If He Doesn't Wake Me Up Like This I'll Know He Doesn't Love Me

imagining hanging out with a girl who desperately needs to pee but we’re outside so she just has to pull off her panties and lift up her skirt and squat right in front of me since there’s no bathrooms and when I ask her if it feels good all she can do is moan and nod while the puddle below her gets bigger and bigger

“DIRTY LAUNDRY” — 𝑔𝑜𝒿𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓉ෆ𝓇𝓊

[ ᴛᴡ ]・mdni, fem!reader, 4.8k wc (didn’t plan for that ;-;), established relationship (you’re married :D), satoru being forced to do household chores (the horror), your husband is sick in the head...for YOU, panty sniffing, inappropriate use of underwear, masturbation, no p in v, domestic and disgustingly sweet i would say (sorry heh), lowkey selfship coded bc i would so go off on this man to do work around the house LOL, extra of the aftermath at the end (satoru gets in trouble), not much banter + more so yelling (on your part aha), the only person he fears in the world is YOU, pretenses may be messed up

[ ᴀ/ɴ ]・divider by @/cafekitsune

In a whole year, there is only one day out of all the three hundred and sixty five days during which the earth completes its entire revolution around the sun that Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, despises with a passion — Cleaning Day.

No, there is not a designated day around the world in which all people drop whatever they are doing just to deep clean their entire house, but in the Gojo household, unfortunately, there is. And maybe it is because you, his wife, are his world, so the event feels bigger than it actually is. Though, even with this seemingly romantic sentiment, the poor man feels shivers run down his spine just thinking about what was soon to come.

Do not get him wrong — Satoru loves his home, and only because you occupy the space and fill it with your warmth through every smile you grace him with. He loves how you adorn and furnish it, how you make it yours as the rightful Mrs. Gojo. There was not a single area which did not have the trace and essence of you, his darling wife. Your husband takes into account everything you do, and therefore, notices even the smallest things out of place. He is fulfilled and endeared with the knowledge that his woman has been there, and his woman has indeed made the decision that the strange ball decor you are so fond of and chose to put in a designated area on the shelf in the hallway would no longer be in its usual spot, but five inches to the right of it — and simply because you wanted it there.

You were a little weird like that, but it filled him with immense joy that you were weird about the place you share together and call home. And he, in turn, is very weird about you — something he will prove time and time again. You have a certain flair, a touch that lingers around this place that is so uniquely you. This, unfortunately, also applies to cleaning just the same. Most people have normal fears — spiders, heights, the dark. But Gojo Satoru’s is firstly, his wife, and secondly, a little black smiley face drawn in sharpie with the words ‘Cleaning Day!’ written right beside it which you mark on the calendar to remember. In all truth, he thinks the color of the marker you chose is symbolic in representing the terror and trauma that comes with the day.

Okay, maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but your dearest husband could be walking past the wall where the calendar was hung — and then? His body will have a visceral reaction. He’ll become visibly tense and turn pale. He doesn’t even have to look, he can feel its presence like a ghost. It is accurate if he does say so himself, because that is what Cleaning Day is to him — a ghost, a shadow come to torment him, always lurking and lingering before slowly but surely approaching before you even realize it.

Even so, no matter how much distaste your husband holds towards something so inanimate — there is not a single day that goes by where he does not love and adore you to the fullest. Perhaps that is why you put up with him all the time, because you know the extent of his love for you even when he’s being absolutely insufferable (which he knows himself is all the time). But he also knows this — whenever he is with you, anything and everything is somehow bearable. When he’s by your side and heeding your commands, he is the happiest, and Satoru has no problem spending the rest of his life being told what to do by you and you alone... even if it’s chores too, he guesses.

Though, even with that in mind, still, another thing he didn’t look forward to today, to top it all off, is the tensions that came between you two because of all the stress — and not the hot kind!

“Honey,” you peek in, calling out to your husband by the doorway of your shared bedroom, drawing his attention with your saccharinely soft voice.

There it is.

The trap.

Satoru prepares himself, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna!”, he whines back almost immediately, hiding under the cozy covers that smelt like you, hoping the bed would suck him right in and he’d disappear. You hadn’t spoken on your true intentions yet, trying to butter him up first. It wouldn’t work though because he knew, he always knew.

Your smile strains into something unnatural and scary.

“Stop playing around and get up!” You snap, dropping the act, approaching quicker than the speed of light and ripping the blankets off of him, annoyed you had to play this game of cat and mouse every single time.

Satoru flinches at your tone in exaggeration, straightening up and out of bed like a soldier called to duty. You roll your eyes at his antics. Why did he always feel the need to be so dramatic? Actually, never mind — this was your husband you were talking about.

Crossing your arms, you give him a scrutinizing once-over which would usually have his dick up in no time (it still does) before heaving out a sigh, turning on your heel gracefully as you do and padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, expecting him to follow. He does, albeit, like a kicked puppy rather than the powerful sorcerer everyone knows him to be, and all because of his very, very mean wife — who wasn’t mean all the time, just specifically when he was being lazy or leaving his stinky socks around the house.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You tut in disapproval. Satoru can still tell you care, from the way your brows knit together and your eyes soften just a bit at his fitful demeanor. Your voice grows a tad gentler now. “You’re in charge of the laundry, okay? I left the basket over there —”, you point somewhere to the ground, assigning him with his own special task, but he finds himself barely paying attention to anything (except for your ass that was swaying rather temptingly in front of him).

Cerulean blue stares after you, and he opts for hugging himself like the very definition of a pouty child who had gotten a rather harsh scolding from his parents, sliding his way childishly towards the living space, his Cinnamoroll slippers chafing loudly against the floors. White brows furrow, and Satoru’s eyes widen with his classic pitiful look when you turn your attention to the carpets, switching on that dreadfully loud machine which has even the cat running leaps around the house in fear (of your wrath and said machine). He couldn’t help but be on the same page with his sworn enemy more than today.

“Stupid laundry…”, he whispers to himself, peeking at you from the corner of his eye right after the words leave his mouth to make sure you didn’t hear him over the noise. Heh, can’t be too careful — you tend to have selective hearing.

Flopping side to side theatrically, he makes his way over to the full laundry basket on the floor, lifting it up effortlessly. Satoru looks over at you, pout deepening and jutted lip growing more pronounced by the second as he glares half-heartedly at your back, sending you waves telepathically to turn around and watch as you force your distressed lover to perform labor. It melts away rather quickly, however, his blue gaze softening so easily against his will as he watches you fiddle around, completely in the zone, maneuvering the expanse of the living room with the vacuum in hand, paying him no mind.

The basket almost slips out of his hands as he admires the sight of you performing such a menial task. Honestly, Satoru could stand here and watch you for hours and hours and hours, even if you were doing nothing. But that’s also the thing, you are never doing nothing. You are living and breathing, existing as his wife, and you do it beautifully. Hair messy and clothes shabby, even in your rage — you were the definition of perfection. How could someone have such a powerful hold over him, he could never begin to understand. The love you both hold for each other was far from simple, so perhaps it has something to do with that. It’s like every thought flies out of his head when you fall into his sights like an angel, and Satoru, well, Satoru just goes dumb.

He waits there like an idiot for a couple more moments, taking advantage of the seconds until you turn around and likely scream at him for standing around and wasting time, eyes glued to your figure, tracing all over you, from the top of your head to your sock-clad feet (he wonders if you can feel him touching you with only his gaze), before eventually coming back down to earth.

With a serene sigh and acceptance on his face, Satoru relents, coming to terms with the fact you won’t look back at him and change your mind about him doing chores, the very word leaving a bad taste in his mouth, no matter how big his puppy dog eyes are that he throws in your direction (you were always a cat person anyway). He has That Look, the one that says — ‘Even in my impatience, I will listen’. He can never fight with you, because you are always right. If you say it’s his job to do the damn laundry, then it is. And with that, he gives you one last glance for good measure, sights pointedly lingering on your derrière, before turning and heading straight to the laundry room (taking his damn sweet time while at it).

Setting the basket down on the counter, your dutiful husband sifts through the laundry to separate the clothes into two piles like you taught him that one time. Something about the white clothes getting stained and ruined if they get washed with the dyed fabrics. He didn’t really know about that type of stuff, but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of your scorn by fucking this up, so he just followed your instructions.

Truthfully, Satoru didn’t understand you at times (though, he supposes he never will). Why would you waste your time on tedious things like cleaning when he could hire help to get it done for the both of you? It’s been that way since he was a child, so he was used to the lifestyle until you came along. He is not lacking in money, and you could finally catch a break instead of complaining about your back all the time . . . Or maybe you like playing as his little housewife. The thought brings his infamous cocky grin to his face before it quickly drops, nose scrunched in disgust at a rather unpleasant smell wafting into his nostrils. 

“What the —”

Oh, it was just his socks.

Satoru grumbles to himself, annoyed and muttering under his breath, barely able to hear himself over the vaccuming in the other room, going on his usual spiel about how much he hates today (and how much he hates his stinky socks — and he knows you wouldn’t disagree with that sentiment), which he wouldn’t have the same confidence saying directly to your face as he continues to dig through the vast mountain of clothes. He releases a long, drawn out sigh, deft fingers hooking into soft fabrics until he pauses, spotting something rather interesting in the pile.

“Eh? What do we have here?”

Taking his arm out from the bin, Satoru’s face lights up with curiosity as he pulls out a cute, pink, strawberry-patterned number with a small bow sewn into the front hem, holding it up to the light, a cheeky glint in his eye. First, his sights dart across the room, waiting for you to pop up around the corner and start berating him for being a pervert at a time like this.

When you don’t, he officially deems it safe, turning his attention back to what was important. He pinches the straps and examines them from every possible angle, a sly smile creeping on his face. He shuts one eye, making optimal use out of the other, intently focused. He has never been more serious about anything. In fact, if he had a tiny magnifying glass in his pocket, it’d be used for moments like this — for him to be weird about his wife’s dirty underwear.

“Oops, I think I might have found something that doesn’t belong to me.~”, he chirps.

Cerulean eyes inspect the (adorable) piece of fabric, and out of instinct, Satoru’s gaze falls on the subtle stains on the seat of the panties, and his smile grows even wider into something cheshire and menacing. He can’t help but let out a low, impressed whistle, eyes twinkling mischievously. Thick fingers trace the stains on the tiny gusset, amusement written all over his face. He giggles to himself.

“Hehe, this is so... cute. Why haven’t I seen these before?”, he inquires to himself with pursed lips, voice laced with feigned innocence as he bats his lashes. Why would you hide these from him? It’s the only possible conclusion he could get to. He’s certain he is well informed in every pair of undies you own — lacey, granny, g-string, thong (and you look unbelievably sexy in all of them). Did you know he’d be gross about these too? Well, you were right.

Satoru slingshots them across the room, and they make a little ping! sound as they hit one of the machines. He repeats the action a few more times but grows tired of it after a few minutes. Next, he tries them on for funsies. But his face soon falls, his pouty expression returning as he tries to squeeze his large frame into them.

“Geez, I’m not that big.”

He wiggles his hips, trying to make them fit, but they’re just too small. He looks down at himself, a mixture of disappointment and amusement on his face, before letting out a loud sigh.

“Aw, no fair! These were supposed to be cute on me too...”

Satoru huffs even more, trying to adjust them so they sit more comfortably, but it’s a lost cause. They were too tight on him, and he’s peeved as well as a little offended he can’t fit into his wife’s underwear like you can his. So, he takes them off, almost tripping over his long legs that get stuck in the holes, before holding them up to his face.

“Don’t tell anyone I did that, okay?”, he whispers to the flimsy cloth in sworn secrecy.

Satoru twirls the panties around his finger, the fabric wrapping around it like a ribbon. The man grows bored, forgetting what he’s in there for in the first place, lips puckered in thought. He spins them in circles, whistling to himself as he leans against the shelf before pausing abruptly. He blinks. An idea pops in his head. He stares at the strawberry-pattern, eyes traveling from the little bow to the sheer white stain. Once again, he looks around the laundry room, ensuring he’s still alone, before slowly bringing the pair close to his face, his twitching nose almost grazing the soft fabric. With caution, he takes a deep sniff, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales the scent, a throaty moan escaping his lips.

Oh. Yeah. That’s the stuff.

He takes another inhale, face buried in the fabric. He lets out a low, guttural groan, cock throbbing in his pants instantaneously, an immediate reaction, his entire body tensing as the aroma overwhelms him. He goes for another whiff, and then another, his nose pressed firmly against the thin cloth, his breathing growing ragged, becoming intoxicated on you.

Satoru hears the vacuum shut off in the distance and his eyes shoot open, face flushed with arousal and adrenaline. He pulls the panties away from his face with a shaky hand, eyes dilated and hazy with uncontrollable desire. Quickly clutching his treasure close to his chest right over where his heart is thumping loudly against his ribs as if trying to hide them from view — he waits, frozen in place, before he hears it rumbling to life again. A sigh of relief leaves his lips.

He looks down at them again, his gaze lingering on the wet spots before he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the discharge off the fabric. His eyes roll back into his head, a loud pornographic moan escaping his lips as the taste explodes on his tongue. He starts licking faster like it’s his favorite popsicle, practically shoving the whole thing into his mouth to get every drop of your dried juices off it.

“Mmm...”, Satoru whines. “O-oh no... This is...” A shaky breath. “— really bad...” He pants, whispering to himself in a strained voice.

Satoru’s grip on the panties tightens possessively. His breath quickens, cock twitching in his pants the more he breathes in your scent. Those blue eyes are half-lidded, dark and clouded with something primal — a hunger he only gets with you. He pulls the little number out of his mouth, his breathing heavy, a thin strand of saliva connecting them to his lips. He wants nothing more than to taste more of you directly from the source.

A hand flies to his crotch, and he rubs, his cock straining against his grey sweatpants, leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. The taste of you is driving him insane, and he reminisces on the numerous times he’s buried his face between your legs and ate you out like a man starved, wishing so badly he could do it right now.

Satoru’s muffled sounds grow louder, but it is nothing in comparison to the noisy vacuum in the background — his hand moving frantically against his clothed cock. He’s in a complete daze. He wants more, so much more. He wants to feel your warm cunt wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly. Wants to hear your cries and screams of pleasure, and most of all — to see your face twisted in ecstasy as he makes you cum over and over again like the mess you are beneath him when he takes you every night.

With that, your husband rips your panties out of his mouth, drool running down his chin, quickly freeing his massive cock, pre weeping from the tip in globs. He takes the measly cloth, wrapping it around his shaft, using it like a makeshift fleshlight. He starts stroking himself, grunting and groaning loudly as he fucks your underwear. His breathing grows heavier, cheeks pink, eyes glassy, his balls tightening up, ready to explode at any moment.

Satoru’s strokes become faster and faster, his hips bucking wildly as he thrusts into your panties like a madman. The small room fills with the lewd schlicking of his cock and his guttural, borderline filthy sounds. Standing there, he imagines how it would feel to have your hot, tight cunt clenching around his cock instead of this flimsy piece of fabric. Your husband could just go over to where you were now, to the real thing, and bend you over and fuck the attitude and temper out of you. He grits his teeth, practicing self control.

Suddenly, your voice rings out, calling for him over the loud vibrations of the machine. He stills, a pounding in his ears as he holds his breath before he starts stroking himself again at a pace. He could get caught, but that knowledge only serves in making the whole situation hotter, his hand moving even faster as he tries to stifle his grunts. The sound of your voice fuels him, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge, the thrill of you walking in sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his cock, the massive thing twitching and bobbing in his hold.

Another “Satoru!”, and he leaks.

“A-ah! I’m coming, fuck!” 

And just like he said he would, Satoru cums, his cock erupting like a geyser, thick ropes of hot, sticky seed shooting out of him. He shudders violently, the orgasm hitting him hard, mind going completely blank from the sheer intensity of it all. The only thing on his mind is you. Your husband whimpers loudly, your name tumbling heedlessly out of his lips over and over again like a prayer, giving more energy into the hand working his cock than any chore he’s ever done in his life.

“Oh god… oh god!”

“What?!”, you yell back to him in confusion, blissfully unaware as your voice drowns out into background noise.

Satoru continues to ejaculate, coating your underwear in a thick layer of his white fluid. He keeps thrusting into the makeshift fleshlight, milking himself dry, his entire body trembling. He moans your name again, his cock twitching violently as he pumps more and more out and the fabric soaks it up greedily just like your cunt would, legs going weak and numb from right under him due to the sheer intensity of his orgasm. Meanwhile, you continue to vacuum in the living room, none the wiser.

His movements eventually come to a full stop, sighing in satisfaction with a hoot, staring at your now messy pair of panties. The idiot admires his handiwork with a perverted sense of pride, a wide goofy grin on his face, wiping his slicked cock with them, smearing more of his mess onto it as he shivers at the oversensitivity.

You shout again over the vacuum from the other room, causing him to yelp in surprise. “Putting the clothes in the washing machine should not take that long!” He quickly scrambles to clean himself up, making himself presentable by adjusting his pants, hiding your soiled panties beneath the other clothes before he makes his way to you.

Satoru strolls back into the living room, whistling in satisfaction to himself, hands in the pockets of his sweats, trying to act casual and pretend like he wasn’t just doing the nastiest thing imaginable in the laundry room with your underwear. You stop vacuuming and turn to him, throwing him a scathing look.

He gives you a disarming smile, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, giving you a kiss, trying to defuse your fuse with affection and his classic charm. You brush him off, vexed. “What the hell was taking you so long?!” He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Never mind.” You groan, “Just... go throw out the trash.” You pause. “Please?”, you add to sweeten the deal.

Satoru winces slightly at first, but then he internally groans. Taking out the trash is one of the most boring chores he has to do. Then you just had to tack on the ‘please’ and his resolve crumbles instantly. Damn it, how could he say no when you asked him so nicely? He sighs dramatically, trying to act put-out by the request.

“Ugh, fineee.” He whines.

You glare.

He quickly shuts up, sensing your growing irritation. He knows better than to push your buttons right now, especially when you are already pissed at him. So, he begrudgingly lifts up the trash bag, trying his best to show off his beefy biceps as he does this, and heads for the door, muttering under his breath about how much of a hassle taking out the trash is.

Right before he makes his exit, Satoru glances behind him one last time, only to see you staring intently . . . at his muscles. Your eyes flit up to his rather quickly and suspiciously, noticing the pause in his movements. “What?”

He smirks, smug in a way that screams Satoru.

“There’s no need to be shy.” He starts smoothly and you quirk a brow, pursing your lips. “You can look. It’s okay to want all of this, babe.” The bastard flirts with a wink.

Satoru flexes his biceps and his back as casually as he can one last time for good measure, grunting and groaning excessively as he does so, and those gorgeous eyes of yours roll in exasperation, but he can still pick up on the small telltale hint of a smile gracing your lips.

There it is.

That smile.

You love it, you love him. No matter how much you play hard to get even though you’re already stuck with him forever, there was a reason why you still chose him out of all the men in the world (and it totally has everything to do with how amazing and handsome he is).

“Just go, you big idiot.”, you speak in finality, your tone conveying what your words fail to express, eyes shimmering with an unspoken emotion. But he knows what it is, and he knows you know it too.

Satoru salutes, body tall and rigid, one hand holding the heavy black trash bag while the other comes to rest just at his forehead. His cute brows scrunch together in playful seriousness, eyes full of respect, unwavering like his devotion towards you. In that instant, the world seems to pause, the gesture being both simple and profound, a silent vow from him to you. It spoke volumes even after all the hassle of today, and you need not ever say more.

“Yes, ma’am!”

He would follow you to the ends of the world.

a while later . . .

Walking into the laundry room, you go to check to see if the wash cycle is complete so you can transfer the wet clothes into the dryer — only to find out he didn’t even start it or anything! With loud stomps, you storm out of the room, making your way down the hall, basket in hand, up to where he’s lounging on the sofa, playing Candy Crush on his phone without a care in the world — but the sweetness of the previous moment would soon dissipate.

“Satoru! You didn’t even put the laundry in the machine!”

Shit.

The culprit jolts in his seat on the couch, looking up from his phone to see you standing there with the laundry basket in your hands, looking like you’re about to explode with anger. He immediately feels a pang of guilt, and a little apologetic, but mostly — fear.

How did he forget to put the laundry in? He quickly pockets his phone and tries to play it cool.

“O-oh, I, uh, must have forgotten. My bad sweetie...” he titters.

“Forgotten?”, you repeat in disbelief and he blinks dumbly. “It was the only thing I asked you to do in there!”

You slam the basket down on the coffee table, making him jump. His eyes widen as you surf through the clothes to separate the clothing into two piles, and in a moment of revelation, Satoru suddenly remembers the little surprise he left in there — and he freezes.

He can only watch on in horror as you begin to touch and examine each and every article of clothing with a keen eye, his heart rate spiking. It is inevitable. You are going to stumble upon the mess he made earlier; the cum-soaked, used panties that he left in the dirty laundry with the rest of the clothes — and you were going to chew him up and spit him out before evidently, killing him.

Fuck.

He tries to speak up, to stop you from continuing, but his throat feels dry and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. All he can do is sit there frozen, face pale and sweat starting to bead on his forehead as you get closer and closer to finding out.

You huff. “Why do you always act like everything is so difficult? All you have to do is —” You pause, and Satoru’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“What is that?”, you pronounce your words slowly, voice low and full of suspicion, hands getting wet with something sticky and white.

Your husband can feel his soul leave his body as soon as you pull out that cute number which is very obviously drenched (he has a big load). The poor man swallows hard, perspiration pouring down the side of his temple, palms growing clammy.

This is it. This is the end. This was how the Strongest would die — at the hands of his wife.

You look down at the soiled fabric in disgust, grossed out by the tacky mess on your hands. Knowing the type of person your husband is (a pervert), it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the so-called ‘mysterious fluid’ is.

Satoru sits there, looking like he’s about to pass out, cheeks now pink and sockets round in utter embarrassment, the picture perfect definition of someone who has been caught. A pair of cerulean eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for an escape route while another, sharp and terrifying, latch onto his form — and he knows no amount of sweet talking will be able to get him out of this one.

He is absolutely screwed.

aw so pretty😵‍💫

want to see the video these are from👀❤️

rafe cameron p links

WARNING: links that contain p*rn

18+ ONLY

MINORS DNI

rafe x pogue!reader

frat boy!rafe

tutor!rafe x innocent!reader

best friend!rafe

you’ve been so needy all day, so rafe just has to put you in your place

late night hookup with season 2!rafe

best friends brother!rafe

maybank!reader who gets a special visit from secret boyfriend!rafe

rafe and barry double team pogue!reader for stealing money

stepbrother!rafe

season 3!rafe is a total munch

idk this is just so rafe to me

rafe x routledge! reader

rafe was tired of you acting like a needy brat around his friends; so he took you upstairs and handled it

who should i do next!? 💗

be romantic. stretch her out and piss in her asshole

☆ HOW TO SPEND SPRING BREAK PROPERLY? (WITH HIS BESTFRIEND)

ᡴꪫ‎ summary. spring break's here, for the duration of your time off you visit your father. little did you know you’d also be spending time with his best friend toji—he ends up stealing your panties and maybe even your heart also. or does he? you’ve always did want a man.

warnings. fem! reader x toji fushiguro, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty & in uni — toji is in early 30s) incl: shiu kong, mutual pining, tiny slowburn, size difference, semi-public themes, humor, angst, dad is just oblivious.

note. hiii! wasn’t planning on continuin' this but this au has me intrigued ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this is just a short four fic series for fun that may & may not be read as standalones. header: lady k & the sick man

‪ ᡴꪫ‎ ┊SPRINGBREAK COUNTDOWN ᡴꪫ‎ ┊

⟣ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER.

university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.

⟣ DARLIN’ CAN I BE YOUR FAVORITE?

if you knew you’d be sandwiched between two of your dad’s colleagues, you’d—actually let’s not finish that sentence. turns out you get walked in on by shiu kong, toji’s best friend who’s also your ex boyfriend. awkward…

⟣ ONE OF HIS GIRLS.

toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

⟣ THAT [GIRL] IS MINE.

university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

Jason, concussed, trying to keep up with Dick's stream of consciousness story: "Where the hell did he go?"

Dick, who has somehow teleported so he's walking on his hands on the windowsill: "And I wanted to tell Bruce to shut the fuck up about that--"

Jason: "Sounds about right." *blinks and Dick's gone*

Dick: "Are you even listening?"

Jason, turns because Dick's now balanced on the edge of the kitchen island: "And did you actually say that to Bruce, or--" *realizes Dick is gone*

Jason: *turning so fast he almost falls off the couch*

Dick, balancing one handedly on the single chair left in Jason's warehouse: "Careful now. Your icepack fell under the couch."

Jason:

Dick: "Anyways, how's your concussion?"

Jason: "Oh shut up. Stop pretending to care about my head injury!"

Dick: "Pretending?? I do care, you asshole."

Jason, chucking the icepack at him: "Then stop trying to give me another one!"

ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪᴇ || bakugou x reader

bakugou hands the cashier a lingerie, "this will be all?"

"yes."

the cashier scans the barcode and bakugou pays. "heres your item, sir."

"oh no, im not taking it"

"why, sir?" the cashier responded confused.

"im paying for the lingerie my girlfriend is wearing, can't leave without paying. and im sure you wouldn't want to see the mess i've made, right?"

If I'm not pushing my luck, can you write something about you being the first hairy person that an elf has been with? Cause I was thinking about it and what if the first human(s) they've been with all shaved and they thought it was standard for us like it was for them, having no hair and all? I really do think they would be both confused and very curious/enthusiastic about it. And what if you were a bit self conscious about it too? 😪 Thank you I'm in love with your stories!!

Hi there! For everyone who hastn't read it, here's the question that started this idea. Enjoy!

Full bush

Elf x fem!reader || oral sex, pussy worship, body hair appreciation

When you got together you thought he already knew all he needed to know about humans. He was with a couple humans before you, two males and one female, so you thought he already knew... But you were wrong.

First time he saw you naked he stared. And stared. And stared some more to the point you got self conscious about it and ended up putting your clothes back on. You slept very unconfortab that night, and he said nothing. You might have cried a tiny bit. Next day he stared at you even with your clothes on, his eyes fixated in your genitals as you looked at him like he was the weird one (which he was). Later that day he broke down and asked you why did you have hair, if it was some kind of birth defect. You almost threw him out the house, but you breathed deeply and proceeded to explain to him that humans had body hair, that it was normal. He then explained that his previous humans had shaved or something because they were as hairless as elves and that's why he was so surprised when you took off your clothes. You understood his reasoning, but you were still a bit self-conscious, human culture already told you it was bad for you to have body hair, but you weren't about to let your elf boyfriend get away with it, too.

So you didn't take your clothes in front of him. Every time you slept together you put your pj's, not looking at him, and went to sleep with that. You weren't a fan of sleeping with clothes, but a woman had to do what a woman had to do. You could feel him hard behind you, but you weren't ready to face that disappointment and staring at your full bush.

But he wasn't having any of that.

By the fifth time you stayed at his house, he stopped you as you were getting undressed. You looked up at him in surprise, just to see his face flushed and a big tent in his sweatpants. "I- I want to see you," he stuttered.

"What?" You asked, your shirt halfway up your torso.

"I- I want to see your body hair," he confessed in a low tone. He looked so cute at the moment, but you were so fucking confused. You thought he hated your body hair.

You couldn't get the surprise out of your voice: "You do?"

"Yes. I- I liked it." He grabbed his dick and readjusted it, the tip pocking at the waistband of his sweatpants. Your mouth was salivating just looking at him shirtless and with those sinful grey sweatpants.

"You liked it?" You asked, your whole body vibrating with anticipation.

"Very much so..." He said, lowering his pants to let you see his erection already leaking profusely. You licked your lips and got undressed.

He stared and stared, and when your panties were finally on the ground, he licked his lips like you were his next snack. And good goddess if you weren't. He threw you on the bed and went down on you for hours. Your legs trembling around his head as he went to town and told you how great you were, how good you tasted and how glad he was that he discovered you had body hair. He sounded mesmerized by the fact and it made you blush as hard as ever as you came against his lips again.

By the time he was done, there was a pool of your juices under you and his face was completely drenched, but what surprised you more was the puddle of cum under him. You asked and he blushed hard, running to the bathroom to get you a towel.

Later, you discovered that he got so excited about you and your body hair and your pussy that he came at least four times while he ground against the mattress and eat you out. It was so hot thinking he got so worked up just by you being you that you had to push him down and blow him until he was crying.

You've never been so glad of his elf stamina.