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#He was very sheepish
katy-l-wood · 9 months
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If you are driving and someone blinks their brights at you there's a good chance it is a warning for something like, say, a deer playing chicken with cars and that you should probably slow to a crawl lest you get a fuzzy new hood ornament.
Alternatively, you could flip off the person who tried to warn you, have to violently swerve to avoid that deer, and then wait for the person you flipped off to come pull you out of the ditch you ended up in because there isn't even the fancy new iPhone SOS service where you're at because it's so far into the back country.
I'll let you all figure out what happened with the dude I tried to warn this weekend. :)
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teddybeartoji · 2 months
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i think gojo would be TERRIBLE at any type of imposter game. like those mafia games or among us etc etc. HE WOULD SUCKKK. he has never won a single game. ever. he just gets so excited whenever he's The Bad Guy and he gets this glint in his eyes and it just makes it so fucking obvious that he's the one lmao. and then he's soooooo sad when he loses:(((( like c'mon guys how'd you know it was me:(((( BE SERIOUSSSS YOU LITERALLY WENT "MWAHAHAHA" WHEN THE GAME BEGAN???????????????????? he's stupid i can't believe i love him
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p4nishers · 2 years
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ok but imagine nandor kinda insulting guillermo like he usually does, meaning it as a joke and laughing at it bc he finds himself funny and guillermo doesn't get angry, he doesn't look at the camera long–sufferingly, he doesn't look at the camera at all. instead he just looks at nandor sadly, simply staring at him with his lips tipped down then just walks past him calmly. and he doesn't ignore nandor after or anything, but his disappointment is obvious and nandor frantically realizes that. oh. he's losing him.
im so very normal about this
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molinaesque · 2 years
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“I wanted people to be totally charmed by Doctor Octavius - as Peter Parker is. When he becomes Doc Ock, all those qualities that seemed wonderful in Doctor Octavius take on a threatening air. - Alfred Molina
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justaz · 29 days
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arthur dragging merlin to training bc he needs a training dummy and who better than an actually dummy (no, merlin, arthur cant train with the knights bc. bc. bc they’re busy. IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT HES THEIR PRINCE/KING AND THEREFORE WILL DO WHATEVER HE SAYS-). merlin picking up on both defensive and offensive skills bc sometimes arthur needs to spice up training and doesn’t need a shield to hit but another sword. arthur and the knights being beaten and tied up but their assailants leave the serving boy free to serve them instead. but it’s not like merlin can just use magic in front of them so he bides his time until he’s able to get his hands on a sword to use against them. they don’t take him seriously (hahaha what can the lanky, wimpy serving boy who was hiding behind a tree during their quarrel do with a sword thicker than his body?). merlin using the skills he developed during training and while studying under gaius as physicians apprentice to strike at just the right spots to absolutely obliterate them
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guideaus · 6 months
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i was gonna opt just to appreciate hikaru's insides and maybe post a compilation pic of them, but then i went back again to look at what he canonically says abt his actions, and i saw this:
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and i was like hehe
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thatsocialmoth · 9 months
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Can't wait for Season Three of Good Omens where the opening scene will of course be the only next possible course of action. Crowley in a dimly lit bathroom, with a good few bottles of wine, some empty, the rest getting there, cutting his own bangs because he's going through The Breakup™.
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enjoy some pencil drawings for once
screenshot study and what amounts to a conceptual illustration of a writing idea
#bravely Didn't try working on the ol wip last night; drawing program needed the laptop restarted anyways; dicked around thusly#like Yes i wanna draw my funny little guy who is the heart & brain's default lately (last several years) nice to do anyways#and naturally imo you can see the [been working on that animatic] influence. don't often manage to draw a thusly stylized winston#he would have the winstache here theoretically but no way was i trying to draw that in lol. nigh guaranteed erasing & v little space for it#for the erasing i mean. further disclosures for Interest: negligable / par for the course digital cleaning up includes getting rid of Some#stray marks like particularly annoying out of place specks. hard to do any of that & pick a stopping point though. yet i did...#more significant tweaks were moving winston's mouth up & one pupil iris Mark over both by like 5 pixels tops lol. still better =)#& then naturally the second pic's Colors are all added digitally. texture & that like shade gradient from top to bottom are courtesy of just#the lighting in the pics picking up paper texture / being itself uneven so there was more shadow further down....#pic one only had lighting & contrast adjustments (slight increase on both)....i don't think any of this was very interesting lol but hey.#winston billions#corned beef#technically:#riawin#i don't know if i quite adequately indicated winston as upset in a frustrated kind of genre as well lol....#but then i reacted afresh to The Pic as i was adding the colors like ah it conveys the intended emotion To Me...& i am the intended audience#could look like oh he's just like very elevatedly & transparently like ''ah jeeeez *Eye* messed up [pensive]'' lol but isnt meant to be so..#hand on back of head not to be sheepish or chastened but rather an ''agh christ i wanged the back of my head'' kneejerk reaction lmao#for once in our lives the fun lil stars are the comic strip language of Oof Ouch Physical Pain indication#the other half of [reacting to what literally just happened / has arisen] being like And spilt my drink on my self#and b/c it's winston & it's his life there May be undercurrents of ''ah jeez. did *i* mess up here / so as to be at Ultimate Fault''#that is the assumed interpretation of Anyone Else at him at any time. [Autistic Character Alert] babes....#meanwhile. re: pic one's ref i took the screenshot for whole other fun casual reasons & eventually realized like oh hey fun bust profile. so#an exercise in Shading. which is sure smthing i'm a lot more practiced doing via pencil than digital means
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randomwriteronline · 1 year
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Iscan is worried about Melli.
He knows logically that Adaman and Mai are worried about him too, but they think he’s just being himself again - they think what he fears might have finally happened, that this is simply how he is; he fears he has managed at last to bury the original under a coat of heavy paint and made everyone forget that timid personality he grew to detest so much all of a sudden.
Iscan is not fooled by his flamboyantly carved mask, because he is older and kind, and wears his fears on his sleeve, and sometimes that is enough for some people to cuddle up to him and free themselves from the scripts of whatever play they are performing without rest.
So he goes to the Highlands despite the vicious Pokémon that haunt them.
Melli welcomes him with a face that is honestly surprised, hands playing anxiously with his long hair as he sputters about not having prepared anything for a visitor since nobody ever comes to see him - Iscan smiles kindly and assures him it’s alright, that it’s on him as he did not warn at all; he offers to help make supper and Melli’s shoulders lower, his smiles turns softer, his fingers stop pulling his hair and begin combing through it: there he is, Iscan thinks when he sees in his face something that isn’t practiced scorn or that strange hazy distance he’s had for a while now.
They forage a little before they can cook, and they talk. Melli speaks a lot, because he doesn’t get anybody who wants to listen to him except Lord Electrode or Skuntank, or the Zubat that followed him home, or the Skorupi brought to the settlement by accident; Iscan listens, happy to let him unwind and searching in his ramblings a reason for his recent peculiar moods.
Even at dinner, after rushing back in his hut before the Ghost Pokémon can come out, he feels like there’s something the other warden is purposefully avoiding to tell him, skirting around it over and over.
Then Melli leaves, quietly, in the middle of the night, when he thinks his absence won’t be noticed.
Iscan stirs from his pretend sleep and wills his nerves steady as he follows.
The walk down wherever they’re going is fortunately a slope, and is unfortunately littered with Ghosts. Iscan is immensely glad that Melli avoids the graveyard just next to Moonview Arena, where Mismagius and Misdreavus gather to howl at the dark new moon sky, instead treading carefully the rocky line of land that separates Stonetooth Rows from the small plateau in which Chinglings and Rhydons sleep. He watches the younger man slide down a steep rock wall, hissing and struggling before he falls on the cliff below (he had begun walking strangely, like his lower back and knees hurt, and his hands were covered in scabs and callouses, Iscan remembers) and moves on.
The older warden tiptoes his way to a slower, safer descent down a few tall steps of rock. It leads him further away, but there is tall grass in which to hide, and he can see very well from here how Melli reaches - through another half-fall - the other end of the spring, near a tree.
Then, as he tries to approach quietly, crawling his way around the small body of water strangely devoid of any critters, he hears Melli start to sing.
The first instinct Iscan has is to throw all caution to the wind, rush to him, and hush him. Sinnoh knows what Pokémon might hear him and make ribbons out of him for bothering them so late at night.
But a light appears suddenly, and a voice sings with him.
It’s a heavenly voice, as thin as the mountain air, as precious as a wind chime made of nacre seashells, as powerful as an earthquake, reaching for his snow pale cheeks like a caress. Melli turns to its source - there is a strange expression on his face, clearer and clearer the closer Iscan comes to him, a sort of gasp, a reverence: it carries a shyness reminiscent of when he was a kid, and the vaguest hint of an awestruck smile as his hands twist one another on his chest.
The light sways gently, purple flames licking the cold air as they escape an iridescent shell that almost resembles a lantern. Under their impossible glow near lilac hands stretch outward, towards the mesmerized warden, to catch him in them, to cup him in them, as he gazes at the figure transfixed, seeming completely out of himself.
Dull eyes of a burning yellow turn away from the young man with sudden alarm, sewn mouth interrupting its unknown song as the whisper of a flute distracts it.
Lord Basculegion appears from the waterfall with a terrifying leap, the souls composing his tail burning red against the dark sky and beady crimson eyes fixing on the Ghost with a growling fury.
The flames shoot upwards, bring their purple glow into the stratosphere as the Wave Crash falls upon them with a sharp sound: the dead hand reach for Melli, grab him, and he disappears in an instant before the impact send stripes of rust to the ground, writhing and shaking as if in pain.
Iscan bolts to where the young man stood, horror overtaking him - the stripes move again, and he realizes there’s a body under there, there’s a shape to the darkness that he had not recognized under the near pitch black color, a shape struggling to pull itself back up on its trembling arm and leg, and Melli is still under it Sinnoh bless him, confused and curled on himself and starting to say something before his voice is drowned by a howling chime coming from far above him viciously hurling a Shadow Ball that sinks into the water when Basculegion evades it.
Iscan calls for him, and the shape covers him again, leg of black climbing over him and trying to pull itself upright. For a moment he thinks the face is the white squre jutting out of the dark folds, now exposed as it turns to him, attempts to stand on its unsteady limbs, but there are no eyes, no nose, no mouth: and the shape reveals itself to be almost human despite the floaty mane that falls on its back and folds at its neck - despite the absence of a neck.
Of a head.
It feels almost like cloth under his fingers, like there’s flesh under it when he pushes the apparition away with little to no effort despite his terror. Melli says something, with a face pale and eyes wide like he’s out of himself, reaches out for the collapsing body as the older warden grabs him and makes a run for the water, jumping on Basculegion - the iridescent shell housing the flames hurries away, back to its anthropomorphic vessel, shrieking in what seems to be worry -
- the drop down the waterfall ends in a minute splash, much quieter than anybody would expect.
Melli remains immoble in Iscan’s iron grip, completely clammed up.
He doesn’t speak as he wobbles back to his hut behind Iscan, nor does he speak the whole morning after, air coated in unspoken tension and nervousness as the older man quiet checks to see if he is fully within his own mind - if he hasn’t been charmed, or hypnotized, or turned into a husk to puppet around.
He cannot make heads or tails of his situation.
But Adaman comes in a little later to accompany Iscan back to the Coastlands, because there is a mass outbreak across the Highlands and the man is not used to battling his way through hordes of Pokémon, and he only rolls his eyes at Melli’s usual despondency and pomp masking the glaze in his look as he waves while he descends the mountain with the other warden.
Completely missing how the thin body is strangely closed in on himself.
Iscan is worried about Melli.
(What Iscan cannot know is that the hellish flames will come to Melli’s doorstep the next night, singing with their otherwordly voice, and he will let them in.)
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tenacquity · 1 year
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ryuu is very naturally selfless (and sometimes self-sacrificing) because of surprise surprise his upbringing: one could say living most of his life in an orphanage was "humbling."
what's more, he has an innate modesty to the point of quickly shying away from praise or shrugging off his accomplishments; it's not really a self-deprecating thing—as in, he doesn't necessarily think little of himself—he just is genuinely not accustomed to attention, flattery, etc.
he's not used to being "special" in any way.
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culraes would wear a crop top and be so confident in it
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soopysoap · 1 month
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bailey brainrot
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screampied · 16 days
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໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ F★CK ME LIKE U WANT ME ! ’﹒
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𐚁̸ sum. how the jjk men fuck—feat. gojo, geto, choso, nanami, toji.
𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, size kink, hair pulling, hitting it raw, face sitting, manhandling, impact play, degradation, squírting, faking it, spit, overstim, breeding, choking, mdni.
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☆ NANAMI KENTO fucks like he’ll never see you again.
he loathes his dreadfully long work hours more than anything, spending time away from you was like a death sentence to him—all he knew at the end of the day was that he missed you, he missed his wife. the moment he’s buried deep inside you, interlocking his fingers with yours—it feels like pure bliss. “hey,” he’d breathe, and for a moment you feel his weight press against you. he’s hovering, you’re in the classic missionary position. he feels warm, tenderly hot inside. you then instinctively wrap your legs around his waist with your arms slinging around his shoulders. “my love,” he kisses near your neck, starting up a frantic yet sensual pace again. “oh, how i missed you,” and he kisses near your chin. “mwah,” he concludes before you feel his knees spread a bit more wider for a more better base. “keep those eyes up here—i missed my girl,” and he says it again and again until it sounds like a mantra.
“i missed you more.” you’d coo out in a soft voice, the back of your heel gingerly running down his back. your knees open, nanami’s kneeling between your legs and you moan at his sloppy yet erotically risqué thrusts. his sweet rotating rhythm was the icing on the cake.
“oh, honey that’s just impossible,” he’d purr in a honeyed voice, a big hand pressing against your tummy. “tell me one thing though,” he hums, and the more you listen to his voice—the more melodic it sounds to you. “when i press . . here, do you feel me or do you feel our future baby?”
a candied moan runs out your mouth before you cling onto his hips that continue to delve in and out of you. he’s piercing straight into you at full speed, you merely get whiplash from it all.
he was so thick, so hefty…
the stretch made your mind speed run, he knew just the right spots to drive into. your gummy walls clamp down on him tightly, and he bites his lip at the way your loving cunt keeps him continuously hostage. every time, he’s forevermore entangled with nothing but your warmth. bodies on bodies, he liked being on top of you—the shared warmth of his skin brushing against yours, it sends you and him both various amounts of secretive inevitable shivers.
“future baby?” you inhale with a sheepish grin, his body, the way it strenuously rocks against you in such sync makes you fall more and more and love with him. “you want another baby, kento?”
“i want a whole family with you,” he murmurs in a quavering breath, leaning up close to you to nip a few sugared kisses near the corner of your neck. glacé, a perfect word to describe your taste—in nanami’s eyes, you were the sweetest treat anyone could get their hands upon. to him, you never failed to taste so appetizing, he loves more than anything to softly run his tongue near the very inner parts of your neck. he gives it a few concise sucks, meanwhile he’s still got you right where he wants you. his cock’s idly jackhammering in and out of you and you’re holding him close with the most harmonic sounds leaving the back of your throat. “you’re such a good mommy. whenever this tummy’s all round ‘n plump, it’s so pretty,” and he brings another kiss near your lips. “you’re pretty, my love.”
the very back of your heel continues to skim down his back. nanami’s muscles tense a bit from your touch and he steadies his pace for a bit.
“let’s m-make another baby then,” you stammer, his cologne scent making you a bit dizzy. he always smelled so good, his fragrant was so loud, forever reaching your nostrils the more he’s getting himself closer and closer. nanami loves the feeling of your touch, the way your hands grab onto him—pulling him closer so he can be more thorough with his deep deep strokes. he adores it.
more importantly, he adores you.
he’s panting heavily, a few strands of sweat beads race down the corners of his forehead before he kisses you once more. after a lengthy amorous kiss, he departs with a cute flushed expression and you moan. “you’re always such a good daddy too, kento.”
“. . . oh, i try to be the best for my gorgeous wife, after all.”
nanami’s words dripped with tenderness and warmth. as the bed creaks, creating a mere harmony within itself—he feels himself coming close, he knows it. blond strands of his begin to stick and glue to his forehead from the sweat that already coats his skin. “m-my love,” he suddenly says, and his grip on your hand tightens, still intertwining his fingers with yours. “i’m gonna give you so much—sooo much,” and he kisses the top of your forehead. “you’re gonna look even more stunning once you’re done being f-filled.”
“k—kento.” you’d whine, feeling his heavy base thwack against you consistently. you could tell by the sheer hits against your cunt, he was full of incoming ropes of seed.
his breathing becomes heavy and as his kegals flex and flex. a few long extended amounts of seconds pass before he finally finishes. his tip radiates with a feeling of hotness, and once he starts to flood the inside of your pussy with strings of his load—he lets off a cute strained moan himself. “f-fuck,” he’d huff out in a short breath, and even his swears were cute. nanami’s hooded eyes stare at you, and he leans against your chest, still plugging you up. feeling his cum trickle into you furthermore, nanami then slithers a hand down your tummy. “oh, m—my gorgeous girl. now we wait.”
☆ GOJO fucks like it’s the end of the world.
“yeah so angel, we’re gonna like die in five days.”
“what?”
“i read this article earlier—the world’s ending ‘n i also just so happened to stumble across this position i wanted to try on ya.”
“……”
with gojo, it’s always abruptly unforeseen moments such as these. he’s so unserious, if unserious was a person—it’d be satoru gojo.
yet, that’s all it took because it doesn’t take long before you’re literally being stretched out to the very fullest. with your legs thrown up in the air, just dangling and dangling over your shoulders like an earring, you’re whimpering your head off.
“o-oh my god, s—satoruuuu,” you’d babble out, and he’s got you in a full nelson. in the flesh, this position was practically known for having someone feel everything. each nerve, each pulse, you felt it all.
with a clouded mind and a stuffed cunt, you felt like you’re residing in cloud nine. your mouth was just stupidly hung open—you were sure a few strands of your spit were about to run past you’re lips and you whine. “you’re so d-deep, ‘s good, more.”
he’s laid back all lazy like, manspread with you all on top of him. gojo feels his thighs ache a bit from the rough repetitive slams your cunt makes against him before he groans huskily. “s-shittt,” and his arms lock around your neck. the sounds your cunt makes in retaliation were so lewd. soaked and oh so sopping wet.
you were dripping profusely, drenching his lap with nothing but your pool of sweet arousal. “clampin’ all on me, such a nasty g—girl.”
each time your pussy flings down against his lap over and over, it sends multiple shockwaves all throughout your body—so many shockwaves. you’re hot and bothered, he brings a hand down to grab near your right tit, giving it a soft firm squeeze.
“so cute. how deep do you feel me, angel? grab my hand ‘n show me. i wanna know where my girl feels the most stuffed.”
hesitatingly, you grab onto his wrist leading it towards the very lower part of your tummy—he hums a sweet tune, nearly having you in a headlock before you mewl out.
“feel you here, ‘toru,” and you feel your knees sink. he’s so deep, the stretch has your mouth salivating before you gasp. the pointed tip of his cock prods near your clit, causing you to shudder within his hold. “s—satoru, fuck, f-fuckkk.” you’d whine out, and your voice pitches just a bit more. your entire body feels warm, it’s rising temperature the more he’s got your cunt buried to the hilt with his thick cock. a few specks of white hair that coats near his base tickles and titillates against your ass each time you mercilessly plop back down. the air’s growing heavy and stuffy. you can barely even process that a familiar feeling was concurrently arising.
“upsie fuckin’ daisey,” he groans, lifting you up just a bit more. he was so strong, well considering he technically is considered to be the strongest. the strongest in bed for sure—gojo’s got his legs parted, and he’s just dumping such mean inches in and out of your cunt. you swallow him up within your walls every time. his stallion-like stamina was purely out of this world, not showing an ounce of fatigue. “so w-hot ‘n cozy inside f’me, gonna make me cum quick, angel.”
his voice was starting to get a bit trembly and whiny.
breathing patterns irregular and picking up—he was close. although, your release ends up coming straight away, so abruptly quick to where you don’t even get a moment to breathe. it literally takes your breath away—it’s so quick you have to blink thrice.
your body, its first initial response was to vigorously shake upon impact. you gush out, and you hear yourself squelch—surprised that that even came out of you before you slump way back against gojo’s bare chest. he pauses, holding your hips in place before with a sigh, he snickers a cocky, “hm, did you just . . squirt on me, baby?”
alas, there’s no reply—cute.
so much volume came out, it felt incredible. the pressure makes you whimper out louder while still being laid back against him with his twitching cock hidden inside your pussy. he stood still, and yet you still felt the pure stretch mend your walls in place. gojo’s hand slowly reaches down between your legs before feeling near your now sopping wet cunt.
“well shit, you messy girl. you really did squirt on me huh,” and he sounds more playful than usual. gojo finally puts your legs down and then he lifts you up once more, making you rest against him. pressing a wet kiss near the corner of your neck, he whispers, a lengthy finger gradually inserting between your folds. with a hushed whisper, he murmurs, “now that i know you’re a little super soaker, do that for me again, yeah? let’s play with that little squirt velocity of yours for just a bit.”
☆ TOJI fucks like he hates you.
when toji fucks, he fucks.
toji’s mean—an asshole, practically the human embodiment of the seven-lettered word. sure, he loves you. but at this particular moment, it’s like he hates your guts. ironic, considering he was actually deep in them, stirring them up in such a rough spiteful way.
“arch the fuck over more. even i can do better than that, girl,” he indignantly grouses, a hand grips a good handful of your hair whilst he’s just rudely pounding into you. he could arch better than you? truth be told, as you’re moaning your head off while being pounded full of his thick inches from behind, you giggle. toji spanks you, his palm kissing against your ass and you bite your lip from the after-effect of the sting. “giggle giggle ass girl. the fuck is so funny,” and he deepens his thrusts—a gasp lets out from the back of your throat once he smushes his weight against you.
prone bone, one of his favorites.
if toji really wanted to, he’d lean up so close and do his most treasured move—simply putting a foot near the back of your neck. it was so lewd, you’d moan whenever you feel the very back of his sock run against your neck. such a lazy way, a foot pressed against the back of your head while he’s just gifting you with mean thrusts while you’re on all fours. “uh huh. yeah, ‘s what the fuck i thought.”
“you’re the one saying you can a—arch better than me,” you whine, your voice was shaky but he could tell you were holding back laughter. you were playing with fire, especially at a lewd moment like this. he’s deep inside, the tip of his angry cock mashing against each and every corner of your cunt before you’re about to burst. “if you can arch better than me then prove i—”
“. . . listen here bitch,” toji grumbles, feeling his eye twitch.
he tugs just a bit harder on your hair. your back arch was simply immaculate. sitting upright, your palms sat against the sheets of the bed, bawling them up before you felt his free hand grip your waist steadfastly. toji leans right up to your ear before muttering in a low raspy voice. “you know, babygirl. sure do got a lot of talk for someone who struggles to take me every damn time.”
he’s got you there, you swallow before feeling a brief sharp pivot of his hips.
everything was just downright filthy. his strokes had you gasping for air practically—meticulously, he makes sure to hit every spot. his aim was thorough and precise, making sure to hit everywhere like the insides of your cunt was his target. your pussy incessantly clenches every few seconds and it makes him groan. the necklace chain that wraps around his neck tickles your back, the way it runs against your skin makes you metaphorically fold. the material of it skims down your tense muscles and you think you’re so close you could taste your sweet release on the very tips of your tastebuds.
“c—cum, ‘m gonna cum, toji.” you suddenly whimper, feeling the brusque twitch of your right thigh. with your teeth shattering, he continues to maintain a firm grip—this time, his hand placement lowers towards your neck. it gives him a good amount of leverage before he tilts his hips forward. once he does that, he thrashes his angry plump cockhead against your folds and the whine you choke out was immaculate. “f-fuck, cumming.”
toji pauses—something wasn’t right, he knew your body and how it responded to him.
the silence was straight-up deadly. your heart races while he’s still inside, you feel him twitch whilst he’s still buried deep into you and it feels so raw. “oh, girl i know the fuck you didn’t,” he grits, and he pulls out almost immediately. literally the definition of a sassy man—you could hear the bitter annoyance lingering on his tone before he flips you over, making you stare right into his dark viridescent colored eyes. “faking orgasms today yeah? you’re on a roll today.”
“i— i didn’t fake it.” you pout, not fond of the way you were suddenly empty from him pulling straight out. you wanted to be full, but you also wanted to act like a bit of a brat. “it was real.”
“sure,” he rasps, and he suddenly gets up—you’re confused, actually quite close to your finish despite you faking it the first initial time and he casually just reaches for the remote, switching the tv on. “while ya work on making y’erself finish, i’m gonna catch up on shameless.”
“are you serious?” you pant, and he very much is. he’s getting all comfy underneath the silk sheets, lazily throwing his feet up before the dim ‘who’s watching’ prompt for netflix appears. he scrolls on his assigned name which was displayed of ‘old dirty bastard with a few racks.’
“dead serious. heh, now shut up, princess. fiona ‘n lip are speaking.”
☆ CHOSO fucks like it’s the last time.
it’s an ongoing thing for him.
he loves you more than life itself—so for him to have you straddling him, taking in every inch of your gorgeous figure, he had to give you at least one more orgasm. it was the least he could do.
“i love you.” he says, and he repeats it again and again.
once choso says those words—he never hesitates, not even once. with the way your hips rotate, he’s already about to lose all sorts of composure. big rough hands of his grip and attach near your waist to help slam you up and down his pulsating cock. “i— i love you. i love the way you always m-make me feel.”
“i love you too,” you’d say in a short breath, a snatching wind nearly takes your breath away as you feel yourself clench and tighten against him. “babyyy,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “you can touch me more, it’s okay.”
his lip quivers. with a needy look in his eyes, he cutely releases a surprised sigh of relief. “o-oh, thank you. i was gonna ask but i didn’t know if you’d want me to.”
“choso, you’re literally inside of me and you’re shy to ask to touch me?” you tease, sneaking a kiss near the corner of his lips.
a tint of sheer embarrassment rises to his face before he sheepishly smiles, softly running his fingertips against your hips. “oh yeah. r-right,” and you start to rotate your hips even further. your impactful rhythm has him weak, the grinding that you’re doing also has him in an utter chokehold. choso’s speechless—he’s more of a whiner than you, he tries to even suppress his moans by biting his lip but it’s to no use. you’re leaning forward, sliding your hands down his chiseled chest before he whimpers. “you’re so sexy when you touch me,” and then he cutely gasps. “ah, sexy—i mean, breathtaking.”
“you’re adorable,” you titter, and he feels the warmth of your own chest pressing all up against him. he really was though, he’s very gentle with his touch—the way his fingers wander, choso’s heart races a mile a minute. as he’s still massaging your gummy walls with the lengthy size of his cock, he sighs himself. “close, baby?”
he nods, literally melting from your touch.
choso feels abnormally warm—he only wants more of you, he can’t help but inch his face towards you before bringing you into an idyllically deep kiss. it’s passionate, a few poking out strands that ran down his face pricks against your skin and you moan right into his mouth. as you’re rocking into him at such a pace, he touches more. you do the same, a finger trailing down his v-line, his pecs, everywhere. further and further.
“. . . you touching me—” he breaks away, glossy lips starting to stain with his gleaming saliva. he looks so pretty, his dark eyelids start to lower and he whimpers once his cock sits still. you’re practically doing all the work like this, grinding back and forth while he lies back. “you touchin’ me, ‘s gonna make me cum, princess. i— i feel so hot when you touch me.”
“you’re always hot when i do anything,” you tease, sneaking another kiss near the edge of his mouth. choso’s breathing heavier than usual before he feels himself start to pulse—his dick twitches inside and you hear him gasp once he squeezes your hips forward. he’s about to fill you up, he even gives you a glossy eyed stare, pursing his lips as if he’s merely asking permission and with a stroke of a thumb near his lips, you murmur. “it’s okay, give it to me, baby. fill me up.”
he whines, mentally preparing himself before choso feels his thighs tighten. your cunt’s gripping down against him so tight, his jaw clenches. stingy, you had him in an entire hold.
“f— fuckkk, ‘s so much coming. you’re gonna milk me like you always do, princess,” and with his eyes shut, he’s hugging your body against him solidly before seconds later, he cums. it comes out in spurts— such sweltering stringy ropes, he’s taken aback and his moans against your ear only makes you more aroused. you could listen to choso whine into your ear all day, he’s shaking underneath you and he obviously needs a moment. his black hair was all ruffled and messy before he’s still feeling himself emit filthy amounts of seed into your cunt. “s—so good,” he groans, and for a second, his voice gets a bit raspy. “baby,” he swallows, feeling himself burn up—you straddling him like this, frail arms wrap around his shoulders whilst giving him the most sly stare. he felt like he was gonna explode, you were even more warm and toasty inside now that he’s stuffed you full. “marry me,” he suddenly says. “marry me, princess.”
“i’m already your wife, silly,” you tease, he’s still pumping you full of his never-ending amounts of hot cum. you kiss near the twitching right side of his lip before purring. “too worn out to remember?”
he moans, giving your ass a needy squeeze before he throws his head back. “let’s marry again, and again, and again then. s—so i can fill you up like this all the time. i— i want you, i love you,” and then he reaches between your thighs to feel against your cunt, skimming his fingertips against his own strings of cum that painted the inner entrance of your pussy. “i love her just as much,” and then he gasps. “oh … baby, you didn’t even finish.”
☆ GETO fucks like he hasn’t eaten all day.
“less talking, more sitting on my face,” is all he says with the most lust-driven gaze.
a good way for geto to rewind from a long day is to simply be between your plush thighs. it’s his favorite pastime, hell—probably his only pastime.
you’re barely hovering over his mouth by this point—sheeny glossy lips ready to slurp you dry before he hums, a few slender fingers of yours brushing against your hips before you speak, “only if you let me pull on your hair again.”
“ah, you know you can always do that. i keep it extra long just for you, baby.”
your heart swoons—you slowly sit down, positioning your pussy against his mouth, making sure he has a bit of room to breathe before geto gradually creates one single lick against your folds. sopping, you were already soaked and his moist tongue only made matters ten times worse.
“f-fuck,” you’d moan, keeping all eyes on his the entire time. irises of yours dilate immediately the moment you watch geto start to kiss all near the crevices of your shaky legs—only to then suck his lips against your swollen needy clit. he grunts, already feeling a tent creep up in his sweats. your hips move on its own, starting to slowly grind against his face.
back and forth, back and forth…
it was so hypnotic.
you were so hypnotic.
“mhm,” he grunts hoarsely, cupping his mouth near the very top part of your slit — he’s savoring your sweetened taste entirely, lapping the flat of his tongue everywhere. your entrance dampens his chin already and he sneers, licking near the corners of his mouth. such a sloppy man, his tongue then swiftly runs against your hood before it starts to flick and jerk at a much more rapid speed. “move those—hips, ride my fuckin’ face ‘n pull on my hair, pretty girl.”
he’s eating you out so good you’re already feeling a sudden rush shoot through you. you follow what he says exactly, creating a decent rhythm with your hips—he’s so pretty like this too, black lashes half open or just about closed.
geto was already pussy-drunk, that much was to tell. “o-okay, suguuu,” you’d whimper, and you grabbed an ample amount of his tangled strands, giving him a brief hard yank. he always gets hard once you tug on his hair, his head briefly forwards further into your cunt and he chuckles—warm breath fanning against your clit. “right there, sugu. s-spit on it.”
“anything for the princess,” he says between sharp breaths. you’re slowly rocking your hips against his face—feeling the soft tip of his nose brush up and down repeatedly against your dripping entrance before he departs just to spit right on your pussy. he brings a hand to smear it all between your folds, all the while a tongue slides against his own lips and oh he’s hungry. hungry for you. “damn. she just gets more sloppier every fuckin’ time. should be a crime to be this soaked, baby.”
and you whimper, watching with glossy eyes as he laps up his saliva—coating your slick entrance with a plethora of chaste kisses shortly afterward.
it's lustrous, so shiny.
geto makes sure to study your body if its entirety. the way your breathing dramatically picks up and the harder and sloppier your thrusts against his mouth becomes. you’re coming close and he’s much well aware, “yeah,” he utters, and it’s in the mere form of a question. “already, hm? you gonna make a mess on me so i can clean you right back up?”
“y— yes,” you moan, the tugging on his hair only getting rougher. pant after pant escapes through your lips before he starts to playfully nibble right on your clit. a finger of his slowly inserts into you and you clench around it, feeling a few steady pulses before that’s right when you gasp. ultimately, you end up finishing after a few minutes—so much so, that your eyes were all hazy, rolling to the very backs of your are and you whimper loudly, still grinding against his face.
“. . . ooooh,” he hums, a right hand of his that tucks behind you, giving your ass a concise squeeze. once he sits back up again, geto peers into you with a sly amused gaze before giving your cunt one more kiss. “now give me one more, ‘m still not satisfied with my meal, sweetheart.”
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not-lock · 6 months
Note
would you like a hug
Kind of. I wouldn't be opposed to one
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mostly-imagines · 20 days
Text
Guard Dog
jason todd x fem!reader
aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend
4 in 1 blurbs
warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods
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Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.
He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.
And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.
With other people though, he has…different methods.
You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.
You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.
His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.
“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.
A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.
Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.
Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.
Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.
“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.
Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.
“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.
The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”
“Mhm.” He grumbles.
The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.
“Jay?”
His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.
“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.
He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.
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You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.
His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.
You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.
Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.
He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.
Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.
“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.
Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”
“Thank God.”
Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.
His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.
“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”
Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).
You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.
Fuck he loves you.
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Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist and yours resting on his thighs as you tell him about your hectic day.
He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.
You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.
You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.
“Hey there.”
You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.
"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."
Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.
"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"
"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.
Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.
With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.
"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.
“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”
You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.
Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.
Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.
But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.
"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."
“She—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”
The guy hesitates.
“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.
That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”
Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.
He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.
“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.
“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.
You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”
He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.
You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.
“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”
He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.
“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.
You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.
“Jaybird!”
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Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.
You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.
So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.
You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.
You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”
"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.
He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.
You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.
Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.
You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.
You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.
"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.
Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.
“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.
He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.
If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.
He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.
You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.
So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.
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rowarn · 8 months
Text
afab!reader, no prns, praise, edging, wet&messy, könig using ur clit as a fidget toy <3
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könig, a trained lethal soldier, who suffers from anxiety. you would never know if you didn't know what you were looking for.
his biggest tell, for you, is the way he fidgets. with you.
you're like his own personal little fidget toy. his hands are always on you, kneading and squeezing your skin. most times you don't mind, you rather like having him touching you — your thighs, your waist, your butt, wherever he can get his hands honestly.
but sometimes...his hands wander. it's mindless, truly.
his eyes fixated on the tv playing some random show he decided he wanted to watch. but you couldn't pay attention, not when one big hand was shoved up your shirt groping your breasts and the other was haphazardly stuffed into your sleep shorts and under your panties.
he's toying with you so mindlessly, callused fingers sliding over your clit that has grown increasingly slippery with how wet you've become. occasionally he dips down to prod at your slick entrance.
his movements have no rhyme or reason. he's not even moving very fast. just sloppy back and forth flicks and occasionally he simply taps his fingers against the little bud that has grown so sensitive from his playing. sometimes, when something interesting happens on tv, he stops completely until the desire the fidget returns to him.
you're sitting with your back against his chest, situated between his spread legs sprawled cozily on the couch. he can't see the heated, dazed look on your face from the come-and-go pleasure he inadvertently gives you. he's edging you without even realizing it, full attention still focused on the damn tv. he isn't even hard.
that thought alone is enough to make you clench around nothing. he's really just playing with you like a little toy and that thought is so hot to you. it makes you cheeks burn in embarrassment as you continue to leak into your panties.
if you listen close you can hear with wet clicking noise that comes with his movements. your eyes roll back in your head as that sound alone has your back arching but you quickly settle yourself down, not wanting to tear his attention from the tv — he so rarely had time to settle down and just enjoy tv, you didn't want to disturb him.
the episode he's watching ends and you cast a hopeful glance up at him but he's waiting for the next episode to start and it makes you whine against your own wishes. but your clit is so hard and twitchy from being edged that it's actually hurting and you're so wet now that your panties are uncomfortably sticky.
it's your whine that gets his attention, pretty blue eyes flicking down to your face where he finally sees the desperate way you're looking at him, teary eyes and swollen lips from biting them to keep quiet. you can see in his eyes when he registers how soaked you've gotten his fingers and he has the audacity to look sheepish.
"ah, my sweet..." he whispers, ears tinged pink, "i-i'm sorry, i did not realize..."
he moves to pull his hand out of your panties and you whine again, grabbing his wrist with both hands to stuff him back down. your nails bite into his skin and he stops trying to pull away, instead pushing his hand back down and it's then that he fully resisters how wet you are.
"don't stop, please...i-i've been so close..." you pitifully beg and he takes pity on you. how precious of you, he thinks.
"i'm sorry, my love," he coos, fingers starting to work once again — properly this time with quick little circles on your clit, "i'll make you cum for being so good for me."
you can't even formulate words, instead nodding and spreading your legs even further apart, your feet on either side of his legs. he hums softly in your ear, chin hooked over your shoulder as he watches his hand move under the fabric of your shorts.
he spreads your sticky folds apart and begins to swirl messily around your clit, occasionally lightly tapping against the bud just to watch the cute way your thighs twitch at the feeling. you reach back and clutch his t-shirt in your fists to ground you. his cock throbs, churning up quickly, at the loud, wet noise of him playing with your cunt.
it doesn't take long at all before your stiffening against him and twitching in his lap as you cum with a cute little gasp of his name. he moans softly in your ear as he feels your clit throb under the pads of his fingers. you let out the loveliest moans that has his cock hardening fully against his thigh.
when you slacken against his body, aftershocks making you twitch periodically as you pant, he's tempted to stop but the fact you had sat there so sweetly and let him practically torture you while he watched his show made him want to make it up to you.
he sees the excitement in your eyes when his fingers dip lower and begin to press into you and he can't believe just how sweet you are. your so sticky and wet with the amount of cum he worked out of you with such ease.
"let me really make it up to you, my little one..."
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