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#EDIT: IT WAS SUPPOSED TO SAY BRA AND PANTY SET NOT WHATEVER THE FUCK IT AUTO TYPED AHHHHH
shisnhou · 2 years
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does anyone else have thoughts about gojo satoru who wants to buy you sexy lingerie for your birthday present, but doesn’t know what your bra or panty size is.
the man is walking into the lingerie store with his head held up high and his cheeks tainted red. all the women, and their significant others look at him with a confused yet intrigued look. why‘s this extremely handsome man walking into the lingerie store alone?
with long confident strides, this man walks to the set aisle. his blue eyes widen behind the designer sunglasses, and it isn’t the price tags that fluster him—he could care less about the insane price tags—what flusters him is the material and style of the lingerie.
he swallows, hard. he suppresses the shaking of his hand and reaches out for the dark blue lingerie before his also very blue eyes.
"excuse me sir?" a woman appears out of no where, breaking goio‘s impure imagination of you in said lingerie. "is there anything i can help you with?" she asks, cocking a brow.
gojo puts the lingerie down and stammers, licking his lips for a moment before coming to his senses. "i— yeah." he thinks hard and keeps his mind straight. "can i have this for my girl?"
"sure," she nods, taking the lingerie from his hands. "this is our limited edition, by the way. we only have two of these ever made by our famous designer.." gojo could honestly care less about what she is saying. all he‘s thinking of right now is taking the sinful piece and placing it on you as soon as possible.
"yeah." he nods, already looking around for another sexy set.
"the person you‘re with must be really lucky." she chuckles, still doing whatever the fuck she‘s supposed to do and looks at him. "this is one of a kind." she further adds. he nods again. "so i‘ll have to ask.."
"what‘s their size?"
gojo stops.
"what?"
"it‘s limited edition, so there‘s no size other than this. we have to make sure it‘s their size." she looks at him.
gojo halts. his whole body shuts down as he looks at it. he hadn‘t thought that part through. he thought that if he‘d see what looks good, he‘d immediately know it was made for you. but for god sake, now that he’s here, he doesn’t have a single clue.
"i— um—" he stammers, trying to explain it. "it‘s—"
"do you not know it?" she frowns. "i mean it‘s okay. you‘d just have to ask her then come—"
"no! i know it!" he cuts her off quick, pressing his fingers to his temple. "it‘s— it‘s.."
without even realizing it, gojo brings up both his hands to the air and makes an odd shape. the woman watches and eyes him oddly as he continues to further describe the shape.
"what‘re you doing…?"
"i‘m trying to show you." without a single ounce of shame, this man then puts his hands on the bra and feels it.
he‘s trying to figure out your tit size with his hands.
"yeah, that‘s it." he nods, sure of himself. then he grabs the thong. he places it flat on his palm and sees the size before nodding once again and smiling to the woman. "mhm, that‘s the right size."
the woman stares at him, bewildered. her jaw hangs agape, throat dry as she watches gojo move around and look at her. "yeah, that‘s it. it‘s her perfect size."
without even awaiting her response, he proudly takes the set from her and walks away, not even bothering to check the number tag for the size as he goes around and does the same for every piece of lingerie he encounters.
the people look at him, meanwhile he couldn‘t give a damn. he simply walks around, and purchases what he found with pride, leaving the store and the people in there more confused than they ever were in their lives.
and when the man gives it to you during your birthday, somehow, some fucking way, it‘s actually the right fucking size. and when he knows about it, he‘ll smugly tell you the story about how he found out your size and you‘ll just be left embarrassed the next time you‘re walking into that store with him.
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Shots of Whiskey - Dean x Reader (One Shot)
A/N: Yeah...so, I edited this and never reposted. Well, until now. Porn makes up for the day of fucking around, right? I’m going to be starting the timezone reblogs, again, too. Just to get everything out there a little more for those who might be interested but miss it. Getting back into old habits, slowly. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3
PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. This piece especially. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.
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Warnings: PWP. Body shots. Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Kinda public sex. Kinda dirty talk. Kinda dom!Dean? Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, folks). Cream Pie. I believe that is all!
Word Count: Roughly 2,700
“If you wanna get drunk, shots are the way to go,” Your voice made Dean raise his worried gaze from the amber filled glass he'd been staring a hole through. “Nursing it gets you nowhere.”
“You talkin' from experience?” The question was meant to be sarcastic. He'd seen you pound down your problems at a bar. If it wasn't shots, it was chugging through a straw on an empty stomach. Whatever it took to reach that level of numb every hunter yearned for.
A coy grin lined your face as you reached for the tumbler, “Always.” With that, the contents were emptied in one blow. Heat filled your veins as you set the empty container down with a low clink. Instead of leaving, you leaned your ass and hands against the table. Getting comfortable. “What's up?”
“If I wanted to talk about it, don't ya think I would?” You pondered over the question for a moment as he tugged the glass his way by the rim; using only his index finger to slide it home. As your lips opened to respond, he cut you off. Knowing you were going to call him out on his tendency to bury his problems down until it all blew up in his face. “Never mind, don't answer that.” The lift of your brow had him looking back over you. Something deeper, maybe even a little dark, rested inside those radiant emerald eyes. “Shots, huh?”
His body leaned your way more as you spoke, “Yeah...shots. Got any other glasses?”
“Just these ones.” He didn't turn to them. Instead, keeping his gaze locked on you. Before you could suggest chugging from them, a glisten formed inside the impossible green. “And you.”
“Me?” The answer should have been enough to send you running. The Winchesters were trouble to get tangled up with. Everyone knew it. You'd seen it firsthand. Instead of bolting, you let your head tilt a bit as he eased to his feet. Never once allowing the hot stare to leave your body in the process.
“Body shots.” With each word, he took a step forward. Keeping you pinned between him and the table. So tall. Shoulders back to make him seem taller. Bigger. More threatening. “You like to party...ya can't tell me you've never done it before.” A shrug was all you offered him. Neither confirming or denying the implications. “The way the alcohol mixes with the taste of skin...better than anything that comes from a glass.” His touch was soft as he let his hand drift over your jean clad thigh. Blatantly offering something far deeper than a single shot.
“Sounds like you need a fix,” You didn't let yourself stop and think of the implications of two hunters hooking up. Of what it would mean in the span of you living in the bunker. You simply rolled up the black t-shirt you were wearing until it was just under your breasts. Never taking your eyes off his face. Watching the way his tongue pressed against the backs of his teeth. “Have at it, big guy.”
“Lean back,” The thick, rumbling voice Dean carried settled deep into your bones. You couldn't even think about resisting. When your forearms left you in the air, he tsked, “All the way, sweetheart.”
“So bossy...” But, you listened. Watching the way his tongue came out to glide over his plush lips at the sight of exposed skin. Your arm came up to give your head some support as Dean grabbed the bottle he'd been pouring from.
He didn't have to say a word. His hand reached for the bared skin to help hold you steady before the room temperature liquid was poured into your navel. Your breath sucked in; forcing the drink to spill onto your stomach and down. The action only made his mouth kick up as he met your eyes. Thrilled at the change of pace you'd enacted for the night- even unintentionally.
Then, he was leaning in. You felt his warm breath first. It was enough to cause your flesh to prickle as it teased over the liquid. And when he sealed his lips over you? A small gasp escaped. His touch so much hotter than you'd anticipated.
Dean pulled the liquid into his mouth, easily. Giving away his experience as he held you down. But, that wasn't the end of it. Not even close.
His tongue slipped out. Seeking to take every drop that remained. Following the trail that had slid down your flesh with a light groan. Slipping just under the edge of your jeans. The scrape of his stubble left a tingle behind every place it touched. Each place he'd licked cooled once it was exposed to the air. Adding further to the sensory overload he was creating.
“Ya taste good,” He murmured before scraping his teeth against you gently. Causing you to jump a bit. His hands squeezed into your hips for a moment before sliding up.
You could've stopped him. He expected you to, even. But, you didn't.
Instead, you found yourself arching up into the calloused touch. Dean wasn't the only one who wanted to numb it all away. You had your own shit that you wanted to escape from. He was giving you the perfect opportunity.
“You're supposed to be taking shots, Dean...remember?” The breathy little note had him lifting his head. The deep, forest green eyes seemed to darken when they met yours. Lust shining through. You sat up on your forearms again. Forcing him to back up as you reached for the bottle. “So...here ya go.”
Without missing a beat, you tilted the Jack Daniels so that it filled your mouth. The Winchester understood after a moment of dumbstruck. He lunged forward, taking what you offered.
Most of the whiskey had been swallowed, but that hadn't mattered in the end. It was only an excuse. His tongue brushed against yours into a deep kiss right off the bat. Tasting the remnants the smooth drink had left inside your mouth as he stroked inside.
Your hands wrapped into the light brown hair, musing the spikes as he sucked and nipped at your lower lip. Dean's hand pushed up under your shirt and bra in one smooth motion. Too eager to feel to go slow. His grip was rough and warm all at once as he massaged the soft flesh he'd discovered.
“You like that?” He asked when you whimpered into his kiss, bowing into the touch.
“Yes,” The answer was more of a moan than anything. But, he thrived off it. Enjoyed how readily you'd turned yourself over to him. Someone so strong simply yielding to his actions. It was more intoxicating than anything that could have come from a bottle.
His fingers rolled your nipple through them, “Good. You'll like this better.” Deftly, your shirt and bra were removed and tossed aside. “Lay back down.”
“Or what?” Challenging a Winchester wasn't something many lived to tell about. Yet, you needed to try it, even halfheartedly. Needed to understand what the dynamics would be that first time between you and him in this new level of intimacy.
Dean's hand wrapping around your throat loosely was more than enough to remind you who you were dealing with. Of what he wanted from you. Slowly, you let him guide you until your bare back was pressed against the smooth table top. Giving up any semblance of control for a time.
“Good girl,” The praise went straight to down to soak your panties. “Now, stay real still for me.”
Once again, cool liquid ran over your body. Lightly spilled so that it trailed across your breasts to settle in the valley between. Your teeth sank into your lower lip when Dean dropped his head to lap up the pool, first. Helping you remain quiet. Ensuring no one in the bunker walked in on what was happening.
The tip of his nose brushed over your skin, just above his lips. Tickling opposed to the way his abrasive chin scraped when he changed his angle. Every so often, he'd look up to meet your eyes. Just a glance through his long lashes as he cleaned off the mess he'd made. With every admiring search your body grew weaker.
When his tongue finally began to slide up the slope of your breast, you nearly jumped off the table. His hand ran down your side soothingly. Silently urging you to relax. As if such a thing were possible with the sinful touch tracing around your areola. Your blood pumped hard enough, it echoed in your ears.
He took his time toying with your tits. Not giving a damn about who could walk in. Your fingers traced over what you could reach. Feeling the warm flannel stretch over the muscles it hid. Admiring the soft skin at the back of his neck, and the thick, exposed forearms. Then, you dipped them under the undershirt to touch more. Earning a low rumble that vibrated around his mouth right into you.
Dean pulled away to throw the flannel to the side. To give you a little more. Watching as you flicked open the snap of your jeans so you could slide them down your legs. As you rested there in your underwear, the Winchester swore. Forgetting about his stripping. “You're so fucking hot. Spread out for me...”
And then he was back on you. His hands jerked your body down, closer to his. Letting the hard swell of his dick beneath his jeans grind against your core. Sucking against your pulse point harshly.
Your nails scraped along his bared skin. Feeling every scar he carried above the waist, and each shift of his muscles as he moved over you. The moment your hips bucked into his for more of that friction? He started tasting his way back down your body until everything but his head was out of reach. Taking advantage of what was exposed to him.
Every woman you'd ever encountered took one look at Dean, and thought about what those lips could do. The anticipation alone left you trembling. As your feet braced on the edge of the table, he lifted up the forgotten bottle of whiskey. “One more shot?”
“One more...” The smirk on his face only aided in the following words settling deep inside of you, “For tonight.” He nudged your legs open wider. “Open up, Y/N.”
It was hardly a shot. Nothing more than a few drops that spilled over you. But, that didn't matter when he dropped down to level with you. The only thing that did was the way he let his tongue come out to capture what he'd let brush over your heated folds.
Your hips bucked up, only to be stilled by his arm a moment later. Nothing you'd imagined could compare to the way he traced over every piece of you. How he thrust his tongue inside of you before sliding it back up to flick against your clit. Fucking you so thoroughly that you felt as though you'd combust.
Dean groaned deep between your thighs, making you whine at the vibration. He was a master at making your nails scrape across the wood beneath you. Incoherent words of encouragement left your mouth quietly as your muscles tried to tighten around him. And when he pressed just to the left of your clit as he curled two fingers deep inside of you? You came. Hard.
Dean eased you through it. Letting your body clench around his digits as he pumped gently inside of you. Not stopping until your writhing and breathing started slowing down. A small kiss to the inside of your thigh was your reward before he got to his feet.
“Holy shit,” Your eyes widened further when the erection rolled free from Dean's jeans. He knocked them down to his knees. Not an ounce in shame to be found. His glistening lips kicked up before he trailed his teeth over the lower. Yet, it didn't distract from the thick, veined length of him. Especially when he lined it up. Slipping the flared tip inside of your wet heat, he dug his blunt nails into the meat of your hips. “Dean...fuck!” You bit the back of your hand as he let out a choked out moan.
He pushed in slowly before retreating. Only to settle in a little deeper with every agonizing thrust. Ensuring that every inch stretching you was a little better than the last. Your flesh gave way to his fingers as his grip tightened. Grounding himself a bit to draw it out. Anything to keep his mind blank.
The table creaked with his deep, slow pumps. Your breathing was ragged, matching his own as you let him use you. The slick way your body sucked at his dick echoed across the room. His thighs slapped heavily against yours. Sweat glinted across both of your bodies as time went on.
Low, filthy words of praise left his lips as your hand blocked your own whimpers of pleasure. Neither of you were quite willing to speed things up. Basking in the empty minds that moment created. Not caring that someone could walk in at any moment.
When Dean grew close, he reached down. Strong, rapid circles rubbed over your clit. His hips shifted. Pushing him deeper. Letting him slide against the sweet spot more firmly. Seeking further friction, you grasped at your own breast and slid your hand against the table; causing a squealing sound to join the rest of the auditory mix that filled the air. Dropping the hold over your lips. His other hand reached up, covering your mouth when you tried to cry out.
Each thrust lasted a little longer. Tapped a little harder against the g-spot. And, then he was cumming. Hot ropes filled as you as he choked back a shout of release. The feeling and pornographic sound was enough to send you off into your own orgasm. Your legs shook as your walls tightened, milking every last drop Dean had to offer.
He could've pulled away immediately. Probably should have. Instead, Dean looked down where he was still buried to the hilt in amazement as you leaned back up on your elbows. “Fuck...Y/N-”
“You're not gonna cry, are you?” With that, he pulled away. Finding a piece of strength in his legs after that performance. Only to get distracted by the thick white trail that followed behind. Your legs closed as you sat up, hiding the view.
“No,” He huffed out once he could; straightening his shoulders before bending down to lift his jeans. “But, I am thinkin' that needs to happen, again.”
“Yeah? Maybe.” You tugged on the panties and jeans before Dean passed over your bra. “Next time, though? If there's a next time? I'm taking the shots.” The hooks were done up before you grabbed your shirt and walked away. The Winchester watched as you slid the material over your body without missing a step.
He turned back to the whiskey as his undershirt was yanked back to a decent position, “And they say alcoholism is bad...” A low tsk left him at that. Thanking Chuck for his lack of sobriety.
His flannel was fisted as he grabbed the bottle. Strolling back to his room, bowlegged swagger in full form. A good portion of tension had been released between your thighs. The twisted grin on his lips only grew more wry. Knowing he'd never be able to look at his good friend Jack Daniels without getting a boner, again...
Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​
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piecesofscully · 7 years
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Intercoursus Interruptus
Title: Intercoursus Interruptus Author: @piecesofscully Rating: NC-17/Explicit Length: under 1000 Pairing: MSR
I wrote this drabble on a whim, the idea sparked by a conversation with @kateyes224 (thanks bae).  No beta, no real editing.  Set sometime during Season 7.
FBI Headquarters Basement Office
"Mulder..." 
Her voice was dangerously low and had adopted a tone of warning as his pelvis 'accidentally' grazed her ass again for the third time in fifteen minutes.  Their Friday night plans had, yet again, been postponed, and judging by the hardness in his pants, he was growing restless. She refused to look at him, instead fixing her eyes on the financial report that lay on the desk before her. Mulder thrust his arm into her gaze and tapped his watch with his index finger.  "It's almost 8pm, Scully." "Mhmm," she hummed, running her own finger down the lines on the paper.   "We were supposed to be out of here three hours ago," he said as he rested his weight into the edge of the desk, his thigh brushing her hip.  He sighed and then leaned into her, his nose brushing the soft line of her jaw as he whispered, "Are you close to being finished?" "Mulder," she started, swatting his face from hers.  "Yes, I'm close-" "And that's exactly what I wanted you to be saying right now, Scully, but when I envisioned it coming out of your mouth we were wearing less clothing," he said as he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt.   She shook her head and bowed her chin as a smile crept across her face. "You're ridiculous." "Persistent," he said as he moved behind her, his cock grazing her ass a fourth time, slower this time, as he brushed the hair from the back of her neck to press a feather light kiss there.  He's spent endless nights mapping and memorizing every inch of her body, but the delicate skin that lay just beneath her hairline has proven to be his favorite. "Obsessive with a one track mind." He kissed under her ear, smiling to himself as she sighed into his touch, tilting her head to the side.  "And, my personal favorite," he added as his tongue darted from his mouth and flicked her earlobe, “Spooky.” "Mulder, we are in our office," she said sternly as she turned into him, locking her gaze with his as her fingers working quickly to loosen his tie.  His mouth crashed into hers as his hands roamed her body, pulling her blouse from her waistband.  Her moan vibrated into his mouth as his fingertips dance along the exposed skin of her waist. "There are cameras everywhere,"  she whispered against his plump bottom lip as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants.  He grunted, gripping her sides as his hips thrust his hardness into her palms, desperate for her touch.  "And I heard they updated the system, motion sensors." He nodded and swallowed a groan as she pushed him back to remove her jacket and top, then dropped them onto the desk behind her.  Her red bra sat perfectly in place, his eyes instantly drawn to her taut nipples hidden behind the lace. "Agents work late all the time, Mulder," she said as she gripped his open shirt and roughly pulled him flush between the v of her legs.  With a flick of her wrist, his slacks and boxers dropped to his ankles as she wrapped her legs around his hips.  The fact that they were finally going to fuck in their office and the possible ramifications weren't lost on him, but any caution was thrown to the wind as he felt the damp lace of her panties against the length of his cock.  Knowing he could be inside of her any moment, that all he had to do was push them aside, that he was so close, he thrust against her and she gasped, "We could be caught at any moment." A high-pitched giggle floated through their open door and they froze. "Did you-" Scully whispered into his shoulder. "You're fucking kidding me," Mulder mumbled, praying whoever it was accidentally chose the wrong floor and planned to correct their mistake by entering the elevator and leaving.   An unsteady clicking of heels shuffled across the linoleum, and the incessant giggling rang sharply across the cement walls of the basement, followed by a deep chuckle. "Mul-" Scully began to whisper, her eyes wide like a deer paralyzed under the bright beam of headlights, but was silenced with his hand across her mouth. His eyes bore into hers, silently begging her to stay quiet and trust him. After her swift nod, Mulder turned from her, then stumbled and gripped the edge of the desk to keep from falling as he wavered.  Scully watched his gaze shift to his ankles where his pants and boxers were still bunched.   "Wait, Pooky,” she said through another giggle.  Scully had to stifle a giggle of her own at the term of endearment.  “Did you hear that?" the woman asked, her voice smooth as liquid, thick like molasses with desire.  Scully gasped and promptly covered her mouth with her own hand. She knew that voice. Kimberly, the Assistant Director’s secretary. Mulder hurried across the floor and flicked the light off, plummeting them and their office into darkness.   "Relax, it's just us down here," they heard Walter Skinner’s voice assure her as Mulder came to stand next to Scully.
 “Skinner’s Pooky?!” Mulder whispered.  “That bald headed motherfu-” Scully pressed her index finger to his lips, urging him to contain whatever remark he had been about to utter.  
"You're sure?” Kimberly asked, clearly feigning concern.  They heard Skinner growl in response, followed by a feminine moan.  “Here? On the boxes?”
 Mulder’s shoulders sagged against Scully as the trist in the hallway grew louder, their moans and groans reverberating down to their office.  They couldn't have been that far away, he surmised as he felt himself growing hard. Ten to fifteen feet, tops.   Mulder slid his hand across Scully’s thigh and squeezed.  
 “Don't even think about it,” she whispered as she swatted his hand away.
 Mulder sighed and crossed his arms across his chest.  He had been so close. “Fuck you, Pooky.”
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