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cryoutloxd · 2 months

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— Need someone older ,,

Older friend Nanami, that's the post. CW: nsfw under the cut, gn reader, age gap (19-27), masturbation(m), vague description of sex, aftercare.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who always helps you with your college home works and lessons in case you don't understand something.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who quickly becomes overprotective of you, thinking you're oh so innocent and need protection, which isn't totally wrong... after all you live in a world full of curses with no cursed technique.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who makes sure you drink enough water everyday and that you don't starve yourself. Always bringing an extra bottle of water and a box of food with him whenever you two are about to meet.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who becomes obsessed with your scent, needing to feel you close to him, to hug you and quietly appreciate the smell of the shampoo on your hair and your cologne.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who knows it's wrong, oh so wrong to be so mesmerized by you. You were far younger than him and it would be wrong to think of the things he does about you! but he just can't help it...

⛤ Older friend Nanami who saves the pictures you send him, all the ones with you half naked and asking him if that pair of pants looks good on you, or if that shirt isn't too loose on your body. At this point he's sure you know what you're doing to him, but you just have to be a little brat, don't you?

⛤ Older friend Nanami who uses those pictures with guilt in his eyes, him who slowly fucks his fist thinking about fucking you while you're wearing that cute loose shirt with no pants or underwear, thinking about making it dirty with his cum so that you'd remember that you shouldn't tease him like that. Him who rubs the tip of his cock, thiking it's your smaller hands, not being able to take him completely in your hand.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who makes the first move by inviting you over to his house, sitting you down and telling you about his feelings with a straight face and asking you for your own feelings cause he's a gentleman, if he sees that you do not want him in the way he desires you, he'll back away.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who doesn't hesitate anymore once you tell him that you feel the same, believing your words and trusting you since you're and adult at this point! You know what you're doing with your life.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who asks you politely if he can kiss you and when you allow him to do so, he goes right in, taking a hold of your face and stroking it as his lips touch yours softly, soon turning more rough and definitely more passionate.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who makes sure you're ready the first time you're about to take him, he is a patient man, he learnt to be after months of yearning for you. Him who makes sure you're comfortable in that certain position and him who praises you all the way no matter how hard it is for you to take him or how much you struggle.

⛤ Older friend Nanami who takes care of you after he's done with you, readying a bath for you and washing your body slowly and sensually...

⛤ Yeah, Older friend Nanami who's now your boyfriend.

#rywrites!!#x male reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #jjk kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x male reader #nanami x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #male reader #ns/fw #bttm male reader #bottom reader

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rylovesswift · 2 years

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fanfic/story refs please

#writerscorner #written #writerscommunity #fanfic #fantasy #rywrites

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fxngsfxgarty · 7 years

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jughead-centric writing practice

out of practice. trying again. not edited, word-dump. tagged and left here anyway. cw: death talk, finale spoilers, general angsty BS

character: jughead jones time: post-season canon-compliant?: yes

Jughead hasn’t seen the north side of Sweetwater River in weeks. Riverdale High, little more now to him than another maze of white walls and dirty floor tiles. No different to South Side, except at South Side, people seem to actually care what his name is, what his story is. People don’t fear the Serpents here; they live and work alongside them, and don’t cross the street to avoid them. Rather, Jug finds, when he walks as one of them, people make a point to notice. To say hi, to smile. The boys at school actually want to sit at his table. One of them has developed a frankly irritating habit of snatching his hat just to ruffle his hair. He has to reach up to someone taller than him and jump to grab it back at least once a day. He considers not wearing it any more. But they’d never do more than take it, laugh and give it back. They’re afraid to.

He is, after all, FP’s son, through and through. They can all see it, in the gazes and glares that bring to mind the near-identical ones of his father. Even Jughead himself can see FP in his own reflection. Before South Side, he’d never noticed it. Or perhaps he’d just never looked too long. Becoming his father frightens him, though that’s one of the things he’d never admit. He may wear the brand of his people, and spend his evenings in a bar he should never be allowed into, riding on the coattails of the Jones name and legacy. But he doesn’t want to be FP.

FP Jones may not have killed someone, but he lied for a killer. Protected a murderer. Cleaned up someone else’s messes, and landed himself a couple of piled-up long sentences in jail for his trouble. Jughead still wishes he’d found out why, why his father chose to do something that, in a small town like Riverdale, was bound to get uncovered eventually. Mysteries don’t live long in small towns. Let alone a murder, a coverup story, a body in a freezer and then a lake. Jason Blossom’s murder was a mystery always fated to be solved, to be told as a warning for future generations.

But Jughead stopped writing about it long ago. He stopped writing about everything. His laptop lies mostly untouched under his bed in the foster family’s house, Words documents untouched since FP’s arrest and incarceration, or even before. There’s nothing more to write about Jason Blossom. He is dead. Cliff Blossom is dead. Thornhill is a shell, if he believes what the whispers say. Dead trees, dry grass, surrounding a burnt-out husk of a troubled home now burned to the ground. Another mystery - they say nobody knows who did it. The remaining Blossoms - Cheryl, Penelope, old Nana Rose - don’t breathe a word. But, anyone who lives a spell in Riverdale knows, mysteries don’t live long in small towns.

Riverdale, as Jughead knew it, is dead.

Everything he thought he knew. His friends, his classes, the familiar, dead school halls draped and painted in the blue and gold he’d grown up around. Even his relationship with Betty, beautiful, smart, passionate Betty, who’d told him she loved him and kissed him for real, for the first time, all at once. Dead and gone, she hasn’t spoken to him in weeks. Ever since that night in the trailer, when she’d watched him shrug on the weight of the snake embroidery his father had borne before him, she’d been acting off. Uncomfortable, like every moment she spent around him only made her more willing to leave. The last thing he remembered her saying to him was “I don’t know you any more, Juggie. And that makes me afraid.”

He’d never meant to make her fear him. He’d honestly never imagined she could, or that anyone could. Used to growing up in the shadows and fearing others, it was unfamiliar, alien, to think he could incite fear in anyone. And that, alone, shook him almost to the core. The thought that people could ever be afraid of the boy he still saw when he looked in the mirror made no sense, because all he saw were childlike curls and eyes as full of fear as always. He didn’t know what he was afraid of any more, but that fearful look never went away. The Serpents had started to comment on it, in the lightest ways they knew. A nudge to his shoulder as he stood in the doorway of a bar he never should have been near, the teasing “you look like you’ve seen a ghost” comments he got…

Ghosts. Why did everything come back to the constant, overhanging thought of death? Ever since the Blossom murder, death had clung to Riverdale, to Jughead, like cigarette smoke to his hair and his favourite sweaters. The bar was always full of smoke - the Serpents would chain-smoke indoors like it was nothing, and the air seemed constantly thick with tobacco and worse, different smells that Jughead had no interest in investigating. No amount of cycling through all the settings on the washer could really get that ingrained smoke out of his clothes. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it always being there. Just another thing to get used to in this weird new way of living.

He couldn’t say he missed Riverdale. Life had been monotonous to the point of pain up until Jason’s disappearance and subsequent death. It had been morbid to even consider the thought of a murder as livening the place up a bit. That was why he’d never said it out loud.

And considering that, not days after he’d left, another murder had taken place, he was real glad sometimes he’d never said that out loud. Archie would have found a way, in his grief, to turn an offhand comment into an attack. Jug could hear him now, spitting the words back, making them sound twisted, as though he’d really had the conversation he’d imagined a hundred times, with his once-best friend in a sanitary, bleach-white corridor.

In reality, he hadn’t been to the hospital at all.

Had missed the funeral, too. Too afraid to see them all again, after he’d left, and stopped returning their calls, and in response, they’d simply ceased to try.

Night after night, in the Serpents’ bar, Jughead waited with his phone in hand, typing out messages and letting his thumb hover over the send button, before backspacing them all and exiting conversations and waiting for contact that never came. He’d gotten so used to pulling away

and being chased that he’d never imagined they’d just… stop chasing.

It hurt, but he couldn’t allow it to hurt. It was just a shame the aching inside tended to hang around longer than the blood on his knuckles.

It had never stayed long in Riverdale. Now he couldn’t make it go away.

#riverdale #jughead jones #jughead #rd #riverdale fic #writing #creative writing #writing practice #writing task #angst #jj #rywrites

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cryoutloxd · 3 months

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A little Gift ,,

Giving a gift to Touya because it's his birthday :3 cw: mdni, Oral (m receiving), gn reader. reader is hinted to be a virgin. smoking. sub/dom dynamics? slight degradation: dabi calls reader a slut so yeah. nsfw under the cut!! lower case intended. sorry for typos, not proofread ;(

birthdays... it wasn't really something he believed in, or well.. wanted to be celebrated. at least for himself, he knows you like these little moments of happiness that some celebrations and holidays bring. but him personally? nah, before you he hardly memorized the dates.

but he's goddamn happy that you're here to celebrate his birthday with him.

—

"oh fuck.. you knew how to do this stuff?" his voice is raspy, more than usual as he blows smoke into the air. his eyes are closed and his head's thrown back from the amount of pleasure your mouth is bringing him. your lips are wrapped around his cock so deliciously that he's starting to wonder if you practiced with that dildo he bought for you.

while you can only hum around his thickness, you bat your eyelashes, then closing your eyes and taking his cock in as deep as you could. "s-shiiittt..~ good doll, doing so good.. trained you well, huh?" he chuckles, wrapping his fingers around the roots of your hair, pulling on it to make you choke on his dick. the noises you're making is just sooo amusing to him, he never knew you were capable of such things. "look at you, choking on my dick like a little slut.. ahh fffu-uck..~ just like that."

seeing your face ruined with your own spit and tears makes him lose his mind, wanting nothing more than to bend you over in bed and take you until both your bodies were sore and pained.

his grip on your hair tightens, his thighs shaking slightly as his other hand covers your cheeks, taking your face in his hand like a fleshlight and fucking into your throat as if his life depends on it. he groans, a deep one at that as he throws his head back again, holding you still as his cum shoots down your throat without a warning. "oh fuck! take it.. take it all ahh fffuck..!"

he pants, yanking you back by your hair and staring at your fucked up face. he laughs, stroking your cheeks as a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbles down from the corner of your lips. "shit.. that was hot." he smiles as you congratulate him for his birthday one more time, pulling you up to kiss your forehead. "a happy birthday indeed... thanks doll"

"now, face down, ass up.. i wanna see what else you can do."

thanks for reading <3 likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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