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tonycries · 5 days

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Prettier When Messy!

Synopsis. They aren’t afraid to get messy while making a mess of you, in fact, they love it - in all sorts of ways.

Pairing. Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, bréeding, really messy, light pússy-smacking (Nanami’s), spítting, cúmplay like a LOT of it, squírting, oral (female + male receiving), fíngering, overstím, jealousy (Gojo’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 3.6k

A/N. Wrote this n’ then had to have a run in the rain for a spiritual deep-cleanse.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Big n’ scary? No problem!

Now, Toji wouldn’t consider himself to be a nice man. But to be honest, the way you’re looking up at him with such adorably teary eyes, lips wobbling so nervously at his rock-hard cock, has got his heart lurching ever-so-slightly. And as does his swollen dick.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he caresses your cheek, like the shameless bastard he is. Heavy balls twitching at the way he catches your sloppy pussy clenching in- anticipation? Fear? Both? “Nervous?”

“I um-” And oh if Toji thought he was painfully hard before then he wasn’t ready for that delirious little nod you give him.

Ah, it never gets old. He loved this effect on you - how cute it was that you were so cockdrunk already, letting out a few whines. A few complains about how he was too big. And he knew exactly what to do about it.

“Spread those legs some more, pretty.”

And you barely even get the time to react before Toji’s impatiently wrestling open your legs so shamefully for him. Taking in one long look at how perfect you were for him - quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below - before spitting once. Twice. Thrice.

Missing on purpose to let a steady stream of saliva and slick trail filthily down your quivering thighs. So debauched and wet for him - and if Toji was any less of a man he’d just fuck your pretty pussy right then and there.

But, no. Oh no, instead, with a low hiss, he rests his swollen dick on your stomach, letting you gape at him in awe. How he was so hot and heavy on you.

“See?” Toji muses, voice so infuriatingly even for someone that was leaking thick, hot precum all over your stomach. “Nothing to be afraid of. In fact, m’just gonna be right-” He traces his finger down your tummy, resting right above an invisible line where his fat tip was. “Here.” Pressing down. Hard.

You jerk at the pressure, jolting - God, you should’ve known that Toji would fuck so mean. Playing around with the pretense of “comforting you” to tease you. To watch the way you keen and gasp at his movements.

“But-” your breath hitches as he smears his precum all over your skin. So fucking sloppy, having way too much fun than he actually should - all at your expense.

“No buts, jus’ told ya, m’girl.” Toji chuckles darkly, leaning down to whisper hotly against your ear. Cock twitching so ferally on top of you at the way your voice cracks so adorably at the end, tinged with desperation. “N’ now, I’ve had enough of being nice so are ya gonna take it am I gonna have to make ya?”

And nothing more is said - by either of you.

Because with that, it seems the last bit of Toji’s patience - or his restraint - has snapped at the sight of you splayed out so deliciously, too much for him. You, his favorite meal - gaping at his thick cock, all needy and messy with his precum - how could a man possibly say no?

“Oh! Fuck fuck fuck- s’too-” you squeal deliriously as he slides his angry tip between your swollen folds.

Stretching you to your limits. Mindlessly pushing in quick, purposeful little grinds to bully his massive cock inside your tight pussy. Each movement getting more and more erratic than the last. More desperate. Sloppier.

So debauched and dirty.

And Toji - oh he’s just in heaven - letting out a deep, guttural groan as he just barely bottoms out. Heavy balls smacking your ass, those tufts of hair at his base scratching your throbbing clit just right. Thumb stroking that sinful little line of precum he’d made - and where he could feel himself bulging inside you.

“Hey, doll, ya think I can go even deeper?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - To clean

You don’t know what makes you flinch more - the way Nanami was buried dizzyingly nose-deep in your cunt, lapping so greedily at your sweet sweet juices, or the way he just stops.

“K-Kento?” you whisper breathlessly, mind reeling from both the way you were so close and the final, deep kiss your husband gives to your swollen clit. Grinning at the way your hips jerk mindlessly in protest as he pulls away. “Why did you-”

And whatever disappointed whine dies in your throat at the heavenly sight before you - and oh it was so hard to look at Nanami without wishing he was back in-between your thighs. Hair ever-so-slightly disheveled, glasses sliding down his nose, venturing dangerously towards where your slick was glossing so prettily over his lips, all the way up, up, up-

“‘Why’, my love?”

That snaps you out of your little reverie, and no sooner are the words out of Nanami’s mouth before he’s leaning in - capturing yours. So sloppy and desperate.

You let out a muffled moan at the way you were tasting yourself and him and you. So sweet that you wondered which one of you tasted this addictive.

“Now now,” and then he’s pulling away, angry cock twitching so painfully at your broken little whimper. “Don’t get too greedy.” As if you could be anything but.

And maybe if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have said anything about the pure disrespect shining so uncharacteristically in Nanami’s eyes. About how utterly mean he was being as he slid his fat, weeping head up and down your swollen folds. All the way from the base, just grazing your throbbing clit.

“I dunno if you deserve this, my love.” Nanami gives your quivering pussy a little smack! as if it was a little punishment, letting your slick smear all over his fingertips. “You’ve just been so messy- just look at my glasses.”

And oh, you can’t look away.

Because your juices were blurring his glass, dripping so enticingly off of it that whatever rational little part of you thought it was on purpose. Absent-mindedly, you wondered how Nanami could see a damn thing. Seemingly moving on sheer instinct as he slides a long finger along the frame. Slowly.

“I- want it s’bad, Ken- Give it to me.”

Several things happen at once, and before you know it, Nanami’s shoving his fingers inside your mouth. Muffling your fucked-out moan as he immediately presses into your heavenly pussy. Not even bothering to ease you into it this time before he’s thrusting into you. Rough. Again. And again and-

“They were expensive, y’know.” Nanami presses right in the back of your tongue, just loving how adorably you gag and moan around him. “The least you can do is clean me off.”

And you don’t have to be asked twice - or at all, really.

Because you’re sucking and swirling your tongue around Nanami’s warm fingers like they’re your favorite candy. Looking him right in the eyes with such a deceivingly innocently, matching the pace of his hips in and out in and out in and- “Such a cute lil’ slut f’me, my love. When you’re all done with that, take care of m’cock too, y’got it very, very messy.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Hairband.

When Geto ties his hair back, you know you’re not going to be let off easy. Why would you?

It just means he’ll have no mercy - have you folded in half and stuffed full of his thick cock, begging and crying to just let you cum. It felt pathetic, really, but at this point you were too far gone - babbling delirious little pleas while he rocked his dick into your plushy cunt. Relentlessly.

“Please please please- hngh- Sugu- m’so close.” you whine, hips bucking wildly. Tears streaming down your face, your snug pussy clenching so tight that some part of Geto almost wanted to tease you for it.

“Awww, poor baby. You wanna cum?” he coos, voice so mockingly innocent. Barely audible over the blood roaring in your ears. “Y’know what I always hah- say…”

And despite his words, Geto sounds as fucked-out as you - because, hell, he’s been torturing himself just as much as he was your poor cunt. Cock rock-hard and so so angry inside your heavenly pussy, teasing his orgasm while he waited for you to explode with yours.

Sobbing out, “I- hngh- I know!” Breath hitching at the way his heavy balls sting your ass with each thrust. Sure to leave marks for tomorrow - his fingers on your hips, yours running down his sculpted back. “Wan- me to- hah- squirt, f’you. I wan’ to.”

God, it was so hard to not paint your pretty pussy white already.

Instead, Geto’s capturing your swollen lips with his - partially because they were irresistible, partially because he really needed to shut up those cute lil’ whines right now.

“Not just squirt.” he moans against your lips. Fingers frenzied - almost painful - on your throbbing clit now. “Wan’ you to fuckin’ cover me in it- fuck-”

And he seems so content, smug about the way you flinch each time he yells out little profanities into your mouth. At the way you’re so cockdrunk, barely even realizing the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he hit your poor, abused g-spot. Finger frenzied on your clit - not even bothering to draw those steady little circles anymore, just lewd little patterns to get you off.

He wanted this. Needed this so bad - needed to have you cover him with your sweet sweet juices until it’s glistening all over him. Unforgiving. Geto Suguru was absolutely unforgiving.

And, well, cover him you do.

Because no matter how much you might babble out those adorable little protests, Geto knew your pretty pussy well. Almost too well.

Well enough to know that you’ll have your orgasm crashing through you. So hard and borderline violent that it’s all you can do to claw at his back in an effort to get him to fucking slow down. That familiar little song and dance.

Because Geto didn’t stop until he was all glistening with your essence - absolutely depraved in the act. His pretty girl was so gorgeous squirting all over him. Only milking his painfully hard cock on your trembling pussy harder.

Everywhere. See, the hairband always comes in handy. And Geto wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here right now, letting your juices smear all over his aching dick, to his abs - darting all the way to his lower face.

It was so messy. So debauched - it sends Geto over the edge as well. Pumping thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your pussy white. Loving how fucking sloppy your pretty lil’ cunt was as it sucked up everything so greedily. Again and again-

“Hey, gorgeous.” Geto mutters, tongue darting out to get a taste of the slick coating his lower lip. Honestly, he doubted you could even hear him with how fucked-out you were. “Can y’ do it on m’tongue, too?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - You look good in white

“Fuck fuck fuck, open wider f’me, baby-” Choso groans, angling his head just right to catch the way your throat bulges so obscenely around his swollen cock. Watching the way it goes in and out in and out in and-

You were so gorgeous like this - you always were - but here on your knees, nose pressed firmly against the small tufts of black hair at his toned pelvis, he thinks you’ve never looked better.

Now all he has to do is hold off until the best bit.

But it was so difficult when you’re shoving yourself down inch by fucking inch. Milking Choso’s aching cock for all he’s worth. So greedy with the way you were gagging and choking so prettily around his thick cock. Swirling your tongue under his sensitive slit just the way you knew he liked.

And oh it has Choso feeling like he could just pass out. He could just feel the way you were smirking - knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Sh-shit.” he gasps, fingers trembling on your hair as he fucks your mouth like his own personal fucktoy. “Ya hngh- like this, huh?” Thighs quivering, hips stuttering deeper into your hot mouth. “Like me using that s-smart mouth like ha- this?”

The only response he gets are your nails dragging down his milky hips, leaving angry, red marks in their wake. A warning - a request. One that Choso knew was a sign that you needed to taste him - to have him.

One that had him speeding up his sloppy thrusts, over and over- Abs aching with the movement, veins throbbing at a maddening little thump! thump! thump! against the roof of your mouth.

“Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good-” he babbles, hips bucking up involuntarily into your slutty mouth. “Shit shit shit oh-.”

Faster. Deeper. Sanity held together only by a delicate tether - one that snaps when you look up at him with those beautiful eyes, moaning around Choso’s cock like you were begging him to ruin you.

Oh and then Choso’s cumming and cumming so hard he thinks he might’ve just died and gone to heaven right there. And you - you were such an angel, tears stinging your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth.

Mixing with his cum in such a sinful combination as he spills desperately into you, shooting thick, hot spurts of seed down your waiting throat.

So fucking filthy.

Only getting filthier when that feral, debauched part of Choso really can’t help but pull out ever-so-slightly. He chuckles at the way your eyes widen in surprise when he smacks his weeping dick all over your face.

Ah, this was his favorite part - always was. And he can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted as he smears his seed all over your face. Twitching angrily in his fist at the way it drips down all over your chin, forming a lewd little pool on the floor. So, so pretty for him.

“Now now,” Choso lets out a guttural grunt, balls squeezing so painfully at the ruined state of you. “Wan’ see if I can hah- mess up this cunt jus’ the same, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Wipe those tears!

Your only problem was that Sukuna was as mean as he was absolutely filthy.

“Aww, pretty baby.” Those words would be reassuring - but you knew better. Because his tone was just dripping with something so dangerous - something that had you feeling more and more like Sukuna’s little toy. “I thought you could give me another one.”

“B-but-” you gasp. “S’too much, Kuna, don’t think-”

“You will. Or-” he cuts you off, fighting that feral, cruel little urge to shove his entire dick in your snug cunt. No care or concern for those big, frustrated tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll just make you. Your choice.”

God, you could almost sob - maybe from the way Sukuna was chuckling at your expense. Maybe from the way he was pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts to fit inside your tight pussy. Trying to fuck out- which number orgasm was this again? Ah, you don’t even know - and Sukuna doesn’t care.

He’s had you creaming around his fingers- his tongue- his thigh. And now, all he wants is for you to cum on his dick. You could almost feel his weeping tip graze your cervix already and- was he even halfway in, yet?

“Nope.” Sukuna hums, leaning down to those tears rolling down your cheek. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Maybe m’not even a quarter inside your pretty cunt. Why don’t y’take a look for yourself, brat?”

And it seemed like Sukuna was well and fully intent on driving you insane. Because no sooner have you craned your neck to take a glance, you’re met with the most sinful sight you’ve ever seen - your swollen folds stretched so obscenely around his weeping tip, soaked with precum and sucking him up so eagerly. Sukuna’s fingers toying deftly with your sensitive clit, rolling it between his fingers.

Which really made sense why he loved this little routine - have you pathetically pretending you couldn’t cum for him again, acting like your slutty lil’ pussy wasn’t trying to fucking milk him dry. He loves it. Loves the way your mind is telling you to run away but your needy cunt wants more more more-

“Enough of the games now.” he tuts, wrapping a hand around your neck, pulling down down down onto his thick cock.

And you can only keen in response, tears streaming down your face faster because his cock too big. The stretch too sinful. Prominent veins grazing your plushy walls in a maddening�� bump! bump! bump! you were losing your mind to.

Sukuna wants you to cum- he needs you to. More badly than he wants to cum. Thumb just erratic on your clit, so sloppy and needy.

And then you’re cumming and cumming so hard that sensitive little tears roll down your cheeks. Not even realizing it at first, barely registering the stars behind your eyes, white-hot pleasure shooting up your cunt. Over and over-

Sukuna quickly darts out his tongue to lick them away. Long, languid stripes up your face. So fucking sloppy with it on purpose. But you can’t even bring yourself to be disgusted. Mind reeling with how good you felt and those sharp fingernails resting right over your racing pulse.

Dangerous. A warning.

As if Sukuna would kill you if you didn’t take his cock - when he was the one that actually felt like dying right now.

Because you were too cute like this, cockdrunk and milking him greedily inch by fucking inch. So fucking tight. Enough to give the king of curses heart palpitations, honestly.

A full-on heart attack when he finally bottoms out. Ramming the rest of his length in one quick, harsh thrust.

He smacks his lips, savoring the salty taste of your tears. Some tiny part of his cold heart so fucking proud. He knew his lil’ slut could give him another one - you always do. “Dry up those tears, brat. Because I haven’t cum yet.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “To think of me~”

“T-Toru, I really need to go-”

“No no no- fuck m’so close, sweetheart.” Gojo gasps into your mouth. Hips so frenzied and sloppy against yours, squeezing his throbbing cock in you like a man possessed. The idea of stopping not even close in his pussydrunk mind.

It’s been this way for so long now, and you’d only been halfway out the door before Gojo was pulling you back into the bedroom. That lil’ sundress was way too pretty that he just had to hike it up your hips and pull aside your drenched panties. Making sure to stuff your pretty pussy full.

And, well, the fact that you were going to meet one of your old guy friends might have had something to do with it, too.

Hey, even the strongest gets jealous sometimes. And Gojo is so sloppy when he is. Hips stuttering and bucking wildly into yours. All filthy desperation where he was usually so suave in bed.

He just can’t help but make a mess of your dripping cunt, reeling back to watch the way your sloppy hole struggles to take all of him. Glistening and trying to milk the soul out of him in the dim lighting. In and out in and out in and-

You’re letting out such a pathetic whine, “But- m’so-”

“Close?”

“Late.”

Of course, Gojo rolls his eyes with the audacity of someone that wasn’t the reason you’ll have to make up some excuse about traffic being awful this time around. Instead, he’s rolling his thumb over your sore clit , breath hot against your ear, “Guess m’gonna have to hurry up then, hm?”

It’s all that’s said before he’s fucking into you deliriously. Faster. Deeper. Bouncing you on the plush mattress like some slut.

Scoffing, “Y’should just stay home.” Hips snapping ever the more mercilessly with each word. “Stay with me insead. I’m sure she-” He gives your pussy a quick, sharp smack! laughing at the way you’re moaning breathlessly. “-definitely agrees.”

“Shit- feels s’good hah- shit shit-”

So fucking sloppy. Like he was trying to fuck the idea of staying home into you - each thrust so harsh. Running on pure jealousy and the feeling of your heavenly cunt wrapped around him. Unforgiving.

“Toru- m’gonna cum- I’m so-” And it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. Nothing but white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, and it’s so good that you’re pulling Gojo closer by his toned hips. Being late be damned because you’re cumming so hard you’re sure you see the pearly gates of heaven itself.

Or maybe that was just Gojo - tears pricking his eyes as he cums with such a strangled gasp of what sounds like your name. Thick, white ropes that gush out of your snug pussy, smearing all over his sensitive balls.

It feels so heavenly that Gojo really can’t help but check if it looks that way too.

Thumbing apart your folds to watch the way his seed spills out of you, so fucking filthy as it pools on the fresh sheets. So bloated and messy with him. Pulling out ever-so-slightly like he was torn between milking out every last drop of cum on your cute pussy and making a mess of your panties.

The latter wins, apparently. Because he’s painting your panties white, shooting out thick spurts of cum that smear all over your legs. So drenched and flimsy that it was almost difficult for Gojo to snap them playfully back in place.

“Something to remember me by when you go. Have fun~”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

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roosterforme · 7 months

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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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dante-mightdie · 5 days

Note

The way i'm straight up dying over the second-wife Price au so far Like I don't think you understand how nice it is to see such a fun take on such an already-lovely idea, but GOD I would love to see Price seeing reader after a good few months of trying to convince himself that he was right in leaving her there. Maybe he always felt that guilt, that twisting in his guts that made him feel like a bastard when he thought about you, maybe he never quite got over the look on your face when the ropes were tied, the fear in your eyes. You weren't supposed to be scared when you looked at him, but you were. He's long since accepted that you're dead. It would just be silly to think otherwise, but he's still got the other wife, right? The other wife, who he slowly realizes isn't nearly as gentle as you were, who didn't stop a moment to smile at passing children or nod at him when he came back from a successful battle. maybe he's terrible for wanting to go back, but then he sees you in the woods, holding a baby in your arms and cooing at the little thing while you wash it. It could be his. That's the first thing he thinks, and then he sees Simon. Simon who should be dead, Simon who defected mid-battle mere days before he met you, Simon the *traitor*who comes up behind you and knocks his forehead against yours so gently and takes the baby into his arms as you smile at him. And maybe Price feels a sort of longing in that moment, a sort of pain he's never felt before, because you look... happy. You look happy in a way Price has never seen on you before. Genuine and comfortable, that soft smile on your face spreading as you chuckle and hug Simon. Or maybe not. Maybe Price turns and leaves, maybe he never quite sees that it's you or maybe he just cant mentally reckon with you being alive without him like this, happier without him after he hurt you unforgivably. Maybe Price doesn't even know if it would be worth giving up his half-assed, but functional marriage with your replacement-that thought still makes him shudder-to try and talk to you again, because you look like you wouldn't even entertain him, and he **knows** that Simon won't I dunno, just some thoughts for you, I hope you like :)) (You have absolutely no obligation to respond if you don't wanna, just want you to know that this au and your writing in general has honestly been something nice to come home to and it's really helped me through some rough days)

simon bumping his forehead against you like a stray cat is awakening something in me

c/w: stalkerish-vibes from chief!price, nsfw, masturbation, sex, mentions of war, torture, children

he had to return a couple more times just to be certain. dedicating a few hours a week to come back to that lake in hopes of seeing if you were actually alive or if his mind was playing tricks on him. he caught a few more glimpses of you. some by yourself, a few with your baby and a couple with your ‘husband’

he’d watched you bath by yourself in the late evening, slipping off your clothes and unknowingly giving him a view of your most intimate parts. not like he hadn’t seen them before. sometimes when he felt extra guilty and pathetic, he’d stroke his cock as he watches you bathe in the lake

he’d also caught you and your child down there once or twice, a genuine happy smile on your face as you help them dip their feet in the shallow tide. he knew the whispers of the clan was getting to you, rumours that you couldn’t conceive but he never had his doubts. he just never had the time to dedicate to you due to his many responsibilities as the clan chief

that’s a weak excuse, still. he had energy to dedicate to his second wife, for a while at least. he soon tired of her and her attitude towards her wifely duties. and he didn’t just mean her bedroom duties, although that was becoming an issue too. he also meant her responsibilities to the clan. she had a responsibility to offer them support and she was failing to integrate herself with them

you didn’t seem to have any issues with your marriage. you seem perfectly happy with your husband. price wonders if you really know who he is. it’s hard to imagine the ex-wife he knew as shy and timid seems this content with the infamous warrior ‘ghost’

price wonders if simon has told you about his time as a prisoner of war under an enemy clan when he was a fresh adult. perhaps he’d told you about how he got all those scars, how he’d endured years of torture before he finally escaped. except, he didn’t stay away once he returned home. no, he went back in the middle of the night. and slayed every enemy in that camp with his own two hands. a blood-thirsty fury in his veins as he takes his revenge

the sweetness only lasted a few minutes before the taste turns bitter. especially when he finds that he’s been shunned from his clan. his actions deemed inhumane, evil, unnecessary. simon didn’t agree, not one bit. he had dedicated his life to the clan and this is how they treat him after he nearly died for them

price had never met him. he was a known name around these ends. probably not to you. you don’t seem too afraid of him when he tugs your clothes off, bumping his nose against yours and pushing you up against a tree. hoists you up and wastes no time in lining his cock up with your pussy. nudges his tip inside your hole before thrusting the rest of his cock in

john watches as you whine and moan and beg for more in a way he never got to see before. perhaps if he had actually dedicated any time towards your pleasure, he would’ve gotten to witness this too. he fucks his fist from his hiding place, imagining that you were falling apart on his cock instead

he wishes he could use some of that famous courage he’s known for to actually come up and speak to you. apologise for abandoning you, not being a proper husband and protecting you from all the people trying to tear you down. yet his feet can’t seem to pass further from the spot he watches you from

he figures he should leave you be, you deserve your peace and your happiness. you seem to have found it. he wonders if you’ve found forgiveness for him in that time too. maybe you’d throw that sweet smile in his direction, welcome him with open arms and tell him that it’s okay

but he knows that unlikely. he’s sure that wolf of yours would show up, sniffing out a potential threat near his mate. bare his teeth and growl at price for even selling close to you. much more likely that he’ll rip john apart with his canines and claws, leave his mangled body in the dirt. he’s not so sure that you’d tell him to heel either, how can he expect you to save him when he left you for dead?

#captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #john price x reader #chief!price #mw2 #cod mw2

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chuluoyi · 8 months

Text

heartbreak hotel

- gojo satoru x reader

so you're going on a three-day-two-night getaway trip with the one and only Gojo Satoru. the catch? you two have just broken up.

genre/warnings: crack, jealousy, a dose of pettiness, hurt/comfort, fluff, zero angst i promise, suguru being a good buddy to his boyfriend best friend

notes: inspired by a very real life story :))) anyways, it takes place in an au where suguru never left and all is well with our little meow meow catoru the wonderful colored manga panel by the talented @redbluenight! this was so much fun to write (that it turned into a whopping 3k+ word, so sorry) and i even made a playlist while on it ;)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"He's intolerable!"

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with Gojo Satoru, but if asked one word to sum it, then that was it.

When you started this thing with him, obviously you had never planned on how it would end―who started a relationship with that sort of mindset anyway? But if you could choose, you definitely wouldn't want it to end with dramatic shouting match that left you in tears.

Anyways, some things were just not meant to be. You refused to spend your whole life crying over that smug bastard, and so you moved on.

However, if there's one thing you've learned about plans, it is that whenever you already make a foolproof one, the world always has some funny way to mess it up.

Like this time.

"I... I remembered saving for months," you stammered dumbly, staring blankly at Shoko in front of you. The realization felt like a spiritual ascent. "I paid for that damn plane ticket and hotel with my whole saving. I can't just throw them away."

How could you possibly forget about this? This graduation trip that had been planned between your group of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yourself for months now. It was meant to be a getaway, a celebration of your most significant achievement after four years of barely getting by on exorcising curses and not dying in the process. This was supposed to be the ultimate milestone celebration in your life.

"Then don't," Shoko replied simply, twisting the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm still going though. No way I'm wasting that money."

"But!" you vehemently hissed. "He will be there. It means I have to see him for three days straight!"

Your cringeworthy breakup happened just barely a week ago. You had sworn in front of Gojo Satoru that you didn't want to see his face again, and yet in less than a week from now, you and him would literally share the same space―again?

"Can't I get a refund?"

"This late? Nah, it's like yay or nay at this point."

You slumped in frustration. Were the gods making you swallow your own words now? You were left with no other choice. Your frugality and tendency to get broke often compelled you to make the decision.

You were going on this trip whether he was there or not.

Meanwhile, on his end, the said smug bastard was brooding, groaning and pacing over the same predicament. Satoru had two options and had weighed them all, and somehow he still arrived at the more seemingly no-good decision.

"I'm going, duh!"

"You are?" Suguru asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Well, might be the first time I've seen someone agree to go on an overnight trip with his ex..."

"Hmph. I just don't like squandering money."

Suguru snorted, unimpressed. “Satoru, you have an entire fortune. The airfare is just an amount you'd donate to charity. Besides, you have wasted more than that.”

“Well, I want to enjoy my youth too! I’m going—who cares if she’ll be there!”

He was still miffed, recalling the day your argument spiraling out of control. How could you say those hurtful things to him?

“You never take things seriously—heck, I’m not even sure if you’re ever taking me seriously at all! Satoru, you’re always acting all high and mighty, but you’re just a selfish little twat!”

No way. The last time, he was left in the dust, not being able to say anything in his defense. So now, he would use this chance to be the one who had the last laugh. He was going, because he was 70% sure that you wouldn’t let your hard-earned money go to waste.

And he was right when two days later, he found you at the airport with a bitter scoff upon seeing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he moistened his lower lip in that obnoxious way. “Missed me?”

You walked past him, tone lacing with disdain. “Get lost, Gojo.”

He couldn’t help the prickling sensation in his chest when you dismissed him just like that. And the use of his last name—whereas you used to call him with all sort of available pet names? Now that was just low.

“Nah, you can’t get away from me that easily, Y/N,” Satoru sniggered. “You’re going to see me for the next three days, so suck it up and enjoy the sight,” and then the idiot proceeded to pump his fist in the air. “Wooo! Kyushu, here I go!”

Suguru and Shoko merely observed your icy interactions in silence, occasionally exchanging glances from time to time.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 1 — BEACH DAY @ SEASIDE HOTEL

After the three-hour flight, the four of you arrived at Karatsu, one of the main highlights in your trip—or back then, one you and Satoru handpicked yourselves.

You swore you still had your heart frozen for him, so you didn’t know what stirred it when you saw him giggling and doubling over in carefree delight, surrounded by those beach girls in skimpy bikinis.

“Hey, handsome~ is this even okay?” one of the girls in pink thong scooted closer to him, asking him with this cheap seductive grin. “Won’t your girlfriend be mad?”

At that moment, you could’ve sworn Satoru threw you a glance from the corner of his eye before replying with a triumphant bark. “What girlfriend? I’m wholly and happily single!”

The hell?

A rush of squeals grated your nerves as they swarmed your ex-boyfriend, prompting you to stalk away in irritation.

Absolutely not. You wouldn’t let this fine establishment be your heartbreak hotel any longer.

Gojo Satoru knew fully that he was petty. He let you see that on purpose just to rile you up, because frankly, he still felt like he didn’t deserve your messy breakup at all.

But when you were no longer in his eyesight, suddenly the urge to entertain these strangers dissipated, and what remained was this hollow sensation in his chest. You not paying him attention somehow made him crave it all the more.

He recalled how you pointed out that playing in the clear waters would be your ideal graduation gift. He specifically recommended this place himself and you had agreed. He remembered planning all of this, dragging Suguru and Shoko too just to make it merrier. To keep that cute smile on your face.

You were supposed to fool around with him in the clear waters of Matsubara Beach, splashing and pulling him underwater.

And yet in reality, he was toying with these questionable women and in your eyes, he was nothing but an irritable twat.

He didn’t see you again until evening, during dinner time. And the sight before him made him want to pull Suguru to the side and trap him inside his unlimited void.

"Really?" Your clear voice rang in his ears, every bit the same as when you would energetically question him with those doe eyes of yours, as you peered at Suguru. "We should go together tomorrow then!"

His eyes twitched.

What has his life come to? Reduced into seeing his ex-girlfriend possibly going on a date with his best friend?

He almost hoped that you'd stage up your pettiness level. It was worse because unlike him, you didn't make this up just to gauge his reaction.

That night, in their shared hotel room, he ignored Suguru completely, as well as silently waiting for him to divulge where he and you were going tomorrow.

"Hey Satoru—"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

It was obviously a wrong move, because Suguru apparently caught the hint and stayed quiet as a mouse throughout the night.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 2 — HOT SPRING @ KUMAMOTO

Or at least, last he remembered, that was the agenda.

Until he saw that only Shoko who was there, idling around at the hot spring area.

"Where are the others? Why is it only you here?"

She shrugged. "Geto said he's going to try the local specialties. Dunno where. As for me, I'm going to enjoy this onsen to the fullest."

Shoko noticed his irritated scowl, and a sly grin crept across her face.

"Heh, jealous much now, Gojo?"

Meanwhile, you and Suguru went to various dessert shops in town as per his invitation. Perhaps he took pity on you because you really seemed not to be having any fun at all after you stormed off from the beach area yesterday.

"Mmm! This is tasty!" you remarked, munching away the three-colored dango happily. You were so engrossed in eating today that you no longer had any room to think about anything else, which was a good thing.

Suguru smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself now." However, he appeared to have something on his mind, prompting you to hum and tilt your head in curiosity.

"No, it's just... so it's really over between you and Satoru?"

You let out a snort. "Yeah. Totally. He's an ass."

"He really is miserable, you know..."

"Nah, he doesn't look like it."

Your friend sighed. "Honestly, what was the argument even about? Both of you usually didn't take it this far."

You didn't want to go back to that topic, really. But Suguru was always the one with cooler head, and after his kindness today, maybe you could spare him a detail or two.

"It's a lot of little things that have piled up, you know," you mumbled. "It's probably just how he is, and I know. But I finally reached my boiling point. Why can't he try to see things from my perspective? Everything that's important to me doesn't seem to matter to him, and relationships need two people, not just one who resigns and the other who does anything he pleases."

And until now, you doubted if Satoru even realized what he did wrong. That was what hurt you the most. Like you were so small in his eyes, like he could toy with you and get away with it.

As you expected, Suguru would understand your point. "So that's how you feel... Yeah, I think I get it."

You thought he would end it at that, but then he went on. "I'm not defending him, Y/N. I think some time away from you would do him good, but later, maybe you can talk this to him? See if he will understand?"

"I already did, so many times." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Not to offend you, but it awfully seems like you're defending him, Suguru, despite you saying otherwise."

"I'm saying this because sometimes we can forget that Satoru is different," he explained sympathetically, and to be honest, you were surprised by his statement. "He is born exalted. He has a hard time comprehending things that come to us naturally. I just think it's a pity if... you can actually fix this, but just because bad communication, you lose the chance to."

Have you properly communicated this to him? Now that you thought about it, most of the times you would just get mad and point at the little things he missed, but never actually told him how it made you feel.

Your mind was still muddled with the fact Suguru had shed light on even after you got back to ryokan where you were staying for the night. The two of you were in for a surprise though as apparently there was a festival happening there.

Everything seemed to spark with glitters. The bamboo lanterns, lights, the gentle breeze. It created an undeniably romantic ambiance, to be honest.

You didn't know when Suguru slipped away, but suddenly, you found yourself alone amidst the visitors and dim lights.

And you found yourself to be immensely lonely.

Satoru spotted you in all your solitary glory amidst the sea of people in this godforsaken place.

No, actually it was a pretty great inn and attraction, but this trip had been horrible so far, and so he just felt everything was bad.

But at that moment, bitterness no longer clouded his mind, because you were so beautiful, bathed in the glow of the lights that Shoko had forcibly dragged him to see. If it were up to him, he'd spend the last night sleeping his heartbreak away, but now that he was here, he was thankful to see the dazzling sight of you that reminded him once again just what made him hopelessly in love with you.

And why he didn't get his sorry ass back into your good graces faster.

He retraced everything had brought both of you to this point. Your last fight was about what again? Him not telling you any news when he would be back from a mission?

No matter how he thought about it, it was a trivial matter. So what made you mad? He kept thinking, and then he imagined switching places with you. What if you didn't text him at all for three days straight? How would he feel? Oh, he would be despondent, of course.

Now he was starting to understand. He had done that so many times he could no longer keep count. Granted, you would be angry.

Satoru suddenly know how to rectify this. He can make things right. He would be damned if he didn't. He just had to pull you aside, and he was going to when he lost sight you in the crowd.

Okay, now he was frantic, as the longer he didn't see you, the more his opportunity to make amends slipped away. He moved through the crowd, pushing people in the process, earning ire and questionable glares and yet he cared none for it.

He nearly cursed at how his phone kept vibrating incessantly inside his pocket. Begrudgingly, he took it out and almost gasped.

You are calling him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was so incredibly stupid. You just went to pee for a bit and then somehow got yourself locked in the toilet. It might have been fine, but then the lights unexpectedly went out, scaring the shit out of you.

How could such a upscale inn experience a sudden power outage and have doors that wouldn't budge? It was worse when no matter how many times you punched the switch or banged the door, it refused to turn on or open.

You were trapped. Honestly, it took everything you had not to cry.

And so you did the next best thing aside from forcing your way out. You called your friends. First, Shoko, and then Suguru, but both of them somehow didn't pick up the call even after you had called them three times each.

That left you with one possible person left. In your frenzied mind, it didn't even register in your mind what you were doing as the line connected and the last person you'd call on the other side answered.

"Satoru," you shakily breathed out, almost crying—or were you already? You didn't know as you focused on his sharp intake of breath, most likely surprised at how rattled you sound.

"Y/N? What? What is it?"

"I—" you wheezed, hating how helpless you sounded, yet still forced the words out. "I'm locked, it's dark—and it's just so—help! Help me please! I tried getting Shoko but she didn't—"

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Calm down, okay?" Satoru's voice brought you some comfort and it helped to reduce your tears, missing how he slipped up by calling you with his usual pet name for you. "Tell me. Where are you?"

"The women's restroom… I think it’s in the east wing."

"I'm coming, okay? Don't panic. I'll be there. Just stay on the line."

You heard his ragged breaths as he muttered several "coming through!" and "excuse me!" from where he was. It made your heart lurch. Despite the spiteful breakup, he rushed to your aid as soon as he realized you were in some kind of trouble.

Was this okay, to let your relationship end just like that?

"I'm outside." And then you heard his voice, much to your relief. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"Yes!" you shouted over the steel door.

You then heard how he rummaged to get the door open, and faintly hear him cursing it. "It won't open."

You wanted to sob, but then Satoru told you with an absolute tone, sounding so sure and demanding that compelled you to comply. "Get away from the door. As far as possible. Take cover."

Oh God, was he going to do what you thought he might do?

...he did. The next thing you knew, the door—and much more than that—was destroyed, and a rush of cursed energy was everywhere. After the blast subsided, you instinctively made a run for it, and you didn't know how, but you ended up stumbling into him.

Satoru caught you in his firm embrace.

"It's okay. You're okay," he cooed, whispering in your ear gently, urging your shivering body to calm down. "You're safe now, Y/N... I'm here. You're safe."

There was always something about your trembling form that made him want to tear down everything and anything in his path just to make you feel secure. And there was always this sense of rightness whenever you snuggled in his arms. Both desires clashed in a contrasting need and want and Satoru could do nothing but keep you close to him, torn between the two.

He kept his hand on your spine, and you clung on him, burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest.

Nevermind the fact that you technically broke up with him. Nevermind that ever since this botched trip started, it was the first occasion in which the two of you held a proper conversation without spewing bravado or sarcasm.

Afterwards, he led you away from the site, and he figured it would be best to go somewhere quieter rather than the festival, and so here you were, at the deserted lounge.

You had calmed down for the most part, and slowly you felt heat in your cheeks. In hindsight, you could've tried using cursed energy to blast the door too, why didn't you think of that earlier?

And yet, unaware of your internal musings, Satoru's thoughts were occupied with another matter entirely, and blame it on his insensitivity—he chose this moment to drop it without hesitation.

"I want you back," he declared, void of any hesitation. "I'll be better, I promise. Those things you hate—tell me, and I'll make sure not to repeat them again."

He wasn't the sharpest when it came to picking up on your feelings, but Satoru vowed that if it bothered you that much, then he would do his best to avoid doing it.

But you... you were still trying your best to grasp the situation. Amidst the plot twist you just experienced tonight, his blatant proclamation was the last thing you expected so you only managed a "What?"

He held your gaze, eerily serious. “I don’t want to break up. It’s hell. We can—I can still fix this.”

He looked sincere, unlike the usual empty promises he’d give you after you went off on him. And suddenly, you understood.

“…really?”

“Yeah. Just give me another chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Satoru said, visibly impatient now. “I won’t give you up. This literally is the fight of my life right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. If there was anything that you had learned tonight, it was that apparently you and him were still salvageable.

“And how will you prove it?”

“Just so you wait and see, sweets. I’m gonna relight your feelings!”

It was beyond corny that he took a line from your favorite song. And both of you burst into a laughter at the sheer silliness of it.

You sighed, but this time of relief, in stark contrast to your earlier sighs that afternoon. You were giddy as a smile perched on your lips. “Fine. Let’s give this another shot.”

Satoru felt the tension in his shoulder melt with your answer. A genuine, wide smile emerged from the bottom of his heart and lit up his face.

“Now, this whole trip has been kind of terrible so far, don’t you think?” He made a brief pouty face for a moment before reverting to his mischievous grin His remarkable expressiveness—reminiscent of a child's, in your opinion—never ceased to fascinate you. “I have a pretty good idea where we should go next.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s our last day.”

“No freaking way!” he exclaimed, whipping out his phone to launch the travel agency app. “We are going to redo our graduation trip. This time just the two of us!”

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with your dork of a boyfriend, but as you reflected on it, you realized that there were also many reasons for you to stay together, especially when he reached for your hand and held it firmly in his grasp.

You were unable to contain your excitement and bubbling with melodious giggles that he adored so much as he whisked you away from Kumamoto in favor of the last bullet train to Kyoto, where your long-awaited true vacation would begin.

Epilogue

“I told you this was a horrible idea. I fucking told you.”

"Can you blame me? Dude was about to throttle me in my sleep."

"Geto," Shoko scowled, her disbelief at his simple answer evident as she gestured wildly with both hands towards the wrecked lavatory, emphasizing her point. "Look—now that he had gone and done it, we're the ones footing the bill for the destruction of property!"

Gojo had blasted the washroom with a freaking Red. And the innkeeper promptly held both Shoko and Suguru responsible since their roommates were captured on CCTV and had vanished without a trace.

Suguru rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I genuinely thought it was a good idea. I didn't expect Satoru to go overboard though," then he threw her a stink eye. "And hey, you were complicit in this too!"

Shoko mumbled a string of curses as she pulled out her phone, snapping some pictures of the undeniable evidence of Gojo’s doing, and then made a call. Suguru frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reporting him to the headquarters!"

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momotonescreaming · 5 months

Text

Cooking Youtuber Steve; who has series where he makes good family friendly meals, dishes for picky eaters, tips for everyday cooking. As well as series where he tries to make historical dishes, food and drinks from games and TV.

DnD Youtuber Eddie; who has a long actual play series, videos about his characters and the world he's built. Videos about tips for your role-playing, getting immersed. A series where he tries other TTRPG's and board games.

Dustin persuades Steve to make videos about medieval inspired, DnD friendly meals. And because it does actually seem like a fun challenge, he does it. Dustin looks horrifically smug about it when the videos are a hit, the bastard. (Steve will make him eat something gross as payback. Its fine. Gotta keep him humble.)

And because obviously, Eddie sees the videos. He's always on the search for good DnD shit. But the guy is so fucking hot Eddie doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Except daydream about those eyes, and that hair, and those hands.

So Eddie records himself trying (and only sort of failing) to recreate the food. It comes out sort of ugly but actually nice tasting, so Eddie calls it a win. References the Hot Chef Steve in his video, adds a link to his channel, and tries not to feel his heart beating out of his chest when he sends @'s him with a link to the video. His channel is way bigger than Eddie's, he probably won't see it, Eddie's fine.

Except the Hot Chef does see it, and Eddie sort of loses his mind when he gets a comment or a message from him, thanking Eddie for giving his recipe a go, and giving him credit for the recipe. Eddie's not fine at all, this guy is way out of his league, and Eddie can feel the crush bubbling up under his ribcage, and Oh Fuck he's messaging Eddie.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #modern au #youtuber au #chef steve harrington #momo.txt #im watching so many cooking based YouTube videos lately and not making any dishes #don't come for me #but yeah!#i like chef steve #i think he'd like that it's something he can physically see and touch and interact with #can share it and use it to connect with people #he's also fucking good at it #eddie is not mega famous in this #he has a niche weird channel #corroded coffin plays in college bars and sings songs about dragons

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rosedom · 4 months

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i need childe, he literally makes me foam at the mouth 😞 i just know he has some sort of titty (wriothesley and diluc too!!) and I'd eat his ass so good 🙏🙏

he a family man right? Iim giving him a family alright 😚

"an unnamed player has invited CHILDE to play . . . welcome home, sugar

ⓘ THIS WORK IS FOR 18+ ONLY

✦ㅤㅤ top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!childe, he's a househusband, nipple play, rimming, anal fingering & sex, spouses !!, breeding kink, creampie .

imagine workin' hard and coming home to none other than childe, your husband, on the living room sofa . . . i'm a slut for househusband childe (tho, he's def more of a slut for you)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Thinking about Childe spread out on your couch . . . He is, honest to god, such a tease. He's got his shirt on, of course, but the top buttons are undone, giving you quite the eyeful.

"Ajax." You shut the front door behind you with a click. "What're you up to?" you have to ask him, because it's Childe—it's your Ajax, your dearly beloved.

He smiles. "Nothin'."

"Nothin'?"

"Not a thing, dear." The mischievous little bastard, he is: always acting innocent, when the sprawl of his body across the sofa is anything but.

You say his name again, a quiet, "Ajax," forcing him to 'fess up. You watch the debate flicker across his pretty eyes—so simultaneously dull yet full of something akin to if not love, devotion—, but eventually, he acquiesces.

"I wanted to welcome you home, is all," he mutters, suddenly so uncharacteristically shy—telling you exactly how he feels, tonight.

Tonight, it seems, is going to be fun.

Fun for you, that is; it'll be nothing but absolute ruination for Ajax.

"So open for me," you murmur, you press into his sensitive skin. He cries out at the feeling of your lips brushing his perineum, your tongue dipping into his hole.

He can't help but whimper at the vibrations of your voice against such an intimate spot.

"Please," he says above you, his thighs tight around your head but not tight enough to obstruct his pretty, wrecked voice. You don't heed his pleas; rather, you tongue in deeper, pressing fingers into him next to it. You've got him so wet with your saliva, thick and beading off your tongue.

You lick and kiss and press, opening him up for you—so that when he'll sit on your cock, there'll be no pain, no sting.

Quite simply, you leave him open—open not just for your cock, but for your cum, too.

Then: God, gods, whatever—you don't quite know who to pray to if not Ajax himself, when you've switched places with the man, his holy body sat snug in your lap. He squirms and whines at you, tells you, "Get on with it," but his cock is hard n' leaking all over you.

You coo, "Be patient," looking up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches—you can feel it, his heaving chest presses against your cheek. Your quick grin, there and gone, is Ajax's only warning; because you tilt your face to the side and start to nip (hah) at his nipple.

Each bite is a gentle, teasing thing; each suck is sweet and tender, but makes Ajax's back arch into you all the same; and each lick is so soothing, a balm to his aching nipples.

"Mm—" he mumbles, quite eloquently.

So, "mm?" you mumble back around a mouthful of soft pink skin. He grumbles down at you, lost in the breathlessness of his voice.

You pull off his nipples with a quiet pop. "So," you begin, wrapping a hand around his neglected erection and delighting in the way his mouth drops open, kiss-bitten lips a striking red against his pale, flushed cheeks. "Gonna ride me, sugar?" Your other hand squeezes his hip; the cool metal of your wedding ring presses so perfectly into the divots of his skin, like he was made for you—made to marry you.

Ah, but it's hard to be sappy, you think, when you've got the heavy weight of your husband sinking onto your cock, lube-slick and achey, just like his own.

"Easy now," you have to whisper. Your husband is an overeager one, so quick to please; you think, then, that it is time you please him, in turn. "You feel so good on my cock, babe."

He'll adamantly deny it tomorrow, the way he whines and clenches around you at your words. "Please," he begs, too, another thing he'll so readily deny.

What he won't deny, however, is how much he wants a family—with you, especially.

"P-please," he begs, his arms wrapped tight around your neck as you've got his legs pressed to his chest, calves hooked over your back, "Breed me, please, wanna—" he hiccups here, a small, pitiful thing, "—wanna be full."

"Is my cock not filling you enough, baby?" He cries out at a particular thrust—tender but deep, budding up against the sensitive swell of his prostate. "How disappointing."

"No, no—!"

"What is it then, 'Jax?" You lean down and lick at his nipples, swollen and sensitive from your earlier teasing. Ajax whimpers, pressing your head further into him and seizing up around you—but he doesn't fall over the precipe, not just yet.

With a breathless whine, he begs, again, "Fill me up—your cum, please. Breed me—!"

Dear, dear Ajax: husband of yours, light of your life . . . man you so dearly wish to start a family with. Sure, you can't actually breed the guy, but hey—nobody said you couldn't pretend, no? Truly, how could you say no to a face like his, scrunched up and tear-stained and begging for your cum, for your seed to take?

"Oh, pretty," you coo, letting his nipple fall from your lips, simply breathless at the heady squeeze of him on your cock. "I'll fill you up, just like you want me to . . ." You pause, though, leaning up and cupping his face, the thrusts of your hips never ceasing. "'Til you're dripping with me."

'Til he's dripping, indeed. You thrust once, twice, and your hips stutter at Ajax's sweet whimpering moan when he cums, himself, untouched, spurting all over his belly.

"So good for me, baby," you blabber, thrusting to let him ride out his orgasm and to bring you to your own. He whimpers quietly, arms tight around your neck, and begs you for your cum, still. "'m gonna fill you up," you say, finally letting your own orgasm wash over you.

He whimpers, again, soft little sounds that make your orgasm ever harder, more intense. You shiver when your cock is spent, oversensitive, and you go to pull out—gently, slowly. A thick glob of cum dribbles past his tender hole, smearing across the head of your cock and his inner thighs.

It's not your fault that you gotta thumb the dripping cum right back into him. He'll mewl weakly, utterly spent, and now you've got a big lap of beefy house husband in your lap <;3

Childe's truly such a family man; you've surely given him that which he craves, already, simply by being holding his hand in marriage.

anon . . . i want ur hand in marriage. i hope this fit ur vision <3!! diluc and wrio tiddy play in future fics . . .

'nd as for the other requests go: i'm getting there, i promise !!

JAN. 25, 2024. @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#surprised at myself for not adding a daddy knk here #LOLL #dom reader #top reader #top amab reader #amab reader #it's like russian roulette in these tags #hahah russian like childe #ok #sub childe #bottom childe #childe x reader #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #🐋🐋

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pandoraslxna · 9 months

Note

ohh my!! \(°o°:)/ I loved "sharing is caring"! , I was wondering if u could do more spider smut, please!!(no rush tho! <3)

The Na‘vi way

adult Spider x female recom reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. But to dress like one? That was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done.

Warnings: explicit smut, just a small size difference, oral (f receiving), masturbating, fingering, praise kink, teasing, sexual tension, semi-public, hair pulling, tail pulling, Spider is a smug little bastard

Notes: I just realized that I completely forgot about Spiders mask so let’s just pretend he can breathe just fine without it… 🤦🏻‍♀️ Anyways, as you can see I‘m still not that confident in my ability to write for Spider and it somehow feels like he’s not as characteristically accurate as Id like him to be, but I still hope you guys will enjoy this! Let me know what you think pls I’d love to improve my spidey writing skills lmao 🥴

"This is ridiculous…", you mumbled as you peered down on yourself.

To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. To be fair, it was an easier said than done task for your squad. But to dress like one? This was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done!

Spider thought it was amusing, watching the recoms get used to wearing loincloths and such, all in order to put themselves into their enemies position. That was, until it was your turn to get dressed. Or, well, get undressed.

Spider couldn’t help but stare at you for a good while, now wearing a loincloth and also a skimpy woven top that barely covered more than a few inches of skin. You were seemingly having a hard time getting comfortable with your new clothes, as you were trying your absolute most to hide yourself with your arms crossed over your chest.

He was used to seeing omatikaya women in less coverings than that, but still. There was just something about you showing that much amount of bare skin that had him feeling a little dizzy.

Snapping out of his thoughts before you could even realize that he was ogling at you, Spider cleared his throat, "It’s not ridiculous. Now you actually look like true Na‘vi."

"Lookin' good, buttercup", comes from beside you both, with a snickering laugh that made your cheeks light up bright red. "Fuck off, Wainfleet", you grumbled, "Let’s just get this over with…"

The idea was, to spend an entire day learning how to hunt, with nothing more than a bow and arrows, while also being dressed like a bunch of wannabe Na‘vi. Truth be told, Spider didn’t know if that would actually help them dealing with Jake, but it wasn’t like he was ever planning on actually helping them and betray his (more or less) adoptive family. After all, he was nothing more than a prisoner of war and maybe that was his payback for the way they had treated him so far. Couldn’t hurt to make a little fun out of a group of recoms that had no idea what they were even doing out here, right?

For someone who wasn’t even used to handling guns and such, you did pretty well with a bow.

As far as Quaritch had introduced his squad to him, Spider knew that you were some sort of combat medic, usually just jumping around to treat injuries and make sure nobody dies under your watch. You worked with the military, but you weren’t a soldier. You were also around an head or two smaller than the other woman, Zdinarsk or whatever her name was, which was a nice change, because for once Spider didn’t need to crane his neck entirely to talk to someone. You were pretty much eye level with him, in more than just one way. Compared to the others, you were friendly and kind, and at least you tried to be thoughtful of the environment out here.

When the eclipse neared, the recoms began to set up a small camp in the forest to rest for the night, finally done with todays 'lessons'. There was a river gurgling by and when the Colonel gave permission, you separated from the others to get washed up and redress.

"Oh, no. No. That’s not happening", Spider shakes his head at Lyle who was currently about to set up a small campfire. "What now, pinky?", the recom barks at him, haltering all movements to look at the human with painted on stripes.

"No fire in the forest, bro. That’s an unspoken rule. You’re gonna get us killed if—", Spider tried to warn him, but was cut off short, by the sound of someone calling his name in the distance. Turning to it’s direction and then back to Weinfleet, he points a warning finger at him and says, "no fire", before he’s off to whom had called him.

A little further away, down at the river, he finds you. Your brows are furrowed in what seems to be concentration and frustration at the same time. As he steps closer, he spots the source of your distress.

"Spider, oh thank god. Could you help me with this, please", you grumble, your hands busy fumbling with the tangled cords of your loincloth. "I can’t get this shit off…" The blonde can’t help but laugh when you groan in frustration.

"You have to untie it like this. No, no like—", he tries to verbally guide you, but you seemingly make things worse with the way you impatiently pull at each tiny knot, the strings now tangled between your legs and over your hips. It’s a mess.

"Here, let me help you", Spider then sighs and lowers himself onto one knee before you.

Normally, the woven cords that hold the cloth covering your crotch in place are supposed to be wrapped around your tail. Thanks to whatever you did, or tried to do here, they were now wrapped and tangled around one of your thighs.

"Open your legs a little", he tells you and you do as your told, making room so he could untangle you from this mess. One of his hands is firm on your thigh and you try to ignore the warmth of his palm and the way he unintentionally squeezes the soft of you flesh, while his other hand flips your loincloth up. "Hold this", Spider doesn’t wait for you to respond, already shoving the piece of fabric into your hands to hold it up and out of the way.

He’s entirely too close like this, you think.

You could feel his breath fan over your skin, his thumb on the inside of your thigh, while his other hand reached back and forth between your legs, slowly untangling you.

You had to admit, it’s been a while since the last time someone came this close to you, which made the whole situation so much… worse. Adverting your gaze from the man crouching in front of you, you tried to think of anything else than his hands so incredibly close to your private parts and the way it made you feel so on edge, that you had to concentrate on your breathing.

Meanwhile, Spider attempted to find something to focus on other than the textured rope holding the two halves of your loincloth together. It rode low. Pinching the flesh over your hipbones, like it was squeezing, teasing. There was also his hand, both of them entirely too close to your—

Glancing up, he found your eyebrows scrunched together as if you were concentrating very hard. You looked up at the sky and your chest raised and fell in deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm yourself.

You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.

With a hand still firm on your thigh, Spider gently squeezes the soft flesh to test the waters. A smug grin spreads on his face when you don’t immediately tell him to stop, your eyes still glued to anywhere but him. He knows it’s risky, knows it’s probably not the best idea, but he can’t help himself. His hand moves a little higher, until his thumb is barely an inch away from the thin cloth covering your sex. He traces the outline of your cunt, just a teasing touch that, if your senses weren’t on high alert already, you wouldn’t even have noticed.

A small gasp escapes you, when he adds a little more pressure on his thumb, but you still don’t tell him to stop. You only shift your stance slightly, your hands still holding the front of your loincloth in a tight grip. A task for which you were grateful for, otherwise you wouldn’t even know what to do with your hands.

Spider gently brushes his digit over the thin covering between your legs, feeling the delicate outline of your clit, until a small wet patch formed right there. A mouth watering sight. He watches intensely, how you let your head fall back, how you squeeze your eyes shut and a deep blush spreads on your blue cheeks that made them look a little purplish. He had to admit, you were adorable like this.

Dutiful to his task, he then pulls his hand away in order to untie the final string, and your loincloth slowly falls off of you.

"There, all done", the blonde says softly, smiling up at you. A beat passes in silence, with just the two of you looking at each other, and Spiders hands still firm on your thigh. Your lips are parted slightly, as if you were trying to say something, but your voice was nowhere to be found. His thumb rubs gentle circles over the soft blue skin of your inner thigh, and you exhale a shaky breath. The blush on your cheeks deepens, when his gaze falls to the glistening folds of your cunt, right in front of his face, and then back up at you.

"Can I?", he asks, to which you nod and whisper a breathless, "please."

It’s all he needs to hear to return his hand between your thighs, index finger swiping through your folds to locate your clit. His fingertip circles the tiny nub gently, while he pays close attention to the buckle of your knees when he touches it just right. Arousal begins to heat up your blood as he slides his digits from your clit to your entrance. Your breath hitches.

"You’re so wet", Spider murmurs, grinning, "Did you enjoy walking around like that today?"

"Shut up…", you whisper, although it sounds more like a whimper to him. With a chuckle, he continues his teasing touches, running a hand up and down your thigh while the other smears your slick back and forth.

His fingertips are featherlight as they tease the little nub of pleasure, drawing circles around it before he slides them back and dips them into you– just an inch, and your legs tremble. There’s a sound coming from deep within your chest as he repeats the same motion again, and it almost sounds like—

"Are you purring?", Spider snickers, "Fuck, that’s so cute." Before you can talk back however, his face inches closer and then his tongue darts out to give a kitten lick to your clit. Instantly, your hands fist into his locks to anchor yourself. A breathless moan slips past your lips once he flattens his tongue against you, groaning at the taste.

"Spider, the– the others…", you swallow thickly, trying to collect your rapid breathing, "they’re going to hear!"

"Hmh", he hums in agreement, glancing up to give you a teasing wink. "Guess you‘ll have to be more quiet then."

His mouth his back on you in a heartbeat, lips closing around your clit and then he sucks and your eyes flutter close in bliss. You have to bite down on your bottom lip, hard, in order to stay quiet, but it only gets worse when he finally inserts a finger into you.

"Oh, holy shit", you moan, quickly clasping a hand over your mouth.

Then, he wriggles a second finger in beside the first one, and starts to ease them out together, then back in, a slow, slick push. You squirm, high pitched moans falling from your lips, muffled against your palm, and then a choked and breathless noise as Spider settles into a slow rhythm, pushing in deep and curving to brush something inside you that has you clenching greedily around the digits.

Meanwhile his tongue continues to lap at your clit, rolling it over every inch of the wet, warm muscle before closing his lips around it again. He sucks, kisses and slurps and it’s so obscene, you can barely look.

It feels so good every time he curves his fingers into you, hooking and pressing at that special spot, that you don’t even realize how hard you had been pulling on his hair. But Spider doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s groaning into you like he enjoys this more than you do.

Your mind felt fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy until you were gasping and panting for air.

"S-Spider I‘m– wait, I‘m close, I’m gonna come", you half whisper, half whine, tugging his hair to make him stop for a second to look up at you.

His pupils are almost completely blown as his gaze meets yours, the bottom half of his face glistening in your slick and that smug little bastard has the nerve to smirk like a cat that got the cream.

"And?", he raises a brow, almost making a show out of licking his lips clean.

"You didn’t, I mean… you still haven’t–"

"That’s why you’re making me stop?", he chuckles like he can’t believe it, but then his eyes flash like an idea pops up in his mind.

The hand that had been resting on your thigh moves, slides down your leg before it finds the waistband of his own loincloth. With half lidded eyes you watch him pull his cock out, hard and leaking pre-cum in rich droplets that ooze from the slit of his tip, and you catch yourself swallowing at the sight.

Spiders hand closes tight around his shaft, giving himself a slow tug that makes him moan softly, and then his mouth is back on you. He’s stroking himself now, to the rhythm of his fingers that are pumping in and out of you. The low groans coming from him vibrates against your clit and you throw your head back at the pleasurable feeling.

He’s incredibly skilled with his mouth, you realize, aiming just right with the pointy tip of his tongue as he swipes over your clit in fast, tight circles. With the way he simultaneously scissors you open, it’s no surprise how quickly he can get you close again.

"F-Fuck, oh fucking hell", you moan in a whisper, "So good, feels so good! Oh– my god!"

Spiders cock throbs in his fist at the sound of your praise and he strokes himself faster, harder, teasing the slit with his thumb, imagining it’s your tongue instead. His eyes are shut and his brows are knit together in concentration as he makes out with your clit, feeling it twitch on his tongue and your walls spams around his digits.

He’s full on groaning, grinding his face between your thighs as he feels his own orgasm approach, he just needs a little more, just—

"C’mon, pretty. Come for me", he muffles almost desperately against you, fingers curling against your sweet spot at just the right angle and then you tug on his hair to get his lips back to your clit and that’s all it takes. With a hand clasped tight over your mouth to muffle your screams of pleasure, coming undone on his tongue, clamping down on his fingers and sending him clean over the edge with you.

Hips raising and pushing up into his fist, Spider comes with a choked off groan, sucking on your clit so hard it felt like you were going to collapse if he didn’t let up anytime soon.

"O-Okay, okay, fuck– Spider, s-stop", you half giggle, half moan, before he finally withdraws from between your thighs with a last kiss that makes your hips buck into it.

"Holy shit, where did you learn that?", you laugh breathlessly, genuinely impressed, as you watch him rearrange his loincloth and straighten back up.

But Spider just shrugs sheepishly and grins, "Well… it’s hard being the only one of the very few humans in the village. I had to find some way to impress, you know?"

"Hmh, I see", you giggle, nodding along. There’s a moment of comfortable silence that follows, and as you bend down to pick up your clothes. But then a warm hand settles on your hips.

A smiles tugs on your lips.

"I could show you what else I’ve learned", Spider murmurs, tilting his head to meet your eyes over your shoulder. You glance back at him, watching as he steps closer until his crotch makes contact with the curve of your ass. "Could show you the real Na’vi way." He smirks, then adds, "If you want."

His fingertips trace the arch of your spine until he reaches the base of your tail, where he closes his hand around it and tugs, firm but gentle. But it’s enough to send a full on body shiver through you, and your eyes widen in surprise as you feel a familiar tingle between your thighs.

Well. That’s new.

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rubatosisr · 2 months

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୨ᰍ sypnosis. beach day w the main four ! — going to the beach with them.

disclaimers. light swearing, suggestive content.

notes. ugh just got swarmed with tons of homework :( + two upcoming ken fics !

eric cartman.

literally like a guard dog.

everytime he sees someone staring at you for two seconds too long he takes it into account, and attacks them with insults. because as he puts it, the view is only for his eyes.

is drooling all over you but hides it, stares holes into the back of your head, and other places.

besides that he treats you as usual, but with his own kind of attention—such as calling you pretty, his queen. etc. [ im sorry i cant help but make cartman a mix of a bastard and simp ]

asked you to put sunscreen on him, mostly just chills on the beach instead of actually swimming.

sort of follows around everywhere you go when hes not sitting down.

falls asleep while hes laying on the beach chair and and gets a sunburn, is crying to you the next day how much it burns.

screams when he sees his skin peels.

back to the actual beach part, he always holds your hand, even when laying down, as long as your beside or near him at least.

is mean to almost everyone there, especially if their “in his way.”

kenny mccormick.

is all over you, never lets you get even a breath of space.

opposite of cartman, and actually begs you to swim with him.

lets be honest, hes putting his face in your chest, no matter how small or big they are, he just loves em’

doesn’t even mind when other people are looking at you, he loves showing you off because he loves showing other people what they can’t get.

swipes drinks off the bar when other people aren’t looking.

if someone flirts with you or him, he makes it very clear that he is not interested, and if your the one being flirted with he is standing right behind you.

although, if your not able enough to stand up for that, he’ll gladly deal with it for you.

he loves swimming but if you offer to lay down with him, he’ll pass on swimming, just the feeling of being with you is much more of a rewarding feeling then feeling the hot sunlight on him and cold waters.

brings a bunch of convenience store snacks so you don’t have to buy any of the ones they serve there.

calls you his belladonna

kyle broflovski.

brings tons of things, a canopy, chairs, snacks, sunscreen, etc.

insists on putting on sunscreen, puts it on you aswell : ]

even if he is a pretty pale guy.

carries you almost everywhere, he treats you especially special because he doesn’t want you to lift a finger or worry your pretty little head.

is in between, hes fine with swimming and chilling, its up to you.

a bit off topic but he loves when you call him pretty boy, it can get him to do anything, just something i wanted to point out.

if you just so happen to praise him for being so helpful, or taking cafe of you the entire day, he acts as if its not that big of a deal. As humbly as possible.

swimming with him is fun because i feel hes a bit competitive with it. he tries to swim all super far away.

remember that episode where the waterpark floods with pee? yeah, thats what terrifies him.

that takes him a while to get in the water.

stan marsh.

frankly; was not his idea to go to the beach, but once he goes he’s running straight to the water.

the type to hold his breath under water just because.

probably falls asleep when he does lay down after all the running and swimming, or shoves food down his throat.

after his nap wakes up with sand in his mouth and freaks the fuck out.

doesn’t even try to hide it, he straight up swipes drinks off the bar and if someone mentions anything—he doesn’t even spare them a glance.

brings one of the digital cameras and takes photos of you two.

got chased by a dog.

forgets that sunscreen exists and gets sunburned terribly.

as soon as he gets home he tapes the photos on his walls.

mostly a chill guy at the beach.

#jujuupdated. ഒ #south park x reader #south park #x reader #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x reader

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evilminji · 3 months

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You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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thesassypadawan · 28 days

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Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s a slight hint of smuttiness. Some drunk dumbasses and a booty grabbing Hayden.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @ittybitty-rt ! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it! Hope you like it! ❤️

- It was 2am when your phone goes off. You only know this because it was glaring at you from the lock screen. Along with an interesting message from a certain ‘hello there’ saying gentleman… ‘Vader Repair Kit’. Bring. Hayden’s trailer. Now.’

- “Oh, what the hell now,” you grumble. Begrudgingly rolling out of your nice, cozy bed; you hurriedly throw on the first thing you can find. Grabbing the requested ‘kit’ on your way out.

- This was your job; well, to a certain degree. You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. Normally, during the DAY, you can be found fixing up beaten knuckles…soothing minor burns…maybe even stitching up a wound or two. Pretty much you just keep everyone happy and healthy.

- Simple enough. Except when it comes to a particular pair of grown ass men who act like stupid teens the moment they’re together. Who see absolutely no problem with texting you in the middle of the night. About the most moronic things…aka usually practicing after hours and completely overdoing it.

- However though, that wasn’t the case tonight…

- Before you can even knock, the door flies open. Revealing ‘Dumbass #1’ in all his grinning glory. “D-Darling, you look stunning.”

- Stunning…they must have fucked up good. “Shove the sweet talk, Ewan. Who did what this time?”

- Rubbing the back of his neck, the ‘jedi master’ laughs nervously. The smell of alcohol VERY noticeable on his breath. “Well, y-you see-”

- “Meee, I did!” A familiar voice calls out drunkenly.

- Shooting Ewan a look, you push your way inside. To find…

- ‘Dumbass #2’ sitting on the bed; big, goofy smile on his face. Arms flung wide open. “There’s my angel!”

- Staring blankly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously? Don’t make me regret agreeing to date you.”

- Not paying any mind to the whines of ‘how mean’…or the ungodly adorable pout…you immediately get to work. Pulling out various rehydration items and whatever can possibly lessen the inevitable hangover from your ‘kit’. “All right, dark lord, you know the drill. Just like when you overheat in the Vader suit. Drink and take what I give you. And you’ll be sort of good as new.”

- Right as you’re about to hand him a bottle of what you both so affectionately call ‘blue milk’ and some aspirin. Those arms you’ve been avoiding wind around your hips and… “Heh-heh, booty.” …unceremoniously pull you down onto their owner’s lap.

- “Hay, what the…stop!” You squeak, face all flushed while trying to wiggle out of his hold.

- “No!” He giggles excitedly, squeezing your plush posterior like crazy. “Booty!”

- You hear the sound of Ewan clearing his throat behind you, a slight smirk in his voice. “You h-have this under control. I’ll l-leave you two love birds b-be.” Followed by the trailer door closing. Bastard…so much for being your only hope.

- Barely a second afterwards, Hayden has his face buried in the side of your neck. Nipping and sucking your sensitive skin. Hands still kneading greedily. “He right, ya know. We that…because I loves you.”

- Did he really just say that? You haven’t…he hasn’t… “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter. Scratching the back of his head, doing your best to ignore the awakening beast pressing into your stomach.

- Pulling away, not before giving your collarbone a gentle bite, Hay looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Whining a bit while not so subtly grinding. “Maaaybe, but don’t mean it not true. I loves my angel. Wanna shows her.”

- Forcing back a soft moan, it takes everything you have to not cave. Sure, you’d love nothing more than to do so; to just tear it up like nobody’s business. But right now…right now he needed you in a whole different way.

- Despite his protests, you untangle yourself and slide out of his lap. “How about this?” You coo, sitting besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You drink your ‘blue milk’ and get some rest. And…you can show me as much as you want in the morning. Okay?”

- “Fine,” he huffs, resting his head on your shoulder. “You numb me?”

- Although this isn’t exactly how you pictured the two of you saying it, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too.”

- “Good, because I no give up booty,” Hayden mumbles. Giving aforementioned booty one last good pinch before dozing off.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

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