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keresnotceres · 10 months

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Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut

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helpful-hardware · 2 years

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ok tbh ive never really cared for sonic.exe but i see the drama going on with the fnf mod.. after reviewing both sides, i can only respond with this meme: https://youtu.be/uNfZ_XFhSQI

youtube

#everyone is in the wrong #revie sucks #kubicorg sucks #everyone involved just sucks #glad i dont really follow that fandom like at all #its just a mix of:#p=dophilia #sexualizing animals #and all sorts of other nasty crap #weird for me to say that people like me who make hedgehogs just plain ol gay are more pure #but honestly its kinda the truth lol #Youtube

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zepskies · 3 months

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Headcanon: Teasing him under the table.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This was requested by this lovely anon:

Could you please write an imagine or something of all three boys (Dean: love the plus-sized one-shots; Ben from BMD: love your interpretation of The Boys; and Beau) - and how would they react to their girlfriends giving them a footsie? 👀

I'm interpreting this as a "playing footsie" moment lol.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Flirting, innuendo, and some smuttiness. (You know Ben. 🙄)

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to you teasing him under the table.

Dean Winchester

Because of the request, I had the Espresso-verse version of Dean and the reader in mind, but this can be general Dean x Reader too.

Dean is playful by nature. (AKA: a professional flirt.)

He enjoys working you up, but he enjoys it even more when you're confident enough to tease him back...even if it somehow always surprises him.

But he's been driving you crazy all damn day. Throughout the whole damn hunt.

Flirty smiles, suggestive quips masked as "innocent" remarks, brief touches to your arm, the small of your back, guiding you by your hip, a thumb swiping under your shirt and against your skin, lightly pressing into your curves...

It's all "normal," except for the deeper, suggestively teasing glint in his eyes.

He's in a good mood, and he wants you to know it.

And it's all in front of Sam, who knows the game you two are playing. Sometimes he smiles in both amusement and fondness, and he looks away to allow you guys your moment. Sometimes he rolls his eyes, or just tries to ignore it when he's had enough of you two eye-fucking in plain sight.

Dean knows what his touch does to you, but you know one or two of his weaknesses too...

When the hunt is finally over, the three of you find the closest diner to the motel you're staying at.

Dean orders the greasiest burger you've ever seen. He also teases Sam for already looking for the next case with his laptop at the table.

Dean glances over, his lips starting to curve as he licks a bit of burger juice off his fingers. He looks at you dead in the eyes while he sucks his digits clean.

He's equal parts noisy and disgusting. But damn him, your hand tightens around your glass of water. Your lips press together, and so do your legs. You nudge his foot with your boot and raise your brows. Stop it.

He pouts, and he nudges your foot right back. Make me.

You tilt your head at him. Adopting a certain smile, you slide your foot across the floor, under the table, and graze his calf with the side of your boot.

Dean's lips twitch. Sam is seemingly oblivious as he continues researching on his laptop.

Your foot travels higher up Dean's leg, up the inside of his thigh. You only gasp a little when he suddenly reaches down and grabs your ankle. His resulting smirk is salacious, even as he challenges you with his eyes. What're you gonna do now?

You contemplate exactly that, when his brother's voice startles you.

"Can you guys do me a favor and quit it?" Sam asks. He doesn't even look up from his laptop. "At least wait until we get home."

You bite your lip and blush. Both you and Dean fight harder smiles at being caught.

"No one likes a killjoy, Sammy," Dean remarks. Sam just sends his brother a dry look.

Dean's amusement remains. He taps on your ankle in contemplation, but after a moment, he lets you go. He grabs his phone and texts you under the table.

"Quickie out back?"

You grimace, then you text him back.

"Gross, babe. There are things I promised myself I'd never do in a public bathroom."

"So...meet you in 5? Come on, I'll do that thing you like. 😈"

His stupid grin, his stupid face, his long fingers tapping on the tabletop (somehow, even that is suggestive). It all eventually breaks you down.

"...Ugh, fine," you reply. You slide out of your chair first. But as you walk past him, you let your fingers brush down his neck — in a way that always makes a little shiver run down his spine. You smirk in satisfaction as you walk away.

He might've started it, but you could damn well finish it.

Beau Arlen

Oh, my dear cowboy sheriff...

Beau is also a jokester. He takes his work and the people in his life seriously, but he likes to keep things "loose." Perhaps it's a coping mechanism, but it's mostly just his way of going through life.

Tonight, however, is a tense dinner with your parents, Beau, Emily, and his parents that are visiting from Houston.

It's a nice steakhouse, more high scale than you or Beau are used to, but your parents insisted on it. Beau's parents are good-natured and full of southern charm. They're just happy to see their son and granddaughter, let alone meet his girlfriend for the first time.

The night is only tense because, as much as you love your parents, they're not sure about you dating a man with such a dangerous job.

They also have a thing about appearances, and the fact that he's divorced and has a child who isn't yours, and frankly, all the things you don't give a rat's ass about.

Your back is ramrod straight in your chair (there's a tightness in your spine that comes every time your mom taps you on the hand with her fork to remind you not to slouch).

You can't even really taste what you're eating, because you're too focused on making sure your parents don't say anything insulting to Beau and his family.

Then a boot taps against your open-toed heel. You glance over at your boyfriend, and he's already wearing a smile. He gives you a teasing wink as he eats a forkful of mashed potatoes.

Your stress begins to melt, just like that. God, this man.

You smile back at him and take a calming sip of wine. Your mom begins to talk about her upcoming tupperware party. Your smile deepens, but not because of that.

You playfully tap your foot on Beau's without looking at him.

You feel his discreet stare on the side of your face, but you pretend to be invested in your mom's conversation about tupperware. (I mean really, I thought those parties went extinct. Apparently, not in the Midwest.)

Beau's foot nudges yours back. You hook your toes under the hem of his pant leg, inching it up and up...

He retaliates with a hand drifting down your thigh, over the skirt of your dress. He grabs just above your knee and squeezes. Your leg jerks up on reflex, and your knee hits under the table hard enough to rattle the silverware, making you yelp.

The whole table looks over at you in both surprise and concern. (Your mother more in disapproval.)

Beau bites his lip against a deeper smile.

"You okay there, baby?" he asks.

"Sorry, my foot slipped," you lie through a tight smile. When you turn to him, your eyes narrow a fraction, promising retribution. You grab his hand tightly, but he just uses the motion to bring yours up to his lips.

Beau looks forward to whatever you plan to dish out next, as long as you wait until after dessert.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Aw hell, this guy. 😂 I'm imagining BMD-verse Ben for this one...

Ben has a decent sense of humor, but he doesn't often like to be teased.

He'd rather be respected.

But you love to tease him anyway.

You also know his "limits," but it doesn't stop you from figuratively tap dancing all over them when you have the opportunity. You're slowly but surely trying to get him to loosen up.

Sometimes though, it bites you in the ass.

Like tonight, when you've gotten him to come with you to a Broadway show. You two have your own private booth on the second floor balcony. (He likes the privacy, and it's safer for you, as he's argued.)

20 minutes in, and you can already tell he's gotten bored. To be fair, it's a drama that's admittedly a bit dry and slow. You don't want him to walk out before the intermission, so you start to hatch an idea...

Your legs are crossed, and you draw your high-heel slowly against the side of his foot. When he glances over you, you pretend to be invested in the show. Your arms are crossed over your black dress that falls to mid-thigh. Your jacket is draped across your lap.

You brush the thin point of your heel across the top of his shoe, then inch it up under his pant leg, higher and higher.

Until Ben's hand finally grabs hold of your knee. Biting your lip, you turn to him with a smile.

"Do you mind? I'm watching the show," you tell him. He allows you to peel his hand of your leg and place it back in his lap. You cross your legs in the opposite direction.

Ben raises his brows. His lips twitch slightly, but he seems to acquiesce, relaxing back in his seat.

For a while, you actually watch the play. You become invested in the story and the characters by the time it gets halfway through Act 1.

That's when you feel a strong hand slowly slip down your thigh and between your legs, slowly rucking up the skirt of your dress.

You try to stifle a gasp as you look over at Ben. He doesn't meet your hot stare, but his hand is certainly on the move, covered by your jacket. He brushes against your panties.

Against your better judgment, you let him spread your legs wider. A smile finally crosses his face. His fingers hook around your underwear and brush between your folds. You let out a shaky breath and shift in your seat.

You know you should stop him, but you can't help the warm coil of arousal starting pool in your lower belly, and between your legs. Ben feels it with a smirk. His fingers find your clit with ease.

"Ben," you gasp, warning him in a heated whisper.

He leans over and presses a raspy kiss to your neck, thanks to his beard.

"Perks of a private room," he says. His voice is a low rumble in your ear.

You start to shake your head. You know you started this, but you also know him. This has the potential to go off the rails very quickly.

"This isn't a room. We're on a damn balcony," you breathe out, even as his fingers continue to work you over. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Anyone could—"

"Who gives a fuck?" Ben says gruffly.

As usual, his raunchy brand of logic (and his talented hands) manage to persuade you to give in.

AN: lol I had fun with this one. Let me know what you think! 💜

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@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup

@jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @mrsjenniferwinchester

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abbyshands · 3 months

Note

More Jealous Dom Abby Please 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

jealous!abby headcanons

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; well—ask and you shall receive! these are kinda jealous, kinda possessive, but i hope they suffice anyway <3 also this is my kinda my first time doing headcanons so if they suck. . .no they don’t!

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; most of this is smut, some is just plain jealousy/possessiveness lol, use of a strap-on is heavily implied, cunnilingus, just dom abby doing dom abby things tbh, abby uses love/baby

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

✮ jealous!abby who will give you her jacket if you’re showing a little too much skin. it could be a tank top, skirt, dress, short bottoms; it doesn’t really matter. what does is that you’re showing yourself off to the world, when it’s a view only she should get to see. she’ll wrap her jacket around your waist, or make you put it on, and when you pout in response, she’ll yank you in closer by your hips, hands roaming down to your ass. “don’t look at me like that, baby. you know i don’t like people seeing what’s mine.”

✮ jealous!abby who will let anyone know she’s yours even if she doesn’t have to. every single party you go to in the wlf, you have to sit on abby’s lap or beside her, her arms wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to leave, not that you’d want to. you’re usually wearing a short dress that she’ll glare at anyone for looking at the wrong way, blood boiling when anyone but her pays you more attention than they should be. once, a girl told you how gorgeous you were hardly half an hour into the party, and abby was dragging you away quickly. “we’re leaving,” she growled, and you had no choice but to respond. as soon as you got back to her room, your lips were being pounded by her cock.

✮ jealous!abby who has to work her feelings out at the gym from time to time because she would do things for you that she shouldn’t. she comes into the gym pissed, and fucks up her usual weekly schedule and just does what feels good in the moment. moves from bench presses, to back squats, to regular lifting. but her preference is always the punching bag when she’s pissed.

✮ jealous!abby whose feelings of jealousy always end in aggressive, dominant sex. she has the urge to let you know that you’re hers each time someone makes any sort of pass at you. she’ll take you from behind, hand gripped in your hair as she pounds into you from the back. “good fucking girl,” she’ll groan as she slaps you on the ass a few times, getting you to easily moan her name as she breaks you. “no one else can fuck like me, right? s’just my cock you want?”

✮ jealous!abby whose feelings of jealousy can also end in cunnilingus, her receiving. she still manages to find a way to be forceful even when she’s on the receiving end. she’ll wrap her legs around your head, forcing you to dive deeper and deeper into her swollen pussy, making it hard for you to take oxygen. “so pussydrunk f’me, love,” she groans in a jeering tone of voice as she grinds onto your face, pressing her clit onto your tongue. “fuuuck, just like that, baby,” + “is it too much, baby? mmm, well, too bad.”

✮ jealous!abby who decked a guy across the face once for moving his hand too close to you, assuming he was going to lay his hands on you. turns out, the guy was just going to talk to you about an upcoming assignment, but abby didn’t give him enough time before blood was spilling from his nose. she argued with you afterwards that she didn’t have jealousy issues, because, in her defense, “he made a jab at me first!”

✮ jealous!abby who hates when girls, and guys, look at you when you wear those leggings in the gym that clearly define your body. it’s a wonder she hasn’t cussed anyone out. “what? move along,” she’ll say in a firm tone of voice to anyone who moves too close to you when you’re doings your sets, gawking. “she’s mine,” and “fucking go somewhere else,” are also things she has said, and will say again if necessary!

✮ jealous!abby who makes it unlikely that anyone will come up to you, because everyone knows you’re hers. if there’s a newcomer in the wlf who’s crushing on you, someone else will fill them in on why they shouldn’t pursue you. and if anyone comes too close, abby will give them a glare, a reminder, that you’re taken.

✮ jealous!abby whose friends accused her of being jealous, to which she heavily denied. it was her, manny, jordan, and leah, drinking in abby’s room. when you came up, manny was the first to bring abby’s jealousy to the discussion as well. “i don’t—i don’t have jealousy issues. i don’t get jealous,” abby said as she took a swig from her glass, but everyone in that room knew she did, and she knew she did, too. “yeah, right. cause you yelling at that one guy over him looking at her ‘the wrong way’ isn’t jealousy,” jordan laughed. “it’s not. just—he was,” abby grumbled.

✮ jealous!abby who took her jealousy up with issac when she found out you would be on assignment with some other girl, alone. she had a million things to do in the wlf and an upcoming mission of her own: but you always came before. when she told you she would now be coming with you on your mission, you just had to laugh. “you just don’t want me alone with someone that’s not you,” you smiled. abby leaned in close to you—you were in her room—and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer to her on the bed. “so what if i don’t? i told you you’re mine.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

———

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson fic #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou #tlou abby #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou2 smut

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xxsabitoxx · 10 months

Text

Where They Are Sensitive 18+

Warning: contains smut (obvi), talks of thigh grinding, cunnilingus, hickeys, nipple sucking (lmao)

A/N: @muzanswaifu got my brain working overtime after the Giyu Drabble she wrote. So here are my personal takes on the Hashira and where they are most sensitive

Tomioka Giyu: his thighs, his neck, his lower back

When it comes to Giyu’s thighs, he didn’t realize how sensitive they were until you sat on his lap

Mid-make out session, literally only the second time y’all had ever done something like this, you climb onto his lap and suddenly that man is a goner

Your weight on his thighs as reduced Giyu to a whining mess, his hands roaming your body with more fervor, his kisses turning rougher, the whole nine yards.

If you grind on his thigh? He’s making just as much noise as you are. The steady rhythm of your cunt gliding back and forth on his tensed thigh has his eyes rolling back.

Giyu’s neck is ticklish, which in turn makes it very sensitive. You discovered this during the same Make out session towards the beginning of your relationship

Your lips on Giyu’s neck is his absolute kryptonite. That man is putty in your hands the second your tongue glides along the column of his neck.

Giyu’s lower back is a place he never knew was sensitive until he met you. Thanks to your hands, he realized.

You were giving him a back massage because he had gotten hurt on a mission. As your hands crept lower, the heat on his face rose. So did the noises he made.

Now, even the slightest of touches along the small of his back has him tensing, your giggles only making it worse.

Kocho Shinobu: her hips, her stomach

The moment your hands rest on her hips, she’s clenching her jaw in hopes of not making any noises

They are just a tad ticklish, when your hands massage the flesh it doesn’t help her case

She enjoys the feeling of course, especially when you’re going down on her. Nothing makes her feel as helpless / at your mercy than your hands on her hips, holding her still.

Hold her hips while you kiss her, she’ll melt into your touch, holding you tighter in fear of you letting go.

Shinobu’s stomach is ticklish, even the slightest of touches will have laughter spilling out of her

You found this out unintentionally, your lips gliding from her neck to her chest, down to her stomach with the intentions of going lower

All it took was a couple of pecks and she was laughing softly, nearly breathless. Which surprised you a lot considering the mood of the situation.

You use it against her a few minutes later, face buried between her legs while your hands trial across the plain of her stomach.

This earns you a mixture of noises, breathless laughs and moans. Tears glimmering in her eyes from the intensity of the sensations you’re bringing her

Rengoku Kyojuro: his chest/nipples, his jaw, his earlobes

The feeling of your hands resting on his chest is enough to send Kyojuro spiraling. Now take things further and lick or suck on his chest? It’s a miracle if he doesn’t cum.

He didn’t know how sensitive his chest was until you began leaving hickeys on it. The gentle sucking sensation sending shrills of arousal straight through him.

When you licked his nipple for the first time, his face turned the deepest shade of red you had ever seen. A nearly guttural moan tumbling from his lips as you suck.

Kyojuro’s jaw was another surprising revelation. Your teeth gently scraping the skin, goosebumps trailing through his body as you moved towards his ear.

You know that space, right where your jaw ends, that little space between the bone and your earlobe? Nip at that, suck on it, it does something to him (this one is super specific so I hope it makes sense lol)

Sucking along his jaw will have him melting under your touch, soft moans escaping him while his hands hold your hips as tightly as possible

Biting his ear lobe was just to tease him, but the gentle, almost ticklish pressure, sent Kyojuro into a fit of breathless giggles and moans

He’s embarrassed about this, because you know it’s an easy target. If he gives you a hug, you’re going to bite his earlobe. If you cuddle at night? You’re going to nibble his earlobe. It’s become a game at this point

Combine all three of these sensitive areas and you’ll have him whimpering for you.

Uzui Tengen: his thighs, the back of his neck, his chest

When it comes to his thighs, it’s more about gentle touches. Truth be told, Tengen is sensitive all over but only when the touches are gentle.

Being gentle with Tengen will melt his heart, turn his brain to mush, he’ll be putty in your hands, whining softly.

Sitting on his lap, running your fingers along his thighs, you’ll notice him turning red, that confidence he always has it melting away and he’s getting shy.

You discovered the back of his neck was sensitive when you were doing his hair one morning.

The feeling of your fingers threading through his hair, just barely scrapping the back of his neck. The moan that slipped past his lips was enough to silence all of you.

Naturally that means you have to tease him, kissing the back of his neck and biting it until he couldn’t help but gasp out a “stop”. Not because he wanted to go stop, rather, he was embarrassed

When it comes to Tengen’s chest, it’s no surprise that he’s very reactive to your hands on him

Especially if you’re straddling his waist, dainty hands trailing along his pecks and smiling as a blush creeps down his neck

Luckily, he has you, makio, suma and hinatsuru. You can easily stimulate all of his “weak points” at once

Kanroji Mitsuri: her hips, her breasts, her inner thighs

Now I know what you’re thinking, some of her most sensitive areas are usually exposed when she’s wearing her uniform. Lemme explain.

When it comes to Mitsuri’s hips, she’s very particular about what makes them sensitive. Gently putting your hand on her hip won’t really earn a reaction.

However, squeezing her hips, massaging them, holding them tight while you kiss her or do other things? She’s whining and melting into your every movement.

For Mitsuri’s breasts, it’s the same kind of idea. I mean she doesn’t wear any wraps or bras, just puts on her uniform and prays. Despite the sensitive skin being exposed, her uniform top is tight enough that they don’t move.

Now, when you touch them, lick them, suck on them, she’s a whining, squealing mess.

She’s almost embarrassed of how sensitive they are, her face warm and eye lids heavy while she watches you lavish them in bites and kisses

The only part of her thighs that are super sensitive are her inner thighs. Even the lightest of touches will have her instinctively trying to close them

Leaving hickeys on her inner thighs will drive her insane, the process and the result are almost too much for her to look at never mind endure

She’s also very ticklish, so don’t be shocked if touching her anywhere has her turning a shade of pink

Iguro Obanai: his chest, his dick, his neck

Obanai is a man of …modesty… for lack of better words.

He’s not used to being touched never mind being touched in particular places with further intent. So it’s not all that shocking that something like your hands on his chest has noises coming out of him that he’s never made.

Your hands on his chest will have his brain doing cartwheels. He’s not use to such an intimate touch and the moment your fingers ghost his nips he’s losing it

Now I know what you’re thinking “May, his dick?” Yes, his dick. Hear me out, please.

Obanai isn’t one to masturbate, he’s not one to really to think about pleasuring himself. So the first time you touch him, he’s gasping for air, praying he doesn’t instantly cum.

He gains a tolerance of course, but those first few times he’s absolutely at your mercy. Making noises he can’t stand because he finds them embarrassing

Now, his neck being sensitive came as a shock because Kaburamaru usually sits there.

The thing is, he’s grown a tolerance for Kaburamaru. But your tongue feels a lot different than a snake slithering around his neck and shoulders

The thing with Obanai is the fact that he’ll grow a tolerance for all of his more sensitive areas. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get the chills and melt into you when you touch him.

Shinazugawa Sanemi: his abdomen, his tip, his thighs

Lord, it’s me again. He’s so confident in the fact that he isn’t sensitive nor is he ticklish and there is nothing you can do to convince him otherwise…

Until your hands are on his hips, kissing your way down to groin and suddenly he can’t stop the blush covering his face. Not only that but he can’t stop the noises.

Your teeth scraping along his abdomen, tongue sliding along his v-line, he’s closing his eyes so you can’t see the fact that they are rolling backward.

It also doesn't help that the sight of you licking and sucking along his abdomen and hip bone looks so utterly lewd

When it comes to the tip of his cock, there is no controlling the noises he makes. The moment your lips wrap around him, he’s an absolute goner for you.

You don’t even have to worry about the rest of his dick, you could sit there and lavish the head and he’d be content, probably spilling into your mouth or on your face within seconds

When it comes to his thighs, Sanemi can’t contain his noises as your nails scrap across the plains of his skin.

If you ever want to work him up in public, just rest your hand on his inner thigh and go no futher.

Combine these three things together and you just may bring Sanemi to his knees. I'm serious. He'll go weak in the knees.

Himejima Gyomei: his neck, his shoulders, his hips

This man is covered in muscle so you’d think it would be pretty hard to find some weak points on him

However, despite his height and build, I can assure you that Gyomei is a simple man with simple desires

Your lips on his neck make him, of all people, feel small. At your mercy even, willing to do whatever you desire.

He finds it a bit scandalous if you leave marks on him, but he secretly enjoys it. He also likes that you tell him you’ve left a mark behind because he can’t see it lol

Massaging his shoulders will earn you many pretty noises

Honestly, this man will start to purr if you massage body just right. But his shoulders will really get him going.

His hips are something sacred to be fully honest, he’ll turn a shade of red when he feels you touch him there

Your small hands on his waist, sinking to his hips, is almost amusing to him. But that doesn’t stop the shrill of arousal that shoots down his spine when your grip tightens

A special bonus is just sitting on his lap while kissing his neck or massaging his shoulders. The added pressure drives him a bit wild.

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kvtie444 · 5 months

Text

⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET

A/N: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!! gonna try make this a series lol p.s. I love covet sm lolziezzzzzzzz

Summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

Warnings: swearing, mentions of nsfw content, that’s it??

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

If you're fortunate enough to own a car, count your blessings. Given the means, I would have purchased one long ago, but the weight of tuition fees compels me to endure a daily mile-long walk in the unforgiving cold almost every day. Oddly enough, the journey to campus carries its qualities - passing through a park, surrounded by pleasant scenery, with my favourite playlist playing through my headphones, it becomes an almost comforting routine - except on days like today, where I’m running late.

Choosing sociology ranks among the biggest mistakes in my life, closely followed by my track record with every guy I've been involved with. It seems every guy my age is solely fixated on getting their dick sucked and seeking validation from their male peers.

Entering my building, I head straight to class, mentally preparing myself for boredom. Amongst my whole class, I've only really gotten close with one person in my class - Madi. She's friendly, and her accom building is conveniently across mine, making her my go-to companion here. Reaching my relatively small class, I push the door open, taking my seat beside Madi. Placing my bag on the desk. I unpack my belongings, removing my headphones and setting them on the table. "Look who's finally arrived," Madi teases with a smile. Glancing at her and then towards the front of the room, I notice the absence of the teacher. Did I really beat him here? "Where's Mr. Kennedy?" I ask, confusion etched on my face. Her expression falters. "Didn't you hear?" she begins. I shake my head no. "He got caught having an affair with a student," she whispers. My jaw drops. "So, who's filling in for him?" I ask. She simply shrugs.

Engaging in small talk whilst I log onto my laptop, her attention shifts to the door as our new teacher arrives, a solid 12 minutes late. I keep my eyes glued to my screen as I overhear him grabbing items from his desk. I momentarily look away and I almost moan when I see him. Brown hair, blue eyes, a slight beard, a chain sitting on top of his black sweatshirt, and plain black pants - he doesn't look a day older than 30. Picking up a marker from his desk and delicately fiddling with the lid, he looks up to face the class.

"Mr. Kennedy is unable to continue teaching you guys, so I'll be filling in for him," he announces, turning around to write his name on the board alongside the topic where we left off. "My name is Mr. Sturniolo, or just Matthew if you can't pronounce it," he half-jokes, a small chuckle escaping from his pink lips. Madi leans toward me, whispering in my ear, "smash." I can't help but chuckle, nudging her with my shoulder. When Matt turns around, his eyes dart into mine, shooting me a disciplinary look. I purse my lips, attempting to contain my smile, and look down, mouthing a small "sorry." He returns to his desk, flicks open his textbook, lands on a page, and then speaks up, "Everyone, go to page 56. We're going to start off where you were all left off with class differences in achievement”.

Throughout the lesson, he does an impressive job at teaching. He even sets up a Google Classroom for all his work and provides a platform for questions if we're confused—something Kennedy could never manage. Matt sends me a few glances, and each time, my face grows hot, causing me to look away first and break the eye contact. Eventually, the lesson concludes, and everyone quickly packs up, ready to leave.

"Alright, everyone, I want you all to finish off the chapter, make notes, and I'm going to upload a short essay question for you to fill out too. I want it done for tomorrow's lesson," he says, people beginning to exit the room, with me and Madi following suit. As I walk out the door, I glance back at him, and our eyes meet. He shoots me a smile, which I quickly return before looking and walking out of the room.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I let out a frustrated groan, slouching back in my chair and running my hands down my face. I find myself back in my dorm, attempting to tackle this essay, but I’m stuck on my counterargument. I glance at my open laptop, its glow being the only source of light in my room as I anxiously tap my pen against my desk. Why am I so hesitant to ask my teacher for help? Y/n, don't bother him; it's 11 pm. fuck it.

Summoning a bit of courage, I lean forward and compose a message for him, meant for our eyes only. "Hello Mr. Sturniolo, I was wondering how to counterargue in the essay you assigned. Best regards, Y/n." No, no, no. I delete the message and retype, reminding myself that I'm not messaging fucking royalty. The new message reads, "Hi Matt, I'm a bit unsure of how to counterargue in the essay. Thanks, Y/n." I bite my lip before hitting send and then pick up my pen, drumming it against my desk again. I can't help but keep checking if he replies. It's only been two minutes. I mean, it's late. I keep my eyes glued to my screen eagerly until I see my 'delivered' message switch to 'read.' My breath hitches as my left leg shakes, my heel tapping the ground in quick patterns as I see three typing dots.

"Hey Y/n, don't worry about it. Try using the functionalist perspective and theorists like Parsons. I'll send you the page now. Matt." I smile at the message and feel like a cheesy teenage girl, my breath hitching when he sends an image. It's a page from the textbook which he is holding down with his left hand. shit. His large hand looked veiny, and his fingers took up so much space. He had rings on his fingers, excluding his ring and middle finger, making me bite my lip, almost prompting a moan at the idea. No, Y/n, he's your teacher. My eyes moved up his arm to catch a glimpse of the tattoos that were previously hidden under his sweatshirt. I wasn't even focusing on my work anymore. I snap out of my daze and type a little message, hoping to keep the conversation going. "Thank you !!" I send, now biting the end of my pen, smiling to myself. He's quick to start typing back, "Don't worry about it." I stare at the message until my breath hitches once I see him typing again. "Next time, try not to leave my work for the last minute." I softly giggle to myself, looking down at my hands.

I finally get the work done, submitting it online. I climb into bed and scroll through my phone until I fall asleep, feeling a sense of anticipation and excitement about seeing Matt again tomorrow.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Back in class again, I find myself barely able to focus on anything - well, it wasn't even work. Matt had put on some documentary, but my attention was solely fixed on him. What's wrong with me? He's just a good-looking guy, Y/n. A really, really good-looking guy.

"Y/n?" I'm snapped out of my trance by Madi. I look up at her; she's standing up, bag on her shoulder. "Lesson's over. Wanna meet and get some food later?"

I nod, "Yeah, text me," I reply, smiling as I get up and put my headphones back on, playing my music. I walk towards the door until I feel a hand on my arm, turning me around. Confused, I look up, and my confusion softens, feeling my face heat up upon seeing it's Matt. I pull my headphones down around my neck as he smiles at me.

"I was calling your name a few times, but your music's too loud," he chuckles. I giggle back at him, feeling flustered. His eyebrows furrow, and a smirk grows on his face. "Is that 'Covet'? Basement?" he continues, referring to the song from my headphones. I look down at my headphones before looking back up at him, smiling, nodding my head, "Yeah,". This man could not get any more perfect. He bites his lip slightly before leaning against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Am I in trouble?" I ask, my brows knitting together in worry. "Hm? Oh, no, no," he shakes his head. "Just have to hold you behind a bit and ask you something," he continues.

Shit.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #smut #SoundCloud

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