you’re plastered all over his social media. and god, it was love at first sight.

he doesn’t know what it is about you. you’re not even that special. the only thing extraordinary about you is your roach of a best friend.. but he knew from the moment he laid his eyes on you, you would be his.

he has you memorized like the back of his hand. your go-to coffee order, your favourite restaurant secluded away from the busy streets of tokyo, and how you spend your monday mornings. of course, he too, made sure that he was nothing short of perfect for you.

although, there’s one problem: he’s never met you in person. you two have talked over text, but never in person. although he’s finally going to change that.

it’s currently off-season for sae. he’s been spending the majority of his spare time at practice or at the gym, but with a little encouragement from you and shidou, he agreed to come visit the two of you for a few weeks.

obviously, he doesn’t care about shidou. he’s only visiting for you, but you don’t have to know that. the initial meetup went swimmingly, and sae only found himself more obsessed with you by the second. you even hugged him and he swore his blood rushed to the one place it shouldn’t be.

you’re currently at shidou’s place. you, sae, shidou, and some of your mutual friends are hanging out together for the night, celebrating the weekend and exam season ending. music blasts through shidou’s penthouse as everyone is enjoying the evening. shidou challenged a friend of yours to beer pong, which led to him inevitably losing because the only thing he's good at is soccer. you see the famous u20 captain oliver aiku mingling with your other friends with your other friends and you find yourself lounging on shidou’s massive sofa with sae not too far away, the two of you engaging in small talk, finally able to catch up.

to sae, this is definitely the highlight of his trip so far. one-on-one time with you? priceless. he’s even thinking about asking you out at the end of the night.

that is, until your conversation gets rudely interrupted. a so-called ‘friend’ of you and shidou promptly joins your conversation. from what sae can make out, he’s definitely drunk and sae wants him gone instantly. to his dismay, he sits down on the spot right next to you, almost a little too close for his liking. he gives you a short hug before introducing himself to sae. he told sae that his name is takeyama and claims to be a fan of his, but as he reaches out to shake sae’s hand, he’s met with what might be the coldest glare known to mankind. you're sure the temperature drops for a moment as sae looks him dead in the eyes with an unreadable expression. it's only obvious that sae is not pleased.

you interrupt the thick tension, snapping sae back to reality before continuing the conversation where you left off. it’s safe to say the rest of your chat does not hold the same comfort that it did earlier, tension still thick with what you would dare call, killing intent. you engage in small talk with both men, trying to keep your focus on sae although takeyama is greedy for your attention. he's touching you constantly, always in your ear and even wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, which you’re clearly unsettled by. it’s not until he excuses himself to the bar to refill his drink that the area calms down. you finally have a moment to breathe, and sae looks as though he’s much calmer too. sae flashes you a short smile before speaking up, cutting the silence, “excuse me, i’ll be back in 10 minutes. wait for me, okay?” with that, he stands up before shortly disappearing into the crowd.

sae is fucking fuming. how dare that bastard touch his girl and distract her from him? of course, he won’t let this fucker get away scott-free. he follows takeyama as he leaves the crowded area of the apartment, heading towards the bathroom. he creeps up on the guy and just before he enters the small room, covers his mouth with one hand while dragging him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“you fucking bastard.” sae throws him to the floor, a loud thud sounding at the collision. it takes every ounce of self-restraint in his body to not just kill him on the spot. instead, opting to spit on the pathetic boy and landing a strong kick to his chest.

“stay the fuck away from her,” he kicks again. “if you breathe near her, i will ruin your sorry life.” his voice makes it clear that his words are not just an empty threat. he leans down, picking him up by the collar before landing a punch on his face. “you keep your damn distance; pretend she doesn’t exist for all i care.” another punch, drawing blood from his mouth, “understood?” he spits again, although an answer is beyond reason at this point, seeing as the man who was once making you uncomfortable is now lying unconscious on the floor of shidou’s bathroom.

he admires his handiwork for a while, satisfied with his state, he can finally go back to you and make up for the time he lost with you. that is, until he hears a click behind him. shit—he forgot to lock the door. as long as it’s not you he’s sure he can simply talk his way out of it. but of course, his luck just had to worsen.

“s-sae?” you exclaim. voice feeling like a stab through his chest. he panics, internally, of course, how could he ever let his angel see the true state he’s in. then, he turns around, locking eyes with you. the two of you just hold each other’s gaze for a while. that is, until sae decides that there’s no point in holding back now, he’s already too far deep to brush the situation off.

you’re taken aback as his large figure embraces you, his entire body enveloping you in a soft and comforting hug. you try to pull back, you really do, but he won’t budge. instead, he leans closer to your ear, whispering, “angel, please. listen to me, okay? it’s not what it looks like.” you’re stunned. what is it supposed to look like then? you’re lost, body tensing up and you can’t even move anymore. sae scoops you up in his arms, taking advantage of your lack of movement.

“it’s ok, angel. c’mon, show me to shidou’s room. let’s calm you down, okay?” he’s never spoken so lightly before. he’s surprised he even can. you subconsciously guide him to shidou’s room, through the hallway, and up the stairs until you arrive at your destination. he closes the door, this time making sure to lock it, before gently laying you down on the bed. he takes his place next to you, sitting on the edge of the bed as his hand strokes your arm gently.

“you’re ok now. he was going to do horrible things to you, you know?” he shushes as you stare into his soul. “but it’s all good now; he won’t ever harm you again. i’m certain of it.”

you’re so confused, your voice barely audible as you shakily whisper, “h-he wanted to hurt me? you… protected me?” thankfully, sae’s warm gaze helps calm you down as he soothes, “mhm, but i’ve made sure he won’t anymore. only a fool would hurt an angel like you.”

his words make your body feel warm, turning him into your calm in the storm of whatever the fuck may be happening right now. “really? you mean it, sae?”

god. the way his name just rolls right off your tongue sends him spiralling. he just wants to devour you then and there. “of course, you’re so precious to me you know,” he leans in closer now, his face inches from yours. “if you want, i can show you just how much you mean to me.”

you’re slightly taken aback. the sae itoshi, regarding you as precious? all hell must’ve reigned loose. you question whatever you could’ve done to deserve his attention, but you suppose there’s no harm in accepting his offer, right?

you mumble a quiet ‘yes’ and that’s all he needs. softly cupping your cheek and closing the remaining distance, he crashes his mouth with yours. he holds you like a porcelain doll, worried that if he’s too rough, you’ll break. of course, he doesn’t mind though. he finally has you in his arms, and now he’s going to make sure you’re his.

you gasp at the contact, lips parting just enough to let him enter your mouth, exploring and tasting every inch of it. you open your once-closed eyes and are met with a beautiful sight. his eyes are closed as he kisses you. hair slightly dangling over his face with his gorgeous lashes. he looks so ethereal. you kiss him back, harder and more passionate, attempting to thank him in any way for saving you.

he groans, definitely satisfied with your eagerness. he shifts his weight, moving so he’s completely on top of you before pulling back. “would you like me to take this further?” he asks, his eyes never leaving yours as you stare up at him.

you ponder his words. ‘take this further’? as in… sex? you’ve never been intimate with anyone before. and while you’d love to accept his offer, you don’t want to ruin the experience.

embarrassingly, you confess, “i… i’ve actually never done something like this before.” you glance around the room, anywhere but him, but he won’t accept that. lightly, he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“never?” he questions, voice sounding almost shocked.

“never. you’d be my first.”

he curses something in what you presume is spanish beneath his breath before closing the distance once again, “you’re fucking perfect for me. it’s ok, angel. i’ll make it a night to remember, make you feel good.”

his lips meet yours once again, albeit, harder this time, yet somehow still soft. the passion and emotion he’s carrying in his actions are evident, and you reciprocate them just as much.

this time, instead of just kissing you, one of his hands trails down to your top. he toys with the fabric before pulling it up and casting it aside, completely disregarding it. then he starts taking in the sight in front of him.

“fucking divine,” he curses. honestly, he’s surprised you’re not an actual goddess with how perfect you look underneath him.

he latches onto one of your bare breasts with the hunger of a starved man. toying and sucking on one of your peaks while his free hand rubs the other, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“mierda, angel. keep quiet for me, don’t want anyone hearing you just yet.” he toys with your body so daintily, as though you’ll break if he’s too hard. that doesn’t matter though, as long as he’s making you feel good beneath him.

you’re a blushing mess and still partially in shock. you want to question how you ended up beneath sae, naked, but the pleasure is distracting. it feels warm, like your insides are heating up, specifically your core. the longer he toys with you, the stronger the ache that’s developing in your abdomen gets.

it’s hard to keep quiet, but if you don’t open your mouth, you’re worried he’ll never take things further. “s-sae… more, please!” you whine eagerly.

his eyes widen in surprise at your desperate plea, his lips slowly curving into a sly smirk. you look so pretty begging for him, so submissive. you’re the perfect woman for him. “as you wish, my angel,” he purrs, trailing delicate kisses down your neck and collarbone. his large hands roam your bare body, caressing every curve and dip with reverent fingers, mapping every inch of your skin like he’s trying to etch it into himself.

he takes his time, savouring each gasp and moan that falls from your lips. when he reaches the waistband of your skirt, he looks up at you through hooded eyes, seeking your permission. at your breathless nod, he slowly peels the fabric down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly.

you’re almost bare in front of his hungry gaze. sae takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, spread out beneath him like a feast perfectly cultivated just for him. "hermosa," he murmurs appreciatively, running a finger along the edge of your panties. "so perfect, so pure. 'm gonna cherish you, querida. make you feel amazing tonight."

with that vow, he hooks his fingers in the delicate lace and tugs, the flimsy material giving way for him to devour you easily. your slick heat is finally revealed to him, the sight before him pushing his self-restraint to the limits and making his cock throb almost painfully against the confines of his slacks.

unable to resist you any longer, sae settles between your legs, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh. he works his way higher, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the soft flesh until he reaches your aching core. a low groan rumbles in his chest at the sight—glistening folds just begging for his touch, for his tongue.

"mierda... need to taste you," he growls before diving in face-first. his tongue messily parts your lips, delving in to lap at the honey dripping from your entrance. he groans at the taste, the sweet nectar he’s waited months for gliding across his tongue and making him crave more.

“could eat this pretty pussy all night long…” he purrs, voice muffled against your slick flesh. he’s groaning and murmuring into your folds as he laps you up hungrily. "mmm, you taste so good, mi amor.”

he seals his lips around your swollen clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. at the same time, he slips two thick fingers deep into your tight cunt, pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm. the wet squelch of his digits plunging into your soaked cunt fills the room, mixing with your breathy moans and whimpers.

"let me hear you," sae growls, curling his fingers to stroke your g-spot. "gonna make this sweet pussy weep for me" he doubles his efforts, tongue swirling around your clit as he fingers you faster, harder, relentlessly chasing your pleasure.

your back arches off the bed, hands fisting in sae's hair as the ache in your abdomen intensifies, ecstasy crashes through you in dizzying waves. "oh god, sae!" you keen, hips bucking wildly against his face. "don't stop, don't stop, please!"

"mmm, gonna cum for me, angel?" sae asks huskily, lips brushing your clit. "gonna soak my face, hm? go on then, cum all over these fingers like a good girl..."

his words and the stimulation prove to be too much for your body. with a sharp cry, you shatter apart, pussy clamping down on sae's pistoning fingers as you cum all over his face. he laps it up greedily, refusing to waste even a single drop.

“attagirl,” he praises, trailing his way back up your shaking body, kissing you gently through the aftershocks of your orgasm. this was a first for you. of course, you’ve masturbated before, but you’ve never felt this good. you’ve never came so hard. this new feeling igniting something else inside of you—confidence perhaps? whatever it is, it pushes you to pull sae closer, kissing him with so much passion—devotion, as though he’s your lover.

even though he’s taken aback, sae reciprocates with the same passion—if not more. the fingers of his dry hand etch themselves into the back of your head, fisting your hair as he guides your head closer to him while his other hand roams your body, desperate for your touch.

your kiss continues for what feels like an eternity, although you never bore from it. being held in sae’s arms while he devours you is nothing short of pure bliss. by now, his clothes are gone too, leaving the two of you naked in each other's arms. sometimes you’re subconsciously grinding yourself on his dick and sometimes you’re even stroking him, earning low groans from him as he toys with your body.

but you can’t keep going like this, you need more; you need him. you pull away, gasping for air as he gives you a puzzled look. the only answer you can give him is a breathy plea. a breathy plea which drives him insane. “please, sae, i need you…” it takes his all to not flip you over and drill into you like a rabid animal. instead, he hoists your legs up onto his shoulders, making sure you’re comfortable before pumping his cock a few times in front of your entrance.

“are you sure, angel?” he asks. it’s a stupid question, though. even if you would say no, he won’t be able to hold back anyway; he’s too far deep to suddenly stop now. thankfully, you murmur a breathless ‘yes’, giving him all the permission he needs.

“you have no idea how badly i’ve wanted this," sae groans, voice strained with barely restrained desire as he lines himself up with your entrance. the thick head of his cock nudges against your slick folds, making you both gasp at the contact. "gonna make you feel so good, mi amor. gonna ruin this tight little pussy for anyone else..."

he rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking into your virgin pussy inch by tortuous inch. your walls flutter and clench around the unfamiliar intrusion, stretching eagerly to accommodate his girth. a low groan escapes sae’s lips as he's enveloped in your warmth, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"mierda, you feel like heaven," he hisses through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to slam into you balls-deep. "so tight, hermosa. gonna haveta split you open on my cock..." he pulls back until just the tip remains inside, then thrusts forward again, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

the sudden fullness makes you cry out, nails digging into sae's biceps as you adjust to the stretch, tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a slight sting lingering at where your hymen once was, but it's quickly replaced by overwhelming pleasure as he begins to move. sae sets a slow, deep rhythm, letting you feel every thick inch of him as he withdraws and sinks back in, over and over.

"that's it, angel, take my cock like a good girl," he praises roughly, one hand coming up to palm your breast, rolling the pebbled nipple between his fingers. "gonna make this sweet pussy mine. you’re mine, right?"

his words send shivers down your spine, the possessive edge to his voice making your core clench needily around him. you can only answer in needy, fucked-out moans. you've never felt so full, so stretched, so claimed. he’s hitting all the right spots inside you, stoking the now-familiar buildup in your core once again.

the bed frame creaks under the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin and your breathy moans filling the room. it doesn’t take long until you’re both getting more desperate and needy, doing anything to chase the high that only sae can provide for you.

"fuck, you’re made for me, angel," he growls, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, hard enough to bruise as he spreads you wider. "you gonna let me breed you full? fill you up with my seed until it's dripping out."

the filthy words falling from sae's lips make your head spin, sucking him in tighter. you've never heard him talk like this before, so crude and vulgar, but fuck if it doesn't turn you on even more. your hands roam over the sculpted planes of his back, nails raking angry red lines into his sweat-slicked skin as you cling onto him desperately.

"yes, sae, please! please cum inside of me!" you beg shamelessly, too lost in your haze of pleasure to care about anything else. you wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as you pull him impossibly deeper. the new angle allows him to hit your cervix with every brutal thrust, ecstasy piercing through you.

"greedy little lady, aren't you?" sae snarls, his rhythm growing erratic as he chases your rapidly approaching climax. "gonna pump this pussy full, make you fucking mine." he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, tongue forcing its way through you as he swallows your wanton moans.

the hand on your breast moves lower, fingers seeking out your aching clit. he circles the swollen nub roughly, sending you over the edge. "cum for me, angel," sae commands against your lips, his voice a dark promise. "cum on my cock, milk me dry, hermosa.”

you’re unable to hold off any longer, your second orgasm of the night crashing through you, which is shortly followed by his own, his seed burying itself deep inside of you as he struggles to keep his own composure. both of your sounds fill the entire room as your juices mix together inside of you.

he pulls out of your weeping cunt before occupying the space next to you on the bed, stroking your arm as you catch your breath together. he pulls you closer, moving your body to rest on top of him, holding you close.

"you're so good for me, angel." he whispers in your ear, cradling you gently, as if you're a dainty flower. "how about we end tonight early, so i can take you home?"

you're not really able to answer him verbally. that's why you just nod along against his chest, before slowly rolling off the bed to get ready. 

sae helps you gather your clothes from the ground, before cleaning himself up. all this time, his beautiful eyes never seem to leave you.

within a few minutes, the two of you are leaving your best friend's apartment, hand in hand as an uber drives you to sae’s hotel suite. to your surprise, nobody notices, nor does anyone ask why you’re leaving.

the only thing signaling your early disappearance is the twenty thousand yen sae sent to shidou’s phone along with the message ‘trash your bedsheets.’

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network thank you @katsutora for proof reading <3 ps. 5th last to 3rd last paragraph is COMPLETELY nami </3

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[diejager]

Sparrow

Pairing : Task Force 141 x Vampire!reader

Cw: blood, vampire, death.

Wc: 947

Price watched everyone board the helicopter in a steady shuffle, he counted the names when they passed him as if taking their attendance to assure that everyone followed him. Ghost, Roach, Soap, and Gaz- he gaped at the missing soldier, he was sure you'd been behind them this whole time, eyes scouring the darkness for you. He turned to the others for information, frowning when they all said that they hadn't seen you.

"Sparrow, what's your status?"

Thumb still pressed into his radio, he waited for your reply. When all he received was silence from you, he asked a second time: "Sparrow, how copy?"

There was only complete silence on your end. That worried them, but they knew you wouldn't go doing so easily; you'd told them once that you would bomb everything before dying - if you could, from regular bullets or knives.

"Sparrow," Ghost growled out, his deep, rumbling order echoed through the shared line.

It was quiet at first, but then the sound of muffled screams and slurping came through. Their tense shoulders slouched, finally knowing where you went: to quench your hunger.

You left the line open, letting the team listen to the pained moans of the soldier that crossed your path. A thud followed afterward when you stopped drinking, the bloodless body falling forward.

They waited at the end of the clearing, seated in the helicopter as they strained their ears to listen to your near-silent steps. They could see you before they heard you, piercing, red eyes glowing in the dark foliage as you approached them. The sight flooded them with relief, seeing you wipe your blood-soaked face and pull your mask over your nose to hide the gory view of your sharp fangs painted in red.

"Sorry," you bowed, voice raspy and quiet from the ecstasy of drinking blood - delicious or disgusting, blood worked the same way it did either way.

"'S fine, Sparrow," Price mumbled, motioning you to sit next to him, the last seat on the aircraft.

Silence lingered in the shared space as Nikolai pulled into the sky, the blades ripping through the air loudly. The team watched your half-lidded eyes, blinking owlishly in some sort of trance. You were always dazed after feasting on someone, calm and slurring words as if high on blood. Your body took time absorbing and cycling the blood through your undead body, extracting the nourishing substances within a few weeks.

A satiated cat, that's how Soap first described you when you first fed on one of them, a hissy and skittish cat until it ate its full, satisfied, and sleepy. Soap was the first, finding your fangs deep into a man's neck. He stopped dead in his track, gaping at your red eyes and pointed teeth. He offered himself to you a few weeks later and quickly became addicted to the thrill of sharing an intimate part of himself.

Ghost caught them months later, finding you suckling on Soap's shoulder with a dazed look. The brooding man froze, unable to understand whatever he just saw; the shock and the unnatural spark of pleasure at your teeth breaking Soap's skin and laving up stray drops of blood. The image stayed in his mind, haunting him day in and day out until he found himself offering the same as Soap did. The danger and fear of having someone touch him made him hard, the slight sting of your teeth and your warm mouth around his wrist, shoulder, and neck - he almost begged for you to drink from his neck.

Gaz and Price stumbled on your feed on a mission, and have spent almost two months on infiltration and information gathering job for Shepherd, you got too hungry and snapped at the first straggler. Price, being who he is, shook off the confusion and helped you, making you promise to explain everything afterward. Gaz, however, somewhat gushed, a mix between confusion and amazement at your case. He, unlike the former, was more entertained with the idea of letting you feed on him for the experience.

Sweet Roach was the last one, you told him upfront about your little problem when you returned from your deployment with Gaz and Price. You signed it to him in your room, hanging from your bunk to tell him. He took it easily, perhaps too easily and calmly for someone whose roommate for the past year was a vampire. If you're ever hungry, I wouldn't mind helping you, Sparrow, he confessed, eyes glimmering with adoration and lips pulled in a small smile.

"How was it?" Soap pipped up, peering at you from the opposite side of the bird.

"Like shit," you grumbled, adjusting your rifle to sit more comfortably. "Fear and anger makes it taste bloody sour."

"You should've told us you were hungry, Sparrow, " Ghost growled lowly, he never liked letting you drink from other men or women other than their team. "Wouldn't have minded it." The last part was whispered, almost as if he was too shy to admit it.

"Don't be an arse about it, L.T., she was just hungry."

Ghost only grumbled lowly about how Soap wasn't any better. Gaz nudged your arm, telling you that he's free later if you're still hungry, knowing full well that you had your full. The little wink he gave told you everything, he just wanted to have you around him.

You sighed and turned to Price and Roach, tired from the night's event and the horrid taste that lingered on your tongue. I agree, Sparrow, his shoulders shook, head tilted towards the two bantering - more so of Soap annoying Ghost - men. None of us mind.

[caoimhewrites]

Accidental Text

How TF 141 + König & Roach react to you accidentally sending them a text meant for a friend of yours, confessing how you feel about them

CW: None

WC: 1143

Ghost: The message was still on your screen, taunting you as you stared at it in horror. Of course, the ONE time you put your feelings for Simon into words, you inadvertently pour your heart out to him. It wasn't meant for him at all. You could have sworn you clicked on your best friend's contact before typing the message. Minutes passed. Your thoughts spun in circles. Was it too late to apologize? Was it too awkward to explain? Simon was deep in a strategy meeting with the task force when his phone buzzed with your text. He pulled it out to see your name, not bothering to read the rest. It could wait until later. But, when later came, Simon found himself staring at the screen. Obviously, this text wasn't for him. That was clear enough. His heart practically shook in his chest. How was he supposed to respond to this? Admit his feelings for you? Reject you and keep shoving those feelings away like he's been doing for months? He wondered if you were aware of the mistake. Were you staring at your screen just like him, wishing that it would just disappear and you both could ignore the inevitable conversation?

König: You weren't paying attention. Why weren't you paying attention? You would never live this down. You would have to move, change your name, take on a completely new life. How on earth were you going to look König in the face now? However, König isn't even phased when he sees his screen light up with your name and the text, going into quite great detail about how you feel about him. He knew. He's known for a long time. You're not exactly good at hiding it. Plus, he knows how to read you by now. He chuckles softly, his gloved fingers brushing over the screen as he rereads the message. The truth is, he feels the same way. "I'm very flattered, Schatz" he sends in reply. You panic. Was this acceptance? Rejection? Why was he so vague like this? Before you completely lose your mind with worry, a second text pops up, "Dinner at 7?"

Price: Unfortunately for you, you had sent the text while he stood at the counter in the kitchen on base, making himself a tea. He was right in front of you. Yep, this is it for you. The embarrassment would be the end of you. You can feel time move in slow motion as you watch him reach for his phone that sat on the counter. You breathe a sigh of relief when Soap walks in, ready to ask Price a million questions, keeping him good and distracted. Price's hand falls away from the phone as he turns to look at Soap. You could take the phone. It would be so simple. Just delete the text off his phone. You could manage that... yeah, definitely. Just be quick, you think. You stand next to Price, slowly sliding your hand towards his phone as you try to make it look like you're just making yourself a tea. You freeze, heart stopping as his hand meets yours. He stares at you for a long moment, his hand on top of yours on his phone. No no no no, this can't be happening. Why did he have to reach for it right when you had a perfect opportunity? "What are you doin' there?" He asks, raising his eyebrow at you. Yeah, you're not talking yourself out of this one.

Gaz: He felt the world slow down as he reread it, and then, with a rush of adrenaline, reality hit. He was basically jumping out of his chair. You? HIM? As far as he is concerned this is the best day of his life. He doesn't care in the slightest that this text is not meant for him. That this isn't some great love confession, meant to be romantic and sweep him off his feet. It was an accident. But, Kyle has never been happier about an accident in his life. A confession is still a confession after all. He'll take what he can get. He moves like lightning as he pulls his shoes on in an almost frantic scramble, his hands trembling with nerves. He needs to see you. Needs to talk to you. Now. His car is in the shop, he'll have to walk to your place. But, Kyle can't bring himself to care. He's dashing down the street, hoping that you still haven't noticed that you sent the text to the wrong person and try to back out of the confession. The thought of you retracting the message made his stomach twist, but he pushed that aside. He was going to see you now. Right now.

Soap: Soap stared at his phone, his brow furrowing as he read the message that had just appeared on the screen. It wasn’t from a work contact or anything urgent, just a text from you. You two had exchanged banter before, of course, but never anything that made his heart do that annoying flip. You were just his cute neighbor that he may or may not have a massive crush on. He blinked at the message again, his eyes scanning the words once more "I think I might actually like John. A lot. Like, too much." For a moment, he just stood there, the weight of the phone in his hands suddenly feeling heavier than usual. There was a brief pause before he set the phone down carefully, his heart racing as he let out a shaky breath. You meant to send that to someone else. It was obvious. No doubt about it. And yet… he couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought of you feeling the same way.

Roach: He’d offered to pick you up after your shift. Just a favor, nothing more, and he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved to see you finally walking toward him. He smiled, leaning off the car and preparing to greet you, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Roach blinked at the message on his phone, his eyes scanning the words once, then twice. He couldn’t help but smile, a grin tugging at his lips despite the disbelief that settled in his chest. It was a mistake, he could tell but by the look on your face, he knew you were still unaware of your little accident. He just stared at you for a moment, a habit he had that drove you crazy. It always felt like he was reading every thought, pulling out every secret from your brain. "What?" you asked worriedly, your heart beating a bit faster. Why was he looking at you like that? "Nothing," he signs and opens the door for you. He'll tell you about your mistake, but not yet.

[torueater]

self care w/ satoru⭑.ᐟ

⋆ ꩜ ⋆ pairing: gojo satoru x reader

wc: 6700+ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ content: nsfw, fem!reader, sexual themes, EATER GOJOOOOO, cunnilingus, dirty talk, praise, unprotected sex, p in v intercourse, cum eating, multiple orgasms, manhandling, overstim mention, established relationship, mutual pleasure

a/n: title is kinda vague on purpose.

reblogs/comments vv appreciated if you enjoyed! ᓚᘏᗢ

It’s almost a given that you’re there for Satoru the moment he steps through the door, commonplace at this point. Not getting assigned to the notoriously tricky Grade 1 curse had been a small mercy from the higher ups (thank heavens), left in your lonesome to train till your boyfriend got back.

He’s still all wound up when he gets home, shoulders drooping, groaning into your neck as soon as he’s in your hold. “The worsttt. All these curses stink, literally and figuratively.” Satoru noses at the warm spot at the side of your neck where your scent is most potent, thick arms banding around your waist to keep you to his chest, sinking into the feeling of a too familiar you. God, he fucking hates missions halfway across the country. He’d bent space and time just to get back at an appropriate hour so you two could fall asleep together tonight. “One of ‘em exploded all over me. Huge boom. Guts everywhere”

“Satoru! Fucking gross.” You should’ve known better than letting him get you tangled up in his hugs the moment he’d gotten in. He for sure wouldn’t release you and you liked seeing him too much after his long day--enjoying how his tension would melt away like it hadn’t been there in the first place--to pull back. You’d already gone and showered, hair tied back in silk to go to bed as soon as he’d gotten in and had gotten clean too, but here he is upending all your plans. Now you smell like roach curse guts and sweat probably. Maybe not with his infinity, but it’s the principle or whatever. “Mm, oops.” He hums into your skin, utterly unrepentant. “Guess what we both need now, pretty baby?” The words are almost sing-songy in nature, head pulling out your neck to fix you with a look.  You fix him with a blank one in return, “No idea, Satoru. Really.” You roll your eyes, practically cradling the taller man as he rattles of details about the fight in your ear as you reset the alarm of you guy’s penthouse security system. He murmurs something near unintelligible into your neck before peeking at you, feeling his gaze even through the strip of black over his eyes. “I have an idea.”

You raise a brow, already skeptical. “Do I wanna hear it?”

“Yeah, probably. It involves a lot of touching me so I’m sure you’d love to hear it.” He sways you in hold, sort of waddle walking to two of you closer to the plush couch to drop himself down on it, you ending up half splayed on his chest. “Self-care night with all your fancy stuff.” You blink. “You want a self-care night?” You’d usually have to convince him – though said convincing didn’t usually go past asking once and him saying yes immediately. Still, he usually doesn’t offer himself up as your patient.

“Mhm. You always look all glowy and soft, and pretty when you do it. I wanna be all soft and glowy. Think my skin could use it after the day I’ve had.” You bite back a growing grin, humming lowly, “Okay, and what do you want to do? A face mask, ‘toru?”

His hum is low as if he’s thinking on it, chin grazing near the very top of your head in light sweeps. “Yes. That and the sugar stuff you use on your legs. Maybe one of your hair masks.” You nod, already going through the things you’d need to set aside for this impromptu-at-home spa date, feeling a little giddy. “Alllright, pretty boy. We need to get up then before you fall asleep here. C’mon.”

                                                       ⊹.✮₊⋆                                                          

It’s not long before you’re lugging his heavy, slim frame off to the bath with you, ordering him out the dirty clothes to toss it into the washer for the first cycle off maybe 2 or so until you deemed it clean.  Your night wear comes off right after, and you make him wash off first, off course – no way in hell you’d get in a bath with him to soak in likely nonexistent roach curse balls and guts residue. Just nasty.

A quick pass under the spray rids him any possible stench, leaving nothing but damp, flushed skin in its wake.  The warmth of the large tub is a welcome change but you barely have the extra salts and scents in for him before he’s pulling you into the water with a plunk! and a short splash from where your body had displaced it, water sloshing over the edges as you land unceremoniously in his lap. “Baby...” You grumble your disapproval at the mess but his hum the absolute opposite, grin on his soft lips not any better, “No getting handsy, Mr. We’ll do that skincare you like only if you’re good.”

His eyes flutter with the gentle pressure of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into his scalp, hum low in approval. “Mm, you’re using your stuff so I smell like you. So territorial.” He makes sure you’re perched in his lap comfortably all the while, letting you work your magic, pampering the sorcerer. “Yeah, sure. I’m like a dog here and you’re a fire hydrant, ‘toru.”

He snickers, squeezing at your waist under the water before settling them in place again, letting you work. “Does that mean you’ll finally pee on-“ “I’ll glue your lips together, don’t even finish that sentence.”

‎‎‎                                                       ⊹.✮₊⋆                                                          

It’s nice – being in the bath with him a welcome intimacy. You love when he lets you take care of him rather than insisting on pampering you instead. He’s all pliant under you and gently rubbing at the flesh of your hips, body slack with his trust. He’s always up and doing something, always moving – it’s nice to get him to relax, to be taken care of.

You two are in there for far longer than necessary - hair washed and conditioned, skin exfoliated with your vanilla scrub and the matching wash so he’d smell like you do as requested. You wrap him in one of the softest robes you two own when you’re all done, leading him back into the room with you where he’s flopping down onto the bed almost instantly.

“Fighting that curse was such a pain. Kept duplicating.” He practically melts into you again, face in your neck, a little too whiny for a fully grown man. You don’t think you can ever complain though. “Then they tried to call me in for a meeting. A meeting baby. Just so ungrateful.” “I know. So ungrateful. My poor baby.” You coo, massaging at his temples, lifting off him to trail to the other side of the room.

“Where’re you going?” He drawls, clearly a little tired right now from how he’s not up and following you. “I need to pluck your eyebrows first. I’m gonna get the tweezers and the other stuff” You dip to give him a kiss to sate him for the literal 3 minutes you’d be gone. He makes a quiet sound against your mouth, like he’s considering pulling you back down, but lets you go. “I’m so gonna hate this.”

When you’re back, likely less than your 3 estimated minutes, he’s sprawled on the sheets, legs hanging off one side, arms folded behind his head -- snowy lashes flutter against his cheeks with languid blinks up at you. “Comfy?” You huff in your amusement, climbing up into bed and settling near his head, fingers carding through soft milky strands. “Head on my lap. C’mon.”

He obeys without any further prompting, scootching closer to rest his head on the softness of your thighs, your own legs tucked up under your frame. He’s practically deadweight in your lap, heavy limbs and slow sighs as you comb through his hair again to get it out the way, tugging his blindfold upward to keep the strands in place. “Can’t we just skip the tweezing?” he groans, words muffled slight with his cheek pressed into your thigh, “This is like a medieval torture method. Don’t we have razors on hand?”

“Maybe, but plucking looks better. And besides, it’s not that bad, you’re so dramatic.” Your hand smooths over his forehead, leaning past him to grab at a toner pad, swiping it over his brows. “Stay still or I’ll accidentally pluck the wrong ones. Then you’ll have patchy eyebrows.”

“Ow—What the hell?” Satoru hisses at the first pinch, exhaling a slow, suffering sigh like you’re inflicting a great pain on him. “This is torture. I thought you loved me?” You snort, amused, brushing the spoolie through the hairs even as he’s whining, “I do love you. You’re being so dramatic. It’s like a tiny pinch at best.” Yeah, no – it’s not like that at all and he has no idea how you do this all the time like it’s nothing. You roll your eyes at his dramatics but dip to kiss his forehead in apology anyway. “I’ll be gentle, look,” you extend one of your arms so he can see, plucking a hair out just to show him, barely flinching, “Not that bad.” How he’s able to deal with fighting all powerful curses day in day out but tweezers are what undoes him is beyond you. Though, they usually don’t get hits in, so you’re not sure if you can compare the two… “Aren’t you the strongest, ‘toru? You can take it.”

It's funny how he's mostly quiet after that, almost as if to prove that he’s the strongest on all fronts. Save for the occasional wince of course, fingers flexing at the dip of your waist whenever you get to a particularly stubborn hair. “I know, baby. You’re doing well though, I’m almost done with the first brow.”

It’s only when you get to the second one that he’s sighing, dramatic in fashion as per his personality twisting his face away so it’s pressed up against your belly. You halt momentarily, waiting. “I’m in dire need of alternative pain management. I’m g’nna pass out.” 

And you’re quick to help of course, lips parting to offer something, maybe your hand to hold since it’s what he usually likes -- but he beats you to it, angled higher to nuzzle closer to your chest. He noses lazily at your towel covered chest, kissing you lightly over the fabric. “You’re not serious.” “I’m very serious. This is a great distraction from pain.” You don’t see what about your breasts are a great distraction from the pain of his brows being plucked, but you don’t see the issue with letting him indulge. “Will you stay put if I let you?”

He hums, fingers already fiddling with the tuck of the towel, tugging it out of place so your towel falls away. You sigh in mock exasperation at his shameless ogling, pulling away just to grab a pillow, placing it on your lap so he can prop his head up higher. “Absolute angel. Lifesaver. My darling princess baby.” He’s latching his mouth on you right after his praises, lips warm as they close around the peak. He sighs through his nose, body growing more slack against you like this is exactly what he needed.

You huff, flicking his forehead lightly, “You’re so ridiculous.” His body shifts with what you assume is a shrug, tongue flicking against the stiffness of your nipple, lashes fluttering against your skin. He’s at least angled in a way that you can get to the 2nd brow, so you don’t really have to do much but pull the skin taut and pluck. “Stop moving, Satoru.”

He doesn’t even flinch much when you pluck the next hair, too preoccupied with the slow, lazy pull of his mouth. His exhales are soft and warm against your cooled skin, air silent save for the hum of the aircon, angled into him to tug at a stubborn hair. “This one might hurt a bit. Don’t bite me.” Satoru nods slowly in answer, thumbs drawing soothing patterns on your waist just above where the towel had settled when it fell. The next tug gets you the slightest wince, tongue curling around the bud, flattening against it in retaliation. “That one was a little thick. Sorry, baby.”

“Mmm’kay,” The words are a muffle around your tit, and he pulls off long enough just to look up at you – rosy lips slick, a faint strand left between his mouth and the mound sheen with saliva. His blink is sleepy, an almost dopey grin spreading on his lips, hand waving away your apology, “Totally fine. Best—” His lips connect with you again, with a wet, unhurried suck before releasing with a faint pop again, “—pain management ever. Really.”

His head shifts away from where you’re working your magic, face buried in your chest, kissing lightly along the soft underside of your left breast, then the right. “You smell so nice. Like syrup and candy..”

“Always comparing me to candy.” Your smile down at him is all lovesick, gaze carrying the same vibe. “’Cause you smell like candy. Taste a lot like it too.” In more places that one. His lips latch to the underside of your breast, suctioning with the gentlest pressure to mark the skin. Your soft sigh has his body stirring the slightest bit, pulling back after a moment to admire his handiwork with a grin.

“Let me finish up. No funny business.” You barely restrain a shiver, hand sliding up the side of his face again, thumb pulling at his skin. You manage to pluck a few more hairs without any complaint from him, Satoru seemingly more than content kissing away at your flesh, licking at it with lazy, indulgent drags. The warmth of his palm leaves your waist to move further under the towel, large hand splayed on your hip, dragging idle strokes over the bone. “Your brows usually aren’t crazy looking so..” You use the spoolie again just to be sure, humming, “I think we’re done, babe.”

His answering groan has you more than amused, the attitude a bit of a switch from his complaints earlier. “Does that mean my alternative pain management method is over? Oh no.” He lets out a dramatic cry like he’s been told the worst news in the world, nosing at the space between your breast like he set on settling there forever. “I didn’t even say that, you big baby.” Your hand smooths through his damp strands again, fingers idly scratching at his scalp before sliding lower to cup his chin so he’s looking at you. “Do you want me to give you the facial now?”

A nod is his answer, head tilting just enough to brush his mouth over your sternum before he’s kissing the side of your left breast. His fingers flex against where they’re now pressed on your hips, touch absentminded as he hums. “So, I was thinking about something.”

You pretend to shiver,  “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He lets out a long-suffering sigh into your skin, chin propped between your breasts, looking up at you. “Skincare is very important, right? You say that all the time.”

“I do..” Your eyes narrow in suspicion, trying to piece this together as he goes on.

“Satoru, I need to get up to get the masks.” You try to shift away, stopped fairly quickly by his arm around your naked waist, shaking his head. “Nope, we have all our supplies right here. Organic, fresh from the source.” Your brow cocks, unsure if he’s being overly vague or if you’re just a little slow to catch on. “Facial, organic. Come on, pretty – giving you a couple seconds to catch my drift.”

The bulb in your mind finally lights, mouth forming a small o, core warming just a little at his suggestion. “Have you always been this perverted?”

Satoru’s gasp is low, as if offended, pouting, “What about caring for one’s skin is perverted? I personally think we all should take great care of ourselves, and skin is the very first step.”

You kiss your teeth in playful chastisement but you’re already exhaling, already aware of your answer. “What a poetic way to ask me to sit on your face. Really clever.”

He tsks, lifting a hand to wiggle his index near your face. “I would never be that crass.” Your unimpressed expression at his blatant lie says enough, and he clears his throat, kissing your sternum once more.

“Is that a yes to you sitting on my face, then?”

“No.”

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“Like I tell you every single time, you won’t suffocate me. And if you do then hooray! Now sit.” You weren’t quite convinced – it's not that you’d ever heard any instances of people dying from being smothered while giving head but it’s never too late to become the first.

You hesitate, shifting on your knees. “I really don’t see the issue with you just lifting your head-“ His groan cuts your words short, head flopping back onto the pillows, glancing up at you between the softness of your thighs. “Oh my god. Do you hate me?” He complains, nudging his nose right against where you need him. He tries again, hoping that this one will be convincing enough, “Baby, come on. I’ll be fine. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Satoru clicks his tongue when you hesitate, dragging his hands up your thighs, kneading slow, lazy circles to soothe you. “You’re supposed to sit on my face, not hover. If I wanted you to hover I would’ve told you that, right?” He waits for your nod, patting your behind lightly in silent praise when you do. “Exactly, pretty girl. Here’s what, if I need to breathe, I’ll tap right here,” He presses into a spot on your inner thigh, leaning up to give it a light nip, “and you can ease up." He knows he won’t make use of that spot, like, at all. But it helps to say it to ease your worries!

Which it does. His words are awfully effective, your guard and discretion lowering till you’re just sighing and lowering the tiniest bit, getting closer to his mouth by the second.

And he thinks it’s heaven. The scent of you catches in his nose, too heady. Sweet vanilla of your scrubs and soaps, the warmth of your core – he’s sure his mouth is watering. “Thought I’d die. My skin is so dry, I’m so parched,” His complaints are all exaggerated, mouthing at the sides of your thighs, biting at the petal-soft skin. You scoff, hand moving down to fix the band in his hair, “You talk an awful lot.”

Satoru doesn’t exactly disagree, shrugging. He’s currently very preoccupied with eyeing your cunt, though, so you don’t get much of a verbal response.

He kisses everywhere but where you’re molten for him, so wound up by the time that he gets close that the lightest nudge of his pointed nose has you twitching, glancing anywhere but down at him between your thighs, drenched pussy hovering right over his face. The twinge of embarrassment is always hard to fight off when he’s quite literally staring at your most intimate spot but you can’t exactly close your legs when he’s settled between them. Your slight shift does you absolutely no favors because he seems to move right with you, nose nudging your messy clit again, sound catching in your throat. “You think you're so funny.” You can practically feel him smile against your thigh, one hand shifting to cup the rounded swell of one ass cheek, tilting you forward minutely. You wouldn’t call it impatience, but you are feeling a little wound up and the teasing doesn’t help. Before you can lower your hips on your own, he’s finally taking initiative, your waist held in a strong grip to pull you down to sit directly over his awaiting mouth. You fight a shiver at the first teasing swipe of his tongue through your dampened folds, drag slow and reverent like he’s trying to get your taste spread on the entirety of his tongue.

You swallow harshly, thighs a soft pressure against the side of his head as your fingers pinch the pillow right beneath him, clit pulsing on his tongue. That seems to catch his attention, shifting to drag the wet heat of his tongue over your clit in slow circles before he’s pulling away and pressing a fat kiss to it. “Just as pretty as you are..” He kisses and mouths at the mess he made, moving his attention lower and lower, hand on your ass pushing you forward so he can get closer to your slit to give a kiss over the spot too.

He keeps his lips there, inhale deep to pull your scent into his lungs before he’s prodding at your entrance with the blunt tip of his tongue. Satoru lets out a groan beneath you, the noise vibrating against your connected skin before his only free hand shifts to your hip to tug you lower than you already are to his mouth. Isshoogood.” The words are a short murmur that you don’t pick up well, mouth already back on you to taste you again before pulling back.

His kitten licking and teasing falls back for long enough to warrant you almost begging, but he’s quick to return to you with something far better, tongue parting your opening – twisting its way into your drenched hole and drawing out your first proper noisy call of his name.

Your hands leave the pillow in favor of his ivory strands, biting down hard into your lip as he groans into you, suckles wet and lewd in the air, gathering as much as your slick as he can on his taste buds. Any of that initial anxiety had properly washed away with the skilled movement of his tongue, the hands on you gently grinding you into the fucking of his tongue, nose continuing to bump into your clit just right.

It’s great for you but it feels like pure heaven for Satoru. His personal paradise. Crushed under your weight, mouth buried between your thighs – he’s exactly where he needs to be.  

“O-Oh fuck. Satoru.” Your hips seem to rock on their own, expression pinched as he tongues sloppily at your hole, moaning when he feels you clench around it. Saliva slicks between and around your folds, mixing with the wetness he coaxes out of you, dripping down the slope of his chin and pooling in the dip of his throat. He’s never been one for doing stuff halfway, eating you out isn’t an exception. What was a proper facial without a little mess?

“Mm, I know,” he groans, voice rough and muffled against your core, already drunk on the taste of you. His tongue dips inside again, lapping up everything you give him, jaw working slow and steady as he eats you out. It’s more that than you actually riding his face like he wants so he pats your hip to spur some more motion from you, glad when you get the memo and begin grinding down on his tongue. The wet appendage pushes deeper into your cunt, nose bumping just under your hood when you rock forward, pleasure hot and low in your belly. The angle sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, a long moan tumbling from your lips. He grins against your pussy, pleased. “Oh f-fuck, just like that.” You suppose the excuse of wanting a natural facial hadn’t been a complete lie, his face is messy enough with your essence to consider it just that.

You’re not sure if it’s because he’d been gone on his mission for a little longer than usual this time but he’s near ravenous as he feasts on you, barely giving you a break since he’d put his tongue on you. He fucks into you with deep strokes, pulling back just enough to spit a fat glob onto your cunt before he’s licking it right back up.

Your eyes roll, hips trying to rock harder to push him deeper and to get his nose to keep bumping where you need him. You felt far too dizzy, legs shaking around his head as you get noisier. Each firm lick inside your cunt has you getting higher, lower abdomen beginning to feel pressurized, far too hot for how cold you have the aircon running. “Oh. Oh fuck—Pleaseplease-“ You’re not sure what you’re begging for, he seems to know better than you do.

His tongue wrenches out of you, adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow from him. “Fuck.” Satoru leaves just a couple seconds for him to breathe before he’s nosing at your clit again. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy. I love it.” The warm puffs of his breath have you whimpering alone, his teeth grazing the puffy bundle of nerves with the lightest pressure but your hips buck anyway. Not too far though, his hands are tight on your hips again to set you where he needs you, lips poised right under your clit before he latches on and sucks. Hard. Your tears are sudden, springing in your eyes, hot down your cheeks, heel of your palm pressing into his forehead, next one in his hair still – not sure if you want him off you or if you want more from him. Juices smear on his flushed skin, glistening under blue light as he just doesn’t let up. Not for a second. “Ooh, shit.” Satou’s just as much of a mess as you are. Hair mussed, flushed down to his chest and panting, blown out pupils. His hand slips between your thighs, pulling off your clit, finger taking its spot almost immediately “You’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, god.” He lubes you up with his spit again, slick and cool right on your nub, smearing it across the flesh before he’s pushing your wetness back inside you. He chokes on his breath at how slippery you are there before he replaces it with his tongue again. “Best pussy in the world. All—mm—mine-” His hands are everywhere, grabbing at your thighs, your ass, fingers pushing apart your soft folds to keep you spread on his tongue. You feel feverish in your pleasure, sucking in greedy breaths, rocking losing rhythm but gaining pace because fuck, you just needed to cum for him.

“S’fucking messy.” His groans tell you that’s he’s as into this as you are, and the thought alone send a harsh curl, unable to catch your breath in the wake of an incoming orgasm. Your brain feels like goo, your limbs feel useless. Satoru’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass to grind you, to let you use him.

It’s right there, it’s a hot, tight pressure ready to burst outward like a supernova. But it’s not how you want it, you know it can get much better than it already is. “’Toru..” You whine, and he’s already moving you like he’d read your mind, like he needs the same thing. Hands on your waist, shifting you off his face and down his body. You don’t even process how fast you’d gotten moved – his hands are almost frantic on your frame, up off your waist, squeezing your tits.

“Fuck,” He chokes out, sucking at his bottom lip soaked with the taste of you, barely able to hold off, “I know, pretty. I know. Let me just—” His voice is hoarse, still breathless from doing nothing but feasting on you for the past couple minutes. His hands are all shaky, fumbling, undoing the tie of the robe with your help to free his cock. The length of him springs up hard and heavy, leaking, rosy head so flushed with colour that it looks painful. “Need you so bad.” You’re quick to hover over him, hand braced to his chest and the other moving to grip him to run the blunt tip through your sappy folds to lubricate him. Not that he really needs it. “T-Toru..’Toru, please.”

He doesn’t need further prompting, hands finding your ass again to lower you on him, heat surrounding the entirety of his dick almost instantly with how wet you are.  You’re both shaking, you’re not sure you even have the strength to bounce on his lap but you do, just once – just your hips lifting and falling just once-

Satoru’s jaw slackens, grabbing at your hips as the tight, wet clutch of your cunt undoes him. Jaw slackened, whimper noisy as he cums. “Fucking—Oh my god.” It’s a proper orgasm too. Abs tensing, fingers digging into your ass as milky ropes fill you pulse after pulse. And maybe it’s the whimper, the look on his face when he creampies you. Maybe the heat of the room. Maybe the fact that you were close already – but a full body tremor moves through you, cumming just as hard as he had. The arch of your spine almost looks painful, thighs clamping together, biting your lip to keep from crying as the waves just pummel you. “Haah- Mm, oh my god.”

You’re both breathing heavily, bowed into his chest and looking down at him, shaky fingers spreading and closing on his skin as though you’re checking if he’s real. “Baby.” He whines like you moving the smallest bit pains him, like it pulls him deeper inside. “..Doesn’t count. It doesn’t-“

“What?” You don’t understand his murmurs, don’t get what he’s on about till he’s holding you to his chest a flipping you two, pulling out your heat with a wet slosh – still hard all for you. Your stomach tightens at the sight of him, still hard and glistening with the mess of his previous release and the slick from just being in you. His cum leaves you in a slow pool past your folds, a mess around the pair, trailing down the inner curve of your ass.

“I said it…that one doesn’t count, baby. Definitely not.” He grits the words out, hand wrapped ‘round himself to stroke lightly, squeezing near the tip to hold himself off.

It’s like your sensitivity is nonexistent, like you hadn’t just orgasmed, because you’re already throbbing again, eager to be filled. “You just came though, how’re you even…you’re hard again.” Sure, his refractory period was great, but this? You don’t know what to make of this at all. “I know. I know – I wasn’t ready. You just fucking sat, all pretty and wet-“ Satoru groans, notching himself near your cunt again, smacking the upper side of your clit with light pressure. He drags his tip through the mess there, pressing it back inside with the lightest pressure, cock head catching on your entrance. “Came in two fucking seconds, we need a redo.”

Your pussy molds around him just as easily this time when he begins pushing in, legs bringing him in, feet locking on his lower back. The trimmed white hairs at his base graze your too sensitive clit with his shallow thrusts, hips lifting minutely in your chase for more of him.

“You feel so good,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders again as you pulled him down to kiss at the corner of his mouth. White brows are scrunched in his focus, hips tilting back just enough so only his swollen cockhead is inside you, quickly sheathing himself inside your warm, plush cunt with a smooth roll, every nerve in your cunt lighting up for him. “Can’t..can’t even fucking focus,” He whimpers again, hand cupping your nape to keep you looking at him, sure that in itself was making holding off even harder. “You’re so pretty. Gonna die. I’m gonna fucking die.” He drags out the last word, hands lifting your hips to angle you to the way a pillow under your hips would, dick pressing in and out repeatedly, hitting the spots that you need him in. You feel giddy, you feel hot all over.

His dramatics get an airy laugh from you, which quickly trails off into a moan with a direct drive into your walls again. The soft spot in you gives way to the weight of his cock pressing into it, breathing picking up, only producing more slick for him to slide in easier. “You’re not gonna die.” You lift off the bed just enough to get to him, arm banding around his neck, kissing his swollen lips just to shut him up. “You’re fineee.” He’s just as noisy in your mouth, pulling off to mouth at the sides of your mouth, down your jaw, nosing at your cheek almost reverently.

“God—fuck. I love you.” Satoru chokes on his words, hands shaking where they’re gripping your thighs. “You’re so wet, feels so good.” He pulls out just enough to make you ache again before he’s pushing back in with a fluid thrust, pelvis flush with yours. “So tight-“ His breath catches as you tighten around him, shaky fingers flexing on your hips. “No, don’t do that, baby. Be nice.”

You’re more than amused at his antics, how wound up he is though you’re really not any better. The mess between you is sticky and obscene, each paced thrust pushing more of the mixed release out of you. The milky sheen spreads with his continuing thrusts, slicking down his length, turning more frothy around his base the more he moves. Gojo hisses, gaze fixed between you two momentarily, glancing away as if looking elsewhere would make the pressure building at the base of his cock dissipate (it doesn't).

He still thinks he’s going to die despite your reassurance. The fit is too snug even with how wet you are, his balls feel like they’re tight enough to explode and he just needs to cum again. His next maneuver is quick – hands on your hips no longer keeping you lifted, grabbing a pillow to shove it under there instead. His cock nudges deeper and he groans like he’s about to lose his mind. Your arms fall away from his neck to lie back, weight pressing into you as he braces on his forearms, caging you in on either side.

He's much closer at this angle, near enough for you to kiss his nose, close enough for him to breathe you in. You lean up to kiss him again, press of your lips all sweet against his. He can’t help but look at you, doesn’t care that it’ll make him cum faster. “Pretty baby.” He murmurs, forehead dropping to yours, thrusts slowing momentarily. The slow, deep drags set you alight, toes curling, hips bucking. His breath carries a breathy tone, adams apple bobbing in a harsh swallow, nose bumping against the side of his. One hand finds its way between you two, thumb pressing into your clit, circles slow to not overwhelm you too quickly.

And he’s out again, just to slam back in. Your head falls back with a sharp cry, folds clinging to him every time he leaves, stretched around his base every time he bottoms out again. And its continuous, you don’t think you’re doing much past moaning and whining under him, hips rolling and bucking to fuck him back because no way you’d just let him do all the work. “Gonna fucking cumm-“

"I know. I know.” His thrusts turn sharper, needier, a little desperate. " C’mon, baby, give me another. Cum for me.” Gojo snaps into you like he’s lost his mind, mess between you only growing worse – slick and his cum smeared on his cock and spreading with every pounding thrust, balls connecting with your ass in harsh smacks.

He’s noisy, face presses up against your throat, completely pussy drunk out his mind. “Fuck—oh fuck, you look so good.” His lips ghost over your pulse, tongue dragging on skin, teeth sinking in. “Gonna keep you – gotta fucking marry you.” “Huh?” His mouth is everywhere it can reach, kissing you all over your cheeks, across your jaw, hips beginning to drive into you faster. The frame of the large bed shifts on its legs, lewd slap of skin filling the room. He’s barely pulling out before he drives back in to the hilt at this point, damp curls at his base rubbing right against your clit. “Soo serious. I’m g’nna…god. Best thing to ever happen to me. I swear to god.” The answering throb around him drags another helpless sound from him, hips starting to batter into you faster – watching the threads of slick between your cunt and his cock, watching you shiver under him. “Fuck, I’d put a ring on you tomorrow.” He gets out between his moans. Gosh, the things he says when he gets inside you.

Your whole body jerks when his cock throbs inside, voice cracking in another moan against your skin. That itself if proof enough that he’s ready to come undone, hips throwing into yours wildly, spot being hit head on without any mercy. The air around you two is blistering, moans and your coupling loud, bed creaking. The coil inside you gives way with an angled press to your g-spot again, jaw slackening, spots dancing in your vision. A long moan leaves you with the rush of cum as you gush around him that feels like it’d push him right out. But he’s fucking you through it, he’s rubbing your clit in firmer circles to draw it out as you pulse and flutter around his dick, his own orgasm a needy heat at the base of his cock and settled in his cum heavy balls.

You whimper and whine pathetically every time he bottoms out, fighting past the building overstim to buck your hips up into his in quick movements, damp spot under your frames only spreading. He knows he isn’t set to last much longer after you’d came on him like that, and his point is only proven when his hips stutter, too overwhelmed by your heat, by the orgasm that had been right there since he’d started back up.

And then he’s sinking in to the hilt again, shoving your pliant body into the mattress as his orgasm rips through him.

The groan he lets out is downright filthy, a choked, trembling moan as he buries himself inside you to the hilt, cock twitching, cum mixing in with the remnants of his first load to fill you up again. “Oh fuck- Oh fuckkk, Toru!” Your hands grab at him again as hot waves rush through you, making your legs shake as he fucks his release deeper, hips jerking uncontrollably with every last drop. His forearms tremble as he finally stops cumming, the pair of you panting harshly against each other’s mouths, hips rolling weakly to keep his cum seated deep. “…Jeez.” Satoru lowers onto your chest, weight pressed there only for a moment before he’s rolling the two of you so you’re on his instead, easing his cock out of you slowly. You wince, already feeling yourself gap open from the loss of him and the telling feeling of his cum beginning to slide out of you in a slow stream.

“You’re changing the sheets.” You groan, burying your face in his neck, soothed by light strokes of his hand over your sweat dampened back.

“Mhm, anything you want.” Satoru hums, grinning to himself as he loops his arms around you, face pressed up into your hair, “Need to redo the skincare too. I think we sweat it out.”

Oh, most definitely.

You groan at even the thought of moving, playing with his hair absently, too exhausted to even lift your head right now. “All of this because you wanted a natural facial.” Though it’s kind of on you too since you’d happily let him feast on you then well, this. “We should go clean up.” You’re both covered in a sheen layer of sweat and cum, mostly the former – clearly in dire need of a good wash once again. Neither of you make any effort to move, though. He’s all warm and you feel sluggish, bodies rapidly cooled by air from the vents as you just lie there ‘til you’re feeling all sticky. “Okay, upsie daisy., pretty girl.” You’re not surprised to see that he still has energy, hoisting you up with him, cradled against his chest like his bride. “I’ll do all the work this time.”