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yandere-kokeshi · 7 months

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— it's mate

Pairing: yandere tentacle-monster x gn reader

Summary: coming home angry from a bad day at work, you started to have fun with yourself. But some tentacles under your bed also wanted to join.

Warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, and smut: mention of dildo’s, reader watches porn from phone (that's soon forgotten), masturbation, slight choking, tentacles (DUH), anal, creampie in all ends (;)), and hints at eggs.

Sighing softly, you dropped your bags from work as you entered your home, the exhaustion of the day at the office weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Your dickbag of a boss, Jared, was an idiot. Blaming you for things that were out of your control. Treating you differently than the rest of your team. Teasing too far and being too touchy for comfort. What an ignorant prick.

It was irritating just thinking about him.

Watching his ‘unique’ hair toss back, dye a colorful green, and flaunt it like it’s the most amazing thing. Oh, and let’s not forget about the horrible smell of cigarettes. The sharp cologne was worse.

Gagging was a good way of describing him.

You weren’t hungry. Eating soup at lunch was fulfilling, but you were fulfilling something else. Something more… private.

Walking into your bedroom, you sluggishly undressed yourself, throwing the dirty clothes onto the floor as you reached for your t-shirt. But you hesitated, stopping in your tracks before, knowing full well you don’t need it.

It was a long day, and you deserve a treat. A good treat, that’s for sure.

You flopped on your bed, a sizzling warmth of desire swirling in your stomach. You were unsure where the urge came from, considering that nothing — not even your favorite dildos were in sight to tempt you.

But it was still there, and it needed to be satiated.

The soft comforter tickled your bare legs, making you bite your lips. You snaked your hands up your stomach to your chest, fondling your now-hardened nubs. It sent chills down your spine, but it wasn’t satisfying your needs.

You reached beside you, unlocking your phone with swift fingers, and began your search; the reliable porn site you used all the time when days were too rough.

Quickly finding an appealing video, one that you knew would get you off, you pressed it — feeling your thighs clench uncontrollably at the excitement.

As the video continued, you chewed your lips and snaked your hand underneath your laced underwear; feeling wetness pile. Your head falls back into your pillow, your fingers barely grazing your hole.

You felt your entire body flush. Electricity sends signals down your legs and into your sex. Within seconds, one of your hands went up to fondle your sensitive nipples. Gripping at them, you swirled a finger around your areola.

Goosebumps rode over you.

Gasping, you stroked your hole before entering it — slowing the pace as stretching, slight pain came, then quickening it another second later as pleasure and hotness envelops you.

“Fuck–” you rasped out, pleasure shooting through you and the rope in your abdomen tightening; a clear sign of your closeness.

Your phone slid beside you, the voices and sounds turning you on more than ever. You quickened the pace of your rubbing, swirling your juices in your sex with your two fingers.

Suddenly, a faint feeling — a sliding, wet object wraps around your ankle, yanking it closer to the edge. Even with your fingers, you were too occupied with wanting to finish. But yet, something else joined in.

Black tentacles rose from under your bed, connecting to your ankles and going up your body with a weird sensation: a cold, slick but hot touch. It was pleasing. Odd. Enjoyable nevertheless.

Cursing out, you turned your gaze down towards your bare legs, seeing black tendrils gripping your ankles. Realization hit you like a bat, and you snatched your legs up, scrambling to sit upright.

But the darkness grew bigger – pooling around your legs, dragging your form down slowly as they gripped your thighs, skin pulling at the sounds of suction cups pulling at them.

It was pleasant, fulfilling, just like your desire. Despite your racing heart.

It made no sound, but the pressure increased until your legs parted willingly, and you lay back against your pillow. Yet, you let out a surprised gasp – feeling a black tendril immediately coming up and gripping your neck.

The thick appendage swirled around your face, pulsing in a way as it was leaving a type of sticky substance onto your cheek — It stopped at your mouth, almost asking for consent before forcing it into your parted lips.

You gagged, but mewled as an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body, right under your skin like thunder.

Cool and insistent, the pleasure seemed to touch you everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Something purred loudly from the blacks of your room. But you couldn’t pay attention to the almost-ancient voice.

The tentacle in your mouth began to pump slowly, moving further down your throat. You gagged loudly, and when you tried pulling it out, the slick but hot-to-touch skin rose a large growl from the abyss of your room — the sound echoing itself into your very soul.

You found yourself mewling in seconds. The thick, iridescent tendril between your legs started to tease you; purring loudly, as if it was enjoying your tensed body and gagging state.

First heat then cold prickled your skin from the inside, all the while the creature remained between your bent legs.

You knew you should be afraid, yelling for help, but it felt so good. You were so wet.

Then, what felt like a thick, serpentine tongue lapped curiously around your sex, tasting you, before the very tip pressed against your hole and you yelped. That same numbing, tingling, intense hot and cold, almost like when you tasted alcohol for the first time, began to swirl around your hole, tracing the lines of your puffed sex, and finally dipping inside you.

You moaned in pleasure, toes curling, as the creature moved rhythmically in and out of you, licking over your nipples when it pulled out, then returning the pressure to your inner walls until you were dripping and shuddering.

It seemed to like it when you moaned, pushing deeper and gripping your thighs with its strange, tentacles which joined in your other hole.

“More…” breathed a deep and echoing voice, the walls of your room itself echoing the demand.

You were stuffed in each way.

The tentacle in your mouth started to jerk quickly, the tentacle slapping against your chin with every thrust. You moaned, feeling pleasure sweeping through you, you wanted to say more. Please give me more. But you couldn’t.

Not when you’re stuffed to the brim.

Spit dribbled down your chin. Numbing your skin as it face-fucked you; the movements becoming uneven, and the creature, somehow, groaning in a non-English language.

“Such a pretty thing…”

The voice rang in your ears, your throat bulged as a muffled scream erupted from you — feeling pulsing ropes coiling around your arms, legs, and thighs; wrapping each of your limbs tightly and spreading you wider as you rose faster to your needed climax.

Suddenly, an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body under your skin like electricity.

And with that, the length, deep-throating you, sent hot strings of fluid down your throat; coating your tongue with salty, but delicious fluid that was entirely making you crazy.

“Yesss….” came the echoed voice, one tendril tightening around your leg as another was playing with your nipples, “Swallow us whole, pretty human.”

Your eyes were watering, as you swallowed the continuous hot, thick fluid down your tightening throat. You couldn’t breathe, all your holes being used.

Seconds went by, and before you know it, the creature slid itself out of your abused throat — you let out a low-pitched whine, not only at the fact of not finishing, but wanting to continue.

Your struck nerves were going through the roof, and the creature was enjoying it.

“No need to be upset,” the creature cooed, “You’ll soon finish. Just need to prepare for the breeding process, mate.”

The voice hummed as your eyes widened. But, it left with no room for questioning or begging, because when it said that, you were quickly repositioned — you now being on your stomach, face being squished against your pillow, and feeling a rope slithering down your sleek back. Assuring you as to what’s about to come.

Your heart lurched as you felt something much larger, thicker, took the place of the thin tentacle, the head testing against your entrances until your spine arched, and you moaned loudly against the writhing darkness around you.

Then, in one brutal motion, it seated itself inside you.

Its lengths filled you, and something pressed against that spot as its movements crescendoed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

You moaned shamelessly, “Yes–! More!”

The surrounding air got warmer, the movements behind you slightly rougher as each tentacle took turns — one going in, another going out, and vice versa.

“All ours.”

The growls it revealed sent shivers into your soul. And you were taking everyone like a whore.

Pleasure like you’ve never felt before swept through you, and you bit into the sheets, moaning like a good ol’ breeder as drool smeared across your hot skin. Strong, and thick tentacles surrounded your waist, arms, and thighs as it pounded into you faster as it growled loudly.

And finally, you broke.

You came with a scream, back arching, hips lifting, and hands gripping the wet sheets. Your body spasmed, the rope in your stomach snapped, and the fire spread along your body; sending you over the edge.

“You take us so well — sooo tight.”

And with that, the creature climaxed — hot, thick, and filling cum filled you to the prim. Many tentacles nuzzle your neck, jaw, and help pull your sweaty hair out of your forehead.

It purred as the fluid filled you still. You felt the tentacles still pleasuring you, sliding in and out of your spent holes at a tortuously slow speed. Even though you were full, you felt hot liquid dribble down your thighs and onto the bed.

The creature chuckled, a slimy-like tongue licking your sweat. It seemed to enjoy your taste.

“We promise to provide the best treatment for you – after all, we are not done.”

You didn’t say anything, even though you wanted to. You simply allowed exhaustion to wash over you, claiming you instantly as your eyes fluttered closed.

The next morning, the birds chirping and the morning light shining in your room, you grunted at your sore body. Still feeling the same hotness as you felt before. At first, you were so sure it had to be a dream.

But as you looked down, seeing circled hickeys stained onto your skin, and the sheets stained with liquid, it proved you wrong.

Before you could get up, and use the bathroom to clean yourself up from the very messy night — you felt a thick appendage wrap around your ankle, yanking you back into the bed. And before you could speak, something beat you to it.

“Didn’t we tell you we are not done? We need you as our personal mate.”

Goosebumps rose, and the very ache inside you throbbed.

Before long, you were at it again — all your holes used, your ass and main hole used as breeding grounds as your mouth was used as a bucket holder. And yet, you couldn’t ask for more than a perfect thing.

You couldn’t say anything, your voice was worn out too long ago that you had forgotten.

And yet, just as you placed your hand on your belly, hours already passed as a small tentacle affectingly swirled against your fingers, you felt your tummy quite larger; a hint of its impregnating grounds already working.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

Tags: @finleyrambles , @juciybeef. @valeriasbaby ,

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evilminji · 4 months

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You ever fuck up so bad, you accidentally kidnap someone?

Imagine, if you will, the players of our scene. Young Justice. Perhaps the Teen Titans. It matters not, really, only that they are young. Too young, in fact, for the booze they have smuggled in, to celebrate still being ALIVE.

They didn't think they would be, approximately seven hours ago.

They didn't think ANYONE would be, by this time, seven hours later.

The world celebrates. Families hug, children cry and laugh, lovers desperately reunite. They did it. They saved the day. Survived.

With new wounds and some fresh new trauma to show for it, too. Perhaps... Perhaps it is that. And the looseness of alcohols effect on the tounge. Combined with their new closeness... that gets them talking. Sharing.

Talking of skills. Training. Histories normally not mentioned. Perhaps even bitching about this mentor or that old teacher, and OH, weren't they a NAG! "Fundamentals~!" The magic user mocks in drunkin parody of their old teacher. "it's all about the FUNDAMENTALS! Practice circles until you puke!"

But...

Oh? Oh DEAR~

Drunks have such POOR impulse control, don't they? The Speedster scoffs. He doesn't mean harm. Truely, he doesn't. But to him? It is a constant irritant against sore skin, that his team mates have access to such powerful and strange powers... yet choose not too study them at ALL! Ask questions. That they haven't considered the advancements humanity could make if they just TRIED.

Everything has an answer.

Just because you don't know what it IS yet, doesn't mean it doesn't EXSIST out there.

But this is an old argument. They ALSO a sore spot for the magic user and (by the many gods they know better then to swear by) they are SICK of it! You- *urk!* You think you can do BETTER? Explain it then, Mr. "Magic isn't real"!

And oh dear, oh dear~

The usual mitigator has already fallen asleep. Passed out, really, having amongst other things, texted their Ex and decided they NEEDED to dye their hair. Which leaves no one to stop what about to unfold. As the Speedster slams down his drink, his hyper accelerated metabolism leaving him, ironically, one of the LEAST drunk in the room.

But... sometimes all you NEED to royally fuck up?

Is to be just buzzed enough to ignore your better instincts.

And the argument kicks up. Again. Heats up. Again. But this time? Goes further. They are standing, yelling, in each other's faces. The Speedster certain they are just "making things up". The magic user hissing that the arcane is a field of STUDY. A SCIENCE and ART. Just because YOU don't-

But?

Well... One must ask. Have you ever FOUGHT a Speedster? Can you even conceive of what a pico-second FEELS like? What the Speedforce, once active, makes the world LOOK like? It is like statues. Silence. Calling a timeout on reality itself.

You can walk away.

No one can really stop you.

You can walk out the door, up the stairs, to your friends room, and grab books from their shelf. Sit and read them. ALL of them. The whole shelving unit. In the time it took a fraction of a second to pass. Then get up, put everything back, go back down stairs, search for supplies, find them, and return to your conversation. Having studied everything they have in the building.

And for them? It's like blinking. You just... have the supplies now. Air is displaced.

And you're ready to fuckin PROVE it.

You looked up all the symbols they used. So NOW? You can use nonsense. No chance that ANYTHING will happen, right? It's not "official magic"! He says, talking over a buzzed magic user. Who's staring at him blankly, mind churning as they try figure out why... why it sounds like he's saying he's about to do the One Thing they were... told.. to never...

Oh God.

WAIT!

DONT!

But it's too late. Our dear Speedster has made his "gibberish" circle. Chanted randomly strung together magically charged NONSENSE. Then? Let her rip! See? Nothing happ-

The world seems to suck in it's breath and wind up, as though preparing to PERSONALLY punish such hubris. The magic user us screaming. Back! Every GET BACK! Move, move, MOVE! Green hisses and crackles from the circle.

As.

Reality.

CRACKS.

!!!BOOM!!!

Glass shatters and electronics are beyond salvation. The couchs many dove behind are shredded, but hold. Sections of the ceiling and floor collapsing. The Radiation alarm deeper in the base kicks in with a clicking wail. There is SOMETHING casting a looming shadow... and it has a CROWN.

The air burns like arctic winter wind and ozone.

Before anyone can think of what to DO, a harsh golden light rips open reality and out steps most of JLA Dark. The are standing in front of the now completely trashed Zeta-tube. Which they could not USE. They do not look amused.

"What. Did you. DO!?" Snarls an exhausted John Constantine from the front of the line up, his normal rougish face is still half bruises and the cigarette he's holding looks like it's the only thing keeping him from strangling someone. "We could feel that from FUCKIN SPACE! We're you trying to blow up the PLANET?!"

"Good QUESTION!" snarls another voice, from the direction of where the circle should be "Here's another one! Where the HELL am I and who are you people?!"

Every spins to look.

There, floating above the green glowing circle, is a teen in a crown.

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

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

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kiwipit · 1 year

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oh my god she's pissing me off . ignore rant below

#i give her money to pick smth up from the store from me bc shes claimed the family car as her own n i cant use it #she gets it n proceeds to not give it to me no matter how much i ask n then when im like Dude fr she says shes LOST IT #and im like Hey since youve claimed the car we're both supposed to b using !!! i need u to take me n my friend to the airport i have gas$#its cool its whatever n bc shes an 18yo her car is a fucking pig stye n im like Yo bc ur taking me!! n im paying for ur gas w$ i dont have!#pls have it clean enough to fit our luggage and sit comfortably thats like legit all i ask !! ill help u clean it !!! (she refused that but #i offered) n shes like Whatever cool fine so night before im like Yo need my dye and how's the car n shes like Thats lost n Its the same #i #idk what to even say #i was j saying that to preface me asking for My Own Clothes back so i can wash n pack them #but how do i even do that now that ik she hasnt done a single fucking thing #im like dude ??? shes like i didnt know there was a time limit on my own car n im like?????????? th day ur taking me. thats the limit #r u an idiot or j selfish #god jesus christ #so now i dont have my dye. a decent ride to the airport (decent meaning Pls i hope to god theres room for our luggage and a place to sit #thats not covered in ketchup) i don't have my flannels or jackets. and im like $60 in the hole now.#im not even gonna pay her for taking care of my cat #no i am. fuck i dont want to tho #im so tired of her using me n taking shit from me n j being a general ASSHAT #i always have to let her in bc she gets locked out all the fucking time. im woken up by phone calls like every goddamn night #idc if she's struggling SORRY shes not the only one u dont have to b an ASSHOLE #jfc #goddamnit #soundbooth;

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ceilidho · 6 months

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prompt: it's been a month since you managed to run away from them. your luck had to run out eventually. tags: noncon, darkfic, ghoap x reader, previous kidnapping implied, stalking and hunting down reader. i am begging you to read the tags before reading this, thanks. 4.4k

You pay for the motel room in cash. Always cash. Never a paper trail if you can help it. Nothing that could ever tip anyone off if you didn’t want them to be tipped off.

You haven’t been on the run for long. Maybe a month, tops—but after the first week, the days and nights have begun to blend together like watercolours. You don’t do much during the day apart from sit in your room and wait for the night to come. Sometimes you venture out if you’re low on food or if the itch under your skin grows severe enough that you know you need to buy a fresh set of clothes and dump the ones you came into town with.

Freshly dyed and cut hair. Jackets two sizes too big to make you seem larger than you are from the back. You’ll never be able to change the face god gave you, but you make an effort to obscure it when you can—surgical masks on public transit, heavy sunglasses even indoors, a deep mauve lipstick (purchased, again, in cash at the local pharmacy) to make you seem, from a distance, like someone else. Anyone else.

Sometimes remembering that it’s been a whole month since you escaped, since you got out, leaves you winded. You have to hold onto the wall in your pay-by-the-night, ratty, hole-in-the-wall motel room to keep from toppling over. A month without spotting one of them in pursuit of you feels next to impossible. Almost impossible. You still don’t let yourself think that you’ve fully given them the slip, that you’ve gotten the better of them. There is no getting the better of them. There is no outmanoeuvring the two men that—you’ve learned through painful trial and error—do not let up when there is still the trace of a scent.

And everything leaves a scent. Even you.

You sleep in the bathtub instead of the bed for fear of bedlice; these days, your neck has an ever-present kink that needs to be worked out. It’s bound to get worse though. It’s not like you can stop in this town now and call it home, not when you can feel them hot on your heels.

You change in gas station bathrooms when you run. You’re learning a kind of awareness of cameras and eyes that you never would’ve developed before. You do not smile at cashiers. Your face becomes blank, unrecognisable. The goal is always that you fade into obscurity the second you step out of the shop, so that no one could ever identify you to the two terrifying men haunting your shadow. Even if they wanted to.

Paranoid isn’t the half of it. When you hear a car pull up outside your motel room door, your body drops a whole degree and sweats like a night terror has found you in the waking world. You only relax when you hear a door four rooms down slam shut. Then you shake so hard that you swear you can hear your bones rattle.

This isn’t a life. It’s life like the promise of a tomorrow is the only thing getting you through today.

You get on buses with no idea where you’ll be getting off. Pattern disrupter. In the months that you lived with them, you learned something. If your movements are scattered, they become unpredictable—harder to track down. You force them to stay behind while you skitter off, forcing them to review video footage, question people, even sift through garbage and recycling bins for any sign that you’d been there.

It doesn’t make you any less nervous. You know they’re like hunting dogs. You’d love to believe that you’ve tried their patience enough for them to abandon the chase, but thinking like that gets you caught. Complacency will get you caught faster than anything.

The money folded and sealed in an envelope in your bag is dwindling though. Even for as frugal as you’ve been, food costs money—clothes cost money. Boxes of hair dye and bus tickets cost money. And you can’t stay anywhere long enough to hold down a job to recuperate what you’ve lost.

It feels hopeless. You trudge back to your motel room after grabbing a bite to eat at the pub down the road and feel like maybe this is purgatory. Maybe you died a long time ago, long before you got away from them, and this long path you’ve been burning across the country is just the long descent into the underworld. You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut for a second by the door before unlocking it to go inside for the night.

You trip over something. It catches you so off guard that you almost break your nose on the carpeted floor, arms almost not swinging out in time to catch you.

“Whoops. Sorry, kitty—took a lil’ tumble there, huh?” a familiar burr says from somewhere behind you by the door. “Gotta watch where you step.” He chuckles a bit under his breath, pulling back the leg he’d stuck out to trip you.

Your body goes ice cold on the floor. The door clicks shut behind you; the deadbolt sliding into place is deafening in the silence. The thick knot in your belly expands until you think you might throw up. The only nonsensical thing you can think is that you hope the motel manager won’t be upset that you’ve ruined the carpet.

You hear the muffled sound of knees hitting the floor and then a hand tangles in your hair, wrenching your head back. “Oh Jesus, look at the state of her, Lt.”

“Looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

The second voice is rough, like logs rolling over water, clattering into each other. It comes from the other end of the room, way into the darkness. They didn’t bother to turn the lights on, perhaps in an effort to make sure your guard was down. Fear grips the inside of your chest. Behind you, Johnny holds your head up high enough that you’re forced to stare at the patch of darkness from which Ghost materialises when he flicks on the bedside lamp.

On the surface, he sounds almost amused, but as long as it’s been, you’re still attuned to the undercurrent of anger in his voice. His patience has been tried over weeks of chasing after you. He almost looks like he’s put on mass since you last saw him over a month ago, but that could just be the perspective of looking up at him from the floor. His face is still covered in the same half skull mask as always, exposing the shaved blond hair on his head. His eyes are narrowed though, terrifyingly mad.

“Poor baby,” Johnny murmurs, nuzzling into the back of your head. He props himself over you, not leaning his whole weight down onto your prone body, but trying to get as close as possible to you while still forcing you to stare up at Ghost. “Did we give ye a wee fright? Is that why ye ran off? I missed ye so, so bad, baby.”

“She ran off because she’s been spoiled,” Ghost snaps. He sits on the edge of the bed and it creaks under his weight when he shifts a little closer to the edge, leaning closer to where you’re lying on the floor.

“I ken, I ken, Lt,” Johnny sighs, plastering sloppy, wet kisses into the side of your neck, fitting his mouth briefly into the crook of it, into the meat of your shoulder. “Cannae help myself, she’s just so—ah, kitty, am really sorry but you’ve really pissed Simon off.”

“No—no, please—” you gasp, breath splintered into short hitches. “H-how’d you—how’d you e-even find—”

Johnny shakes you by the hair, a bit rougher than usual. Anger finally leaking out like a drip from a loose spigot. You yip at the pain. “Of course we were gonna find you—Lt, ye hearing this? She thought she could outsmart us.”

“Pet’s don’t know any better,” Ghost says dismissively. It makes you feel queasy to hear him say that like you’re not even in the room. “Needs a lesson in not making us run halfway across the country after her. Get her on the bed, pup.”

“No, no, get OFF—” you try to yell, then gag when Johnny shoves two fingers into your mouth, pushing them almost to the back of your throat.

When the urge to choke abates, you close your teeth over his fingers, flirting with the idea of just biting all the way down and taking them off. Only the fact that you’ve never done something like that before keeps you from instinctually biting through. Johnny laughs breathlessly when he feels your teeth flirt over his fingers though.

“Bite down,” Johnny dares you, voice quivering with smugness and rage. “Bite down ‘n see what happens to ye. Have nae gotten my cock wet in a fuckin’ month because you’ve been gone and Simon—”

“Quit talking to the pet like she understands,” Ghost snaps, finally standing up, towering over the two of you. You can’t help staring at his mud covered boots still rooted in front of your face. “On the bed. Now.”

You howl when Johnny takes his fingers out of your mouth and wrenches you to your feet, struggling when he coos and frogmarches you to the bed. No matter how hard you struggle though, you can’t break the way he has your arms twisted behind your back. It’s a short walk too, only a few steps, and then Johnny shoves you roughly onto the bed, clambering over you again. His hand forces your face into the mattress, not paying any mind to the way you grunt because your nose bends uncomfortably against it.

“Always fuckin’ whining,” Johnny growls into your ear, fully pissed off now. His anger is electric, rippling down the length of you. “On and on and on—’n I’ve been so fuckin’ good to ye. Have nae even been a little mean. Being a fuckin’ brat to me and leavin’ me and makin’ us hunt ye down like dogs.”

You can hear that he’s working himself up to a fever pitch, growing angrier and angrier. It terrifies you to think that you’re trapped under him, nowhere to go. Somehow, it’s a mercy when the bed dips again under Ghost’s weight and he pulls Johnny back by the shoulder, giving his cheek a little tap when Johnny growls and tries to bend back down.

“You have all the time in the world with her, pup,” Ghost says, giving Johnny a rougher shove. “Get undressed. Can’t fuck her in your civvies.”

“Yeah…yeah, yer right,” Johnny mumbles to himself, getting off you.

Your head automatically twists over your shoulder, eyes following him. It’s easy to see in the spare seconds you get before you try to make a break for it again that he looks haggard, beard grown out a bit more than usual. Ghost usually makes him keep it short and tight, but apparently weeks on the road have tempered that military expectation a bit.

His eyes are wild, electric blue, hardly blinking for how hard he stares at you. You tell yourself that you haven’t, on some small level, missed his pretty face. His arms bulge around the tight shirt that he easily strips off, pulling it off one handed from the back of his neck.

You hear him kick off his boots somewhere in the distance, but when you try to scramble off the bed, Ghost tips you over onto your bed and presses you down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He’s a bit less dressed now—hoodie pulled off and boots and jeans piled on the floor somewhere. Mask off. Familiar scars cut across his face—old burn marks and white spidery lines of fresh skin. Rougher than Johnny, not a pretty man; maybe without the layers of scarring he’d be a proper masculine kind of handsome, but with them, he only seems dangerous. Someone to avoid.

He doesn’t say anything when he stares down at you. He says enough like that. He looks over his shoulder, away from you. “Johnny?”

“Lt?” Johnny’s at attention now, stripped naked and eager. When you glance down, his cock is already flushed and hard, excitement making him almost vibrate.

“Help me get her naked and then you’ll get her mouth, alright?”

You’re already struggling before the words come out of his mouth, frantically trying to push Ghost off you and opening your mouth to scream—the piercing shrill of it bleats out of you for half a second—before a big hand wraps around your neck and Ghost turns back to you. It shuts you up in a heartbeat. Not once in the months you were with them has Ghost looked half as terrifying; you’ve had a belt taken to your ass until the blood pooling under the skin almost burned, you’ve been manhandled and roughly positioned and been bent into shapes that your body could only just accommodate, but you’ve never, until now, actually worried for your safety somehow.

“You scream—” he starts, moving his hand up just a little to grab you by the jaw and twist your head to make you stare at the bedside table, where a glock lays flat under the glow of the lamp, “—and I shoot anyone that comes through that fuckin’ door. We clear?”

You nod once. Sweat pouring out of every other gland, but the saliva running dry in your mouth. You lick your lips and swallow, hummingbird heart going wild in your chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Johnny mumbles, coming up behind Ghost to wrap his arms around him as best he can, planting a row of kisses into his shaved head. “Missed it so bad, I need ta—need ta—”

“Her clothes, Johnny. Take ‘em off.”

You only put up a little fight when Ghost works on unzipping and pulling down your jeans. It feels hopeless to try. Johnny almost tears your shirt in two to get it off, only being a bit gentler when you yelp. He can’t help groping at your chest when the shirt is pulled off you and tossed somewhere else in the room, big hands fitting over your breasts and plucking your nipples, twisting them like you’re just a toy for Johnny to play with. He slithers down onto his belly for a second to pop a nipple into his mouth, switching between kissing and sucking at the beaded nub like he can’t tell what he missed more.

Your panties get ripped clean in two. The sob comes out of your chest unbidden, tears finally spilling out. Ghost’s patience seems finally at its end. His eyes are black even in the light, all pupil. Your legs try to close instinctively, but he slots himself between them so you can only clamp your legs around his waist, stuck staring at the way his hand reaches for his boxers only long enough to pull the elastic under his balls. His cock is so heavy with blood that it droops, the tip dewy.

Your nipples gleam with spit when Johnny finally takes his mouth off them, sitting back on his haunches and spreading his legs. It’s all happening so fast—there isn’t a right place to look. Either the monstrous cock between your legs that already has you feeling twangs of phantom pain knowing that Ghost isn’t going to even bother stretching you on his fingers before fucking you, or the pretty cock that Johnny is already rubbing against your lips, painting with his precome. You flinch when you feel Ghost spit on your sex; he doesn’t try to rub it in.

“Simon” he pants, fingers tangling in your hair again to keep your head still when you try to turn away. “Simon, please, can I—I need ta come so bad. Please, please.”

You almost say something and then Ghost pushes his cock in to the hilt in one brutal plunge. Your mouth opens on a ragged gasp and Johnny keens, fingers clenching so hard in your hair that he almost tears it out by the roots. The tip of his cock stays flush against your lips, even split open on your gasp.

“Please, sir, please,” he begs, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Aching and desperate. Holding himself back only because he needs permission to put his cock anywhere in you, just like he did all those weeks ago back in their house out in the countryside. The one you thought you thought you’d escaped.

Ghost chuckles, groaning at the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. “Go ahead, boy. Give your cock a squeeze.”

That’s all it takes. Johnny pushes past your lips roughly, no finesse or gentleness at all. Maybe the capacity for it is gone after going without you for so long. You choke when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, tears making your vision blur. Johnny preens and gushes over you, unable to stop babbling about how hot and tight your throat is, how much he missed it.

“Oh shit, sir, she’s—” Johnny gasps, sinking into your mouth again and again, sweaty hand still clutching your hair. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You feel close to the point of breaking, tight after a month on the lam, too tight for someone Ghost’s size to shove their cock into you without prep. You tell yourself that at least he bothered to spit on you, but lube would help a lot more. Too bad for you. His hands fit over your waist and hold tight, making sure you know that there’s nowhere for you to go. The first few thrusts are rough but slow enough to keep you from tearing—a small mercy, but probably not for your sake.

“I get—I get her pussy after, right, sir?” Johnny asks desperately.

“Dunno, Johnny,” Ghost muses, licking his lip. His thrusts get more brutish, faster; your teeth would be clacking together if Johnny’s cock wasn’t stuck halfway down your throat. “Gonna be a bit sloppy. Might not be tight enough for you after this.”

“S’okay, sir,” he whines, glancing back down at you. Fingers petting your cheek and tracing over your throat, trying to feel himself from the outside. “Jus’ need…oh fuck, please, it’s so good—oh Christ, missed it. I’ll take anythin’, sir, please.”

“Christ, alright, puppy. You can have a turn after. Been a good boy, huh?”

You can only stare when Ghost lifts a hand from your waist to reel Johnny in by his mohawk, tugging him in for a wet kiss, still thrusting into your pussy all the while. Just a toy between them for their cocks while Ghost licks into Johnny’s mouth and mutters sweet nothings to him. Johnny moans into the kiss, sucking Ghost’s tongue when it’s offered to him and looking dazed, come-drunk. All fucked out and flushed, hips unconsciously pumping forward, just absently rutting.

“Got our girl back, right?” Ghost murmurs, letting go of Johnny’s hair to smooth down his head and neck, making him preen. “Such a smart puppy.”

“Yeah, I’m good, sir.” He sounds out of his mind, slurring his words. Praise gets him like nothing else; it’s not easily given by Ghost, not handed out for nothing. “Did good…’m a good boy…”

The corners of your lips feel like they might crack. It’s hard to be careful with your teeth when you’re so overwhelmed, but luckily Johnny doesn’t mind it a bit rough. He hiccups when your teeth scrape over his cock a bit. He lips at Ghost’s mouth, dragging his tongue over the scar that bisects the corner of Ghost’s lips. When Ghost finally pulls away from Johnny’s mouth, a thin string of saliva pulls and then bends with the distance, finally snapping off and leaking onto your chest.

Your flinch and squeak draws Ghost’s attention back down to you.

You try to think of yourself looking down on the three of you instead of in it, but it’s hard. For as much as it seems like you’re just a toy between them, Ghost makes an effort to get you off, slipping a hand down to jiggle his thumb over your clit, rubbing it just the way you like. It’s sick how well he knows your body by now, how it takes almost nothing to push you to the edge of coming, core tight with the heat of it.

“Gonna come?” Ghost taunts, scooping a hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, hitting a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, cunt flexing over his cock. You garble around Johnny’s cock as if to say something, but all it does is make Johnny groan and slump over you, holding himself upright with a hand on the mattress. His abs flex every time he fucks into your mouth. “Pussy this close to coming—you must’ve starved it. Good thing you didn’t let someone fuck you while we were looking. Woulda torn them apart.”

You can see the real threat in his eyes at that. There’s no way you would’ve, but the real danger of it crackles in the room. You feel like you’ll slip and touch the third rail if you so much as twitch under his glare. His jealousy at the thought makes him look like an angry god, chest heaving with every breath as he fucks you.

“My baby wouldnae—” Johnny gasps, sinking his cock all the way into your throat and groaning at the squeeze, “—no, Si, she’s—ah, fuck me, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck—Si, she wouldnae do that to us. No fuckin’ way.”

“She’d have a lot of making up to do then, huh?”

“She’s a good girl, sir, ‘promise. Oh, jus’ look at her,” Johnny gushes, sweat dripping down onto your face from how he’s curled over you. “So, so pretty. Maybe I dinnae take her…take her on enough walks.”

“Yeah…” You feel your skin crawl when Ghost stares down at you, not convinced. “Of course, pup.”

You know there’s no way he believes that. When they drag you home, you don’t think you’ll see the sunlight for weeks, never mind have Johnny take you on ‘walks’. Ghost’s smothering presence will take on a whole new meaning; he’ll snuff out the sun before he lets you walk in it alone ever again.

Someone in the room adjacent to yours slams their fist into the wall a couple of times, jolting you out of your thoughts. The headboard must really be knocking against the wall. Ghost and Johnny ignore it though, Johnny so close to coming that he can hardly even form a sentence, solely focused on spearing between your lips. You can feel Ghost reaching his end too, fucking you with a single-minded intensity. Breath snorting out of his nose like a bull. The hair on his chest is matted with sweat, curls whorling around his nipples.

You almost choke when Johnny comes down your throat without warning, hilting his cock until his balls brush your chin and his hand in your hair tightens painfully. He groans, drawn out and long, pained. It splashes against the back of your throat, almost familiar. You’ve done this before. You can do this without falling down a cliff and never climbing back up.

He pulls his cock out before he’s finished, striping your face with come, twitching when he has to hold his cock from how sensitive it is. You instinctively close your eyes, grateful when you feel his come tag your eyelid.

You hope it’s almost over, but Ghost hasn’t come yet and you know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. When Johnny pulls away to collapse onto his back on the bed, trying to catch his breath and dragging his hand over his stomach, Ghost hunches over you. He drags his tongue over your cheek, wet and nasty, and your brain almost switches off when you realise that he’s licking Johnny’s come off your cheek.

“There we go,” he snarls, feeling you flex around him, the little tell-tale spasm of your approaching orgasm. “Atta girl—gonna come on my cock? A little wet sorry for running away?”

You try to say something, but your throat is raw, voice too hoarse for words. Even your lips feel puffy, swollen. Talking hurts. It doesn’t matter though, Ghost doesn’t wait for your response. He pumps into you like a machine, pulling his cock all the way out before pushing back in again. Your stomach cramps with the worry that he might miss and try pushing into the other hole.

You wish there was a way around it, but you can’t avoid it slamming into you, a white hot wave cresting over you. You come so hard it hurts, milking Ghost’s cock and pushing him over the edge too; he pants harsh, animalistic sounds into your throat, cutting himself off by sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead, making you howl. There’s no condom to keep his come from pumping into you; just a big, heavy man smelling of gunpowder and salt hovering over you, elbow propped on the mattress beside your head and making you go a bit crazy at the scent of him everywhere around you.

He peels himself off of you after what feels like an hour, soft cock pulling out of you and making you clench down on nothing. You didn’t remember how much being empty can hurt. You try to roll away from him and onto your side, maybe squeeze yourself into a fetal position, but Ghost collapses down beside you and plants a hand on the centre of your chest, holding you in place. Never any respite.

You croak a tired little, “Ow.” All it does is make Ghost snort softly.

Your body feels like one livid bruise in the aftermath, limbs loose at your sides. You couldn’t move even if you tried, even if you thought you could make a break for it. It would hardly be worth it. You let your eyes slide shut when Ghost runs a hand up and down your chest, a little comforting gesture.

“Simon,” Johnny whines from beside you. Your brows scrunch, annoyed at his voice breaking the silence. “Please.”

You hear Ghost sigh. “Now?”

“Cannae wait—please.”

You wait to hear Johnny and Ghost get up. Maybe there’s something they have to do—maybe they drove to the motel and there’s still something in the car.

A hand grabs you by the hip.

“Turn over, pet,” Ghost instructs, flipping you onto your stomach without waiting for you to acquiesce. “Promised Johnny a turn with your pussy before we leave.”

Your eyes go wide.

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futureman · 6 months

Text

dye this space red

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike's a pretty sensitive guy, emotionally and otherwise, and there's a theory you'd love to test on his thighs

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, smut, pwp, marking, biting, hickeys, hair pulling, rough foreplay, thigh riding, touch-free orgasm

word count: 1.3k

You're convinced that Mike's thighs taste sweeter than the rest of him. They're softer than his stubbled jaw or the hard planes of his chest—a milkier shade peppered with barely-there freckles and sparse smatterings of hair. Thick and sweet, and begging to be bitten.

Or maybe it's the way he reacts when you're between them that's so delicious. His typically deep, monotone voice takes on a higher pitch the longer you suck, bite, and cover them in loving bruises, increasing in volume until it cracks.

Every harsh nibble is followed by a soothing swipe of your tongue and a gentle kiss until he's marked up to your liking and painfully hard, whimpering as he desperately bucks into thin air.

Sometimes you think he'd be able cum like that if you paced him just right. If you entertained his moaned instructions and let him guide you by the hair to where he needed you most, he'd probably cum untouched, longer and harder than he would even at his own hand.

So tonight, you test your theory.

He's fresh out of the shower with the fluffiest, towel-dried curls when you sit him on the edge of the bed and sink to your knees, smiling softly at the earnest anticipation on his tired face. Even after all this time, he still somehow manages to look so grateful every time you touch him.

Every groan and hitched breath sounds thankful, but he rarely asks for what he needs, always so eager to be your good boy and accept what he's given. But right now, you're encouraging him to take control. You want him to push and pull you to every spot that brings him closer to quaking with his impending release.

To see his cock pulse against his stomach, coating him in thick, heady spurts without ever being touched, would be your prize. You're so sure you can get him there, but you need him to show you how.

Taking his broad hands in yours, you bury his fingers in your hair and encourage him to pull you down, slightly lower and to the side of where he's already stiffening with interest. Your lips press into his warm, damp skin, and he inhales sharply, his fingers tugging tightly at your strands.

"Show me where it feels good," you murmur, licking away a stray droplet of water he missed when he was drying off. "I know you like it here...," you swirl your finger around a sensitive spot next to his knee, "...and definitely here," his leg hair tickles as you trail over to a patch of skin an inch or two away from his balls.

His lips part around a gasp, and he tugs your head back to his knee, holding you close. He's careful with his guidance, but his restraint is dwindling—quickly.

"H-here," he chokes out, massaging soothing patterns into your scalp, though you're not sure if that's for his benefit or yours. "Start here."

So, he's using you to tease himself. At the realization, your pussy dribbles uncomfortably down your thighs, and you clench around nothing in an attempt to dull the ache. It doesn't work, but it also doesn't matter. He's what matters tonight.

"Okay, baby. I've got you," you reassure him, meeting his eyes as you suck delicately to ease him into it, then a little harder to leave your first mark.

You swear you can feel the capillaries bursting against your tongue and painting his skin in rich reds and purples. The sweetest canvas for your selfishly possessive art. His hips jerk reflexively, and you can't help but smile after you finish soothing the fresh bruise.

A glance up at his lap tells you he's fully hard now and leaking tempting drops of precum you're not allowed to taste. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in concentration, so you nip at him to pull his attention back to you.

"I'm sorry, I just...god, you feel good," he mumbles apologetically, tugging you inward and a smidge lower. "A little harder here, then—," he winces, his cock suddenly twitching, and you wonder if just thinking about it is getting him closer. "—shit. Then, work your way in."

You nod, kissing his skin wetly before doing as he asks, and his response is almost immediate. The further in you get, the rougher he is with his guidance, struggling not to yank you from place to place with his tensing fingers. He bucks clear off the bed when you lick a broad, curved line that grazes the underside of his thigh and has to hold you in place tighter to keep you from toppling backward.

As his cock bounces off his stomach and lands in a sticky pool of precum, he whimpers louder than he should with Abby playing just down the hall, and you give him a sharp warning slap next to a particularly abused patch of skin. It only makes it worse.

He outright groans, unable to keep himself from rocking upward steadily like he's imagining you bouncing on his lap.

"Do that again. Harder, do it harder," he grits out, and the demand sends another wave of heat crashing through you.

You fall into a rhythm: bite, slap; suck, then a harder slap. His abs tense and relax in time with each rough motion, and you can hear him muttering something dark and incoherent above you repeatedly. Wait, no—no, he's saying fuck over and over like it's the only word he knows anymore.

By now, he's littered with teeth marks and damp bruises, his tender skin tinged a pretty, rosy red, and his legs are trembling on either side of your head just like you wanted. There's a shuddered breath above you, and then he's dragging you to his favorite spot, a not-yet-tainted point just south and to the left of his balls.

"M'so close," he whimpers, sounding like he's on the verge of tears. "Babe, use your mouth. Now, ngh—now."

Bracing your hands on his thighs as well as you can with how frantically he's bucking his hips, you latch on exactly where he told you to, leeching with more suction than you have all night. Then, his fingers abruptly tense in your hair so hard it hurts.

"M'cumming...fuck—fuck, m'fucking cumming," he moans as it slams into him, and you peer up just in time.

His head lolls back, jaw dropping as the veins in his cock visibly pulse and he cums across his stomach and chest. He continues to buck into the air, simultaneously grinding into your mouth, and only slows once he's totally drained and twitching with aftershocks.

"Well, shit," he breathes out, heaving as he releases his grip to pet your tender scalp. "That was new."

You laugh, leaning up to kiss his softening length.

"Mm, but I knew you could do it," you grin, getting up from the floor and kissing his lips next.

He sighs contentedly into your mouth, coaxing it open to brush your tongue with his, and you melt into him, still a little shaky on your feet.

"C'mere," he mumbles against your lips. He splays his hands across your waist and leads you to straddle his leg. "Pretty sure my thigh owes you one."

Looping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you part from him and bury your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your whines, letting him guide your slick core up and down his leg. His five o'clock shadow is scratchy yet grounding against your ear as he works you to your peak.

"You sound so damn sweet right now, you know that?"

thanks for reading!

(divider by @saradika <3)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

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smuthospital · 6 months

Text

🎃⭐️Texas Chainsaw Massacre x reader⭐️🎃

Art by: Minilev

Premise: You go hiking with a friend and this bitch has the audacity to leave you alone. You end up hitchhiking with some hippies, but their van gets a flat! Oh no! Good thing there's a farmhouse nearby. Maybe they can help

Note: I had this in the drafts for awhile. I decided to whip it out for halloween. Enjoy. Say one thing bad thats not constructive criticism and its a block. Tired of these fucking kids smh. Also, imagine everyone with a soulthern accent

-Dr. Smut

Minors DNI

Warning: Non-Con, side charicter death, mentions of gore, kidnapping, fem reader

"So uh..thanks for picking me up." You say with a nervous smile. You refrain from coughing as the strong smell of marijuana floods your nose. Right now, you're in a classic 70s Volkswagen van, hitchhiking through Texas. Your friend convinced you to go backpacking with her, but a quarterway through, she ditched you to continue the trip with her new boyfriend. Some junky she met at a gas station. You can't exactly turn tail and go home because she took the car, and stranded you in the middle of nowhere so, you had no choice, but to catch a ride with some hippies.

"No prob, sweet cheeks. Anything for a pretty lil' lady like yourself." The driver looks back at you for a moment and winks. You think he may like you. You cringe slightly. "Eddy has a crush on you! Ain't that right, Ed?" A girl next to you wearing a tie-dye crop top pokes Edds back a couple of times. "Well, who wouldn't?" He chuckles. You play with your fingers nervously. You've been driving along a dusty, desolate path through some empty part of Texas for a while now. You've always been perturbed by the idea of Texas. Americans and with their guns and hot temper and all. It seems you may have watched too many scary movies. You haven't seen a soul for miles, let alone a house, just tall grass and more tall grass.

The car suddenly jolts and you're all jostled around. The girl sitting next to you clings to you as the driver slams the brakes. You gasp for air, your heart pounding a mile a minute. "Huh!? W-what the!?" Edd shouts before hopping out to investigate. You cautiously slip out the back and join him. Edd lifts a spiked wire. It's still stuck in the now flat tire. "Some asshole must'a dropped it here while delivering somethin'," he says as he drops it back on the ground. It popped the back tires. You pull out your phone. No service. Of course.

"Do you have any spares?" You ask, hoping to get out of this creepy place. "Unfortunately these are the spares, sweet cheeks." He sighs. "Weren't you supposed to buy more, Ed?" Ann shouts from the window. "This is no time to argue! We have to get help!… Look, There's a farmhouse right there. Let's hope someone's home." He says, walking towards it.

You hesitantly follow them to the creepy house. "I'm gonna check the farm, you two knock on the door." Edd doesn't give anyone time to respond before he walks off. You walk up to the front door and Ann knocks. You feel like you're being watched. You shift from foot to foot nervously. A few minutes pass and no word. Not even a sound. "What the? Where's Edd? If no one was home, he should be back by now!" Ann looks around. You begin feeling incredibly anxious. "Let's go find that idiot," she says and walks off quickly, you follow behind her. You can't leave her to do it by herself so you agree. You walk over to the farm and see…the gate open.

"H..hello?" You call. "E-Edd?"…No response. The two of you cautiously walk into the house. It smells like wood and iron. You see a red smudge on the wall…weird. This is getting scary. "Ann…I think we sh-" You're cut off by a blood-curdling scream from Ann. You quickly go over to the open doorway she's looking at to see a horrific sight. Edd has been cut to pieces. You hold back bile in your throat and grab Ann. "Let's go!" You shout. She snaps out of her trance and follows you to the entryway, only for the two of you to halt in your tracks.

Standing there is a giant, his hulking frame filling the doorway. He's the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life. A mask covers half his face, and in his arms is a chainsaw. You make eye contact with the beast and scream. Ann yanks you deeper into the house, hoping to find an exit. The man follows you, hot on your trail. You see a back door and try to open it, but it's locked. Cassie then barely avoids losing her arm as she dodges the giant.

He hasn't tried to attack you yet. You grab a chair and smash it through a window. You pick up a plant and throw it at the man, who cornered Ann. He's completely unphased, but pauses and looks at you as if to warn you. You toss his warning to the wind and jump on his back. "Ann, go!" You scream. Ann runs towards the window but stops when another man shorter than the man you're currently on top of, smashes a hammer onto her head.

You hear a crack and she falls to the floor, limp. "Ann!" You cry. Your body was then slammed to the floor by the hulking, chainsaw-wielding psychopath. You whimper and crawl backwards. You hit a wall and he lifts his chainsaw towards you. You're thankful It's turned off. You close your eyes and wait for death. You feel the blade lightly touch your collarbone…and then gently move down between your breasts and to the junction between your spread legs…he rubs your thigh with the chainsaw lightly, as if thinking. You look up at him in confusion. He tosses the saw to the side and grabs your face in his large hand. He tilts your head from side to side, examining you.

"Think she's pretty, Tommy?" The man who just attacked Ann asked.

'Tommy', the giant holding your face grunts and nods. You're horrified. Does this monster think you're pretty? "Yeah, I agree, Tommy. Good thing you didn't turn her into dinner… though, I don't think you were gonna. You had your eye on her since their car landed in our road trap." He laughed. Trap!? This was all a setup!? Did he say dinner!? Your head is spinning.

Tommy looped his bur waist arm around your waist and hoisted you up, placing you on his shoulder like you weighed a small sack of potatoes. "H-hey! What are you doing? Put me down!" You shout, pounding your hands on his back, but it doesn't even look like he knows you're hitting him. You hear footsteps and look up to see an old woman looking over at you. “P-please help me” you whimper. She smiles down at you sweetly.

"Well, I do say, you sure found yourself a sweet little thing. Ain't that right, Thomas.” The hulking figure above you grunts in agreement. You cry as you realize she has no intention of helping you in the least. “She has a pretty voice too…Take care of my Tommy, girl!” She warns, glaring down at you. “Tommy. Get'er to pop out a few farmhands, will you?" All blood drains from your face. They…want you to…what? Tommy carries you down into a dark, creepy basement. You almost puke. You see dead bodies hanging from hooks and dismembered limbs and bones strewn about….is that Edd? You're carried down a hallway and into a room. The room is empty besides a dirty mattress in a corner. He throws you on the mattress and begins to undress you immediately.

You scream and try to stop him, but he's just too strong. "P-Please stop!" You cry. Tears flow down your cheeks and you hiccup. Tommy leans down and wipes away your tears, not calming you in the slightest. He strips you down to your bra and panties and takes a good look at you, drinking up your body. You can see the lust in his eyes. He grunts in excitement and removes his bloody apron. You curl your body up and hide yourself from him. He softly strokes your cheek and hugs you like you're a teddy bear. He's oddly gentle, but you feel he's losing patience. He taps your shoulder a few times, silently urging you to show yourself to him. when you don't, his taps become a little harder. He grunts in annoyance. He presses himself into you, trying to get closer. You feel his hard cock through his pants and try to shuffle back.

He grunts in frustration, yanking your arm and knees apart, forcing your body to reveal. You need to do something!…" Please,… don't hurt me, Tommy" He only stares into your eyes. You can see emotions swirl in his eyes before he lets go of you and stomps out of the room. Looks like he's giving you time to cooperate. You bring your hands to your face and sob. You look up. You have to get out of here! You hope to god you can do this. You get up and tip-toe towards the door as quietly as you can. You slowly open it and slide it open just enough for you to fit through, which proves to be quite difficult as it's very heavy. You don't know how the monster did it before.

You continue to quietly make your way down the dark hallway, missing the dark shadow to your side. You try not to look around too much at the carnage before making your way up the stairs. You find the window you previously broke now boarded up. You take a deep breath, preparing to make a run for the front door. You haven't heard anyone yet so you think you're still in the clear. You make it to the front door and just as you're about to try and open it, your body is slammed against the wall, your breath knocked out of you. You cough and groan. You feel dizzy. You look up to see Tommy staring down at you with a look of anger. Was he waiting for you to try to escape?

You grit your teeth before lifting your knee to knee him in the crotch, but he anticipates it and grabs your leg, lifting it. He makes space for himself between your legs and lets his large hands roam your bare midriff and up to your breasts where he proceeds to rip off your bra, revealing your chest to him. You whimper in pain and try to hide yourself, earning yourself a shove into the wall, banging your head slightly.

The corners of your eyes go dark for a few moments. Your head stops spinning when he leans down and slides his tongue up your cheek. His other hand reaches down and roughly grabs at your clothed cunt. He makes sounds of excitement once again. Saying you're terrified would be an understatement. You feel his fingers cup and wiggle around down there, not knowing what to do, but liking the feeling of doing it.

You again try to shove him off as best you can. He grunts in annoyance and moves the hand previously on your chest up to your throat. Your whimpers and please turn into choked gasps and gurgles as he squeezes. He gets even closer and you can feel something hard rub against your lower stomach. "Get her, Tommy, get her!" You hear from behind him. He grunts in response and tears off your underwear. He brings it to his nose and inhales. His eyes roll back a bit as if smelling the most heavenly scent imaginable.

You now realize he's probably never held a woman before and he's completely deprived of any sort of warm human touch. "Common, Tommy, gimme that! You get to have her, the least I should get is her undies!" His brother pleads. Tommy contemplates holding the small bit of cloth in front of him before tossing it back, which his brother catches and desperately presses to his face, moaning into the fabric like it's an oxygen mask.

Tommy grabs your hair and begins dragging you back down to the basement. You scream in pain and grab onto his hand for any relief as you're forced to the ground. "No! Please! Ahh Stop!" You cry out. He drags your naked body down the blood-crusted steps and makes his way back to the room you dread. He tosses you onto the mattress once again. By the time you manage to get up on your knees, you hear a clinking sound and turn to see him undoing his belt.

You crawl into the corner as he gets on his knees before you, his shadow casting over you. He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall off. You now know that trying to inflict pain on him is futile. Muscles that scream he could crush you like a soda can. Not only is he as big as a fridge, but he also looks like an off-season pro wrestler. You can see a very prominent bulge struggling to free itself. The size of the tent itself is intimidating.

His eyes lock on yours as he slowly unzips his belt and frees his aching cock. You look away and feel his weight settle on the bed closer to you. You can feel his heavy breathing on the side of your face. He grabs your legs and yanks you beneath him, positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his bulbous tip rub up and down your folds. "Please…" Your eyes widen and you trail off as your eyes lower to what's prodding at your cunt. You want to look away, but morbid curiosity wins. It's almost unbelievable. His cock like himself, is too big. It's long, very thick and veiny. It looks like a beer can. You can just tell he's smiling under his mask.

He slowly pushes the tip in. You try to scoot back, but he grips your hips with his massive hands and pushes forward, but fails entry, seeming too big. He grunts in frustration. He tries again, this time managing to push the tip in. You scream. It hurts so bad. "No, y-you're too big!" you gasp, squirming in place. He holds your hips tighter and continues pushing forward, impaling you on his cock, all the way to the base.

Your mind blanks. You're unable to think cohesively. You're in so much pain. He lets out a groan of pleasure and doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size and just starts moving. It feels like your organs are moving around to accommodate his massive size. You look down to see a large bulge in your lower stomach. You whimper and groan as he thrusts. "W-why?" You croak. He looks up at you before lifting your knees, pressing them to your chest and leaning on you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel him push deeper into your womb, the tip of his cock threatening to push through your cervix. He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, cooing softly to you affectionately while playing with your hair as if to say 'I love you'.

You cry beneath him, moans being forced from your lips as his hips plow into yours. Tommy grabs your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. You can hear him making happy sounds of some sort between grunts. He suddenly picks you up and gets off the bed with you in his arms, skewering you on his cock. He raises you up and down like a human fleshlight. You uncontrollably moan into his shoulder. His hands grope your ass as he starts to force you up and down faster. It feels good. You can't help but feel shame.

He grunts loudly and forces himself as deep as he can. You whine as you feel a rush of hot cum flow into you. Rope after rope, he fills you up. You feel so hot inside. Your stomach bloats from the sheer volume he fucked into you. He pants and looks at you, rubbing your cheek with his. He slowly lifts you off his cock, cum pouring from your abused cunt before setting you down on the mattress. He covers you with a thick warm blanket and brushes your hair from your face, stroking it with his thumb lovingly. If you knew this was gonna be a one-way trip, you would've brought some pillows.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #male yandere #yandere noncon #texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #slashers #fem reader

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rileyslibrary · 6 months

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You have a few questions about Ghost’s mask and he has some answers. (platonic, self-indulgent banter)

———————————————————————

You sit side by side outside the medic’s office, waiting for your physical exams. You’ve both just returned from a mission, and it’s standard procedure for all personnel to undergo routine checks upon returning to the base. ‘It’s the protocol’, they said. Boring shit.

Adjusting your shirt, you recline on the chair, glancing at Ghost’s back. He’s slouching, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked together. He turns to his left, looking at something you’re not interested in paying attention to right now.

He’s fascinating.

“Did you make it yourself?” You ask, nodding towards him.

He doesn’t hear you. That, or he pretends he doesn’t do so. You gently nudge his knee with yours to get his attention. He turns over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours.

“The mask,” you say, pointing at him, then gesturing to your face, “did you make it yourself?”

He keeps staring at you, but not in the same way when he first turned towards you. It’s more ominous now, like a sign in the middle of the road warning you that there’s been an accident ahead. You don’t know what that accident entails, or what you will face if you get closer. Is it a truck that spilt yellow dye all over the road? Is it a major crash with casualties? Do you want to find out?

Yes. Yes, you do.

“I just think it’s neat.” You say, shrugging.

His eyes linger on you for a few more seconds until they end up traveling from your head to your waist. He finally looks away.

You keep staring at the side of his face, studying it; there’s a faint outline of an ear, a barely visible jawline, the skull plate sewn on his painted balaclava.

“Does it get clammy in there?” You ask again, this time louder.

You know he heard you, but he doesn’t turn to look at you this time. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising, and so does his head. He closes his eyes, and with a long exhale, he lets it all out. He stretches his neck to the left and then to the right.

“What is it that you wanna know?” He asks.

“You never removed it during our mission, not one single time,” you explain. “Got me wondering if you ever take it off, that’s all.”

He lets out an almost inaudible chuckle; it’s so quiet that you can’t hear it, but you can see his shoulders rise and fall. He slowly shakes his head as he gazes down at the floor. Hopefully, it’s a genuine reaction and not just an attempt to release the tension building up.

He straightens himself, sliding back in his seat before reclining. His shoulders press against yours, and you make room for him as much as possible. It almost feels like he’s intentionally expanding his presence; otherwise, he might have been more considerate with his posture. On the other hand, so would you with all the drilling.

“I, too, wonder about you.” He says.

“About what?” You ask.

“Whether you ever stop talking.” He replies, turning to look at you.

“I have questions.” You explain as your eyes drift to his right ear.

“I can tell,” He says and gestures for you to go ahead. “Let’s hear ’em.”

You straighten up and twist your upper body towards him.

“Ok, so,” you begin and clasp your hands together. “How does the medic check your ears if you keep them covered?”

“My ears are just fine.” He responds almost too quickly.

“How do you know?”

“I keep listening to you, don’t I?” he replies. “It’s my nerves that need checking.”

“Why?”

“Cause I keep listening to you.” He repeats. “Anything else?”

“What about your mouth?” You ask. “What if they need to check that during the examination?”

“I’m sure you’d manage that for both of us,” he replies as he leans further back, resting his head on the wall. “Since yours rarely stays closed.”

“Is that so, Lt.?”

He shuts his eyes and slowly nods.

“Do you have an answer for everything?” You ask.

“Do you want to find out?”

“Do I?”

“Do you?” He says, opening his eyes and looking straight at you.

You open your mouth to say something but decide against it. You close it and twist your body to the front, yet you can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head.

“You forgot the nose.” He says.

“What?”

“The nostrils.” He explains. “You asked about almost every single orifice in the human body except the nostrils and the arsehole, for Christ’s sake.”

“Do they check those?”

“Only if you have allergies,” he replies. “Or an infection.”

“Allergies in the arse?” You joke. “Never heard of that.”

“No,” he says, pointing at you. “Pain in the arse.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

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nomazee · 23 days

Text

“This is unnecessary.”

At Blade’s snide comment, you pull sharply at the strands of his hair in your hands. He grunts in displeasure before obediently quieting down, only a little scared of you scalping him if he annoys you any further.

Perched behind him on the couch while he sits on the floor, your hands find themselves coming through his hair (long, smooth, untangled despite the fact that you’ve never seen him take a brush to it). Your efforts to part his hair with just your fingers are fruitless. His hair is thick on the top, so much so that you’re surprised his neck doesn’t constantly ache with the weight of it. Your hands pause, resting on the top of his head while you try and figure out how you’ll style it.

“Be nice,” you warn, two hands on the sides of his head tilting it from side to side, treating him as a foam mannequin on which you can project your very thorough cosmetology skills. “Your fate is quite literally in my hands. I could knock you out and shave you bald very easily.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he says earnestly, and you can’t help the way your lips twinge into a smile. “This is clearly a hassle. My hair looks fine the way it is.”

“It does,” you admit, “but wouldn’t it be nice to try something new? And at no cost to you, aside from mild scalp pain. I’m good at hair. I did Kafka’s that one time.” You fail to mention that it was only one time for good reason. Kafka said that you handle hair the same way a lobster would handle a violin—that is, with clumsy hands and a clear lack of refinement. She had to hide every pair of scissors from you in fear that you'd give Silver Wolf microbangs.

As if on cue, your fingers get caught in an unexpected snag in Blade’s hair, and you pull and tug and yank as if expecting it to untangle on its own. Blade hisses and reaches a hand back to smack you on the wrist, turning around to glare at you.

“Watch it,” he orders, gentle but firm. There’s not enough heat in his words to scare you, and his eyes are a particularly beautiful shade of copper in the dim, flickering light of this dingy lounge room. Whatever you say, beautiful, you think to yourself hysterically.

After a few half-willed apologies from you and some nudges of encouragement, Blade finally relaxes enough to turn back around and tilt his head back in your lap, letting your fingers play with his hair nonsensically. A braid, you decide, would look quite nice on him. One long one down the back. If you had ribbon, you’d use some to tie his hair, but all you have is one of Kafka’s tragically thin hair ties.

“It’s a nice color,” you comment absentmindedly, pretending that you can’t see the way Blade’s eyes have shut in contentment at your gentle prodding. “It changes in the light a little bit. It looks very blue now, but I’ve always thought it was black.” You section his hair off into three pieces, loosely laying one over the other over and over again. The aged gold ornament still hangs securely in his hair, and you don’t do anything to move it. It suits him.

“It’s natural, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he tells you, the slightest twinge of a joke in his voice. It plays at your smile and at your heart, too.

“You say that now, but you’ll be scrambling to come up with a lie when I find box dye in your bag.”

He only hums in response, reluctantly enjoying the feeling of your hands on him—they’re gentle, and you can imagine he’s not quite used to this. It’s an addictive feeling, to have him at your mercy, even with just your hands in his hair. There’s trust, unspoken, lingering warmly in the air and settling like condensation on your skin. You could very easily do a number of things that would hurt Blade—kill him, almost. You’ve only ever thought of it a few times, and those were all a very long time ago.

You don’t think of it that often anymore. All you’re paying attention to is Blade and the splitting ends of his hair and how nice he’d look with a red ribbon tied in.

“We should go shopping,” you tell him, voice close to a whisper now. You’ve secured the end of his braid already, and your handiwork is admirable. The strands are neatly crossed over each other, uniform in size with each other as they taper down into the end. “Some clips for you would be nice.” Absentmindedly, you comb through the layers of hair near his face, digging your fingers gently into the sides of his face and scratching at his scalp.

“And where exactly would we go shopping? We’re not exactly upstanding members of society in some people’s eyes.”

“Then I’ll make clips for you,” you say, a naive kind of dedication in your tone. “I used to work with metal, a little bit. I could make jewelry. Ornaments for your hair. I’ll put a ribbon in next time.”

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” Blade asks doubtfully, in steep contrast with the way he lets your hands roam along his scalp, and the way his head leans back into you as if he’s comfortable.

“You’re a loyal customer,” you quip, “you’d never let somebody else do your hair when you have me as a dedicated stylist.”

“I’m your only customer.”

“I know,” and in a moment of weakness—because at the end of the day that’s what you are, weak, malleable and moveable when you’re with Blade like this—you lean down just a little bit, pressing a stupid clumsy kiss on the crown of his head. Your fingers trail down to trace the bumps of the braid, the divots and grooves in it, made by your hands, and yours alone. “That just means I can put all my effort towards you alone.”

“You shouldn’t.” And he means it when he says that, and it hurts you, puts a sickly pang in your chest that you want to reach for and tear out before it grows into something worse.

“But I will,” you tell him. Blade is stubborn, but not stubborn enough to keep it up. Not now, not here, not when the overhead lights are flickering and making his hair look just a little bluer, illuminating the warmer ends of his hair, glinting off the metal ornament still clipped into it. He rests between your hands, still sitting on the cold floor, pretending that he isn’t falling asleep with you like the fool he secretly is.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

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roosterforme · 3 months

Text

Smarter Than the Average Beer Boy | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After months of attending your lectures, Bradley has honed his math skills beyond his wildest expectations. A night out with the boys reveals just how smart and endearing your husband really is, even when he has a hangover.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, drinking, oral sex, shirtless Beer Boy, 18+

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

Happy birthday to @cherrycola27!

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @thedroneranger Check out my masterlist

You were on your way to teach your last class of the day, and it was your least favorite one. When the class schedules were being organized for next semester, you planned on begging Dr. Rosenthal to let you trade this awful linear algebra class away for one of his calculus lectures. Because at least calculus was something to which you could add a little spice to keep your students interested, unlike this one.

Even though you already ate the snack your husband packed in your tie dye lunchbox, you were still hungry. You'd have to remind him to pack you something extra next Thursday. But as you were on your way to the lounge to quickly get something from the vending machine, you heard his voice.

"Sugar."

You spun around in your loafers and tweed skirt and saw your husband in full khaki uniform heading your way. "Beer Boy. What are you doing here?" you asked, giving up on the idea of a snack and heading in his direction instead. "I'm about to give a lecture."

"I know," he said with a smirk, voice all deep and raspy. "I got dismissed early, and I stopped at home to get you a snack. Thought maybe I could join your lecture tonight since I won't get to spend tomorrow evening with you."

You almost dropped your notebook as you wrapped your arms around his waist and propped your chin on his chest. "Are you my snack?" you asked as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Nor exactly," he laughed, holding up two small containers. "I brought you some homemade hummus and pita chips. But if you want to skip your lecture and head up to your office, I'd be more than happy to fuck you while I feed you."

"Tempting," you told him with a moan. He was always so sure of himself when he was with you, and it was a massive turn on. But when he grinned and started pulling you toward the elevators, you had to dig your loafers in. "I can't let my students down," you said with a little pout. "Come on. You can sit in the back and take notes."

"Nah. I'll just watch my hot wife in action. Take some mental notes that I can think about at the bachelor party tomorrow night."

You rolled your eyes as you took the containers from him. "You'll have so much fun with Jake and the boys, you won't even be thinking about me at all."

"Newsflash, Dr. Sugar," he whispered as you entered the lecture hall with his hand on your butt. "I'm always thinking about you."

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

Yes, it was fun watching you work. Your lectures were informative, and you were very passionate about the subject. You were also gorgeous, and Bradley wouldn't mind watching you do this all day long. And sure, he loved that you wrote a few problems on the board for your students to work through so you could eat the hummus and pita chips he brought. And yeah, he squirmed a bit in his seat when you winked at him from the podium as you licked your fingertip.

But the really interesting thing was the fact that Bradley was getting pretty fucking good at math now. If he could go back to undergrad studies, he might even choose it as his major instead of political science. Nobody ever really encouraged him to show off his smarts after his mom died. Well, besides you. There was something about the way you always recognized that he was intelligent that made him fall even harder for you. And since he knew what it felt like to live without you for ten years, he didn't mind watching you teach the same classes over and over. He just wanted to be around you.

When you asked if there were any volunteers to work through the problem, Bradley was able to follow every detail and come up with the correct answer from his seat. And when you finally ended the class, he went up to the front of the room and kissed your cheek right in front of the straggling students. "Any chance you can bring one of the homework sheets home for me to work on later this weekend?" he asked, stealing your last pita chip.

You looked up at him with adoring eyes, and it wasn't fair, because you knew what those little tweed skirts did to him. "You're really going to work on a problem set?"

"Yeah," he told you with a shrug. "Why not? This class was fun, and maybe you can check my answers and reward me?" he asked hopefully.

"If you want to be my top student, you better get them all correct." You ran your fingers along the front of his khakis as you picked up your notebook and started walking away.

"I'll be so good, Baby," he promised as he followed you out. He was planning on working on the problems on Sunday after he spent all day Saturday recovering from Jake's bachelor party. Tomorrow night was for the boys, but tonight he would be spending with you.

When he got you home, he boiled a pot of water for some of the homemade pasta he made and dried last weekend, and he started heating up some of his homemade sauce and meatballs. "This is so fucking sexy," you whispered, rubbing up on him in your tweed while you sipped a beer. "You are really good at feeding me."

He stole the bottle and drank some. "You're really good at everything else." When he tried to hand it back, you just shook your head and dropped slowly to your knees. He was already a little hard from all the tweed rubbing, but then you kissed his zipper, and his dick responded immediately. "Look at that. I didn't even have to do the math problems."

You grinned up at him while he sipped the beer. "Maybe this is just a little reminder for you to be good tomorrow night when you're out with the boys. No drinking and driving. No letting them get into fights. No playing beer pong without me. If you're good, then there's more where this came from."

Bradley was really enjoying the cold beer as you undid his belt and button before you eased his zipper down. "I'll be so good. I'm a hundred percent domesticated."

You moaned as his cock sprang free, and you rubbed your face against him. "I know." He was about to tell you he'd been that way since the two of you were college seniors, but suddenly all coherent thoughts left his brain. You were gently kissing his balls as you ran your fingers up underneath his shirt and teased his abs. "You're a very good boy."

His cock was throbbing and tapping you on the cheek as your tongue flicked out to taste him. "Sugar," he grunted before sipping the beer again.

"Hmm." You were looking up at him as your lips barely met his skin. "What should I do with you?" Somehow you were making Bradley feel submissive even though you were on your knees for him, and he tipped his head back and groaned.

"Fuck me up, Sugar."

"Gladly," you replied, and he felt your tongue draw a slow and steady line from his tight balls all the way to the head of his cock. Bradley watched as you took the very tip of his bouncing length between your pretty lips. All you did was hold eye contact as you sucked on him like he was a piece of candy, your fingers tickling the trail of hair below his belly button, and he was mesmerized.

"Those pouty lips will be the death of me," he whispered before sipping the beer again. "So fucking pretty." You sucked on him a little harder, and he clenched. Damn, you hadn't even taken him deep yet, and he was already eager. But he didn't care, because you already knew what you did to him.

Then you popped him free, rubbed your nose against his trimmed pubes before kissing his tip and said, "I love you." Then you grabbed him by the hips and let him slide all the way so he was tapping the back of your throat.

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, already thinking about you gagging on his cum. You shook your head slightly when he was deep, and tears filled your eyes as you sucked. Bradley gripped the bottle, his voice only a harsh whisper as he said, "That's it. That's it. Fuck."

A few more deep thrusts had you struggling, which was honestly so fucking hot to him. You were making desperate little sounds, but you bobbed on him until you gagged. And that's really all it took.

You moaned as he filled your mouth, and he ran his thumb along your cheek as you gently sucked every drop from him. "Show it to me," he whispered softly and you smiled as you released him. Slowly, you parted your lips and tilted your face up for him, showing off your cupped tongue full of his cum. "Beautiful."

Then you swallowed him down and kissed his drained balls once more before you stood and took the beer bottle from his hand. Casually, you took a sip like you didn't just leave him twitching before you. "Is dinner almost ready?"

He was still thinking about it the next night when he was out with all the guys. Jake was marrying Jessica in a month, and all he asked for was a night of bar hopping. Normally Bradley would have been very good at this, but he was thinking about the way he'd fed you bites of pasta while standing in the kitchen as you moaned over how delicious it was.

"Come on, Rooster, have a shot," Payback said, passing him some tequila. Just a few drinks would help him focus on the night with the guys. "Bottoms up."

But at first, the drinks just made him think about calling you to see what you were up to. Jessica was supposed to stop by the house to hang out for a while, and he wondered if she was still there. Maybe she left and you were already changed into his Grateful Dead shirt for bed. Maybe he could just get an Uber right now and go home and find out for himself. He'd slip right into bed next to you.

"Time for the karaoke bar!" Javy announced, and then Bradley had more shots in front of him before he ended up onstage, and he couldn't be sure where his shirt went, but oh well, it didn't really matter since his favorite shirt was at home with you, and it was suddenly time to sing.

But he did remember to text you and let you know he'd be home very late.

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

Having the empty house to yourself felt a bit like it did when Bradley was deployed. So in that respect, it made you a little antsy. But on the other hand, it was peaceful when you had Jessica over for some snacks and a glass of wine. It was close to midnight when a bunch of photos came through to your phone and hers.

"Oh no," she groaned as you scrolled through the images from Mickey. It appeared as though Bradley lost his shirt. Typical.

"They are a mess," you muttered, finally getting to one where the guys were physically holding Jake up. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tomorrow."

She shook her head but laughed. "I think I'll head home and wait for him. I don't know if he'll even be able to make it from the front door to the bedroom without help."

"Bradley doesn't look much better," you added as you got to the last photo where he was chugging a beer, the amber liquid dribbling down his neck and bare chest. "Oh Lord."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know how bad it is?"

"Yeah," you agreed, walking her to the door and giving her a hug.

And then you were met with silence again. You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and his robe that he'd had since college, but you weren't even slightly tired now. You glanced across the hallway to your office door covered in your own handwriting.

SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY

Working through an advanced calculus problem before bed would definitely help you unwind. You walked to your white board while you looked up a problem on your phone and then scribbled it down and got to work. Oh, this one was a bit tricky with lots of side math to complete first. The squeak of your marker was soothing, and by the time you got to your tenth line in the proof solution, you were yawning.

"Works like a charm," you muttered, capping the marker and heading back across the hall where you climbed into bed.

At one point during the night, you thought you heard Bradley stumble in the front door. "Beer Boy?" you called out, rolling over in bed.

You heard him slur, "It's just me, Sugar," followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening up. He'd come to bed eventually after he got a snack. You scooted back all the way to your side, preemptively trying to avoid him being a sticky, sweaty mess. You smiled and curled up, and you were back to sleep in seconds.

But he never did come to bed, as evidenced by the still crisp bedding on his side when you woke up again at nine. You stretched and climbed out from the pocket of warmth and reached for his robe before you went to search the house.

You started in the kitchen, thinking that being near the refrigerator might have been more appealing than the bed, but he wasn't there. You glanced out back and on the living room couch, but you didn't see him anywhere.

"Bradley?" you called out as you looked in the bathroom, but he hadn't even fallen asleep in the tub. You pressed your lips together as you poked your head inside your office and gasped. "Seriously?"

He was sound asleep on the floor, his shirt nowhere to be seen, and he was snoring loudly. An empty ice cream carton and spoon were next to his head, and it looked like he'd eaten a value sized bag of pretzels. There were a few more wrappers and a lot of crumbs on the floor, and you just gaped at him as he started to roll onto his side and look around.

"What the fuck? Why is it such a mess in here? I just cleaned on Wednesday," he groaned, hair sticking up at every angle. He tilted his head and looked up at you through squinted eyes. "What happened?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Why don't you tell me?"

He continued to look around the room as he sat up. "I don't know," he replied, pushing the pretzel bag to the side as he cradled his forehead in his palm. "Last thing I remember is the guys making me sing Caress Me Down for karaoke. Where's my shirt?"

Your deep sigh should have been warning enough for him, but he looked down at his abs, shocked that he was only wearing half of his outfit. "Once again, Bradley, why don't you tell me?"

"Baby, how am I supposed to know?" he whined. "God, now I have a fucking hangover, and I can't think."

If Jake was also this bad at the moment, then Jessica might need a reassuring phone call later. Hopefully he hadn't destroyed the carpet in their condo. You needed to get Bradley into the shower and then put him in bed so you could clean up the floor, but your eyes caught on your white board, and you gasped. "Bradley."

"What now?" he moaned as he got to his hands and knees in the crumbs. "My head is throbbing."

Your eyes skimmed from the top of the board to the very bottom, and you started laughing. He was looking up at you, confusion swirling along his handsome features as you had to brace your hands on your knees while you gasped for air and cackled. "Beer Boy!"

"Okay, yes," he grunted. "I'm beginning to think I was actually the one who made the mess in here, but I'll clean it up. It's not that funny."

"Bradley!" you screeched, pointing to the board. "You solved my advanced calculus problem!"

Slowly and seemingly painfully, he turned his head to look and crawled closer to the wall. "I don't think so," he muttered. "I don't even know what all of that means." He was standing on his knees, and trying so hard to figure it out. "Holy shit, that's my handwriting."

"It definitely is," you said through your laughter as you gently combed your fingers through his messy hair. He practically melted against your leg with his big hand on your thigh below his robe. "I am... somehow really impressed by this? You got drunk, got a ride home at four in the morning, and then you solved an advanced math problem before you passed out on my office floor."

"Yeah, I'm impressive as hell," he whispered, kissing you through the robe fabric.

"You know... if you weren't so terribly hungover, I'd offer to blow you again like yesterday. Because this is something only my very best student would be able to do. And I love rewarding my best student."

You stroked his cheek softly with your knuckles as he stared up at you with parted lips. "Professor Sugar," he rasped. "I'm totally fine. Barely hungover at all."

"Are you sure?" you laughed. "You look a little rough. And you made a huge mess."

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "I'm great. Wanna join me in the shower?"

You bent to kiss his forehead and whispered, "If you think you can handle it."

"Hell yes," he groaned, trying three times before he was able to get to his feet. Then he took you by the hand, and you helped him down the hallway to the bathroom.

You pointed out the small closet on the way. "And when we're done, the vacuum cleaner is just hanging out right in there, waiting for you to clean up my office."

"Yeah, okay."

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

Happy birthday, Nik! When you mentioned this idea, it had me cracking up. I hope you enjoy it as a birthday gift one day early! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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dellalyra · 8 months

Text

ʀᴏꜱʏ ᴘɪɴᴋ - ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

pixie says: another request from my wife @soraya-daydreams coming thru with an absolute banger. family formations or can be standalone <3

“Y/N!” Came a scream from down the hall.

You were almost asleep, bed so comfortable and sheets so soft until your door flung open and three bodies stood in the entrance before barging in.

“Shoko stop bullying Satoru.” You reflexively reply.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here! A voice of reason! These two,” Satoru says, pointing to Geto and Shoko beside him “are trying to get me to dye my hair!”

You just look between the three of them. Geto is on your desk chair, fiddling with your pencils. Shoko is perched on the desk beside him and Satoru has flung himself face down on the foot of your bed.

“Okay, and… you don’t want to?” You ask.

“Why? Do you think I should?” Satoru asks, and you wonder why Geto and Shoko snicker.

“It’s your hair, Satoru! If you wanted to you could do a temporary dye in like - a really fun colour. Like the pink in the ends of my hair!” You wave your strands at him.

“See! I told you she would like the idea! C’mon Gojo, let us dye your hair.” Shoko pleads.

“You won’t even need’ta bleach it or anything, man.” Geto chimes in.

“But guys! My white hair is like - my thing!” Gojo is flailing his arms.

“I thought your eyes were your thing?” Geto questions.

“I have many things!” The muffled voice replies.

“Y/N, what do you think?” Geto prompts.

“Why am I the deciding factor?”

“Because Satoru would jump into a burning building if you asked him to.” Shoko adds, blunt as ever.

You blush and hear a weak attempt at a protest from the end of your bed.

You’ve no idea where your friends got this idea that Satoru is interested in you the way your are him but they seemingly won’t let it go.

“I think it would be fun - but Satoru chooses the colour. Is that okay, Satoru?” You poke him.

“Okay.” He says, lifting his head from your comforter.

“Cool! Shoes on then. Let’s go.” You say, swinging your legs out of bed.

“Where on earth can we get hair dye at 10pm?”

So that’s how you ended up at a 24 hour store checkout at 10.30pm with your three best friends. After much deliberation, a temporary box dye was found that would last about 6 washes and wouldn’t stain. Satoru was being uncharacteristically sheepish about the colour he chose, keeping the box close to his chest, until he dropped it and you picked it up to see the top of the box was a soft, rosy pink.

Your favourite colour.

You handed it to him, blushing as he looks straight at you.

“It’s gonna look really nice on you, ‘toru.” You say, smiling softly.

The two behind you gag at the sweet exchange.

At 11pm, Satoru was sitting on your desk chair - towel on his shoulders as you and Geto worked the pink through his white hair - Shoko (the instigator) sitting on your bed.

“Okay! Koko, set a timer for 10 minutes.” You say, pulling the gloves off your hands.

“What happens in 10 minutes?” Satoru asks.

“We wash your hair!”

“Wait?! You need to shower with me?! At least buy a guy a drink first, Princess.” He smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No, you incorrigible man. Just your hair. Plus, you don’t drink.”

Finding a way to wash his hair was a logistical nightmare since everyone insisted on being in the room but Satoru’s long limbs were difficult to contain - but eventually, the shower head was rinsing pink streams down the drain and his head was free of dye. You wrapped a towel over his head and told him to go style it how he normally would.

He proceeds to shake his head and say “I just let it dry?”.

Which sickens you.

He’s just that perfect, that beautiful - naturally?

What an asshole.

He turns to take the towel off and looks at you three and you melt inside.

His blue eyes shine in excitement as your face turns the colour of his now rosy pink hair.

Seeing him decked out in your favourite colour? Did all kinds of things to you - though it would never compare to his natural, snowflake coloured hair that visits your dreams each night. That will always be your favourite, because it’s a sign of your ‘Toru.

“Look at this marshmallow man!” Shoko says, jumping to try and ruffle his hair.

“Marshmallow?!” Satoru says, spinning to the mirror.

“Bro - that actually looks really good. I like it. Turned out real nice. What do you think, lil’ lady?” Suguru says, turning to you.

“I love it.” You say, hands clasped under your chin.

You didn’t just mean the hair.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

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mrchiipchrome · 3 months

Text

Rain

W.C.- 3k

“So, when we’re on the topic, did any of you know that the world cup wasn’t Alexia’s first time dyeing her a crazy color?” You ask your scattered teammates, the team bonding being at your and Alexia’s place after a lot of fuss. The midfielder slung across your lap looked at you with wide eyes, the story embarrassing from her perspective.

“Amor, let’s not talk about that” Alexia’s nails close around the skin of your torso where your shirt had ridden up. The action makes you yelp, it being fairly unexpected, but out of your peripheral you can see the way she smirked in self amusement.

“No, no, let’s talk about it.” Mapi’s face is lit up by a mischievous grin, clearly wanting to hear the embarrassing story. It was the first time since her injury that she seemed like herself again, she’d been so sullen as of late.

“Yeah Ale, we want to hear the story.” Pina shouted from her place across from where you and Alexia sat together, her back leaning against the couch as Patri poked at her. The younger girl is getting all the more annoyed at her best friend's repetitive actions, slapping away her hand every so often.

“Por favor Ale, it’s a funny story.” Your hands run up and down her thighs softly, squeezing ever so lightly at times. It’s fun to see the way her resolve breaks with every stroke of your hands, the way her eyes slowly shut as she thinks about the implications that the story might bring.

“Okay then, tell it, but you have to finish what you started later.” The last part is whispered only for you to hear, leading to an embarrassing dark red color spreading across your cheeks. You sit up straighter and shift the midfielder around on your lap for it to be more comfortable for you both.

“Let me take you all back in time, sometime in September of 2010…”

September 7th, 2010.

“Amor please, I’m in need of some new hoodies, since you steal them all as soon as I put them on.” You pleaded with your girlfriend, the muddy clothes covering your body nearly leaving a trail of dirt behind you.

“That’s just because you buy the best hoodies, it is not my fault.” She puts her hands up in an ‘I’m innocent’ gesture, the girl looking at you with her most innocent expression. You weren’t asking for much, wanting her to bike with you to the mall located an hour away to spend some time together.

Well, it wasn’t like you were apart often, the two of you stuck at the hips.

“I need clothes, you don’t want Mila to see me shirtless, right?” Mila was another girl in your team, a girl that pretty clearly had a crush on you, something that Alexia detested.

“No. You’ll just have to wear my clothes I guess.” Her little self-assured smirk melted your heart, a puddle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Mhm sure, your clothes don’t fit me amor, but good try.” You wink at the brunette, her shy smile covering her lips.

“Y/n Y/l/n, you better have not tracked dirt into my house.” Alexia’s mum, Eli, called out to you. She knew your habits and how you’d always forget that your shorts were dripping dirt.

“I haven’t Mrs Putellas, I promise.” Eli always knew when you were lying, and that sing-songy tone was a sure sign.

“Okay, but you’re the one who’s going to wash up. And once again, call me Eli.” Your cheeks darken at the reprimanding tone your second mother used. The Putellas family was as much family as your own.

“Yes Eli.”

“Y/n/n, I’m going to take a shower, you stay out here. Don’t sit on the furniture until we’ve washed you off.” Alexia is already halfway up the stairs when she calls out for you, her sister peeking her head out of her room at the sound of your girlfriend's voice.

“So, Y/n, I heard that you were having trouble getting Alexia to agree with you and I have a preposition for you.” The young girl told you, your face showing the confusion you were experiencing.

“Preposition? Where did you learn these words Alba?” Her expression turned into that of a nonchalant person, waving it away.

“Don’t you worry about it, now I want to pull a prank on Ale, but I need money and help for it, and you need hoodies. So you give me money, and I’ll buy a couple of hoodies at the mall, then you help me set the prank up, okay?” She went through the plan like it was the easiest thing in the world, and really it wasn’t that difficult.

“How much money do you need? And what is the prank?” You asked the girl, her smile immediately turning mischievous.

“Oh I need like 100 euros, so we prank Ale by putting that temporary hair dye in her shampoo, the one that goes away in a few washes, give her a scare.” Alba rubbed her hands together like a supervillain would, laughing evilly.

“Alba? What are you doing? Stop trying to scare my girlfriend off.” Alexia, freshly showered, comes back down the stairs to the sight of her kid sister imitating the joker. “Come on amor, it’s your turn to shower.” Your girlfriend led you up the stairs by your arm, giving you the chance to look back at her still laughing sister. Nodding, the younger girl knows that you’ve agreed to her plan.

————

“Wait, so it was Alba’s idea?” Mapi asks full of confusion, she didn’t know that you and Alba had been so conspiring.

“Yeah, but I had to do basically everything.”

———-

“Is that enough?” You hand your girlfriend’s younger sister a bunt of money, the girl looking over it quickly and giving you a quick thumbs up.

“Mama, Alina’s dad is driving us to the mall, I’m going now.” The girl was clever, that much you couldn’t deny.

“Choose a good color now Alba, okay?” She nods quickly at your quiet whisper, she knows not to choose black or blonde or any other boring color.

As she leaves, you make your way up to Alexia’s room, tripping over the random footballs laying all over her floor. On the soft bed she laid, your amazing girlfriend whom you couldn’t love any more even if you tried. Her smile distracted you even more as you tripped once again, hands catching your body.

“Bébé, you need to be more careful, you can’t be tripping and falling like that. We need you on the pitch.” She chastises you playfully, eyes flitting over your prone body.

“Yeah yeah I know, I’ve heard it before, you’re just so distracting.” You push yourself off the floor in one swift move, ending up on the brunette’s bed. She smiles as you shimmy your body up the bed, eventually settling comfortably beside her.

Your hand comes up to cup her jaw softly, thumb moving over her bottom lip, pulling it down carefully. She leans in slightly, letting you make the first move to initiate the kiss. Your lips meet hers in a soft embrace only moments later, pushing your tongue inside her mouth.

The impromptu make out session ends when there’s a knock at the door, Alexia’s father peeking in to see what you were doing. He isn’t shocked to see the two of you laying next to each other, talking.

All you could think there was ‘thank fuck for quick reflexes’.

“Come on amor, I’m taking you on a date.” You pat her leg as to tell her to get up from her position on the bed.

“Where are we going?” She jumps off the bed and sprints over to the wardrobe in the corner of her room, throwing the door open to ruffle through her clothes.

“I was thinking that we could go to a restaurant maybe, I want to spoil you.” The hand that holds up your head shakes when she glares at you with that sexy intensity, like she knew about your shenanigans with her sister.

“What are you planning?” She asks suspiciously, eyes reduced to slits as she looks at you.

“Nothing! I swear it’s nothing.” Alexia looks at you for another second, trying to decipher if you were telling the truth, which she seemingly deems you to have done.

“I’m watching you, don’t think I’m not.”

“I know you are, I’m so hot that you can’t keep your eyes off me.” You can see the way her eyes roll at your fake enthusiasm, shaking her head like a mother would at their child doing something funny that they definitely shouldn’t.

———-

“Another question, why would you take her on a date?” This time it’s Pina who asks, tilting her head at you.

“Well Pina, that’s what you do when you have a girlfriend who’s as hot as mine, and I’ll get to the other reason soon.” The girlfriend in question turns her head toward you, her fiery cheeks catching your attention.

———

“Wow, that was incredible.” Taking her to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city wasn’t on your list of what to do, but alas that was what happened.

You wanted to treat her before you pranked her.

“Thank you for taking me here bébé, the food was amazing and the company was even better.” You smile at her kind words, swirling the cola around in your wine glass.

The server comes back with your card after a few moments, just as you tell Alexia that you were going to the bathroom. The text you send to her sister gets an almost instant answer, telling you that everything was set up and ready.

“Amor? You ready to go?” She picks up her jacket at the question, walking with you to the exit of the restaurant. Her red lipstick smudges against your cheek as she presses a kiss to your cheek, the dark night sky lit up by the stars.

“Te amo bébé, thank you so much for this.” You can’t help but smile at her, she was all you wanted and more.

The rest of the walk back to Alexia’s house was spent in comfortable conversation, the girl asking if you wanted to stay over at hers.

When you both arrived home, she told you that she was going to take a quick shower whilst you made yourself comfortable in her bed.

Thankfully she can’t see the way your eyes widen, knowing that your plan was going to make it’s appearance way too early.

Waiting for Alexia to get out of the shower was almost as anxiety inducing as the prank itself, her reaction was sure to be good though.

It was when you were playing around with some stuff on her desk that you heard her furious voice calling out for you and her sister.

“Y/N! ALBA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” You rush out into the hallway to be met with Alexia in a black towel, her now blueish hair dripping onto the floor.

Alba runs into your back only moments later, looking like she was going to piss herself with laughter seeing Alexia’s face.

“What is this?” Alexia asks sternly, pointing at her hair. Alba doubles over in laughter, but you just stand there with a guilty look on your face. You recognise the expression on her face, one of incredible rage.

“We switched out your shampoo for hair dye, oh you should’ve seen the look on your face.” Alba says through laughs, her hand over her stomach, doubled over.

“WHAT.”

“Amor, it’s not permanent, it’s gonna go back to normal in a few washes, right Alba?” The young girl looks up at you guiltily, her not immediately agreeing, making you worried. “Right Alba?”

“Uhm, I might’ve accidentally bought the permanent one, pleasedontkillmeAle.” At the murderous glare she gets, the young girl runs off, her sister staying rooted in front of you.

“Don’t lie to me, were you involved in this?” At that moment you felt the most fear you’d ever felt, she was glaring at you like she glared at your opponents.

“Yes, I gave her the money and got you out of the house.” You answer truthfully, the wrath she’d get if you lied was way worse than anything else.

“Get out of my house.” Her voice is stone cold as she orders you to get out.

“Amor please, I’m so sorry-“

“No. Get out.” This time you didn’t even try to argue, her tone held one of finality.

And so, you walked home in the now cold night, freezing like no other. You deserved it though, of course you had to prank her.

—————

“Wait, how did you get her back? I mean you’re together now so you had to get her back somehow.” Lucy asks, the third time someone has asked something during the duration of your story.

“Shush, I’m getting to it.”

————-

Alexia hadn’t responded to your texts the entire weekend, she was reading them, but not responding. Though you had heard from her sister that she’d decided to commit to the blue hair and got it fixed at the salon.

Even though you’d apologized 100 000 times, she wouldn’t forgive you, and when she passed you in the hallways without saying a word, you decided it was time to take out the big guns.

Sprinting over to the middle school her sister went to, you quickly got her out of class. Alba looked at you weirdly when you told her teacher that you were there to take her to the doctors, even more so when you gave the teacher a paper, but nonetheless she followed you out.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” She asked curiously, looking up at you.

“We are going to make it right between me and Alexia, you are going to help me.”

The preparations only took a few minutes, the only hard part being stealing the ladder from the janitor's office, your elaborate plan was relatively easy to execute.

You knew at what time Alexia got out of class, it wasn’t hard when that was the class you were absent from. But it seems like the teacher was keeping her after class as you and Alba hid behind a nearby row of lockers.

“Where is she?” Alba whispered sharply, looking at you like you were stupid.

“Soon, she was probably just kept after class.” You whisper back just as harshly, the hallways empty by now leading you to spot your girlfriends much easier.

You can see her angry movements as she throws open her locker, taking out a few books. She’s closed it by the time that you reach her, Alba hidden behind you.

“Close it again.” You tell her, the woman looking at you with a mean glare, a glare that lightens when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes. The smile on your face widens as Alexia opens her locker again, gesturing for Alba to climb up the ladder and start pouring water onto your head.

Your hair plasters against your forehead, cold water making your clothes stick to your body. When you deem it enough, you quickly knock at her open locker door, the girl closing her locker again.

She can’t help but smile at the idiocy that was going on, her sister pouring water over your head with a flower waterer. In your hands were flowers, her favorite flowers.

“Alexia, I’m so sorry for pranking you, it wasn’t right even though you look amazing. Please let me make it up to you.” The water that ran down your face and into your mouth quickly turned your speech slightly slurred but Alexia couldn't help but think of how adorable you looked, doing the rain apology inside only for her.

“It’s okay, I forgave you as soon as I saw how hot I looked with this hair color. Just don’t do it again.” She breaks out in a full fledged smile, seeing how the water suddenly stops running down your face and how a paper rainbow appears above your head. “Oh look, it stopped raining.”

“C’mere.” You pull her into you by her waist, her lips meeting yours sweetly, before the sound of gagging breaks you apart.

“You guys are disgusting.” Alba exclaims as she gets down from the ladder, scrunching her nose at you.

“How did you even get Alba here bébé?” Alexia questions, you looking at her sheepishly.

“I may or may not have forged your mothers signature so I could get her out of class.” Your girlfriend slaps your arm at the confession, glaring at you playfully.

“Mama is going to be so mad when she finds out.”

“Meh, we all know that I’m the favourite.”

—————

“That’s how you got her back?” Lucy asks, her eyebrows raised at the peculiar way of apologising.

“Yup, she couldn’t resist my charm.” You tease the girl sitting on your lap, slipping your hand into hers, fingers fitting perfectly between hers.

“And Eli wasn’t mad when she found out?” Pina asks, the girl practically family.

“Oh, she was furious with me but only for a little, I am the favourite child after all.” Alexia rolls her eyes at you lovingly, the smile on her face tells you as much. You couldn’t believe that she was real, and that she was yours.

“It’s not like capi to let you get away scot free.” Mapi teases, the two of you had gotten up to a lot of shenanigans during your shared time at Barça and you’d always gotten punished somehow.

“She didn’t, I had to wear children’s clothes for a month after that since I quote ‘couldn’t grow up’, and yes there are pictures.” The girls around you immediately start trying to convince you to show them the photos, which you do after some convincing (and maybe one or two promises to take responsibility for your next prank.)

Safe to say that you get teased for the foreseeable future, though they do leave you alone after you’ve finally proposed after nearly 16 years of dating their captain.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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