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#I SWEAR I PUT ON SUNSCREEN
betsybugaboo · 1 year
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good: i found out that there are actually six more volumes of Black Jack that I haven't read because I am a dumbass and didn't realize that what there is on the Internet Archive isn't the complete series I also got to go to the beach
bad: i am now 90% sunburn, every movement is agony
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birdyverdie · 4 months
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I now understand the meaning of pain
(^ got a really bad sunburn on about 40% of their body)
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maudiemoods · 1 year
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Camping at the beach and I am BURNT TO A CRISP!!
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xoxochb · 2 months
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I got sunburnt so so bad I’m gonna start crying
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evild3ad · 2 months
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a secret fun thing about my tattoo is that it looks kinda slay with the suntan/sunburn pattern I got going on.
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yani00 · 9 months
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Tried that loreal eyelash serum and my left eye is starting to itch. Its not bad but its annoying and concerning
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flseur · 8 months
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꒰ 𐙚 it's so lonely in my mansion — jjk men ꒱
⟡ synopsis : you've always gotten whatever you've wanted, and it doesn't stop with the men you're interested in.
⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, richgirl!reader, pool boy!gojo, private chef!suguru, ceo!nanami, age gap ( reader is in her early 20s, characters are in their mid 20s to early 30s ), fingering, missionary, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doggy
౨ৎ note : first multi-chara fic in a bit ! it's a bit shorter than what i usually write i think bc i needed to do a bio and cogsci lectures right after but please enjoy ! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹
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୨୧ SATORU GOJO
❥₊ ⊹ "o-oh fuck!" you moan out, your little frilly pink bathing suit was thrown somewhere haphazardly and your breasts press against the strong plains of satoru's bare chest.
you were staying at your parent's summer house in the hamptons, it's upkeep being done completely by the hired staff. but one member of them would always catch your attention.
snowy white hair with matching long lashes, bright cerulean eyes, and a body that's hard to take your mind off of.
satoru had recently been hired to take care your olympic-sized pool, and you certainly were not complaining at the free (not really free) show that came with him cleaning it.
every time you knew he was coming over to do some work, you'd be out sunbathing, doing pilates, or "homework" outside. and every time you'd ask him for help with something.
your sweet voice would call him over, pouty lips and big eyes stare up at him and ask him, ever so innocently, "satoruuu... can you help me with this?"
which led to where you were right now. after about 2 weeks of asking him for his help, you finally asked him if he could, "pretty please put sunscreen on my back?"
you were flipped over on your stomach, laying on a lounge chair with your skimpy pink bikini bottoms doing absolutely nothing to cover your ass and you swore you could hear him gulp loudly.
his large hands massaged the lotion into your back, getting lower and lower until he stopped right where the string of your bottoms were.
confused, you whip your head around to see why he stopped before turning back over to face him.
"fuck..." you heard him sigh under his breath before hastily pressing his lips onto yours. "you're such a fucking tease."
satoru wasted no time ripping your swimsuit off, one hand coming up to pinch one of your nipples while the other crept towards your aching heat.
his lithe fingers brush against your folds before his thumb finally presses on your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.
satoru continues his ministrations on your pussy until he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, making him stop his movements. "is something wrong?" he asks, concern laced throughout his voice.
"no..." you mumble. "i just want you to fuck me now."
satoru lolls his head backwards and groans, "fuck, baby... you don't know what you do to me. don't know how long i've wanted to fuck you and this pretty pussy."
"then do it." you chide, getting impatient.
hurriedly, satoru removes his black board shorts, his cock springs free. the tip is flushed pink with precum leaking from it.
satoru's hands grab at the fat of your hips, pulling you down the lounge chair and making your ass flush against his his own hips.
you squirm against him, desperate for friction then whimpering when your clit bumps against the head of his dick.
"patient, princess." a small smirk pulls on his pink lips as he watches you pout up at him.
"put it in already." you groan, getting more and more impatient.
and though satoru does like how horny you are for him, he's almost sure that he's more turned on then you are. he swears he's never been this hard before.
he leans down, his arms caging you in as his cock sinks into you. "stop squeezing me... can hardly move." he moans.
"c-can't," you gasp, feeling him stretch your pussy. "you're s'big..."
your ears were ringing and stars blurred your vision, the way he was splitting you open was deliciously sinful.
satoru lets out a low moan before pulling out almost completely, only leaving the tip in before thrusting his full length in.
"oh my god!" you cry out, your manicured fingers wrap around his torso and dig into his pale skin.
his pace was relentless, the feeling of his thick cock dragging inside your walls and his tip continously pressing that gooey spot in you was overwhelming paired with his balls slapping against your ass.
you were on the brink of your orgasm, feeling the build-up in your tummy. "g'nna cum—" your sobs turn into near screams as you feel one of satoru's hands creep down and rub your puffy clit.
"cum for me. cum on my cock, god, baby please cum. c-can feel you squeezing me, oh fuck." he babbles, not entirely sure of what he was saying but he knew one thing, and it was that he was going to make sure he got to fuck you every chance he got before you left for school again.
୨୧ SUGURU GETO
❥₊ ⊹ though you have all the money you need to buy new purses, clothes, and sports cars, money simply could not buy you cooking skills. after countless of cooking classes for beginners (and dozens of burnt meals), your parents decided to hire a private chef for you. and that chef was suguru.
he was there to make whatever you wished for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, which you appreciated but ever since he's come into your mansion, you've found yourself craving something... different.
and suguru could tell. each time you first came downstairs in the morning you were always in some silky pyjama set. dainty lace straps of the top would always be falling off of your shoulders where he'd see no bra strap causing his eyes to fall down to your breasts and he would see your pert nipples peeking through.
but this time, you had come downstairs in a tiny little pyjama dress that did not cover your ass at all. suguru had asked you what you wanted for breakfast and you mumbled "pancakes" quietly, still trying to wake up.
you brushed past him to open a top cupboard, standing on the tips of your toes to reach a cup, your dress moving upwards and showcasing your -- oh my god you weren't wearing any panties.
suguru held back a groan at the sight of your bare pussy before muttering a quiet "fuck it" and you felt his large hands grip your hips, flipping you around to face him before he urgently pressed his lips into yours.
soon enough, he has you bare with your ass sitting on the cold marble countertops. black tufts of hair tickle your inner thighs while your mind is overwhelmed with pleasure.
suguru licks a strip up your pussy, from your hole to your clit. then one of his hands creeps closer to your heat and a thick finger plunges into you causing you to moan out.
your hands grab at his hair, pulling at the roots and he moans against you. his fingers work wonders in you, each thrust calculated and precise. every press from the digits would hit that sweet spot that made your ears ring.
his mouth was the opposite of his fingers, wrapped around your clit slurping loudly and messily. his moans made you press his face deeper into your cunt, basically riding his face.
"cum on my face, pretty girl..." he looks up at you, alluring eyes looking at your own. "know you've been wanting to, i'll let you, baby.”
you let out a strangled cry and grind quicker against his face, clit bumping against his nose. your cries get higher in pitch until finally the dam breaks and you orgasm all over suguru's face yet he never once stops his ministrations. his mouth continues to work your clit and his fingers are still fucking into you.
you were about to be thrown into another mind-numbing orgasm, tears lining your eyes and you sobbed out in overstimulation until the high was ripped away from you.
"w-what?" you looked up at suguru, confused.
"this time, you're gonna cum on my cock instead," he says before you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor.
୨୧ KENTO NANAMI
❥₊ ⊹ he knew he had an important meeting. knew it was with your father, but here nanami is, balls deep in his competitors daughter, whispering about how much he loves you.
you were bent over his large desk, your head facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. cute little tweed skirt pushed above your hips and your gucci monogrammed fishnet tights had a hole ripped out from the crotch.
when kento had ripped the hole, you gasped, ready to give him an earful of how hard it was for you to get those but you were quickly cut off by feeling his thick cock split you open accompanied by his strained voice saying, "i'll just get you another pair... another dozen if i get to do this to you..."
his hands were grabbing at your ass, while his eyes watched it recoil with each thrust of his hips. your pussy was dragging him in deeper, squeezing him impossibly tighter, it took everything in kento to not cum early, he needed to make sure you came at least twice before he does.
the sinful noise of skin against skin, accompanied by hushed moans permeated the office. each thrust of his cock was deep and impactful, but the pace was still quick. as much as he would love to take his time with you, he can't today.
"love you, baby," he moans. "love you so much, g'nna marry you one day, i swear..." kento rolls his hips, the head of his length pressing that gooey spot in you.
you let out a mewl, freshly manicured nails gripping the mahogany wood of the desk. you fuck your hips back onto him, relishing in the sheer amount of pleasure your boyfriend was providing you.
wanting to see your face, nanami's strong arms reach around your torso and pulls you upward, your back arching. he has one strong hand against your jaw, making your head face him while his other hand slithers down to your sopping pussy.
"k-kiss me..." you struggle between moans. "please kiss me."
and kento obliges. he presses his lips to yours as his hand begins to rub hurried circles to your puffy clit, making you moan into his mouth.
the drag of his thick cock paired with the stimulation of your clit was addicting, you pull apart from the kiss and your eyes roll to the back of your head. kento was overwhelming your senses, he was everywhere you needed him and everywhere you wanted him.
as your impending orgasm catches up to you, your hand grips the wrist of the hand playing with your pussy, the blunt of your nails dig into the skin.
"i-i'm cumming!" you sob, cunt sucking his cock in deeper and coating it as well as his wrist in your arousal. "love you s'much kento!" words slurring, still riding out your orgasm.
"one more time, princess... need you to cum one more time." he groans in your ear, moving downwards to press open-mouth kisses to your neck. his cock still bullying your insides while his lithe fingers rub your little clit relentlessly.
"y-yes!" you gasp, chest heaving.
"that's it... cum for me..." he coos.
as you come down from your second high, your ears ring but as soon as you come to, you realize the ringing wasn't from them. but instead it was from your phone.
[ (1) MISSED CALL FROM : DAD ]
dad: Y/N.
dad: Where the hell are you?!
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flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.
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bloomingonionbitch · 2 years
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of course my motivation strikes the second to last day of spring break!
(but you know what, that's okay!!!!)
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buckys-estrella · 2 years
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I had the most delicious dream ab bob floyd and I’ve been replaying it in my head since I woke up
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i-miss-breathing · 2 years
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Me: “Hey sun! I haven’t visited you in a while my bad, but I’m here now!”
The sun: “fuck you” *gives me the driest most painful sunburn I’ve ever had*
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vanoilette · 7 months
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୨ᰍ sypnosis. beach day w the main four ! — going to the beach with them.
disclaimers. light swearing, suggestive content.
notes. ugh just got swarmed with tons of homework :( + two upcoming ken fics !
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eric cartman.
literally like a guard dog.
everytime he sees someone staring at you for two seconds too long he takes it into account, and attacks them with insults. because as he puts it, the view is only for his eyes.
is drooling all over you but hides it, stares holes into the back of your head, and other places.
besides that he treats you as usual, but with his own kind of attention—such as calling you pretty, his queen. etc. [ im sorry i cant help but make cartman a mix of a bastard and simp ]
asked you to put sunscreen on him, mostly just chills on the beach instead of actually swimming.
sort of follows around everywhere you go when hes not sitting down.
falls asleep while hes laying on the beach chair and and gets a sunburn, is crying to you the next day how much it burns.
screams when he sees his skin peels.
back to the actual beach part, he always holds your hand, even when laying down, as long as your beside or near him at least.
is mean to almost everyone there, especially if their “in his way.”
kenny mccormick.
is all over you, never lets you get even a breath of space.
opposite of cartman, and actually begs you to swim with him.
lets be honest, hes putting his face in your chest, no matter how small or big they are, he just loves em’
doesn’t even mind when other people are looking at you, he loves showing you off because he loves showing other people what they can’t get.
swipes drinks off the bar when other people aren’t looking.
if someone flirts with you or him, he makes it very clear that he is not interested, and if your the one being flirted with he is standing right behind you.
although, if your not able enough to stand up for that, he’ll gladly deal with it for you.
he loves swimming but if you offer to lay down with him, he’ll pass on swimming, just the feeling of being with you is much more of a rewarding feeling then feeling the hot sunlight on him and cold waters.
brings a bunch of convenience store snacks so you don’t have to buy any of the ones they serve there.
calls you his belladonna
kyle broflovski.
brings tons of things, a canopy, chairs, snacks, sunscreen, etc.
insists on putting on sunscreen, puts it on you aswell : ]
even if he is a pretty pale guy.
carries you almost everywhere, he treats you especially special because he doesn’t want you to lift a finger or worry your pretty little head.
is in between, hes fine with swimming and chilling, its up to you.
a bit off topic but he loves when you call him pretty boy, it can get him to do anything, just something i wanted to point out.
if you just so happen to praise him for being so helpful, or taking cafe of you the entire day, he acts as if its not that big of a deal. As humbly as possible.
swimming with him is fun because i feel hes a bit competitive with it. he tries to swim all super far away.
remember that episode where the waterpark floods with pee? yeah, thats what terrifies him.
that takes him a while to get in the water.
stan marsh.
frankly; was not his idea to go to the beach, but once he goes he’s running straight to the water.
the type to hold his breath under water just because.
probably falls asleep when he does lay down after all the running and swimming, or shoves food down his throat.
after his nap wakes up with sand in his mouth and freaks the fuck out.
doesn’t even try to hide it, he straight up swipes drinks off the bar and if someone mentions anything—he doesn’t even spare them a glance.
brings one of the digital cameras and takes photos of you two.
got chased by a dog.
forgets that sunscreen exists and gets sunburned terribly.
as soon as he gets home he tapes the photos on his walls.
mostly a chill guy at the beach.
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lavandulawrites · 7 days
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Cares
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Yandere Kinich x reader
This idea came to me when suddenly and I just had to write it down asap
Synopsis: Ajaw has finally found someone he considers his friend. He is however not the only one. The normally arrogant dragon, finds it fascinating how Kinich is spiralled deep into love and obsession.
Masterlist
Warnings: written in Ajaw’s point of view, Ajaw sees reader as both a friend and a motherly figure, murder, dismembering, Kinich is both down bad and insane, Ajaw cares (?!), drugging, abduction
Word count: 1058
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Ajaw found the black haired man to be extremely annoying. He rarely showed any signs of hurt by his remarks and he put him in timeout way too often. He was in other words stupid and a sorry excuse of a man. Ajaw could feel himself greying in anger at the thought of his dismissal. You however, were different. You were kind (nauseating so) and you always brought Ajaw tasty snacks (as he deserved naturally). You entertained him in various means, unlike a certain useless man.
You were the only human Ajaw tolerated. And he made it known to you. For that’s how kind the Almighty Dragonlord was. To both his dismay and his curiosity, he was not the only one who thought highly of you. Oh, far from it.
Ajaw tried to stay out of human concerns as much as possible (it was after all offensive to his greatness to be a associated with humans), but he found it fascinating how much Kinich cared for you. He would always bring you food if you had forgotten to bring any, put on sunscreen for you (Ajaw found it gross how Kinich’s face reddened at the feel of your skin, he could sometimes swear he could see him wetting his lips like a hungry dog. Disgusting), take you on picnics and buy you gifts. The great dragon never got such nice things from him, even when he had been on his best behaviour.
When Kinich had managed to persuade you to try bungee jumping with him, Ajaw had for the first time in his life not had the desire to cut the rope and let you fall straight down with a splat. It was a weird feeling.
Conflict always seemed to rise whenever you were conversing with someone who wasn’t Ajaw nor Kinich. Ajaw was only offended that you speared another human your time instead of bringing him snacks, but Kinich was seething. His jaw was clenched so hard Ajaw could almost hear his teeth breaking in half. His fist tight causing the veins on his arms to stand out like a sore thumb. He clearly always intimidated the stranger enough that he or she left in a hurry. Had Ajaw not been as strong and amazing as he was, he would himself have been frightened.
Your naivety and kindness was something that clearly troubled his servant. He always worried about you and always came up with poor excuses to see you (be it meeting you or watching from the shadows). Normally would Ajaw not help him, no he would rather have sabotaged him, but since it was you he lend him his hand. You were clearly rather weak compared to the raven haired man and himself. Shorter than Kinich and not a fighter. Which was something the hazel eyed man seemed to appreciate.
Following you around became an everyday occurrence and Ajaw for once helped Kinich. When Kinich asked him for his help to orchestra a dangerous situation where he would come in and save the day, he didn’t think twice before agreeing.
He still wanted his body, but it was no longer his main focus. It was a strange shift in his behaviour, but not unwelcome. It was nice to have a friend after all.
Months had passed and both him and Kinich had gotten closer to you. It was clear as day to Ajaw that the ancient name bearer was head over heels. Especially when he caught him sniffing some clothes he had stolen from you. Ajaw never let that go and tormented him with it whenever he saw fit.
It was a lazy sunny afternoon when Kinich came barging into their home. His eyes were blown wide in rage and his limbs shaking. Ajaw was an expert in recognising blood thirst and Kinich oozed of it.
“The fuck are you barging in for, you useless fool?!” the dragon trumped his foot angrily on the air.
“Shut up, Ajaw. I need your help.”
“Don’t talk to the Almighty Dragonlord like that!! I should teach you a lesson! And why on earth should I help you?” he crossed his arms and raised a brow.
“It’s regarding [Name]” he didn’t need to say more for Ajaw to agree to help.
The forest was thick and dark. Mist covered the ground as far as they could see. Kinich had swung his claymore without his help and already ended the puny man’s life. That was he got for being a treat to your well being he had said. Ajaw had to agree.
Kinich dragged the body through the forest creating a bloody trail behind them. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air causing Ajaw to bare his teeth. Such an awful smell.
The man was as useless in death as he was alive. Heavy he was too, judging by the laboured breathing of the normally strong man.
The body was thrown on a makeshift table of old wooden planks. Thin fingers ran over the many knifes and cleavers in the worn knife roll. It was obvious to the yellow dragon that this wasn’t the first time Kinich had dismembered someone. It was a mystery just how many he had slain in the name of protecting you.
With a giddy smile, Ajaw watched as he lifted the sharp cleaver and started working. The bald easily cut through the flesh. With furrowed brows he worked around the bones with the precision of the most talented butcher. It was an eerie sight; the black haired drenched in blood.
After about an hour or so, he was finished. “Do you know of a good place to dispose of this?” he asked the dragon.
He watched through his sunglasses of your struggle. It was fascinating how you thought you could overpower the taller man in your drugged state. Kinich was clearly irritated which made the sight even more entertaining. It had been so fast. Before you know it you were drugged by the juice Kinich had so kindly offered you and brought home to the two of them. Not that Ajaw was on to complain. He found your company enjoyable and he even cared for you.
He couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. What would happen first? Would you accept your fate or would Kinich finally, properly snap?
Only time would tell.
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luffington · 1 month
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private party ♡
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➤ summary: It's too goddamn hot out, so Doflamingo surrenders his strength to join you in the pool. (18+)
➤ pairing: donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader
➤ word count: 2.5k
➤ warnings: dom!doffy, pool sex, belly bulge, exhibitionism, getting caught, degradation, established relationship (kinda), fem reader
➤ notes: i am so normal about the doffy pool scene where baby 5 is introduced. i barely ever think about it i swear.... also this is my softest doffy fic and he's still SO unhinged >:3
NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu
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Dressrosa’s famously perfect weather had been overtaken by a mid-summer heat wave, and today was brutal. The sweltering sun turned the air hazy with heat. Not a single cloud stained the bright blue sky to provide shade from its burning rays. Staying outside for more than ten minutes was a daunting task. Nearly every member of the Donquixote Family was staying cool inside the spacious castle with its doors closed and curtains drawn.
Fortunately, the palace courtyard was an oasis.
An oversized pink flamingo float bounced against the side of the oval-shaped pool as you swam laps straight down the middle, keeping most of your body underwater. The scent of sunscreen and chlorine filled the air. Your lover (for lack of a better word) reclined on a padded couch, sipping a yellowish-pink tropical cocktail decorated with a paper parasol. His signature pink coat had obviously been discarded, but so had every item of clothing besides a tiny pair of shorts. Tan lines had no place on his godly figure.
The king of Dressrosa unashamedly admired you as he sunbathed. Even behind his sunglasses, you felt his lusty gaze trained on the way your body moved – and your skimpy little crimson bikini. You intentionally put on a show for him, arching your back as you dove underwater and making sure your tiny bottoms were pulled a bit too tight against your ass. 
Both of you were completely alone. Doflamingo had even sent away the servants who periodically refilled his drink and brought out poolside snacks. You weren’t entirely sure why he chose to keep the pool after he became king – the only ones who really used it were you and the women who hung around Señor Pink. The Family’s Devil Fruit users safely stayed dry on the surrounding lounge chairs, and Dellinger hated chlorine. Doflamingo did love his pool parties, though.
Getting lonely and bored, you swam to the edge of the pool, emerging near Doflamingo’s feet and wiping water out of your eyes. The blonde placed your own drink on the ground in front of you. 
“You jealous?” You grinned cheekily, sipping the chilled liquid through a neon pink straw. “It must suck to not be able to swim, especially on a day like today. The water is soooo refreshing.”
Doflamingo chuckled at your boldness. “I’ll live.”
“I’ve never even seen you go in.” He was certainly good at keeping you company while you swam, though, and his flamingo float was ideal for cuddling (and less appropriate activities). “You won’t drown in a few feet of water.”
“Water takes away my powers, baby.”
“Boooo.” You splashed a small wave onto his hairy legs. “You can be without your strings for five minutes. Get in here.”
If anyone else did that to him, he would’ve forced them on their knees and made them beg for mercy. Luckily, he found your bratty playfulness more amusing than irritating. Certainly better than an overly passive, demure lover. And the pool did look nice, beautifully shimmering under the relentless sun. It was even more tempting now that cool droplets of water ran down his calves.  
To your surprise, your lover sighed exaggeratedly but actually stood from the couch, stripping down to his underwear and revealing his half-hard clothed bulge. As you excitedly went to grab a blow-up beach ball on the other side of the pool, you could’ve sworn you felt something tugging at the strap tying the bikini around your neck.
Doflamingo kept a cautious hand on the railing as he strolled down the pool steps, hissing in relief at the cold water. Strength be damned, this felt incredible. He kneeled down and reclined backwards to submerge his enormous body, though he kept his head above water, and soaked off the undignified layer of sticky sweat coating his skin. Thank fuck his throne birthright wasn’t on some desolate winter island. 
You trotted back over to him while tossing the ball in your hands. “Doffy, I think my top is coming undone. Can you fix it?” 
Innocently turning your back to him and holding your hair away from your neck. He grabbed the thin red strings pitifully slipping out of their knot, but instead of tying them, the blonde let them fall past your shoulders. Before you could react, his big hands forced their way under your bikini cups to openly grope your tits. 
“Isn’t this what you wanted, pet?” He giggled maniacally as he tugged at your nipples. Being on his knees evened out your height difference a bit, so he curled his giant body over yours, his hard abs pressed flush against your back. Kneading your breasts with no gentleness, squeezing them like stress balls. “Getting all wet for me? Teasing me with this pathetic excuse for a bathing suit?”
You bit your lip – he wasn’t wrong, but you did want to play volleyball with him first. The ball fell from your hands and sadly floated away. 
Doflamingo pulled off your top and carelessly tossed it aside. “This tiny thing leaves nothing to the imagination, it’s fucking disgusting. I want you to wear it every day.” He pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder then bit down as he harshly twisted your peaked nipples. “But just for me.”
“P-Please, Doffy…” You wiggled your hips, squirming against him.
“Needy slut.” Laughing giddily, he licked across your teeth then plunged the wet muscle into your mouth. Pineapple juice and expensive white rum lingered on his tongue. One hand cradled your jaw to keep your lips locked as the other trailed down your tummy underwater, slipping under the waistband of your bottoms. 
Doflamingo teasingly caressed your mound then harshly pinched your clit, then tugged at the sensitive nub. “That’s for splashing me earlier.”
“Shit, I’ll splash you again,” you chuckled, letting your head fall back against his shoulder.
“You’re such a damn masochist, making me get creative with my punishments.” You nearly folded in half when his long fingers ran through your slit, but his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. His free hand went back to caressing your tits. The blonde giggled in delight when he felt the slick between your legs – you were so responsive, so easy. “This doesn’t feel like pool water. You’re all worked up from a little kiss?”
“You’re all worked up from watching me swim, pervert.” Grinding your ass against his massive bulge to emphasize your point.
The blonde slapped your tit and you jerked against his tight hold. “It’s a good thing your bratty mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock, since you’re starting to piss me off.”
Maybe your alcohol-induced cheekiness had reached its limit. Doflamingo’s infatuation with you made him no less terrifying. 
He wasn’t in the mood for long and drawn-out foreplay, though he normally adored seeing you break and beg for his cock with tears in your eyes. But your tiny cunt couldn’t even take his tip without loosening it up first. Being blessed with a perfect body, godlike height, and a monster cock was such a curse.
Resting his chin in the crook of your neck, the blonde observed the way his nimble fingers expertly moved inside you. His string abilities were gone but he still worked his puppeteering magic inside you, scissoring your wet walls apart and prodding at your sensitive spot. The adorably wanton whines falling from your lips made his dick twitch. 
Once he decided you were ready, he easily flipped you around to face him and sat down on the pool steps with you in his lap. Doflamingo freed his heavy cock, letting it spring up and bounce against his abdomen underwater. Instead of taking off your bikini bottoms, he simply pushed them to the side to expose your cunt.
“I’ve never fucked in a pool before,” the blonde chuckled, grabbing underneath your thighs and easily manhandling you into position. Even with his strength drained away, he was still much stronger than the average person – those sculpted muscles weren’t just for show. “You better feel grateful, darling. I hardly have any ‘first time’s left.”
The thick tip of his cock forced its way inside, then a harsh thrust made your eyes roll back into your head. Water resistance made the movement less intense than he intended, but several inches of his massive length were snugly inside your pussy. He continued pulling you down until a pretty bulge protruded from your stomach, though he still wasn’t fully sheathed in you. Doflamingo sighed in relief and reclined back on his forearms, submerged in the turquoise water up to his pecs. “Go on, please your king.”
You braced your palms right above his flashy gold nipple piercings, found your footing, then started riding his dick at a slow pace, feeling every vein and ridge drag against your inner walls. The water rippled and lightly splashed around you with every movement. 
Doflamingo traced the outline of your lips, and you batted your eyelashes coquettishly as you sucked his finger into your mouth. Definitely a mistake – you pulled away with a scrunched up face and tried to spit out the overpowering taste of chlorine. He cackled and shoved two digits all the way down your throat, twisting them around to hear you gag. 
The king was in paradise. Summer sun beating down on his face, cool water coating his tanned skin, and his favorite toy bouncing on his cock. He was getting bored with the slow grinding of your hips against his pelvis, but he was too relaxed to do anything about it. Getting out of the pool and back into the unbearable heat was the last thing on his mind. 
Doflamingo grabbed the meat of your ass to abruptly take over control of your movements. He bobbed you up and down, admiring the way your tits jiggled before leaning forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. Fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, gripping tighter when he abused your tits even more.
He rubbed the outline of his cock in your stomach then pressed down on it. You bit back a debauched moan. An angry vein popped in his forehead before he grabbed your cheeks and squeezed meanly. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me.”
“S-sorry – mmmh!” You choked on your own spit when he suddenly slammed balls deep into you, his gigantic cock molding your insides to take him perfectly. 
The sound of a door opening echoed throughout the courtyard. You froze and anxiously sought out the source. Diamante emerged into the sunlight, his red eye makeup smudged by sweat and using his hand to fan himself. You leaned forward against Doflamingo to cover your breasts, not wanting to ignite his possessive nature, but made no other move. The blonde didn’t even flinch.
Diamante squinted in confusion. Sun-sparkled water blurred and distorted your lower halves, but what you were doing was incredibly obvious. “Doffy, why the hell are you in the pool?”
His boss was buried in your guts and that was what he was concerned about? 
Doflamingo grinned. “The water actually feels great. You should try it – oh, but not now. I’m a little busy.” The blonde jerked his hips harshly up into you, making you keen. Pink sunglass lenses stayed trained on his friend in an almost challenging way. “What do you want?”
The elite officer just huffed, making you believe that this probably wasn’t the first time he saw Doflamingo like this. An odd pang of jealousy struck you at the thought. He never caught you.
“It’s nothing serious, just find me when you’re done.” He snickered as he stepped back inside, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll keep Dellinger and Sugar away from here. Have fun.”
When the door slammed shut, Doflamingo pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, “I felt your pussy get tighter when he looked at us. You filthy whore. You like being watched? Or do you like being owned by me?” He sounded ecstatic. “I’ll fuck you on camera and broadcast it to the entire country if that makes you happy.”
A shiver ran down your spine. “That’s t-terrible.”
“No, it’s a fucking good idea. Then everyone’ll know who the prettiest girl in Dressrosa belongs to.” His surprisingly sweet comment was punctuated by his hips bucking into you, shoving the head of his cock insistently against your cervix. 
Doflamingo flexed his thighs and began using you like a fleshlight, setting a fast and rough pace while letting out incredibly erotic groans. His tanned skin looked irresistible, so you leaned forward to mouth along his thick neck and then kiss him passionately. Doflamingo eagerly reciprocated, rewarding you by pressing his thumb against your clit to rub circles against it. 
“My perfect little toy,” he panted between kisses, a long string of saliva hanging off the tip of his lengthy tongue. “Such a good girl, so eager to serve me. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” 
Something about the intense heat or the negative effects of water seemed to bring out his more romantic side – though there was nothing romantic about the way his dick bullied its way inside you. You gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, feeling your cunt throb around him. 
“Doffy, ‘m so close, p-please let me…” 
Beautiful eyes peeked out from under his sunglasses – lust-blown, predatory, and crazed. “Cum for me, pet.”
Lips slammed against yours as the building pressure inside you exploded. Your cunt gushed and soaked his cock in your juices, stars flashing behind your eyes. Doflamingo obsessively swallowed your moans, rubbing your clit through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He rutted his hips like a feral dog before he felt his balls tighten. Thick ropes of cum sprayed deep inside your walls and filled you to the brim. Through hazy eyes, you noticed how divine he looked at his peak – damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead and sun reflecting off water droplets coating his skin. Head thrown back in bliss, plush lips parted and letting out a heavenly, whorish moan.
Breathless and giddy laughter snapped you out of your trance. “Whatcha looking at, baby?” His cock was softening, but you felt it twitch from narcissistic delight.
You shook your head to clear your mind, dipped your hands in the pool, then ran your damp fingers through his hair. He instantly relaxed into your touch, sighing contentedly. “I told you it’s refreshing.” 
“And you were fucking right. Maybe I should use the pool more – it’s not like anyone is stupid enough to attack me in my own palace.” Strong, scarred arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tightly against him. Doflamingo hummed happily, then released you and nodded towards the couch. A grin never left his face and his shaded eyes never left yours. “Be nice and grab our drinks, then get right back here. Our private pool party isn’t over.”
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roosterforme · 2 months
Text
Aim for the Sky Part 13 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley contemplates just staying in Mexico with you forever. Vacations look good on him, and you seem happier than ever before. But a return to San Diego means the final countdown to the baby is on.
Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral sex, adult language
Length: 3400 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
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There were no alarms set for work, no meals to cook, and no interruptions of any kind. Other than the occasional text from Cam letting you know that Tramp was being the best boy imaginable, you were solely focused on your husband and your daughter.
"She's kicking up a storm," you said from your lounge chair on the beach, and Bradley almost fell out of his own seat where he'd been dozing off and on to get his hands on your belly.
"Where's my little Nugget?" he crooned as he knelt in the sand. You felt her do a somersault as he looked at you over his aviators, and his smile grew. "There she is. I swear she knows when I'm nearby, Baby Girl."
You ran your fingers through his wavy, sandy hair and down along his scarred cheek. "She absolutely does." He kissed your arm without moving his hands, and then he pressed a sassy kiss to your chest through your bathing suit. "Vacations look good on you, Roo. You look very relaxed."
The dark circles under his eyes were virtually gone after a few days in Mexico. He was still chasing you down with the blood pressure cuff several times a day, and he was constantly trying to get you to eat or drink something, but he was obviously feeling very good at the moment. 
"Yeah, well what do you expect when my wife lets me cum all over her tits as soon as I wake up? And then I get tacos and margaritas for breakfast? Honestly, I'm thinking maybe we could just stay here? Rose could grow up bilingual. I could fly some charter planes back and forth to the peninsula. You can lounge in your bathing suit and look pretty. What do you think?"
You were cackling as you reached for the tube of sunblock that you never let out of your sight when you were with him. "Let me think about it while I reapply." You sat up, and Bradley sat on your chair between your legs, and you smoothed the lotion all over his broad back and shoulders before continuing down his arms. "We did just finish the attic at home," you mused as you massaged his bicep. "But moving to Mexico does sound lovely."
Bradley grunted as you kissed the back of his head. "You're right. One of those rooms will be Rosie's someday. Can't let that shit go to waste. Gimme," he said, holding out his hand, and he had you sit on his lap while he put more sunblock on you as well. You bit back a moan as his hands smoothed down your back to the top of your bikini bottoms, and his fingers dipped deliciously into the fabric.
"Do you ever think about how you put sunscreen on me at the cliffs beach? The day we had our first kiss?"
"All the time," he replied easily, rubbing circles along your shoulders. "Best day of my life up to that point. But don't forget, we didn't kiss, Sweetheart. You kissed me. And then I reciprocated with enthusiasm."
You looked out at the water and smiled. "You were pretty enthusiastic. And you were so sweet and sexy. How was I supposed to keep resisting you?"
"You weren't."
When you turned to face him, he was smiling, and you put a dollop of sunscreen on his nose. "Vacations really do look good on you."
He shrugged and leaned back in what used to be your seat. "Well, you would know better than anyone else. I never really took them before you." He coaxed you back so you were curled up in his arms, and he ran his thumb reverently along the valley between your breasts. "Can't wait to go somewhere with both of my girls. Maybe Disneyland? Rose can get one of those fancy princess dresses."
You moaned at his touch and his voice. "You're going to spoil our child rotten, aren't you?"
"Haven't I already made that abundantly clear?" he asked with a laugh. "Nothing's too good for the Nugget."
"You're as bad as my parents," you muttered, letting your eyes drift closed. 
"Okay, they might actually be worse than me."
"It's a tie," you whispered as you fell asleep.
--------------------------
"I don't want to go home tomorrow," you complained with a little pout. 
You looked like an absolute goddess at the moment, and Bradley wished the two of you could stay in Mexico longer. He watched you get dressed from the bed where he was lounging in his shorts and tropical print shirt. His stomach was growling loudly for dinner, but he was very distracted by how you looked as you pulled your dress over your head.
"Jesus," he groaned as you wiggled it over your bump and down your hips. "Could that thing be any tighter?"
"It's a bodycon dress, so no, probably not."
He had no idea what a bodycon dress was, but he really liked this one. "Fits you like a damn glove," he muttered. He could even see your nipples peaked against the fabric, and he started to sit up in bed.
"That's the idea. It's stretchy and comfortable, which is good, because my belly feels tender today," you said as you smoothed the dress over your body.
Everything was exciting to Bradley. You looked smoking hot. And a tender belly was just a reminder that the baby would be here soon. And he was about to eat more tacos and give you a little surprise after dinner. He just kept winning.
When you slipped your feet into your high heels, Bradley jumped up from the bed. "I don't want you walking around in those unless you're holding my hand."
"Why not?" you asked, looking at him with concern.
"I don't want you to trip. No more falls. And we're not going to dinner until I check your blood pressure."
He led you to the edge of the bed, got you seated, and kissed your belly before going to retrieve the blood pressure cuff. With a sigh, you held out your arm and said, "I've been eating and drinking plenty, Bradley. And getting some sun has been really good, too."
He grunted and got you all set up. "Maybe I just want to be sure my girls are alright. It's February now, Sweetheart. The Nugget will be here next month, and the last thing I want is for you to have to go back to the hospital any earlier than is completely necessary. But if your blood pressure isn't holding up, we need to know about it right away."
You reached for his face as he knelt in front of you, and he looked up to meet your eyes. "Rosie is the luckiest baby in the world. And you're already such a DILF. The gray hairs are definitely helping with that."
Bradley ducked his head in embarrassment. "Your blood pressure is normal. You ready for dinner?"
You moaned as he helped you back to your feet, and you let him hold your hand the whole way to the restaurant. "I need more tacos drenched in hot sauce," you said.
"I can make you tacos when we get home, and we can use the hot sauce you made," he promised.
"Oh," you gasped, wrapping your arms around him as he gave his name to the host. "I almost forgot you can cook things now."
He wasn't about to remind you that he was going to have to follow up with your mom again to be sure he remembered how to brown the ground beef. Not when you had that hazy eyed look on your face with your tits practically exploding out of your dress. He was suddenly so horny, he was considering skipping dinner, but he needed you to eat. He needed you to have energy for later.
As the host called out Bradshaw, Bradley leaned down to kiss your ear. "I need you to stop looking at me like that. At least until after dinner," he whispered. But you had been correct when you said that this vacation was doing something good for him. He felt incredible. The hotel room was comfortable, and you'd been wearing him out just enough that he was getting some solid sleep and waking up very refreshed. 
"Literally as soon as we get back to the room later, I want your pants off," you informed him in your bossiest voice. You didn't care who heard, because a second later, you were accepting a menu from the waiter with a smile.
------------------------
Your belly was full of tacos, and you just watched your husband eat roughly his body weight in seafood, but he still looked sexy. He always looked sexy. Maybe it was your hormones, or maybe you were high on quality hot sauce. Or perhaps you were just hopelessly in love with him. But when he paid the bill for dinner and tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his snug shorts, you wanted nothing more than to fuck him. 
"The moon looks pretty," he mused as you left the restaurant hand in hand. "Let's walk down to the water."
"But it's pitch black outside," you told him when you realized there was barely even a crescent moon visible.
"Humor me," he said with a little laugh. You didn't argue when he started to tug you in the direction of the beach while he played with your rings. Before you got to the sand, Bradley knelt down to help you out of your shoes, and then he carried them for you. The soft sound of the waves mingled with music playing further up the beach. The pitch of the guitar was pretty, and the closer you got to it, the more familiar the song sounded. 
"Hey," you said as your steps slowed to a stop. "It's our wedding song. They're playing Everything!"
You could hear Bradley in the darkness more than you could see him, and his voice made you shiver. "It sure is. Nothing's too good for you."
Your lips parted in surprise. "How did you get them to play it?" Just then, the song changed to a slower guitar rendition of Roses by Outkast, and you bounced on your feet in excitement. "Bradley!"
"Sweetheart!"
"How did you do this?" you asked again as your cheek settled against his chest.
"I asked very nicely."
You laughed, because that was such a typical answer from him. If he wanted something badly enough, he'd go to the ends of the Earth for it, but he could usually get his way just by asking. 
"Do we have to go home tomorrow?" you whispered as he wrapped his big hands around your biceps, keeping you warm against the chill of the night air. "This is more fun than going to work."
He kissed the top of your head and said, "Spending time with you in any capacity is more fun than going to work, but we do need paychecks so I can spoil our kid."
You buried your face against him as you laughed. "It's all about Rosie."
"No," he corrected, giving your arms a little squeeze. "It's all about you and me and Rosie. Us against the world. A new era for the Bradshaws."
His words made you warm inside. "We're officially out of the honeymoon phase and in the baby phase."
"Well," he rasped, "I don't think we'll ever be completely out of the honeymoon phase, Baby Girl. Let's be real here." His hand slid down your backside over the tight fabric of your dress. "Not when you wear shit like this with your magic tits."
"You wanna see them?" you asked.
An hour later, you were in bed, sweating and whining Bradley's name. Your dress was pulled up above your hips and also down below your breasts, and he was absolutely worshipping you. You could feel the fabric of his discarded shirt and shorts next to you as you tried to wrap your fingers in the bedding to keep you grounded, but it was no use.
"Roo," you gasped, letting yourself get completely lost in the feel of his mouth on your pussy. He had one big hand splayed on your belly like he was protecting both of you, but his other hand was keeping your thighs spread wide for him. The wet sounds were delicious as he ran his nose over your clit.
"You've got the prettiest pussy," he crooned. "So fucking tight." His tongue slipped down until it dipped inside you, and he groaned as he sucked before pulling his lips free. "My god, you're perfect."
Your thighs were shaking slightly, and it kind of hurt to arch your back. All you could do was whine and hold onto whatever you could reach as you sucked in shallow breaths. You needed to come, badly. But he kept you right there on the brink as if he was trying to decide exactly how to finish you off.
"Roo," you whined.
"I know," he replied softly. "Me too." You were convinced he could read your mind by the way he shoved his cock inside you a minute later. It was such a different sensation, and then his mouth was on your breasts as he fucked you. His voice was aggressive as he whispered, "Your nipples are fucking delicious right now. I can't get enough."
If you weren't already pregnant, you were convinced you would have been tonight. He toyed with your breasts, rough hands and mustache everywhere. You were sore and tender, and he made everything feel better and also more pronounced at the same time. Your orgasm was building now, and while part of you wanted to crawl away, the rest of you couldn't get enough of him.
"Fuck," he grunted, his hard abs pressing against your belly as he buried his face to your chest. "Come on. Come for me!"
He pressed himself against your clit as he fucked you hard enough that your breasts were bouncing, and you closed your eyes as you finally clenched around his cock. The relief was immediate, and you let the needy sound of his orgasm wash over you.
Sticky cum coated up your thighs as he sprawled out next to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion. "You'll be the death of me, I swear," he muttered, eyes closed while you worked your dress up and over your head. He cracked one eye open and peeked at you. "Let's go skinny dipping."
You laughed as he helped you down into the private plunge pool a few minutes later. It was late, but you knew the two of you would have hours to nap on the flight home, so you let him hold you and talk to Rose. You let him tell you for the millionth time how excited he was while you could barely make out his face in the moonlight.
-----------------------------
Bradley jerked awake as the plane touched down with a bumpy landing in San Diego. "Pilot must be retired Navy," he muttered to himself as you woke up next to him with a little pout on your face. The sky outside looked dark and cloudy for southern California, and he already knew what you were going to say.
"I don't want to go to work tomorrow. I want to eat tacos."
"I'll make tacos for dinner if you're well behaved," he promised as he turned his phone on again. A flood of texts from Nat came through just as it started storming outside. He scrolled through them and said, "Nat wants to know what you're doing on February fourteenth."
You stretched your arms over your head and gave him a funny look. "I don't know, Roo. You tell me. That's Valentine's Day."
"Oh," he replied. "Right." It wasn't like that day was particularly important to him. Other than the fact that he liked the color red, he could do without all of the chalky candy hearts and overpriced cards. The date never stuck in his mind like your birthday and November 28th did. That was the most romantic day of the year for him. His wedding anniversary was more important than pretty much anything else. "Well, how do you feel about having a baby shower on Valentine's Day?"
"A baby shower?" you gasped, a bright smile breaking out on your face. "I get to have a baby shower?"
"My god, you're adorable. Yes, you get to have a baby shower. I know your mom said she and your dad would rather wait until the Nugget is born to come out and help, so Nat is planning it."
You burst into tears, and Bradley's eyes went wide as rain pelted the airplane window as it taxied along. "What's wrong, Baby Girl?" 
He was already reaching for your belly as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of his tee shirt. "Nothing's wrong," you sobbed. "That's just so nice of Phoenix to do that. Especially since she's really your friend."
Bradley kissed your forehead and swiped away your tears. "She's a lot more likely to do something nice for you than for me, and you know it, Sweetheart." Now you were laughing as you cried. "And keep in mind that you'll have to deal with Jake and Javy and all the guys being there. So is it really all that nice? It'll honestly probably be a shitstorm."
You nodded. "But it'll be our baby shower shitstorm."
"You're the only person I want to share a shitstorm with," he promised, helping you to your feet as the plane finally stopped at the gate. "Pretty soon we'll have literal diaper shitstorms, too."
You giggled as you wiped at your remaining tears while he reached down the carry-on bag. "You need to stop saying shitstorms."
He shook his head and reached for your hand. "I can't. I got started, and now I just can't."
It was nice to arrive at San Diego International and have you by his side for once instead of waiting at baggage claim. You and he walked slowly through the airport while you counted up how many times he could use shitstorm correctly in a sentence, and then Bradley drove home where Tramp was waiting.
"I heard you were a good boy," you crooned, scratching him behind the ear while Bradley made you a snack of hot sauce and carrot sticks. When you turned to him and asked, "Can you look at your calendar? We have a lot to do in the next few weeks."
He knew you meant the calendar on his phone, but he just smiled and said, "Absolutely," before heading out the back door toward the garage. He grabbed the dirty calendar you made for his birthday last year and brought it back inside where you were casually dipping a carrot into the hot sauce.
"Seriously?" you asked with a laugh when he held it up.
"This is the only calendar I use," he said, turning the page to February where the photo of you smiled back at him, mostly naked. "Holy shit. Six weeks until Rosie!"
"That's what I'm saying!" You had your hand resting on your bump while you poked at your phone calendar. Tramp was begging for a snack while you crunched on your carrot, and Bradley had the urge to go sit quietly in the nursery for a while. Every time he thought about his daughter, he got more excited, and it just made sense that she would be here soon.
"We've got a baby shower, maternity photos and last minute shopping to do," you muttered. "We should probably go to Costco soon."
"You get horny at Costco," he replied. "Block off a whole day for that. And block off a whole day for you and me to snuggle on the soft rug in the nursery. And block off another day for me to organize all of the cute board books on Rosie's shelf. I want everything to be perfect."
"It will be."
---------------------------------
Roo is a sunny golden retriever husband even on a rainy day. They are well rested just in time for the baby shower and the Nugget's arrival. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 14
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405 notes · View notes
arc-misadventures · 1 month
Text
The Lady’s Next Door
The 'Milf next door' when she says she just going to say 'hi' to that cute blond boy your daughters friends with.
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Kali
Kali: I just want to talk to him.
Blake: Why do you want to do that, Mom?
Kali: I just want to talk to him.
Blake: Why are you dressed like that?
Kali: I just want to talk to him.
Blake: Why do you want to talk to, Jaune?
Kali: I just want to talk to him.
Blake: Is it because he's a human?
Kali: I just want to talk to him.
Blake: He’s just my friend, Mom, he is not another, Adam waiting to happen.
Kali: I just want to talk to him.
Jaune: Hi, Blake. Oh, hi Ms. Belladonna!
Kali: I just want to fuck him.
Jaune: Beg pardon?
Blake: What?!
~~~
Raven
Yang: Hey, Mom, I’m sorry, but can you do me a favour?
Raven: I don’t wanna.
Yang: Mom! Come on! I just need you to watch over my friend till I get back.
Raven: Back, back from where?
Yang: Blake got…?!
Raven: No! Say no more, since it involves your ‘girlfriend’ I can assume it’s something illegal.
Yang: She’s not my girlfriend!
Raven: But, was it illegal?
Yang: …
Yang: Well…
Raven: Ha! Love the bad girls don’t you? Fine, I’ll watch over your friend. Who is it you want me to babysit; It better not be the, Schnee girl! I swear I’ll shoot her one of these days if she…?
Yang: No, it’s not, Weiss. It’s, Jaune. Jaune’s coming over.
Raven: J-Jaune…?
Yang: Yeah, we’ve got a school project we’re working on together, and Jaune wanted to get ahead of the game. So he asked if he could come over here so we could work on it. Is that okay?
Raven: Jaune coming over here…? T-That’s fine! I’m totally fine with that tasty snack…?! I mean! That fine young man coming over here. W-When is coming over…?
Yang: In… half an hour-ish?
Raven: Half an hour? That gives me plenty of time… Time for a shower, and time to put on something spicy~!
Yang: What was that?
Raven: Nothing! Go, and save your girlfriend!
Yang: She’s not my girlfriend, Mom!
Raven: And, I’m not about to get laid, now get going!
Yang: Alright! Alright! I’m going.
Yang: …
Yang: Wait, ‘Get laid?’
~~~
Summer
Ruby: Mom?
Summer: Yes, sweaty~?
Ruby: What are you wearing?
Summer: A bikini.
Ruby: Why?
Summer: Well, your friend, Jaune is coming over to help clean the pool, so I thought I’d give him a show~!
Ruby: A what?
Summer: I thought I’d get a suntan.
Ruby: Oh… Then why are you taking the sunscreen?
Summer: So I don’t get sunburned silly.
Ruby: Okay, do you want me to…?!
Summer: No! No, noo, no. I’ll ask, Jaune to put it on~! That way I get those big muscular hands all over me, feeling me up~! Oh gods~!
Ruby: What was that mom?
Summer: Nothing~!
(Ding dong~!)
Summer: Oh? That must be my boy toy~! Coming!
Ruby: Boy what…?
~~~
Willow
Jacques: Willow! Where are you! Blasted, where is that drunkard!
Willow: …
Jaune: …
Willow: Well, that was close…
Jaune: Yeah… too close.
Willow: Jacques would have thrown an absolute fit if he caught one of, Weiss’s friends snooping about the mansion.
Jaune: I wasn’t snooping, I was lost.
Willow: In a supply closet?
Jaune: I thought it was, Weiss’s room.
Willow: Not even close dear.
Jaune: Okay… but can you open the door, you shoved us in here to get away from, Jacques, and this broom closet is rather cramped.
Willow: No can do… my hands are stuck here… Feeling your broad chest~! Y-You’ll have to open the door yourself.
Jaune: Okay fine… where is the door knob…? Eh? What is this, a pillo…?!
Willow: Ohh~!
Jaune: Ahh?! S-S-S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to…?!
Willow: Jaune?
Jaune: Y-Y-Yeah…?!
Willow: Harder~!
(Ziiiip!)
~~~
Athena
Athena: So tell me, why are you in such a panic to clean up, our already clean house?
Pyrrha: Ooooh… My teammates are coming over, so I wanted to spruce the place up for their visit.
Athena: Your teammates…? Does that mean… Jaune is coming too…?
Pyrrha: Yeah, he’s coming too.
Athena: I see… Well, then I hope he’ll enjoy visiting us in our humble abode~!
Pyrrha: Uhh… Mom? Your top has come undone.
Athena: It’s a little hot here, I just want to cool off.
Pyrrha: It’s not hot in here at all?
Athena: Oh~? What makes you think that?
Pyrrha: Mom, your top has come undone again.
Athena: So it has.
Pyrrha: Mom, I can see you bra.
Athena: And?
Pyrrha: Mom, do up your blouse, unless you want my friends to stare at your breasts.
Athena: So long as it’s him, I don’t mind if he stares, or even copes a feel. I’ll be very happy by the end of it all~!
Pyrrha: C-Cope a feel? Who are you talking about?
~~~
Carla
Carla: So that’s the, ‘loser twerp’ you’ve been bullying?
Cardin: Yeah, his name is, Jaune Arc, complete loser.
Carla: Jaune Arc…? Jaune ArrrrrrrrrC~! Hmm… Rolls off the tongue.
Cardin: Pff! That’s part of the idiot’s stupid catch phrase.
Carla: What catch phrase?
Cardin: “The nAme’S JaUNe ArC; roLLLs of tHE tonGUE! LaDIEs Love it” Pff! How stupid can you be?
Carla: ‘Love’s it?’ So, he is the boy you are being forced to apologize to?
Cardin: Yeah, the teacher says they’ll end my two month long detention early if I apologize to him… I have no intention of apologizing to that loser.
Carla: I see… You know what, Cardin. How about I apologize on your behalf?
Cardin: You’ll do that?
Carla: Of course! He may not accept it, but he’ll at least get that apology he is owed.
Cardin: You’ll do that? Thanks, Mom. I probably would have decked him in the face if I went over there to apologize to the loser.
Carla: Then I best go over there. Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll make sure he accepts your apology. After all, what better apology can a boy get than fucking his bully’s own mother~?
Cardin: W-What was that…?
~~~
Ruby
Ruby: Amethyst, honey? Why are you dressed so… slutty?
Amethyst: Oh… uhh… Parent teacher conference is tonight…
Ruby: I’m aware…
Amethyst: Yeah… so… Professor Arc is coming over to…?!
Ruby: Jaune?! J-Jaune’s coming over here?
Amethyst: Yeah, he told me so himself.
Ruby: So, you’re dressing like a slut to seduce him?
Amethyst: Yeah… That is the plan…
Ruby: Nonono! That won’t work at all honey! He won’t give you so much as a fleeting glance if you dress up like some common harlot!
Amethyst: He won’t?
Ruby: No! You need to dress in something more conservative, something that shows nothing, but something that emphasizes everything~!
Amethyst: Like what?
Ruby: I’ll show you after I’ve seduce him~!
Amethyst: What?! But, I want to sleep with him first!
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sunlightmurdock · 5 months
Text
hands to yourself | dilf bradley bradshaw x nanny!reader (18+)
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surprised with an afternoon to himself, bradley takes advantage of the alone-time, thinking about the woman he can’t have.
warnings: shameless pwp, bradley is down bad for his nanny and hasn’t touched himself — or anyone — in a long ass time. masturbation, pining, swearing, fantasising about oral and such. voyeurism, kinda, he gets walked in on. I may write a part two for this but idk yet. I just needed to write a lil smth about him touching himself. Wc: 3k
this is the lingerie set I was thinking of but imagine whatever ya like x
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Bradley drops his keys into the bowl by the door, they land with a stark rattle. The faint tan-line between his brows disappears into the crease that caused it as he frowns. He looks towards the stairs, and then wanders in the living room. His boots tap softly against the floor.
“Kids?” He calls out into the unfamiliar quiet.
Nothing. His eyes widen in slight panic, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he looks around him. The floor is spotless — their toys are stored neatly in their bins, there aren’t any new stains on his rug, and there aren’t any cartoons on his television.
The sound of his boots on the ground are unnerving; he can’t bring himself to admit that he misses the sounds of chaos he usually returns to. He wanders through the house, making a beeline for the backyard. Sunny day like this, he figures that’s where he’ll find them.
Nothing. The yard is completely empty beside the laundry hanging out to dry. His mouth feels dry.
Once the mid-day mind fog dissipates, Bradley’s panic starts to, too. That birthday party. You’d mentioned it twice this week already, and once this morning. He’s just forgetful at the minute — — you know how crazy work has been for him.
He pauses, standing in his unusually clean living room, and purses his lips. His hands come to rest on his hips while he looks around him. He isn’t used to this.
Usually, within seconds of him walking through the door, he’s got a kid attached to his leg or a fight to break up or a permission slip to sign.
There’s nothing that he needs to do.
Nothing urgent.
Nobody else home.
Lifting his wrist, he takes a quick glance down at his watch and considers what to do with his sudden freedom. Birthday parties take a couple of hours, right?
He takes one final look around him, his eyes catching on the laundry drying outside. Clipped to the line is a power-blue balconette bra. He’s seen it before. The day he accidentally walked in on you.
Since you moved in four months ago, Bradley has been especially careful about knocking first. He wishes he could say it’s because he’s a gentleman. Really, it’s just because it made it hard enough for him to keep his hands to himself the first time.
There had been a heatwave that week. You had the afternoon off but Bradley hadn’t been able to find the sunscreen, and his kids are damn near impossible to keep out of the sunlight. With them arguing downstairs and trying to figure out the lock to let themselves out, he just wasn’t thinking and he hadn’t knocked.
“Hey, do you know where you put the—“ He’d stopped, frozen, taking in the sight of you sprawled across your bed. His bed. The bed he gave to you when you got the job of living here. A red popsicle between your lips and a book propped open in front of you, wearing nothing but a powder-blue set.
“Oh—“ Your eyes had gone all wide and surprised, too shocked to move, just like him.
The only thing that reminded him that he even had the option to move was the sound of his son running up the stairs to hurry this process along. He had slammed the door shut, blushing furiously, and turned to face his eldest.
“Found it, dad! It was in my backpack.” Grinning, he had held up the bottle of sunscreen and Bradley had just been forced to continue with his afternoon like he hadn’t seen anything at all.
When he finally peels his eyes away from the line of drying clothes outside, his gaze lands on the basket of dried and folded laundry sitting on his kitchen counter ready to be put away. Sitting right on top, is a glossy looking pair of blue panties that match the bra on the line.
Bradley’s already been kicking himself for his behavior since you got here. It’s downright shameful, the things he lets himself think about you. You’re half his age, first off. Second -- he’s your boss. You live in his house. His kids think you’re their best friend.
They think you’re just here because you love hanging out with them so much, not because their mommy and daddy couldn’t get along for the life of them and daddy works too much.
His mouth waters. Staring at some blue lace in a laundry hamper and his mouth’s practically watering. He’s pathetic. His guy friends keep telling him he needs to get back in the game, start moving on — he hadn’t been so sure. But then, he’s never almost popped a hard-on over a thong in a pile before.
He can picture you so perfectly in them. Your round ass barely covered by the material, legs kicked up behind you and your ankles crossed. When he closes his eyes, he can picture you facing the other way. Your face toward the headboard, your ass right in front of him.
His slacks grow tighter as his neglected cock stirs to life. It occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time he jerked off. Maybe sometime before his middle kid got the flu? — Around a month ago, maybe. His nights since then had been primarily spent clearing up puke.
The sad part is, the thought only tends to occur to him when he’s at work. Home is always far too hectic. For a while now, he’s been stuck working late into the night with a boner while he’s flicking through candidate paperwork and flight logs.
Well, he’s thinking about it now, and he’s got the place all to himself. No locking himself in the bathroom and letting the shower run, trying to think of anything but the growing list of chores he has to do to keep this house functioning.
He swallows thickly.
He’ll tell the guys that they’re right. He needs to get back into the game; get his head on right, stop pining over his nanny. Tomorrow. For now, he lifts his hand and takes the underwear, smoothing the sheer mesh between his index and thumb. Closing his eyes, he hopes that you won’t notice they’re gone before he can return them.
He twists the cap off of an ice cold beer, leaves his boots neatly by the door and walks calmly upstairs. From there, he clicks his bedroom door shut and steadily takes himself out of his uniform, dropping it into his laundry hamper.
Finally, he settles down against his headboard with his phone in his hand and your panties in his lap.
Porn will make this better. It’s less weird if he’s not necessarily picturing your face. It��s not — but he might have a better chance at looking you in the eye later if he tells himself that.
Not that any of this feels exactly regular.
He inhales and shifts, and scrolls. Birds are still tweeting outside, singing early afternoon songs. His teeth nip at the inside of his cheek as he scrolls aimlessly until he finds a thumbnail that looks halfway doable.
All alone, the house feels especially quiet when the first moan spills from the speakers. He flinches at the sound and scrambles for the volume button, then hesitates. He doesn’t have to be quiet. He doesn’t even have to be ashamed. Shit, it’s a little late for that.
His brows knit together a bit, cocking his head as he examines the babbling girl on the phone screen. His hand stirs to life from where it had gone limp on his thigh, finding his cock through the grey fabric of his boxers. With one last cautious glance to his closed bedroom door, the silence beyond it confirms to him that he’s okay.
Wetting his lips with his tongue, he strokes himself over the material. The video isn’t particularly interesting, not when Bradley’s head can fill itself with far more interesting material at whim. His mind starts to wander back to that dream he’d had of you in the nurses outfit— that one had hit him hard, literally. He could barely look in your direction without getting hard for two days.
Soon enough, he’s hard and straining against the briefs. But that’s thinking about you, and that’s not allowed. He shifts restlessly and goes back to scrolling, palming himself absently. Finally, he comes across a video that sparks something. The thumbnail is of a girl with swollen lips and a cock in her mouth. It’ll do.
There we go. He huffs, that red-hot desperate feeling spreading down his neck and covering his shoulders. Making like it’s going to swallow him whole. Bradley lifts his hips to shuck down his boxers, tucking the waistband under his balls, still prepared for a hasty recovery at the sound of the garage door opening or something. He glances down at himself, remembering the days his thighs were narrower and more taut and he wasn’t noticing grey in his pubes.
If he wanted this done quick and fast, he’d spit hard into the centre of his palm and get to work. It’s been a long time since it hasn’t had to be quick. He thinks he has— he turns a bit and pulls open the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging blindly at the back until he comes up with what he’s looking for — lube. It’s practically full, not like he has been using it much.
A drop in the middle of his hand is enough, he figures. Turning his attention back to this new video, he settles, cupping the weight of his shaft in the palm of his hand. He gives it one slow pump, following the length, coating himself a bit. Real slow, his eyes study the screen, working the lubricant against his skin.
The actress bobs her mouth around the on-screen cock enthusiastically, moaning around him, raking her fingertips along his thighs. He locks his fist around himself, warm and tight, wet. It’s not a mouth but it’s the closest he has felt in a long time. If he closes his eyes, it could be your mouth.
You’d take him slowly, at first, ease him into it with that taunting nature you’ve let him glimpse at. He wouldn’t close his eyes; wouldn’t take ‘em off you. His hand steadies into a lazy rhythm, picturing the way you’d look up at him through your lashes.
The way you’d suck, and flick your tongue across his swollen tip. He shivers as he swipes his thumb through the precum beading there, stroking it all the way back down, stuck on imagining what it would feel like with your saliva joining the mix.
A pleased, feminine hum of approval comes from his phone and Bradley’s body responds just as eagerly, his hips twitching into the thrust of his palm. Sweat beads at his forehead as he slows to the point of almost stopping, dragging this out — making a point of exploiting his time alone.
He blinks hazily and finds a glimpse of blue, remembering suddenly the souvenir he had taken. The pitiful scrap of fabric he’s so wound up over sits against his thigh, looking suddenly small in comparison to his cock. He lets himself go and grabs hold of the fabric firmly, balling it tightly in his fist.
The soft lace bristles at his palm. Freshly laundered, they don’t smell of anything but detergent. It plays to the weaker side of him, gnawing at him, leaving him desperate to have something beyond what’s in his head. To know your smell, your tastes, your sounds. He shudders as he wraps a hand snugly around himself once more, this time, with an added layer of lace and soft mesh.
His head falls backwards, mouth hanging. Like this, it’s even easier to pretend. The image of you straddling his thighs, rocking your pussy against him while wearing nothing but these has him finally relaxed. Zen, even. A groan dies in his through, coming out more as a deep and baited sigh. He lift his hips, fucking into his fabric tangled fist.
Sometime between picking up your panties and now, the video has moved on without him, the blowjob forgotten. If he was to open his eyes, he would find that she’s on her back, being fucked into a mattress. He doesn’t need to. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he steadies up to the rhythm of her moans, skin hitting skin.
You’ve been living here four months now and you haven’t stayed out once. He wonders if you’re as wound up as he is. If you’ve thought about him the way he thinks of you. How downright desperate you’d sound moaning against his pillows while he finally gets to feel you. His left hand jumps, grabbing a firm fistful of the sheets beside him.
The shame he feels has been checked at the door, he lets himself think that you might have looked at him, that you might want him. He chases the feeling, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Pumping the blue mesh around his cock, imagining you rocking yourself on him. Something gentler, more spry. It feels good. You’d feel good.
His imagination is better than he gave himself credit for.
His wrist twitches and he slows, feeling his thighs tighten as his heels press into his mattress for leverage. He chokes out a sound that he won’t admit is closer to a whimper than anything else, panting hard as he lets the rush ebb a bit. Pursing his lips, he draws out a slow exhale.
His mouth hangs open, eyes dipping to watch himself loosen up with the material, finding himself with just his bare palm once again. He takes the blue fabric in his left, opening it up and examining the dampened marks of his precum and the lube.
Just like that, he’s back in the guest room — your room — and you’re wearing that blue set. It’s dampened like this, but not because he has made a mess of it, not yet. Because you have. You’re soaking through it, looking up at him with that awe-struck look on your face. Your mouth open wide but this time there’s no red popsicle.
“Fuck.”
“Shit.” You whisper, catching the diaper bag that had almost fallen from your shoulder as you cradle the sleeping infant against your chest. Quiet as a mouse, you click open the front door and toe off your shoes.
She’s dead-weight in your arms, probably drooling on your shoulder. Her two older siblings will be causing all kinds of mischief and consuming sugar in all of its forms at their cousin’s birthday party for the next three hours. Given that the party lines up almost exactly with the fifteen-month-old’s nap routine, you figured you would take her home to rest so that you could get around to putting away that laundry you had started.
You’ve got a thousand things on your mind. A million things to do before Bradley gets home that evening. Truthfully, you’re a thousand miles away as you stroll upstairs and walk to the far end of the hall to the nursery. You lay her down and adjust the baby monitor, setting up her white noise machine routinely.
Her bedroom door clicks shut behind you and you take a moment to consider your priorities. Laundry takes precedence, even though you want so desperately to crawl into bed and sleep for an hour. You huff, groaning to yourself as you walk back downstairs to find the basket you had abandoned.
As you round the stairs and walk through the hallway, a choked sound spills from under the wood of Bradley’s door, something deep and breathless. Already halfway to the kitchen, you don’t hear a thing.
The video stopped a while ago but Bradley had stopped watching it even earlier. His head is thrown back and his lips are parted, his features creased in concentration as he chases his high. He thrusts into his fist, white-knuckling your panties with his free hand, his heart thundering in his chest. “God, fuck.”
He doesn’t have a clue that he isn’t alone anymore. He didn’t hear the minivan, he didn’t hear the front door. He doesn’t hear you rush back up the stairs with the hamper hiked against your hip.
He walked in on you. He stopped, and he stared. You were interrupted, so you can’t blame him for slamming the door shut. He’d missed, or ignored the signals since. The looks, the touches, staying up with him until your eyelids are so heavy that they’re barely open because he’s kind of an insomniac. Nothing. You’ve been beyond curious, desperate to know if he has been blowing you off on purpose or if he’s just clueless.
Clueless yourself, armed to put away freshly folded t-shirts, you grab the door handle and push it open. He works late, always. He’s rarely home before bedtime on work days. He told you this morning that he’d try not to wake you when he came in. And yet — there he is.
You get a glimpse of him before he registers the click of the door, before he spots you. Brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, his curls dampened and hugging his forehead. Sunlight catches on the beads of sweat as they trail his glistening middle, spilling across his strong, softened middle. Broad shoulders flexed, the veins in his right arm straining through the skin, fucking his palm.
He reacts quickly, but there’s little that can be done. His eyes spring open and his hand releases himself, his body flushing a deeper shade of red at once. Thighs spread, he doesn’t have much time to cover himself before the door whips shut again.
You press your back to the door, staring at the ceiling. On either sides of it, you each have a moment of silent consideration.
“… are you okay?” He asks weakly.
He gets a soft squeak of acknowledgement as an answer and starts to wonder how you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. God, he hopes you don’t quit. The kids love you, and you’re incredible, you make his life liveable. His mind races, trying to come up with some kind of way to fix what you just saw. Everyone masturbates, it’s normal, it’s healthy—
“Was— Was that my underwear?”
Shit, Bradley thinks, he’s done for. There’s no coming back from this. You’re going to tell every nanny in the state that he’s a creep and work is going to eat him alive while he tries to juggle three kids alone. He curses breathlessly, fixing his underwear to cover himself and pushing himself out of bed.
He’s stuck for a second, considering if it would be better to give you time or to go after you. His eyes widen as the door clicks again, and pushes slowly open.
Your eyes rake over him, standing tall at the foot of his bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs. Still, regrettably, balled into his left hand, is your underwear. Powder-blue. He follows your gaze and looks down at the fabric, cursing his own stupidity, wondering if it’s too late to drop them.
You wet your lips with your tongue as your gaze flickers across. He closes his eyes and wills it to go away — he had just been so close, so caught up in it. It’s still rock hard, straining against the grey fabric, dampened at the tip with a spot of precum.
All of those signals and efforts come to a head. After four months of pining, you can’t just wander downstairs like this never happened. Laundry can wait. “You want a hand?”
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