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matchamiko · 1 year ago

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ Lucky Undies

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: oral sex ( f -> receiving) m.masturbation, mentions height difference (reader implied shorter than Aizawa), reader implied big belly, thighs + ass (ie. not skinny), prev. established relationship, sooooo self-indulgent don’t look at me

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Note: disgusted with myself honestly.

“What are those?”

You stop in your tracks, toothbrush lodged in your cheek and foam threatening to drip down your chin.

Aizawa stands behind you in the bathroom doorway, eyes trained dark on the tug of your sleep shirt over your ass. Spitting into the skin, bending lower and offering more of a view, you finish washing your mouth with heat all over your face,

“I didn’t have anything else clean, s’all I got,” you explain yourself, eyes connecting with his in the mirror,

“And they’re your last resort because?” Arms folded over his broad chest sprayed with dark hair, Aizawa cocks his hip against the doorway, eyes never leaving the peak of your asscheek from beneath the t-shirt. It’s his and it’s soft and he offered it to you on your first sleepover years ago, a little tighter round the middle now but still long enough to pass as a nightie.

“They don’t fit!” You resort with embarrassment, “they pinch my hips and they go up my butt ‘nd roll down my belly if I bend down or even move,” you feel as though there’s steam hissing from your ears, suddenly regretting even putting on the offending underwear. You’d miscounted your laundry days and found yourself wearing either silky lingerie or old high legged cheeky style undies that were a very adorable baby pink and sported a little red rose at the front. Usually you wore comfortable high rise with a trusty band and often times sensible colours so to not show through your chosen trousers or skirts of the day. Maybe you’d wear a thong if you felt adventurous but comfort was key in your relationship with underwear, and being with Aizawa for so long helped you not only explore that a little bit but also enabled you to stay comfortable without judgement or ridicule.

And Aizawa liked your plain underwear, didn’t care much for it really because all he often wanted was them off or not even on in the first place. Complaining about his partners choice in underwear was beneath him; he’s a man, he’s mature and he’d much rather eat your pussy than muse over what’s covering it.

But these? He’s not seen these before.

“Cute,” he says with a gravelly voice, stalking forwards slowly, “you look cute,”

Biting your lip, you shake your head,

“I’ll just put some gym shorts on and do a quick wash, s’stupid to even try to do anything in these,” you grumble dejectedly, turning and even in your limited movements, the seam tugs over your cheek and makes you cringe.

But Aizawa is as sturdy as he is stubborn, a wall preventing you from leaving and a large hand sits heavy and inviting on your hip.

“I said you look cute,” he says pointedly, “not just the underwear, but you in general, seeing your skin makes me - desperate,”

That hand smoothes under your sleep shirt, fingering the thin, stretchy band of the panties with a heavy breath in his chest. The harder he pulls the band, the higher up your hip they go and the further up your -

“They’re just panties Shouta,” you blink up at him, leaning closer to ease his fondling, “stupid uncomfable panties that is,”

“Shh,” Aizawa kisses you quiet, a peck to keep you satisfied while his other hand drifts over to your ass, fisting the fat and spreading you meanly, “just - lemme look for a sec,”

His eyes catch the flash of your asshole in the mirror, panties caught taught and high over your ass and he groans low and deep from his belly. You clear your throat and whimper when he buries his face into your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin there. Then - his hand rounds to your stomach, fiddling with the little silky rose before tickling the exposed skin of your belly from where the panties had dislodged and folded down.

He doesn’t often explore you this selfishly, having listened to your qualms and insecurities over your body, doing it to prove that no weight could distance him from desiring your body. But he touches you with a filthy selfish agenda and filthier moans.

Thick fingers tease you over the fabric, slippery with your arousal, sliding between your folds and circling your clit with loud little click. It’s shameful how turned on you are at his exploration of your underwear, but he’s no better; hard and heavy and leaking against your hip. ‘Nd when you look down, mewling at the thick forearm jammed between your cushiony thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peaking from the sagging waistband of his underwear, black and tight and baring a hole just above the seam on his thigh.

And suddenly you understand exactly how Aizawa feels with you in underwear he’s never seen before. Because those are boxers you bought him three christmases ago and are also a result of not doing laundry often enough. And when you look up at him with your hand squeezing him through the thin fabric; your shameful desperation is reflected in his eyes.

All too suddenly, Aizawa is on his knees and your lower back is cradled uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, and he’s all up between your thighs with devastating groans and grunts.

“Taste’s fuckin’ divine,” his tongue is hot and so wet against the gusset of your underwear, pulled tight over your cunt and practically frothing with how aroused you are. One hand cups your ass and spreads you, the other is crude and sharply tugging on his cock. At the taste of you. At the smell of you. Nipping your clit through the fabric and sucking hard enough to send you shuddering and shaking right down to your toes.

“Shouta ! S’too much !” You grip the top of his head, hair tangled from sleep but the tugging of the knots seem to encourage him, groaning into your cunt and huffing deep agonising breaths against your pubis. You’re on your tiptoes, one leg lifting a little even to give him space and Aizawa shuffles closer on his knees, haphazardly throwing your leg over his broad, sinewy shoulder.

It’s almost like the sensations are muted, dulled through the thin fabric of your panties. But they’re still there and you fumble with your shirt for a moment before lifting it and tucking the hem beneath your chin so you can look down, down at your boyfriend so eagerly and so messily slurping at your pussy.

He’s feral like this, eyes fluttering and nose pressed hard into your clit, tongue trying to rip through into you but failing miserably. Or not, as it seems that wasn’t his goal, simply content with tasting you through the panties that had entrapped him so suddenly. You couldn’t even feel confused and weird at his random bout of arousal over your too-small panties, too thrummed with pleasure and the shivers of an orgasm to really deep dive it.

It rears its head slowly, but with a strength you’d yet to experience before. All suction and desperate licks, moans and grunts vibrating you just enough to send you jerking into his mouth. Hips moving on their own, tits falling from the grasp of your shirt and shuddering with your movements. Your underwear slips and tugs harshly as you grind through your orgasm, pulled taught only by Aizawa’s insistent tongue and fingers. He seemed to have given up on his own pleasure, or got enough from watching and tasting you, both hands clutching your thighs around his head.

“Let up, oh my god, give me a sec Shouta,” you’re still panting hard, limbs boneless and belly throbbing with every aftershock, cunt fluttering against the sodden and stained panties, “you’re such a - now I really don’t have anything to wear today,”

Your words die from a telling off to a small sigh at the sight of him, drunk on the sight and taste of you. His eyes are heavy, mouth open and shining with your spend, cheeks flushed and chest heaving,

“Good news for me then,” he stands with a grunt, coming in close enough for you to smell the remnants of your orgasm on his lower face - but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead massaging your hips and the tangled band of your underwear, “I’m having you on my face next, ‘nd keep these on,”

He’s a pervert really, snapping the band and making you tut in disapproval. But as you follow him into the bedroom with a sheepish grin and nervous lust building in your chest; you realise you are too, for letting him indulge in this and letting him.

#I lied I wrote this sorry I got weird about my undies earlier #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader #Aizawa smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #miko.writes #this is so bad I’m so sorry

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kaiser1ns · 5 months ago

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Waking up first thing in the morning was hard enough, but when Itoshi Sae opened his eyes to see his girlfriend had once again drooled in her sleep, he felt like closing his eyes and turning to the other side.

He rubbed his eyes, grabbed a napkin from his bedside table, and gently wiped your mouth, closing it with his fingers. "You're so disgusting," he muttered softly. Knowing you couldn’t hear him, but you will probably open your mouth again. He rolled his eyes; he hadn’t signed up to take care of a drooling child. First, it was his little brother, and now, his girlfriend.

But he couldn’t entirely blame you—you looked pretty cute, peaceful, and comfortable while you slept, and he already had plenty of pictures for blackmail material. Getting out of bed and starting his morning routine, he meditated, and by the time he returned, you were awake, scrolling through your phone.

"Good morning, baby," you said quietly as he walked over to change his clothes.

"It would’ve been a good morning if you didn’t drool so much," he replied, a little annoyed as he slipped on his t-shirt and fixed his hair. You laughed, brushing it off. "You only drool when you're really comfortable, you know? It just means I’m getting the best sleep of my life," you said, sitting up and stretching.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," he murmured, spraying some perfume and cologne that you are definitely going to use later. You hopped up and walked over to him, aiming to kiss him, but he dodged, backing away just before you could reach him.

"Sae~" you pouted, reaching out, trying to corner him. He sidestepped, grabbing a towel as he headed toward the bathroom.

“Not happening. I’m not letting you drool on me too,” he teased, dodging you again.

"Come on, you are no fun!" you whined, chasing him around the apartment as he tried to stay away from you. If you go left, he goes right. The chase continued until you managed to wrap your arms around him in a quick hug, planting a victorious and big kiss on his cheek. Your boyfriend sighed, but a smile appeared on his face, "So annoying," though he couldn’t hide the love his eyes held as he looked down at you.

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dmitriene · 6 months ago

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teaching simon riley to give himself a rest, that he doesn't needs to wake up in the early crack of dawn at home, fill his stomach with just a cup of warm tea before setting off to do some sports exercises, too focused on not losing his form, accustomed to the daily army schedule, even through he's already home, with you.

you have to remind him that he's home, distracting him in the middle of a workout outside, calling him over inside for breakfast, watching simon's eyebrows furrow and his tawny gaze become confused, feeling his whole body burning after push ups, red skin sweaty, and you, in nothing but a nightie, went to look for him because you woke up in your shared bed alone.

it's wrong, you shouldn't miss him around the house when he's already back, simon's lips pressed tight together, a rumbled, hushed apology slipping past them, full of embarrassment at himself, but you don't offer him anything aside from understanding smile and a tug to his tense, veiny forearm, you know him too well, which is why there's not a single, chastising word uttered.

simon ends up being dragged back to the bed after a good, hefty breakfast and a quick shower you accompany him in, helping him to wash his body under the warm sprays, careful with the fresh bruises and cuts he got after recent mission, before leading his slowly slugging body back to the messed, cottony sheets, luring him in with gentle touches.

he get's it, how better it is to stay cuddled with you for longer, instead of waking too early, his solid, muscular body curled tight against yours, bundled, limbs stretching out to sweep and melt in the sun warmed sheets, in the sweep of your fingers over his spine, every divot catching beneath, your voice a lullaby, soothing him back to sleep.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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ryoflix · 2 days ago

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sukuna as your personal makeup pouch | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

you know how men just… have the most random shit on them? well, sukuna takes that to god-tier levels.

you swear he’s not carrying a bag. like, you check. nothing on his back, nothing strapped across his chest, not even a fanny pack. and yet—somehow—this man has a backup of every single makeup product you own. not a dupe. not a knockoff. the exact shade, the exact brand, down to the limited edition gloss you sobbed over last winter when it went out of stock.

lip liner ran out mid-touch-up? he’s already sliding it into your hand without even looking.

need a quick gloss before you start filming a story? he uncaps it with his teeth like he’s lighting a cigarette and hands it over with a grunt.

foundation looking a little too cakey? he pulls out a beauty blender like it’s a combat tool and starts dabbing your face himself.

and you test it, right? like, you say things just to mess with him.

“ugh, wish i had a mirror right now.”

boom. compact mirror. circular. pink. fingerprint-free. where did it come from? why does it have your initials engraved? you don’t know. you don’t ask.

he shrugs. “preparation is key.”

says it like he’s a war general and you’re about to face a battlefield of LED ring lights and poor camera angles.

but of course—of course—the man who carries seventeen glosses in his pockets and a goddamn setting spray in his back boot…

does not have the hotel room key.

you’re standing outside the door, tired, tipsy, glitter flaking off your collarbone, and he’s patting his jeans down like a cop looking for contraband.

“don’t worry,” he mutters, shifting his weight. “i got this.”

he pulls out:

a nude lipstick.

three single lashes.

your spare lash glue.

a contour stick.

his vape.

another contour stick.

your eyelash curler??

a mini ring light??!

a random ass banana.

but no key.

you’re staring. blank. defeated. he’s squinting at the banana like how did that get there?

“…you have everything except the one thing we need.”

“it’s not my fault your clutch is microscopic,” he defends, looking personally offended by the laws of spatial physics. you sigh, sliding down to sit in the hallway carpet. “so what now?”

he eyes the lock. “...i could pick it.”

“with what, my contour stick?”

a beat.

“…don’t tempt me.”

you both sleep in the hotel lobby's sofa that night, curled up under his leather jacket, faces still beat to the gods. priorities.

#⌗ episodes #influencer bf! sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk crack #jujutsu kaisen crack #sukuna crack #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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sincerelybubbles · 2 months ago

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spencer reid x bubbly!reader || everywhere you touch

in a quiet moment during a case, Spencer helps you relax with a shoulder rub and conversation about your sub-par sleeping habits.

warnings: none; fluff.

"You're staring again." The words roll off of your tongue in a whisper, barely above the rustling of papers, but you know Spencer hears you. You don’t even have to look up from the mess of journal entries spread across the table to see the way his eyes widen, the way his hands hesitate mid-movement, betraying him before he even speaks.

"I'm not!" Spencer insists, too quick, too defensive—so, so predictable. An evil grin pulls at your lips, the anticipation of his reaction almost as satisfying as the reaction itself. You finally glance up at him, resting your cheek against your fist, tilting your head in mock thoughtfulness.

"It's okay," you say, voice soft, teasing, pulling at a thread he won’t acknowledge. You lean forward in your chair, just enough that the space between you shrinks, just enough that your presence wraps around him like warmth. "I like the attention."

Spencer scoffs, shaking his head as his hands return to the pages in front of him. He won't engage, but you know him too well. You've got him rattled, at least a little, and that's enough for now.

You enjoy this with him: the push and pull. Spencer is your favorite person, the teasing some as naturally as breathing. You catch yourself feeling the truth behind a lot of the show you put on for him, belly warm with the implications of melting fully into the jokes you put on for him.

The precinct is quiet, save for the occasional shuffling of exhausted officers or the hum of printers churning out reports. It's a dead hour of the steel day where exhaustion weighs heavy, settling deep in your bones. Dusty sunlight sprays across the room, catching dirt in its eternal dance. It makes everything hazy, dreamy, and you catch yourself staring off into the distance, caught in the mist of it all. It’s been over 24 hours since anyone has properly slept, and you're toeing the line between restless and delirious, stomach clenched with the unsatisfied need to move, to be anywhere but here, hunched over these haphazardly assembled journals.

A bed would be nice. Sunlight, unfiltered by unwashed police station windows, even better.

You roll your shoulders back and stretch, arms reaching high over your head, joints cracking in protest. Then, with practiced ease, you tilt your head left, then right, seeking relief from the tension coiled tight in your neck. You're about to cross your arms out in front of you, ready to push the last bit of stiffness from your shoulders, when Spencer exhales sharply through his nose.

"Please, stop," he says, setting his papers down with a finality that makes your hands freeze mid-motion.

Your first instinct is panic. You don’t flinch—Spencer doesn’t snap, not really—but you can’t help but wonder if this is it, if you’ve finally worn him thin. It’s always been a fear, even if you’d never admit it aloud. You’re a lot, and Spencer has more patience than anyone, but patience isn’t infinite.

You're afraid for a moment you've found a habit of yours that sets him off - a task you've apparently been unsuccessful in over the past two years. You're well aware that you can be a lot; you're high energy and excitable to a fault. You never have trouble keeping friends but keeping friends who are never exasperated with you? Well, you would have said it was impossible before Spencer.

He doesn’t give you time to overthink it—a habit you have bt pretend you don't. If questioned, you'd insist it's only the sign of a good profiler. Instead of walking away or rubbing at his temples like he’s fighting off a migraine, Spencer stands and moves behind you.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Yeah, of course!" you answer instantly, too fast, without question. You’d let Spencer do anything to you.

It's only when his hands press into your shoulders that you realize what he meant.

The first touch is firm, hesitant, as though he's waiting for you to pull away. You don't. You wouldn't dream of it. Instead, your head drops forward, a sigh spilling from your lips before you can even think to stop it. His fingers are long, deliberate, pressing slow, rhythmic circles into the muscle, and you swear you can feel the tension unraveling beneath his palms.

“Wow, love, you’re a pro,” you mumble, voice crumbling as your facade fades.

The nickname earns the same response as always—a subtle stiffening of his hands, a sharp inhale, the unmistakable warmth creeping up his neck. You think it’s funny, the way Spencer, who can talk for hours uninterrupted about quantum theory, short-circuits over one little word. You said it absentmindedly once, ages ago, and it stuck.

Now, though, you don't say it to witness the exciting rush of blood under his skin or the way he rolls his eyes, pretending to hate it. Instead, you say it fondly, melting like putty under his hands.

Spencer doesn’t acknowledge it, but his hands keep working, traveling up the length of your neck, fingertips pressing carefully into the space where your skull meets your spine.

"You haven't slept, have you?" he murmurs in lieu of a reply, like he already knows the answer.

You shake your head once. "Too restless."

He makes a noise, something soft and knowing, something that says I see right through you. You fidget under the weight of it, suddenly needing to justify yourself.

Spencer caught you, more than a handful of months ago, awake one night while away on a case. It was usual for you to not sleep while away, too pumped from the adrenaline from the day. It's a habit you've always intended to keep for yourself - you get awfully melancholic when awake late at night and really, you don't mind the hours alone to think. Since then, though, he's looked at you with those worried puppy eyes when you emerge from your hotel room, voice probably a little too loud for the morning.

"Plus, nobody else has either," you add, as if that changes anything.

Spencer hums, unconvinced. "We've all napped here and there," he counters. His thumbs find a knot between your shoulder blades, and you gasp when he presses into it, hard enough to send a dull ache radiating through your spine.

"I'll be okay," you say, but the words lack conviction. of course. Your body betrays you—sinking, pliant, as if you could just let go, just for a moment, just for tonight.

"You always say that," Spencer murmurs. His hands slow, broad palms sweeping a path down your upper back, methodical, grounding.

"And I always mean it," you try, but your voice is softer now, words slurring at the edges, betraying you in ways Spencer doesn’t miss. "Ow, Spencer," you groan after a few silent moments, biting down on your lip, pain lancing through your entire back. Probably a necessary evil but damn that hurts.

"Sorry," he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry. He kneads the muscle again, gentler this time, and you can’t even bring yourself to care that you must look ridiculous, half-melted into your chair.

Your breath hitches when his fingertips graze the base of your neck, feather-light, a touch so gentle you could almost believe you imagined it. The room is warm, humming with something unspoken, and you could swear Spencer’s hands linger just a moment longer than necessary.

The exhaustion presses in, heavy, relentless. Your eyelids droop, your breathing evens out, and you think, just before your mind slips under—

This is nice.

Too nice.

Don’t get used to it.

But as you drift off, lulled by the steady press of his hands, the warmth of his presence, the quiet affection he gives without saying a word—

You wonder if maybe, just maybe, Spencer is thinking the same thing.

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cursingtoji · 1 year ago

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𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 — 𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

ᥫ᭡ Suguru never thought he would see the girlfriend he murdered years ago when he decided there was no space in his life for non-sorcerers, yet he never said anything about her lost soul.

cw: ghost! f reader x cult leader!geto, reader can’t speak much, invisible fucking (?), oral, fingering, squirting, exhibitionism, body worship, praising, one quick mention of impregnation, slight violence (towards someone else), reader gets jealous of Suda, mentions of buddhist rituals and the antichrist (separate events), poor death jokes. 6.2k words (not sorry). #— cult-tober

ᥫ᭡ inspired by lady k and the sick man — hentai manga (read it at your own risk).

note: thank you everyone who asked about the status of this fic, you encouraged me to finish it <3

Geto knew what he was doing the day he decided to cut everyone out of his life. Some of them, such as Gojo and Shoko, he just cut ties, others, he took their lives.

The people from that despicable village were first, then his own parents, and lastly, his girlfriend.

He would be lying if he said any of these killings made him feel bad, but the one that got closer to hurting him was, of course, yours.

Already numb from the previous deaths, keeping you alive wasn’t really an option.

Though Suguru was gentle, he waited for you to fall asleep while cuddling him after kissing his face and emphasizing how well rested he looked.

“Getting back on your feet, eh?” your words.

He didn’t think he would keep thinking of you, in that moment and the following years he was so focused on his long term goals and new discovered hatred that he managed to push you to the back of his mind.

Now he’s established, he has quite a lot of donors to his cause, a loyal group of sorcerers that share his vision and to top it all, the strongest set of curses that any curse user could only dream of.

Reaching such a satisfying point of his life makes him reflect upon the things he doesn’t have.

When Geto rests his head on the pillow at night he remembers the couples he sees through the day, the teenagers confessing when they can’t even look into each other’s eyes.

Naturally, he thinks of you.

The two of you were different, he took your hand and looked deeply into your eyes, you looked back, for many times after that you tended to look away whenever he said something suggestive or romantic, or even when he stared into your eyes for too long, and Suguru made sure to bring your eyes back to him.

Why couldn’t you have been born a sorcerer? You didn’t even need cursed energy, if you could only see curses that would be enough to him.

Geto sighs, it has been a few months since he started to think of you so frequently.

He’s a man of needs, from time to time he indulges himself into masturbating since sleeping with a human is out of the question and sleeping with a fellow sorcerer would only bring complications into his so-called family.

So, in the mornings, way before any of his duties, he takes the box from under his bed and sprays the perfume you used to use on the pillow beside his. He had an internal fight before buying that perfume, a girl was offering samples outside a store and once the scent reached his nostrils he was invaded by memories he thought he had buried years ago. He bought the bottle nevertheless, shaking his head sadly when the lady asked if she should wrap it as a gift.

The liquid in the bottle hasn’t decreased much, since it lasts quite a long time on his sheets. He sprays once in the pillow, or on his shirt, the one you used to steal from him all the time cause it was your favorite.

His boxers are pushed down, sometimes he fists his cock while looking at the pictures in his box, your pictures, unfortunately he had no spicy pictures, back when you were together nudes weren’t so common, not when you couldn’t password protect a digital camera and flip phones cameras sucked.

He uses the smiling pictures you insisted on taking on your dates, he usually was flipping, or had his tongue out

His favorite is the one you took in a photo booth, the first picture he somehow convinced you to show your tongue with him, the second both of you were laughing, the third you were kissing.

Those three pictures, plus the smell of your perfume is enough for him to remember that kiss vividly.

He teases his tip, thinking about how soft your breasts felt under his hand.

He couldn’t kiss you like that and just leave the photo booth, he had you on his lap, the confined space added to the risk of being caught was so exciting.

Geto spills his load on his stomach, his mind still playing the memory of him kissing your neck, while you caressed his hair urging him to soften down quickly so you could leave the booth and go back to your place. He put his arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple and getting a playful slap on his chest. You didn’t like pda, “people look at us weirdly” you said, but were the first to take his hand or pout when didn’t put his arm around you.

Geto is about to fall back asleep, it started to rain outside, he should be up in an hour but he’s feeling too nostalgic, in a bad way, so the association would have to go through the day without him.

Suguru turns to the side, the rain makes him remember the day you met him at his dorm, for what was supposed to be a date, but the weather changed so you cuddled on his single bed giggling about what would happen if someone knew you, a non-sorcerer, was inside such a exclusive facility like jujutsu tech when you shouldn’t even known it existed. Suguru kissed your face, cheeks, nose and lips, and assured you he would fight anyone that dared to say you were not welcome there.

He promised to keep you safe, in simpler times, when he had a best friend and a future as an ally of the jujutsu world.

Suguru feels a lump on his throat, but he swallows it, allowing his mind to fade away and muscles to relax as he’s back asleep.

Apparently, he needed that few more hours. Suguru is awoken suddenly by a loud, trembling sound. He looks around confused, hating to be woken up instead of waking up naturally, his eyes open slowly expecting the sun, but outside is dark, Geto’s head snaps to his alarm clock wondering how he could have slept till so late, but it says eight in the morning still. What started as a rain turned into a full storm by now.

Suguru jumps from his bed, in order to close the window which had already soaked part of his carpet.

“Shit” he closes the glass window and attempts to turn on the lights, but nothing happens, probably a blackout due to the storm.

His bedroom turns cold, colder than before he closed the window.

A lightning illuminates the sky, and by consequence, his room, he sees a figure on the corner before getting swallowed back in the dark, he rubs his eyes sensing something is off.

The blue cursed energy light takes its shape around his hand, whoever/whatever thought it was a good idea to enter his room is about to regret.

He can see a shape, raising his hand to hit it, concentrating his energy on his fist.

Lightning strikes again.

It illuminates a face. Your face.

Geto’s hand is stopped in the air, his eyebrows leave the frown state and his mouth is hung open.

The electricity returns, his lamp casting a warm light into the bedroom.

He can fully see you now, taking a step back and lowering his hand.

Your face is much paler, hair is longer, like all the years that have passed to him passed to you too. That if you hadn’t seen the sun, or cut your hair, if you were alive all this time or… dead, as it looks, a phantasmagoric version of the girl he used to know.

You have a white dress — or more like a nightgown on —, it’s long and the straps are thin, looks comfortable. He hopes you felt comfortable all this time.

Geto says your name, in a whisper, rubbing his eyes again and wondering if he’s still dreaming.

You brace yourself slowly, as if you’re the one scared in this situation, he watches your mouth parting but closing again.

“Is it really you?” he takes a step closer but you take a step back hitting the wall, “Are you… afraid of me?”

Your eyes widen, they look opaque, shineless. Then you furrow your eyebrows, turn your hands into fists and hit his chest.

“You’re mad, I get it, I deserve it” he lets you punch him groaning angrily, never saying a word, he wonders if you can even speak.

“C’mere” he wraps his arms around you when you start to whimper.

Suguru considers actually being crazy or dreaming, cause you still smell like your old perfume.

“I’m not sure what is happening, I don’t really care, just please don’t go away” he tightens his hold on you believing you could disappear anytime, “You heard me? I was calling your name earlier” he lets go to caress your face, it’s still weird to look at your face when you have this bluish hue instead of the warm cheeks he knew.

You look away, exactly like you did when he said something naughty. So you did hear him when he was touching himself looking at your pictures together. Then he remembers something new, a conversation you had about whether he would find another girlfriend if you died, the type of thing a girl asks in a relationship when she’s bored. That or if their boyfriends would still love them if they were a worm.

Suguru doesn't seem to remember his answer, though he knew you had a tendency to get jealous easily.

“Not sure how much you saw all this time, but just so you know I’ve never been with anyone else” he assures.

Your gaze returns to him surprised, you didn’t know as it seems, he feels like asking questions, how long have you been around? What do you remember?

“You’re cold” he rubs your arms and your strap slides down allowing him to notice your breasts and your nipples marking the fabric, “I’m picking you up, alright?” and he does, wondering if you’re lighter or if he’s got stronger.

Suguru places you on his bed, now a much larger and more comfortable one than the one he had in his jujutsu tech dorm. He lays with you and covers you both with a duvet as you wiggle on his hold trying to find that position you liked to cuddle at.

“You’re so soft” his hand runs on your thigh, “I missed you so much” he squeezes you smelling your hair and kissing your temple all the way down your cheeks — which are way warmer now — until he meets your lips which he starts to peck lightly, though the pent up energy and the way his heart aches for you doesn’t allow him to take this slowly, instead he’s quick to deepen the kiss rolling his tongue with yours and pushing your straps down to fondle with yours breasts.

You whimper and try to move your legs from under him, with no success as he’s drunk on the feeling of having your body under his again.

Such sensitive nipples hardening under his fingers, the taste of you, yours hands pushing his—

He’s pushed off the bed with more strength than he ever thought you would have. You get rid of the duvet and kneels down to where he lays on the floor, he thinks that’s all a play until a very real hand slaps his face, harshly, then you run and disappear through the wall.

Suguru sighs, noticing his boner and resting on the floor.

“…then we’ll be all set, Geto-sama. Geto-sama?” Suda asks, noticing how deep he’s in whatever he’s reading.

“Thank you, Manami” he dismisses her, not taking his eyes off the book.

Geto decided to do some research, to understand how it was possible for you to have appeared to him.

Turns out, in all the books and archives he has of the jujutsu world, there’s only one explanation for why a human would have come back after death.

He cursed you, somehow.

Reversing the curse.

He closes the book when seeing the title of the next chapter, that’s not what he’s interested in.

Geto closes his eyes massaging the bridge of his nose, that day’s duties are already giving him a headache.

A hand manifests out of thin air, touching his cheek. Definitely something worthy of a jump scare, but after an initial surprise, Geto softens his features and puts his hand on top of yours.

The rest of your body manifests slowly, you’re on top of the table he was reading at, your legs dangle on the side, your hair covers part of your face and it’s long enough to reach the table's surface.

“Hello, beautiful” he brushes the hair away from your face, your thumb rubs his cheekbone, the place you hit the day before, it’s not sore or even bruised, the only scar that it left was an emotional one and he senses you’re apologizing for hitting him, though he’s the one that should be begging your forgiveness.

“I’m sorry about last time, I got too excited to see you again and forgot the most important thing” he took both your cold hands and kissed your knuckles, “To apologize, for taking your life” he’s not capable of looking up, not yet, “I’m sorry.”

He thought if he should do that for a long time, since he doesn’t regret the things he’s done to get where he is today, and Geto believed that if you had the chance to go back in time to do things differently and still wouldn’t do it, you couldn’t say you’re sorry for what you did. And he would do it all over again.

He is sorry for you though, he’s sorry for crossing your life and revealing all the things you shouldn’t know in the first place, he’s sorry for depriving you from a normal life, unaware of the existence of curses and sorcerers.

“I’m glad you’re here now” he rests his head on your lap hugging your hips and bringing you closer.

You caress his hair, minding the bun, his hair is also much longer than the last time you saw him, you always said he should grow it out since his hair was so naturally lustrous. He teased you, asking if you were jealous of his gorgeous hair. Now, he snorts, remembering the conversation and untying the half bun so you can run your fingers freely.

Geto, with his head still on your lap notices your feet dangling happily, one on each side of his. He reaches for your right one, brushing his fingers on your sole causing you to squeal, he laughs softly, seemingly you’re not able to speak, only to express yourself through little sounds. His hand wraps around your ankle then rubs the extension of your calves until he reaches your knee, pushing the hem of your dress just enough to expose your thigh for him to start kissing.

“We don’t have to do anything okay? I just want to touch you” he rubs his cheek on the skin of your thigh, like a cat asking for affection.

Your hands leave his hair and his heart beats faster assuming you’re about to leave him, instead you take the hem of your dress and lift it up all the way to your hips, revealing your uncovered pussy to him. The afterlife must be more comfortable without underwear.

Geto grins, accepting what you’re offering him, pushing his chair enough to give him space to dip his head lower and further into your legs.

You being the good dead girl you are, lean back and spread your legs watching with wide eyes the black head of the cult leader getting lost under your dress.

He starts by kissing your folds and rubbing the space between your hips and thighs, taking a mental note of how warm you get when touched by him.

Suguru nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose on your clit while you squirm. He takes your ankle and helps place your foot on the table to give him more room to eat you out.

What a sin it would be if someone so good at sweet talking others was bad with his tongue.

Thankfully that’s not Suguru.

He quickly drives his attention to your hole, teasing it until he feels your hand gripping his hair, he spreads your flexed leg further and pushes his tongue in, not being able to hold back a moan when he feels you contracting around his muscle.

His nail is digging on your thigh, which he can tell you desperately want to close, still so sensible even after all these years.

Soft breaths echo through the library, Geto feels bad for not being able to hear your beautiful moans, maybe there’s a book about giving back ghosts their voices? Well, the whole thing is a work in progress, but right now he’s too busy to progress that far.

You tug his hair twice, “What’s that, love? Trying to say something?” he keeps his tongue still, pressing it in your bud and shaking his head slightly, he can hear you’re trying to say something over breathy gasps, “You beggin’?” he chuckles on your core, the vibrations make you want more so you raise your other leg, “Who am I to say no to my girl…”

Suguru slides both hands to your lower back, holding you still and kicking his chair back to kneel and be more leveled with your cunt.

He loved to finger you, seeing your face contorting and kissing your tears when you orgasmed on his hand, but he loves more making you cum with his mouth only. Felt so much more intimate, it was the same difference of killing someone with a weapon and with his bare hands. Not an analogy many people can understand, but makes perfect sense to him.

Suguru laps at you like a mad man, sucking and using teeth, every tool he has to give you the orgasm of your lif—

The best orgasm you ever had.

And he knows it’s working due to your shaking thighs and arching spine.

He’s almost without air but when he notices your curving toes he tells himself to endure a bit more.

“Oh it’s coming” and soon he’s rewarded with your throbbing clit on his lips and a clear liquid being sprayed on his chin and chest. Being the tease he is, he laps at your swollen bud a bit more till you have to push him away.

“Sweet” he murmurs, kissing your shaking thigh and admiring your swollen glistening folds. You lay back to recover from the mind blowing orgasm and he sneaks a hand to grab his phone, opening the camera but frowning his eyebrows when nothing but the table getting reflected in his screen. Apparently phone cameras don’t work on ghosts “Too bad, guess I’ll have to remember the sight” he rests his head on your thigh and reaches a finger to caress you like he’s drawing on your skin.

“Geto-sama, we got another check” Suda pushes the door and you sit up quickly, but her eyes are solo on Geto, a questionable look on her face, probably noticing his disheveled hair and his kneeled position on the floor, “Is everything okay?”

Suguru blinks, shifting his eyes to you and her, doubting if his fellow sorcerer really couldn’t see the half naked woman dripping on the table.

Maybe even sorcerers couldn’t see it all.

“Yes, you can give me that” he got up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, taking the envelope and closing the door.

When he turns back you are gone. Geto sighs and bumps his head on the door.

Still managing to deal with everything that has been happening, Geto goes to the scheduled meeting in a bad mood, not having seen you since the library incident the previous day.

He’s the last one to arrive, sitting cross legged on the mat at the head of the table. Suda is on his right, taking notes on the meeting, which is boring Geto to no end.

Suda leans in, whispering a question to Geto and showing the notes while the rest of the people discuss financial matters.

“Did someone open the window? It’s so cold all of the sudden” Suda rubs her arms and Geto raises his head from the hand supporting it.

The room did get chiller.

He looks behind his shoulder and sees you, under a different light, a darker one. Your hair is floating and your face is dark, he can only see your widened eyes, they’re fixed on Suda.

Geto raises an eyebrow and discreetly pats his lap smiling at you.

The dark aura around you fades off a little bit and he can see your beautiful features again while you move your bare feet in his direction and take a seat between his legs facing him. In a natural motion he runs his hand on your hair and kisses your forehead, hoping it actually looked natural and not like he was patting an invisible person.

“Geto-sama, is this correct?” Suda leans in again, pushing her cleavage into Geto’s view and invading his — unknowingly also yours — personal space.

Your head turns almost 360°, the scary things you do only turn Suguru on more. The dark aura is back again.

“Don’t be jealous” he whispers very quietly.

“What was that?” Suda asks leaning in more.

You turn the rest of your body in a ghost-like manner, reaching claw-like hand to Suda’s face.

“Yes, Manami, please pay attention” he takes your hand, guiding it slowly to his pants so you could see how happy he was to see you meanwhile his other hand raises your dress and massages your folds.

You lean back on his chest, he puts his chin on top of your head looking down at your beautiful legs extended under the table.

“Isn’t that right, Geto-sama?” Larue asks and everybody turns their attention to their mentally-checked-out leader. Geto notices you tensing up, like their attention is on you too. Which would be if they could see you.

Afterall, who wouldn’t want to see a gorgeous little thing melting by having her clit played with under her dress?

You two never took things out of the bedroom, so the recent days have been nothing but new experiences.

Swiftly, Geto hooks his finger on the top of your dress bringing it down and exposing your breasts to, in reality, no one but himself, still you squeak and try to cover yourself but Geto is faster, holding both your hands behind you.

“Sounds great” he smiles at the people waiting for an answer about a topic he couldn’t care less about, instead he’s more concerned about moving the two fingers inside your gummy walls.

They get back to discussing it among themselves, Geto pretends to pay attention looking at a fixed spot and missing the way Suda is looking at him.

You don’t miss it though.

That’s how you’re supposed to look at him, you only.

It’s borderline outrageous to see her so heart eyed at your man while he’s finger-deep inside your cunt with his erection poking your lower back.

Jealousy starts to take over you again, Suguru is still holding your arms, so you use your leg to swing a move on the water jar on top of the table, shattering it and spilling the water all over Suda.

Everyone gasps, raising from the table and removing their paper to avoid getting wet too.

“What was that?!” she yells.

“Seems like we have a naughty ghost around” Geto jokes, pinching your clit, “Or it’s a sign from heavens to end this meeting, Suda please try to save these notes” he motions to her soaked notepad, “Close the door on your way out, I’ll clean this.”

“But Geto-sama—“ he knew someone would protest it.

“We’ll continue tomorrow” he said firmly, everyone bowed respectfully before leaving the room.

“Tsk tsk, that was unnecessary” he lets go of your arms, you turn around, kissing your man and pushing his chest until he’s laying on the floor with you on top.

Geto puts his arm around you, keeping you close while playing with your tongues, he’s strong enough to hold you tight, not letting you get away from him.

Your hands go to his complicated clothing, trying to undo the knots of it and free him for you to touch.

“Here, I got this” he undoes everything that needs to be undone with one hand while still holding you, you finish pushing his clothing out of his body until every fabric that once wrapped him is thrown all over the floors of the small room.

Finally, you could see him.

Geto kisses your ear and sucks your lobe while you run your hand over his torso, a faded memory coming to your head when you touch the x shaped scar on his chest. It’s much lighter now, you remember it being a shade of purple and red, holding back your tears at the time for seeing your lover hurt like that. He ensured it was nothing, he barely felt it due to the adrenaline.

At the time you wished you were there to take care of him, to patch and clean him, now you realize you wouldn’t be able to survive if you saw him bleeding and unconscious.

Maybe it all happened for the best.

You touch his abdomen, following the happy trail down to his shaft.

Geto is so strong now, he’s big enough for you to feel small even being on top of him, his thighs support you and his strong arm ensures you stay close.

You take his dick in your hand, kissing his neck and pumping him slowly. Suguru throws his head back, moving his hand to hold your ass as you work him up. Not that he needed much, from the moment he saw you crazy jealous over Suda he was hard already. No, actually, scratch that, from the moment he saw you, he was hard already. His heart beat faster, pumping the blood that went straight to his dick.

“Alright, baby, I can’t wait anymore” he pushes your dress up, getting you completely bare like him and moving your hips until your cunt hovers above his throbbing cock. You sink on him biting your lips, a habit from when you actually had a voice to moan and thought you should keep quiet.

Geto though, moans for the two of you, not caring if anyone hears him ‘cause he’s the boss, what would they do?

The feeling of your pussy around his cock is all he can think now, if you asked him to release all his curses right now he would.

God, he missed this. No toy would ever come close to the real thing.

Geto can’t help but admire your long hair, it is like a waterfall, running through your body and pooling on his torso. He takes a strand and plays with it around his finger.

“You’re still so tight, move your pretty ass for me, yes?” you nod, adjusting your posture and setting a rhythm, “That’s it, good girl” he holds your breast, rubbing a thumb on your perky nipple and raising enough to take the other one on his mouth.

Whatever important things he had that day, it’s all canceled now. His new plan is to stay buried in your pussy and sucking your tits all day long.

“You’re doing so well, baby, but I’ll take charge now, ‘kay?” he reaches behind you to brush away the glass remains and places you on top of the table carefully, “You’re so cute” he bends to kiss you, your hands caress his back muscles, thighs holding him inside you.

You don’t let him go away, not even for an inch, not even when you need air… do you really need it though? What would happen if you didn’t breathe? Die? Hah.

“So needy” he laughs softly and pecks your lips actually needing air, now he’s the one with long hair falling on your face, you brush it back and nibble on his chin, clenching around him as he hits that delicious spot.

Suguru is so pretty. Back then he had a boyish look and young charm, now he’s a man, his jawline is stronger and he lost some fat he had on his cheeks, too bad because you loved to kiss his soft cheeks. His arms are way bigger now too, when he readjusts himself to fuck you on a better angle you get a view that no sculpture in the world would ever compare. Light shines behind Suguru, his chest glistens with sweat, some strands of his hair sticking to his perfect skin, the sight of his v line alone makes your clit throb.

Geto stretches you so well and perfectly, “So good, baby.”

He's an angel, you’re convinced. Makes sense now, this is your heaven, being beside him forever, getting him to touch you in front of other people without feeling shame, haunting women that look at him with lust in their eyes.

“Nnnhg Sugu—“ you slap your mouth shocked by the actual words that came out.

“Fuck” he grabs your face kissing you hard, “Say that again” he asks thought a breathy almost desperate tone.

“Su—guru, Suguru” you moan, barely using a real voice.

“Fuck, I’m close. Can I come inside, baby? Huh?” he presses your belly down, “Maybe we should test whether you can get pregnant, that would be a miracle right? Or maybe we would have the antichrist” he smirks in a teasing way and you lightly slap his chest, not liking the idea of bearing the evil, although if he keeps thrusting like that you might change your mind.

Your legs tighten around his small waist, pulling him closer, “Squeezing me so well, I— haa“ he shuts his eyes, “‘Wanna cum with you, love” he lowers his hand to where you meet rubbing your clit with his thumb, you raise your hands to his shoulder pulling him to you until your sweaty foreheads touch.

Geto can see through your rolling eyes you’re close so he speeds up his thumb while thrusting sloppier.

“Still feels like our first time, you know?” he confesses, in love with the way you feel, not just your insides but also, your smell, your warmth, your sounds. All his sense are focused on you.

Your knot finally unties, nails sinking on his shoulder and heels pressing on his back, your mouth is hanging open while Suguru nuzzles on your cheek, “I’m losing my mind” your hips roll trying to meet his thrusts, he cums hard too, moaning majestically and filling you so much you know you won’t be able to hold it all.

“Oh baby” he runs a hand on your face, kissing you lovely. You kiss him back, putting in the gesture every word you cannot say.

Suguru was still trying to manage his duties as a leader and as a boyfriend, at least that’s what he thinks he is since you don’t exactly have the privilege to see other people and he doesn’t even want other people.

The thing is, unlike a normal (alive) girlfriend, you can’t go with him anywhere. To be more specific, apparently you can’t even leave the premises of the temple, the furthest you can go is sitting at the engawa and dangle your feet off the edge. Suguru promised to find whatever was keeping you there and figure a way to have you around him wherever he is.

Now, he’s in Hokkaido, after holding you cold dead hands and promising he would be back soon. In the meantime you explored every inch of the floor where Suguru slept, trying to find some item that was tying you there, with no success. So you begin to wander into other areas of the temple, with Suguru gone there isn't that many people around either, and even though no one can see you, it still felt weird being around other people, especially when someone walked through you.

When you enter the praying room you notice someone there, sitting on their knees in front of a buddha statue.

Curiosity takes the best of you and you approach the man, wanting to hear what he's praying for, you bend your torso beside him, having your long hair touch the floor, you suppose it would be a scary sight, but you doubt anyone except Geto can see you at this point.

You adjust your posture, but being clumsy doesn't go away with your physical body, so you stumble and end up hitting a gong.

And of course, it doesn't go through you as it's supposed to. Whoever is in charge of deciding the moments you can touch the physical realm is a sadist.

The man who was praying is now standing up shaking like crazy, he’s asking who’s there but you cover your mouth (as if you could speak anyways). A second man enters the room, due to his traditional clothing you judge he’s an authority figure in the temple, but not being a buddhist during your lifetime you can’t be certain.

The first man is explaining what happened while you try to tiptoe your way out of this embarrassing situation (for you and scary for the man that will probably not sleep tonight).

Before you leave you can hear the second man saying this sorta thing has been happening around the temple, people are reporting a sudden cold air, things being moved out of the place and crying sounds during the night.

All your fault of course and half Geto’s fault on the last statement.

Not sad cries by the way but you can see why people would think that.

In fact, Suguru was very determined to have you voicing your pleasure, you still can’t talk, but he learned that through a very strong emotion your voice cords become stronger or at least existent for a brief moment. He’s still testing that and writing his experiments in a notebook.

Suguru says he wants to bring you back at some point but for now he can only do those kinds of experiments, you are happy to be beside him no matter what so you naturally accepts being his guinea pig, the initial resentment you had when you first saw him that day is long gone now. Is not like you have enough energy to think about your death anyways, at some point during the day you become extremely sleepy and eventually disappear, so you have to make the best out of your time with Geto.

Being back in his room you find your way under his blankets, the previous interaction seemed to have drained your energy, you should tell Geto about that so he can write it down in his notebook.

Finally.

Geto opens the car door before the vehicle fully stops at the entrance of the temple, it was only 2 days but he felt like weeks passed by.

And it wasn’t just a homesick feeling, he barely had a home. He just missed you. For years he was by himself, being satisfied with a few pictures and a perfume bottle, yet now he has the real thing — you —, one day without you hits harder than the almost ten years that went by.

It’s punishment, he knows it, the guilt must be felt, he didn’t feel it for ten years so he’s gotta feel it all in two days.

If only you could have a phone in the afterlife to facetime him…

None of that is important now, because he’s back and on his way to find you.

What he finds instead is concerning.

A familiar man with traditional clothes holds a cord and repeats a buddhist chant. The floor he lives in smells weird, in the corner of the room you have your hands around your ears, sitting on your knees and glitching like a scene playing in an old tv during a storm.

“S-Stop” he hears from you, in a strangled hoarse voice.

Suguru’s heart stops for a second, considering for the first time the chance of you being taken away from him. Again.

No, that won’t happen. That exorcism will not continue.

His heart is back, beating at its fastest now, he summons a curse, one too strong for a simple monkey, he blames his emotions for that but he smiles when he sees the half body dropping on the floor.

Your eyes are closed, hands still covering your ears, when you open them — after realizing the awful pain in your heart and head is gone — Suguru is standing in front of you, kneeling and smiling kindly.

He takes your head, running his thumb on your cheek before kissing you, trying to engrave the shape of your lips on his.

“Keep your eyes close for me, beautiful” you obey, keeping them shut when Suguru manhandles you into his hold and gets up, bringing you to his bedroom and away from the dead body, afraid of the bad memories it may bring you.

“There you go, i’m sorry about that” he kisses your forehead sitting down at his chair with you, “Guess it’s too dangerous to leave you alone, huh?”

You snuggle on his embrace, happy to finally have him back to warm you.

Through a whisper — since that’s the loudest sound that can possibly leave your lips — you confess “I missed you” Suguru pulls you away to look at your face, you can see he’s surprised you managed to speak, he also notices the glassy look in your eyes.

“I love you” your eyes widen, it’s the first time since your death he says it.

Since your death?

“I can’t say I'm sorry” he kissed your cheek and closed your still opened eyes “but I can say I love you, i’ll always love you.”

The memory makes your eyes water.

Well, maybe it’s not the first time since your death, but the first in your afterlife.

“I’ll do whatever it takes for us to stay together.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sad-darksoul @grsveeth0m @getomybeloved @sakurasimppp

note: my inbox is open for theories about this au, you can also check the #ghost!reader tag. also keep giving me ideas and i’ll keep writing 🤭

#geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #geto x y/n #geto x you #suguru x reader #geto x female reader #— cult-tober

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miniaturesuitgladiator · 3 months ago

Text

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat reader

Notes: this is part ten to lucid dreams.

Warnings ⚠️: not proofread. Mentions of death, killing, and child abuse.

The room felt as if it was the perfect temperature. The bed was the softest you've ever slept on. And you were tired as hell.

But sadly, you couldn't fall asleep.

But you weren't quite awake either. You were somewhere in between reality and a sweet relief.

Yet your mind couldn't choose which to go with.

Your body on the other hand was begging for sleep ,but your mind just wouldn't listen.

Your ears strain on instinct as you hear steps walking towards your room. They're not loud steps but not quite steps either.

They want you to hear them coming.

You sit up lazily still tired from your restless night. Your door opens and you straighten up ready for whoever walks in.

Three maids walk in dressed in black attire. They look kinda like nuns but their way more stealthy then anyother nun.

They bow as the see you and shoot you a stern glare as they see you still in bed.

"Long time no see loyce." You say to the head maid.

These women practically raised you.

As harsh as they might have been they never left you without proper care.

Loyce was the oldest of the three. And the other two you didn't know if they were mute or just weren't allowed to talk. But they never spoke. So you referred to them as Emine and Kira.

They circle around your sitting form like cats watching their pray. Their studying you. Every little detail. They have to see what need improving..

"Get in the bath." Loyce says quickly. And you groan.

"I can bath myself. " You protest as you make your way into the bathroom.

They give you a stern glare and you shake your head not amused. This was their job. They needed you to be perfect.

Undressing and stepping into the big tile tub you sit down In the warm water they've prepared. The grab brushes and shampoos of all sorts. They rub hard against your body and you groan and try and push them away.

Which does nothing but earn you a slap on the wrist with the wood handle of the brush.

"Why does your hair look this color?" Loyce speaks up.

"I dyed it once. It's been like this ever since."

You can practically hear them shaking their heads in disappointment.

Once their finished giving you a bath you smell absolutely delicious. And your skin hasn't been this hydrated in years and your muscles aren't so sore.

Their quick to dry you off not sparring a second.

And looking out the window the sun hasn't risen.

Their hands work quickly to get you dressed. And into some comfortable under garments.

Looking into the big mirror the have you sitting infront of you can see they've washed all the remaining bit of dye you had once had.

They begin straightening your hair with a devilishly hot straightener. Leaving no trace of your typical normal hair.

Your hair perfectly straight leaving not one hair out of place. They do your hair into a simple half up half down hair do.

As the begin with your make up. Simple but elegant.

Pretty enough for a princess.

Finally finishing up with your make up they lather your skin with lotion and oils giving you glowy skin.

Finally putting on your big elegent kimono. Your ready.

"What's the rush?" You say as they hurriedly slip on your shoes.

"Your father wants to see you immediately. " Loyce says speaking for the three of them.

You hum and nod knowing your father is impatient man.

"All this just to see my father..." You say looking at your reflection as the spray perfume on you.

You truly did look like a princess.

"The king," Loyce corrects you. " he's not only your father but the king...keep that in mind princess. " loyce says sternly like a mother teaching her child manners.

As they finally slip on your other shoe they take a moment to look at you. Making sure your absolutely perfect.

"You've grown beautifully....just like your mother." Loyce says and the other two nod agreeing with her. You mentally flinch at her words.

'Just like your mother.' She just had to add. You shake your head clearing these thoughts as they lead you outside room and into the big hallway.

The sun is casting over the horizon and you can't help but watch through the windows as you continue walking.

This place might have been cruel but it was beautiful nevertheless.

You walk through the big stone walls straight to father office. Just like you did many years ago.

You feel more anxious with each step. And your maids can tell. The give you a light sqeez on the arm as if trying to comfort you with their actions.

The other maids and servants bow as you pass and admire your beauty.

Finally arriving at your father office your maids bow and you dismiss them.

They each give a kiss to your cheek just like they've done ever since you were a baby.

Their kiss is not something their forced to do.

It's highly looked down apon to show any sorts of affection in the castle.

But they do it to show love. To show they care despite their cold demeanor.

Opening and stepping through your father's office doors you see him. Or more like his back.

His office looks the same dimly lit with candle and a small window. The red tiles clean ,and shiny as it always is and the pale color of the room adds to the beauty and aura.

Your father stands with his back facing you. And his long hair is tied into a bun. You can see the little gray hair peeking from his bun showing change. His growth.

Though you've grown he still looks as tall as ever. Still taller then you.

You can remember all the time you've been called to his office before. None of them were good. Hopefully now that'd be different.

But you'd be a fool to hope for something so soon. So you keep quiet, reading the room and atmosphere.

He begins talking and his voice is loud and confident just like you remember it. And you almost flinch at the sudden sound but you stand your ground. Your gaze never wavering from his back as he lights another candle.

"My girl......it's been so long...to long."

He says the last part with venom most as if he's angry at the time you've been away.

"Tell me....did you miss me?" He questions and he still doesn't turn around as he lights another candle and you wants scoff but you don't.

"Miss what? Your cruelty?" You say and you wish you could stop the words that flow out of your mouth but it's too late you've said them.

He doesn't filnch and his confidence doesn't waver at your words almost like he was expecting them.

"Ah... so you've devolved my tongue I see.... A great quality to have but it can get you into alot of trouble."

He says and you can tell he's smirking he likes that you've developed something of his.

He like your boldness. Because you undeniably got that from him.

He turns around before you can come back with a witty remark. And for a moment you have nothing to say. Your mind goes blank as your eyes meet his.

It's almost like he hasn't changed. Like not a day had gone by. But it has...his eyes widen but not in fear...no his eyes widen but only for a moment because he's proud.

"You've grown so much..." He says his voice barely louder then a whisper.

"And you not at all." You say and you don't bite your tongue like you would've before.

He smiles and you'd remember that smile anywhere. He's proud.

Not of what you've said but of you in general.

He steps forward and you take a step back hesitatently. You want to stand your ground to show no fear but your mind acts on instinct.

He takes notice of your fear and a frown appears on his face not liking your fear one bit.

"I won't hurt my dear...Im not that man...not anymore. " He says and his voice is surprising gentle.

You've never heard him talk like that before. Not even when you were a baby.

"Only a fool steps in a trap twice." You say quoting one of his lessons.

He raises his eye brows as a response and nods agreeing to your words and wisdom.

He sighs and you can see it. His chest is heavy.

He's nervous.

He's cations with his words careful not to over step.

"And you are no fool ,my girl....." He says his voice defeated.

"But I am your father....or I was. And I'd like to be agian...if you'd allow me?" His words are small and humble.

Which is so unlike him.

So unlike a king.

It was almost pathetic...he was asking to be your father.

If it was anyone else you'd probably roll your eyes for the dramatic words....

But nothing about this moment was dramatic. It was.....kind.

Something that you had never seen your father be.

Watching the man infront of you saw him. Not just a king or his cruelty...but your father.

You snap back into reality. You won't fall into a trap twice... you are no fool. You remind yourself. 'Don't attach yourself to false hope.' 'Always watch for traps.' Is what you've always been taught.

But seeing it father so honest...so desperate was doing something to you...it was breaking you.

His hazel dark eyes search yours looking for any sign of forgiveness. But you can't trust so easily. Not after everything. Your smarter then that.

"After everything's you've done...I can't just forgive you.." You say and you see how much your words impact you father but his kindness doesn't fade at the sight of denial. In fact it increases.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness...just a second chance.." He says his voice is soft and everything's in you is begging you to forgive him. But you can't.

Your hurt. He's hurt you.

"You killed my grandmother.. you took her life. That is not something I can forget." There it is something you've been dying to say to him. The final bridge that he must cross before you let him in.

You want him to explain. And he's been waiting for you to bring that up.

"That wasn't me. That was my men." He says defensively but his kindness is still there.

"Exactly your men. You might as well have killed her." You say and your venom is fierce and he feels it.

He feels your strength. He feels your emotions how you channel it into power. And he fucking loves it

If it wasn't such a bad moment he'd probably smile.

"They didn't do that by my command.....their orders were to scare you. Not to hurt you or your grandmother. "He says and you can hear his words are genuine.

"To scare me?" You say confused. They were just supposed to scare you...not bring you back?

"You still don't understand.....I let you go. " He says and he takes a small step forward and this time you don't step back.

You scoff at his words. He let you go? Impossible. He would've never let you go....atleast Not without a reason.

It's you who steps forward this time.

"Why?."

You ask commanding an answer.

"I had to let you go..." He says and his words are hollow and lack pride like his words usually have.

You look at him and tilt your head motioning for him to continue.

"Whether you believe what I say or not...I knew I was cruel. I knew I was hurting you." He says and his voice sincere. His tone so soft that you almost believe that this is a dream...

"And I didn't want to....but it was more about your strength. About what you were supposed to be.... there were things I couldn't teach you. I was to young. I lacked so much."

His voice is calm and he's trying to go around the truth but you already put the pieces together. You truly understand now.

"You lacked skills..but my grandfather didn't. So you let them take me. You let him train me. Teach me things that you never knew." You say and watch as he nods.

He sees that you've caught on. You've read him before he began speaking. Some only your grandfather would've been able to teach you.

"Your grandfather...he would've never taught me the things he's taught you." He says calmly.

He steps away from you and sits on a small chair and motions for you to sit across from him.

You hesitate sit and he pours you tea. Just like he used to do after your training had went well.

"So you expect me to teach you?" You ask as you take a sip of your tea.

"Teach me? No. I've learned plenty from other masters." He states and you look at him baffled.

"Teach Kion then?" You asks.

"No. I want to teach you all that I know." He says and he watches for your reaction.

"With what you already know and what I can teach you...you will be great." He says.

"All I am to you is some trophy..." You say feeling angry at his words how dare he want you to be nothing but a tool in game. In his war.

"Trophy?" He says confused and offended. You had taken his words the completely wrong way.

"My girl... you are all that I am. You are my daughter, my protégé, my heir."

What the hell did he just say? Heir?

You were no heir.

No bastard could be heir to the throne. You look at him confused and stunned.

"Kion is heir. Not me." You say as you take another sip of your tea.

"Says who? I have the final say." He say firmly.

"I will not take the throne from my brother." You say. You know how much blood can be shed from a siblings fighting of the throne.

"It's your birth right not his. He's known from the day he was born that you would be my heir. Not him." Your father states in a matter-of-factly tone.

"You can not take something that is already yours..." He continues.

Your silence is like a silence agreement to him as he continues speaking again.

"I assume Kion has told you what sub-zero did." He says and you can tell the memory still haunts him.

You nod.

"Do you know how he killed her?" He asks and his softness is long gone now.

You shake your head wanting him to continue.

"We were asleep. She was sleeping right next to me....and he slit her throat....I didn't even hear his steps. I woke up...and she was dead. He says and you can tell it hurts for him to admit that he was weak.

Now that was deep shit. You think to yourself.

All this time you had thought that sub-zero had killed her to start a war and take the throne ,but hearing how he killed...something much deeper had happened.

"Why not kill you? " You say and his eyes snap to yours.

"That's the question I ask every night....in chess when you take the king what happens?" He ask and you answer quickly.

"You win."

"Exactly....killing me... the throne would've been his. He wants something more... but I don't know what." His words are almost true...but he's hiding something. But you don't know what.....

You don't press any farther knowing he won't tell.. atleast not yet...

So you continue drinking your tea.

His words are kind and humble once agian as he begins speaking. And you can see the desperation in his eyes as he reaches for your hand.

"A war is coming ,and I need you...So I'll ask you agian. Will you allow me to be your father?"

As soon as the batfamilys feet touch the ground they take in the snowy atmosphere.

"Where the hell are we?" Your mother says confused. They weren't anywhere near the palace. They weren't anywhere near you.

"The portal was supposed to take us to her." Bruce says as he looks at the small device that controls the portal.

"She's about 10 thousand kilometers away." Tim says and dick groans.

"It'll take us forever to get there...." dick says annoyed.

Jason looks around the snowy grounds as if searching for you behind every tree. You mother walks up to him noticing his distressed state.

"You okay jay? Is medicine that we gave you still working? " She says her voice soft.

"Yeah.... I'm fine." He says dismissively. It was clear that jason was angry at pretty much everyone for you leaving.

He blames them. Because it is their fault.

"I have friends that can help that aren't to far from here..." Your grandfather says as he takes in the familiar surroundings.

"How long will it take us to her?" Your mother questions.

"A week at minimum. We better hurry." Your grandfather says as he begins walking knowing exactly where he's headed.

Damian stays silent for the most part. He knows he should've been a better brother...he regrets everything...every incounter every word...

He finally feels the weight of his actions getting back to him...but it's to late isn't it?

Thanks for reading!!

Comments and likes are highly appreciated! 💗

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz @vanessa-boo @jellyedkazoo @chinxinsomnia @sillysealsies @nervousalpacalady @gwyneveire @simpingpandas @crazycaoticsimp @nickey-diano @welpthisisboring @jsprien213

#batfamily x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batsis reader #mk x dc #batfamily x batsis reader #damian wayne x reader #mortal combat reader #yandere batfam x reader #neglected reader #yandere platonic #yandere mortal kombat #platonic jason todd

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vicorices · 3 days ago

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www.hotdozed.com/missdeath_zvika

18+ mdni, pure filth, firefighter!sevika, cam!girl reader, she masturbates to your underwear, sexting and nudes yehaaaaw, phone sex, guided masturbation, perv!sevika forever.

this is an special three-part cool multiverse celebrating 800 followers, they work on their own, but you can also check out ellie's side and make me happy if you'd like to — www.hotdozed.com/missdeath_spacemoth.

her control was currently hanging on by a thread.

sevika must have lost the plot somehow when her entire life paralyzes as the yellow envelope comes to meet her eyes and she stays there for a second, finally resting from a long night putting up with the fire on a residential building outside the city.

she happens to know what's in it. but she keeps staring at it until suddenly kneeling to pick it up from the floor, collecting her house keys and closing the door behind her back: privacy. she needs privacy.

she's quick to tear apart the top of the paper-like textured package, letting the waste fall to the floor before her breathing hitches on her throat and she stays there, planted in the entrance in dead silence.

her muscles are sore, she's tired after a 24-hour shift and she's grumpy, craving to sleep her whole time away from duty — a plan that fails miserably when her mind drifts back to something entirely different that catches her full attention: underwear.

this important package here is indeed, your underwear.

there's a pair of polaroid pictures inside she holds between her fingers for a moment, and the scent of your arousal is simply intoxicating, filling the air of her living room as she tosses her gym bag to the floor, unbuckling her uniform jacket to reveal a fitted white shirt tucked inside her working pants: well this was unexpected.

the air is hot all sudden and she has to search for her reading glasses before she has a good look of the picture, the sight of you wearing the same panties that were on her left hand made sevika's head spin, mouth dry when she sees you're there bending on the waist giving her a nice view of your ass, a warmth sensation going down her spine when she catches up the second one, someone else's fingers shoved inside your mouth while your tits are shown for the camera, and the black underwear you're pulling to the side is more than evident as a trophy almost cause you did, in fact, had more than just a good time using the pair she received in her mail.

you're a luxury clearly. a 200$ dollar luxury she can afford even when it might be a little breach to her economy. does not matter when she can feel her own underwear dampening against the image of you, unbuckling her pants despite the pain on her limbs, lazily dragging herself to bed.

it takes a while to notice the numbers written in black marker on the back of one of the photos, but sevika's breath turns hollow when she's aware that's a phone and a code area, pretty calligraphy, polished when she reads: write me for the review, send pics if you want x

you fucking kissed it with red lipstick.

it's been a while since the last time she felt so good like this — perverted behavior to it's finest when she's smelling on your underwear, pressing the lacy fabric against her nose just to take a sniff at it so she's finally aware of how you really smell after so many times imagining it.

the scent clings to the cotton even when it must be a while since you last used them, she can recognize you sprayed them with your perfume so it's a mix between this intense, fruity scent with subtle notes of citrus in it, and a musky one that is unexpectedly good in her nose. and in that moment sevika knows she would text sooner or later, find out if that was a real number there that you gave her, yet she's too busy now, fixating in something else entirely when her flesh hand goes down and pushes past her pants just to tease herself from over the fabric of her own already-soaked underwear.

laying in the comfortable space of a king-sized mattress, she doesn't need much more than your photos. it's enough to have her panting, fingers moving on their own against the slick folds of her cunt unable to get off her uniform, her shoes or anything at all as sevika takes care of that ache that pools in her stomach, that need that trespass beyond her own being.

so her index and middle finger rub consistently against her clit now, fast, sometimes messy movements: she's tired, can someone blame her? you're the one thing driving her insane to this point only by holding a simple g-string in her hand — and despite any torture sev fucking loves it to the core. how the whole scene turns dirty all sudden, the dry traces of your arousal visible in the fabric as she gives a deep breathe and there it is again.

"fuck-" she curses silently in the middle of a lonely room, hips jerking against her own hand in seek of a more direct contact just because unlike any other time; she’s not able to edge herself, tease like she usually do when seeing one of your streams or your saved videos on your profile in hotdozed. sevika’s quick and she goes straight to the point when filling her own cunt using her thick, long fingers until she's moaning in the privacy of an small apartment in the suburbs, door wide open as she ground her hips against her hand and fuck, she's so needy for it.

a coppery taste leaks into her mouth and she didn't know she was biting on her lower lip so hard it draw blood out of it, but it makes nothing more than spur her on to the point she can hear the wet sound her pussy makes each time she's thrusting herself, sweating, there in the edge, she can still feel her own smell after a whole day of being hard working, her white shirt hanging dirty on her own frame, over her stomach as she has a great view of her fingers stuffing herself until there's no space for more and you're there, there in her mind, under her fucking nose, in her memories — written all over like a damn poem.

your scent mixes so well with her's it's enough to make her cum, it drips between her legs and stains on her damn pants and she knows it's just chaotic, you only cause disorder as she lays on bed for a moment trying to catch on her breath for a second. your underwear now rests on the edge of her pants, barely shoved inside her own soaked-through hip huggers, but not enough to be fully in contact with her fluttering cunt.

and if sevika was intelligent, she would be taking a shower and relishing every single hour of her much-needed days off now, but instead of moving from bed to do so, she's just reaching her phone cause she's been dumb as fuck lately, cleaning her fingers with the tissue papers she keeps on her nightstand before she's saving your phone in her contacts and taking a huge fucking risk she would never even take if being rational.

matter of fact, she shouldn't be allowed near a phone while being this horny. not even technology itself, but she's opening up the camera app and before even fucking checking if it's really you, she's taking this photo of her opened pants and her stomach, happy trail clearly showing since she knows — fucking knows girls get off from it. your underwear is half shoved inside, visible in the shot and before she thinks it twice she's fucking sending it as she writes down:

nice panties. kinda thought your pussy would smell this good.

you don't answer until she's finishing her shower like an hour later or so, about to get some sleep now that she has satisfied herself enough to survive until the next morning, but it's clearly an interrupted plan again as her phone buzzes and sevika's forcing herself to open her eyes: too much curiosity to wait to the next morning, at least, that's the poor excuse she'd be giving to her brain before she sees your name in the screen.

glad you like them, you think a lot about me?

next time you should finger yourself with them on your cunt so you can feel me closer- sevika right? nice view.

and to be fair, she caught you in a bad moment, a weak one. it's late at night, you're binge-watching this series you're so invested in until the phone you set up specifically for work buzzes and your mouth is watering at the sight of a good, satisfied client and you're debating with your very own self whether if you should answer or fucking not.

she got you hooked clearly, even if it's late — the firefighter pants, the hair on the lower part of her stomach, your panties lose inside her underwear: doomed cause when you zoom in, you swear to fucking heaven you can see her bush there peaking out ready to have some fun and it’s all it takes for you to respond, guilty of all charges.

you're breaking your own rules, the ones you put some good effort in following cause she keeps texting you and suddenly, you're turned on as ever while exchanging fucking texts for free just cause you're attracted to this client who happens to be a pervert who gets off from buying your used underwear.

got well fucked in this, peach? seems you enjoyed yourself on the photos you sent me.

thing is, sevika won't really show it much, but she knows how to flirt. the words roll out of her tongue easily as she's quick to pick up on a girl's attribute, so she's flirting with you until she's slipping another photo this time of the mirror in front of her bed — she had the need to turn up the lights of the room now and you thank her mentally for it as you stare at the picture, sharp angles of her face, she's not wearing anything else on top more than a silver chain that hangs in her neck and lands between her tits, holding the phone between her fingers to show her reflection.

you know that kind of people, the dangerous one — cause you expected a whole weirdo behind the screen, yet you're quickly ashamed of your poor judgment as you have to eat your words cause sevika's indeed fucking hot.

it's different from the other photo. while the first one was messy and dirty, sevika don’t show her face; however now is nothing but the opposite, wet hair that sticks on the sides of her bone structure, wearing a clean, cropped tank top and briefs now that were dangerously low on her belly, at least enough so you can peak a little for the intrinsic lines of her body without even fucking zooming in.

she's playing, you're playing. it's not like you really do that all the time anyway, but your fingers are tapping on the camera app too before wiggling comfortable in bed only to lift up your own shirt — it's simple and effective as you squeeze your tits together, biting on the fabric of your shirt only to pull it slightly upwards, you want to show some as well, tease like she does.

it's far from the complex shit you upload on hotdozed but god — turns sevika on more than ever.

maybe it's the normal factor to it, she can see the wrinkled sheets beneath you, a band shirt she does not recognize, plump lips; you're not wearing make-up and fuck's sake: each photo it's better than the last one. it's just flesh, simple skin but it makes sevikas mouth water, her body stiffens and her muscles ache, burning beneath fatigue and lust.

escalates quickly cause you're sending her an audio of your moans next and sevika cannot fucking believe it, not when she's been masturbating to your stuff months from now. she's pressing the play button before turning on the volume to hear it clearly, low moans that fill out her solitary room, the wet sound of your drenched cunt on the background, barely audible but enough to make her chest explode: you're touching yourself.

you send videos not longer than ten seconds after, fucking riding your pillow and moaning out her name. playing dirty, fucking dirty because that's special content for her only, her favorite so far and she saw plenty already — either way, it fucks her up entirely as the message slips from her fingers without thinking about it: fuck weirdness. if so, sev's been always attracted to it, to the unconventional and the rather unexpected. hope you did too.

free to call ??

she didn't expect your reply either. it seems to take eternal seconds before she can read another one of your texts on her lockscreen again when she's about to forget about it.

yeah, go on.

simple and effective, she needs you to put a final stop on her misery. the phone rings one, two- three times before you're picking it up, voice rough and still panting for air before you talk on the other side of it — it seems she interrupted something important when she's greeted instead, with silence.

"already starting without me?" sevika asks, and her own voice seems to travel throughout her entire apartment, strained, rough as she's already thinking now about her own release, how she should be getting off her uniform before it needs to be double cleaned.

"shit-your voice sounds so fucking nice" you say at the other side, and she recognizes your tone already from your videos, the moans that don't differ much from the ones you're holding on as you speak "i don't really do this- so don't get any weird ideas, i won't answer your calls in the middle of the night. this is special."

"i wouldn't even dream on it, peach" sevika teases, resting her sore back against the head of the bed as she holds the phone against her ear: special, this is special — "now that you settle the basics, are you going to tell me what you're doing right now or do i have to ask you so you start on spilling me the details, huh?"

"i uh- i'm riding my pillow" the tone you use to say it fucks her right in the brain, it's not all so confident and cocky like she usually sees, you're fucking shy as you're moving again and she can feel the sound of your bed creaking as your breathing becomes heavy again "got so turned on- s'all your fault."

"good, so you now you can feel just a bit of what you've been doing to me for months now" sevika spats on the other side, and you let out a moan against her words as you move again and the friction in between your legs sends a shiver down your spine when your folds drag across the usual soft fabric now rough against your sensitive core — "does it feel good baby? does the friction feel nice?"

"yes," you breathe out as you're now moving faster, a wet trace now over the pillow marking up the constant back and forth movement you've been following non-stop "yes, kind of need more-"

"so use your fingers then," she suggests, mushy brain at the idea "i know you have some nice toys doll, stuff your pretty pussy so i can hear."

"pervert," you chuckle on the other side, laughs that are interrupted by the pleasure you were being a victim on, how quick your fingers seem to assault your own clit as you begin to move faster — "fucking pervert wanting to hear me cum- ah shit."

"the things i'd do to go down on you and taste that cum too," you're not putting an end to her misery but only aggravating it all, making sevika's hand sweat as she's sniffing on your fucking underwear again and she cannot get a grip from it, not when it's the closest thing she has to your smell, that same scent that must be coating your pillow now as she can hear the moans that each of your movements elicit "keep moving c'mon, don't stop rubbing on your clit and keep talking to me."

thing is, you cannot really talk after a few seconds. you're reaching your peak and dragging it slowly with each roll on your hips, your fingers rub perfectly against your puffy clit, swollen labia, the friction is fucking killing you to the point your legs are shaking on each side of the pillow, mumbling incoherent words now unable to hold on the phone.

"ride it out," sevika says, biting on her thumb as the pain seems to ground herself — "please doll, don’t stop moving. soak up your sheets and make a mess for me, you deserve it for being so good."

you comply without making her beg, even when you think to do so as you move your hips slowly, her voice sounds awfully nice when she says please, but the friction’s already overstimulating when your folds seem to open up to the form of the pillow now lubricated enough to just slip between your legs and in return, you have no voice to ask for anything at all.

your eyes roll backwards and you know you're in deep trouble when sevika keeps talking you through it, convincing you to grab the dildo in your nightstand, to let the pink head of it kiss your entrance before she reminds how you need to be gentle, rub it slowly in your sore pussy cause that's how she'd do it with her strap before slowly pushing it inside your welcoming hole until you're full, so you’re unable to think about anything else but her cock.

outstanding. you never let a former watcher call you. the phone number was set up for a way of making more money, but you want this from the bottom of your stomach, a desire that much rather feasts on your guts.

and sevika keeps up her promise cause she don't call you the week after, surprisingly good when it comes to follow your rules cause she doesn't push your boundaries but instead, she's letting you call her first — in the dead of the night, when she's least expecting it:

you always call her first.

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nkogneatho · 4 months ago

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bear hybrid!toji who sleeps around most of the day. you met him in the most chaotic way. when you came home one afternoon, you saw a big hairy man with unusual features rummaging through your cabinets with a jar of honey and leftover waffles in his mouth. at first you screamed, threatening him with the pepper spray but he was quick to tackle you.

"just need some food, sweetheart. i'll be out of your hair. winter's been rough." you should be scared but you are intrigued. he is human but does have the resemblance of a bear with weird ears. you are still on the ground and he lets go, continuing his shenanigans. he is aware you won't make a move because he is quicker, and bigger.

"d'ya have any peanut butter?"

"i-in the fridge," you mumble. seconds pass away and you notice he isn't here to harm you so you let your guard down.

bear toji then tells you his secret while you put the peanut butter on the bread, insisting to because he couldn't ravage it straight from the jar. you let him live with you for the winter because he has no place to hibernate. he helps you around with chores but most of the time you come home to the big bear waiting at the door.

toji who makes it a habit to call you "baby bear". it's cute the way you fluster at the unusual nickname. he is so scared to touch you or hold you. he knows his size so what if he accidentally hurts you? despite his tough demeanor on the outside, he is quite the softie. when you allow him to touch you, he embraces you in the post perfect hug. it feels like you are hugging a teddy bear. well you are.

#toji x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #bear hybrid #bear hybrid!toji #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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jintaka-hane · 5 months ago

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Sit Down

Masterlist

Summary: Benn Beckman carries too much on his shoulders. The situation on board is a mess, and the weight of the stress is making it harder for him to sleep at night. As your first mate and friend, it pains you to see him so exhausted. So, when things become unbearable, you offer a drastic solution—something he’ll hesitantly end up accepting. Word count: 4900 Notes: MDNI, + 18, NSFW, xf!reader, smut, oral (Beck receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), friends to lovers, let me take care of you thing, fluffy end, needy Beck, a lot of pet names used (darlin', doll, princess, pretty) Self indulgent? This? Nah Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Clink-Crassssh!!

The coffee pot smashed to pieces onto the wooden floor, spraying shards of glass and coffee across the mess hall. You jumped from the loud noise, almost falling off the stool, and after sharing confused looks with Roux and Hongo, your heads snapped to the side where the crash came from.

Before you stood the sad figure of Benn Beckman crouched on the floor, muttering curses as his trembling hands hurried to clean up the mess. His hair looked more disheveled than usual, his lips pursed in a tight line beneath an unshaped beard, and his usually bright eyes seemed dull, framed by deep, dark shadows.

"Becks?" You immediately set your drink down and stood up from your seat, rushing to help him.

“Ain’t gotta, darlin'...” he said in a rough, worn-out voice. "I got this."

Shaking your head, you knelt beside him and poured a clean rag into the spilled coffe. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his fingers clumsily gather pieces of the shattered pot, his movements so slow and unsteady that you worried he might hurt himself. You tried to push the glass shards away from his hands, but when he stubbornly kept picking them up, you placed your hand over his.

"Becks, Stop. I’ll handle it..."

"No," the bulky man muttered, giving a small tug to free his hand in such a rushed and clumsy way that it struck the edge of a sharp shard, causing him to wince as his skin split open with a jagged cut.

"Becks!" You grabbed his wrist firmly. "Would you just stop?!"

Beckman sighed heavily and, for once, complied. As blood began to bead along the cut, Hongo rushed to assist him, crouching down to help you lift him to his feet.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor said, focusing on the wound and pressing gently around the edges to ensure no glass remained. “Just needs cleaning and a bandage.”

"I got it," you said immediately.

Hongo raised an eyebrow at your quick response and ran a hand over his shaved neck to asses the situation.

For once, someone from the crew was offering to help, and he wouldn’t be the one to refuse. He gave you a short nod, and that gesture was all you needed to grab the big, wall-of-a-man first mate by the arm, and practically drag him out of the mess hall, marching down the corridor as he grumbled the whole way.

“Darlin’, I’ve got plenty of things to do…”

You grunted. Of course he had things to do. He always had things to do. And that was exactly the problem.

"... and if you're taking me to bed," he continued stubbornly, "it's not gonna work..."

You huffed and without replying, kept striding down the corridor, your fingers digging into his forearm like claws.

We'll see about that …

**********

You weren't exactly having the best time on the Red Force.

The captain was confined to his cabin, bedridden and unable to make decisions. He had caught something nasty on the last island and was under strict orders to rest, spending his days grumbling and complaining like the terrible patient he was.

Roux and Hongo weren’t faring much better. With food and medical supplies running dangerously low, the cook was growing increasingly dramatic, threatening to serve boiled underwear soup. The doctor prowled the ship’s corners, muttering to everyone that he’d soon be operating without anesthesia.

The ship herself was in no condition to help. The sails were in desperate need of patching, the masts needed reinforcement, and the cannons kept jamming at the worst moments. And to make matters worse, you were trapped in a dead calm. With the ship completely immobilized in the open sea, resupplying or seeking help was impossible, and the weather forecast offered no hope of change anytime soon.

Everything was a mess and completely out of control. And naturally, all the responsibility, worry, and pressure landed squarely on the shoulders of the ever-capable and vigilant co-captain.

But the weight of it all was beginning to take its toll.

His body rebelled, depriving him of the restorative sleep he so desperately needed. And with each passing night, the insomnia only worsened, making the once steadfast first mate slowly turn into a tired, miserable shadow of his former self.

**********

"Go inside," you opened the door to Beckman’s cabin and gave the sturdy man a gentle nudge on his back.

The moment you stepped inside, a sharp smell of tobacco assaulted your nose. Your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in its sorry state.

The bed was unmade, with rumpled sheets and clothes scattered across the mattress. In front of a worn, cushioned armchair, his desk looked disheveled, cluttered with a mountain of papers, maps and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat next to a small box of sleeping pills.

A sigh slipped from your lips.

You’d always heard that a person’s cabin was a window into their mind. The sight before you was more revealing than any words could be.

Your attention shifted back to Beckman, who stood frozen in the center of the room. His injured hand was raised and curled into a fist.

"Sit down," you ordered, stepping closer and looking up at him, voice steady as you motioned toward the armchair.

Beckman opened his mouth to protest, but before he could articulate a word you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back and guiding him toward the chair.

"Sit down," you repeated in the most authoritative tone you could muster.

Becks chuckled but complied, sinking into the cushioned armchair with his full weight.

“Bandages and antiseptic?” You crouched down to meet his eye level, a finger raised in a questioning gesture.

“Top drawer,” he grumbled.

Without another word, you turned to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. Your fingers brushed past rolling papers, lighters, and razor blades before finally finding alcohol and some bandages. Supplies in hand, you perched sideways on the armrest of his chair, extending your hand to take his.

The bulky man allowed you to tend to his wound, silent as you carefully cleaned the bleeding cut. His drowsy eyes followed every move of your delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but notice how small and soft your hands looked against the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Becks..." your voice came out like a sigh. "You can't keep going like this. You need to sleep."

His fingers didn’t flinch as you applied the alcohol to disinfect the wound.

"I know, darlin’," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on your face as your brows furrowed in concentration while you cut the bandage. "And I’m tryin’, but-"

"It’s too much stress and weight on your shoulders, I know..." You carefully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tracing small circles in the air.

You liked that grumpy, big-hearted first mate more than you were willing to admit. He was your friend, your confidant, your favorite person on the crew. You wanted to help him. And after all the traditional remedies your crewmates had tried had failed miserably, your mind had begun drifting toward more... drastic options.

Benn Beckman was a reserved man. But despite his discretion, you knew he had his needs. Whenever you reached port, you knew he sought comfort in the arms of willing, affectionate women, eager to spend a few hours in his company. You’d seen him share drinks with them, whisper who-knows-what in their ears while they sat on his lap, hands sensually tracing the lines of his chest in some secluded corner of the tavern.

And every time you saw him the next morning, a cigarette between his lips, that casual smile of his, and a trail of bruises on his neck disappearing into his shirt, something twisted in your gut.

Something you couldn’t quite define.

Maybe it was curiosity… curiosity about what he did with them all night, tangled in the sheets of an inn bed.

But it had been weeks since you’d seen the first mate blow off any steam. With no wind to fill the sails, the ship had no chance of docking at any nearby port, leaving everyone deprived of the opportunity to unwind and relax with some good company on the shore.

So one idea had started to form in your mind.

At first, you had dismissed it, thinking it was crazy and inappropriate. But as you watched Beckman worsen day by day, you reconsidered. It might be exactly what he needed to forget, if only for a moment, the weight of his responsibilities. And hopefully, get the rest he so desperately needed.

The only problem? Suggesting the idea felt harder than carrying out the remedy itself.

“You’re lost in thought…” His rough voice pulled you back, his hand gently holding yours after you finished tying off the bandage.

You cleared your throat and stood up, pulling your hand away from his to return the first-aid kit to the nightstand drawer. His gaze weighed on your back, and just before closing the drawer, you clenched your eyes shut, took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge.

“I think I can help you,” you said.

You heard a low chuckle behind you, laced with disbelief rather than malice.

"Darlin’," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Hongo's tried everything. He even gave me pills to—"

“I can give you something Hongo hasn’t,” you cut him off, your voice coming out more confident than you’d imagined it would when you’d rehearsed the words in your head. When you turned to face him, though, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what’s that?” He stopped massaging his eyes, revealing his tired gaze again as he looked at you.

“My mouth.”

The two words hung in the air, finally freed after days of being locked in your mind.

Beckman stayed silent, his gray eyes locked with yours. With your heart in your throat, you approached the armchair and placed a hand on each armrest, leaning your torso toward the wordless man. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you tried to remain stoic and unwavering as his eyes flickered between yours, studying your features as if he were trying to see beyond your skin.

"Doll," he finally said, voice deep and soft. "If you're implying what I think..."

"I am."

His lips twitched into a wry grin.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Your fingers unconsciously dug into the fabric of the armrest.

His smile faded, and this time, his gaze held an animal-like intensity. Frowning, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he seemed to be trying to control an internal battle inside him.

"No," he finally said, his chin still lifted so he could look you straight in the eye.

His refusal struck you like a bucket of cold water, though, in some way, you knew that’s exactly what he would say. He always treated you with a respect and care befitting a goddess. Making you lower yourself to the dirt in such a worldly way would probably be unthinkable for him.

“Becks,” you sighed, removing one of your hands from the armrest to trail it up to his stubbled chin. “You’re barely on your feet. We’re all worried about you…”

Beckman closed his eyes at the feel of your touch, his chin leaning into your hand as he allowed himself a moment of rest.

“I can help you if you let me…” you continued, “We’re adults, it’d be an agreement between the two of us… an agreement between… friends.”

His jaw tensed in your hand.

“As flattered as I am that someone like you would be offerin’ somethin’ like that to a guy like me," he said, "my answer’s still no."

This time his refusal genuinely hurted you. You pulled your hand away, and his tired eyes opened again, disoriented without your touch.

"Your stubbornness is reckless," you tried to sound composed, but the pain in your voice betrayed you. "You can't work like this. A-a crew without a first mate at his best is a crew in danger. We all need you, Beck... I-I..." Your lips trembled nervously as you spoke, "I need you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your lip. The last thing you wanted was to add even more weight to the already burdened first mate. And that was exactly what you'd just done.

Embarrassed, you straightened up and began to turn away to leave, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you back toward him. He spread his legs to make space for your body to move closer to his.

"Girl," he said in a rough voice, locking his eyes with yours in a way that sent a spark flickering in the pit of your stomach. He frowned, and for a moment, you thought he was going to scold you, but his expression softened. "You can back out anytime. Got it?"

You nodded.

Before you realized it, his hands were around your waist, lifting your shirt and exposing the skin of your abdomen. He pressed his nose playfully against your navel, and his fingers traced the waistband of your pants.

“Becks,” you giggled as the ticklish sensation sent goosebumps racing across your body. “What are you doing?”

“I never let my partner pleasure me without takin’ care of her first,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face further into your belly.

Oh.

Of course.

Benn Beckman, competent first mate and finest gentleman.

Smiling, you placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze back to yours. As tempting as the situation was, you weren’t going to let him take this turn. You were here to help him, not the other way around.

"Becks, stop... you don’t have to. I’m not asking for anything in return, understand?"

He looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. From the expression on his face, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

"Besides," you added, trying to find something that would make him give in, "if that ever happens, I deserve it to be with all your strength. Not like the tired wreck you are right now."

A raspy laugh rumbled in his chest, and you smiled. How you loved that rough, husky laugh.

"Alright, Darlin’," he said, still chuckling.

Your smile lingered as you slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his legs, never breaking eye contact with him. Before your knees could touch the floor, he leaned over to the bed, snatching up his pillow.

"Here," he said, placing it on the floor beneath you, "don’t go hurtin’ those pretty knees of yours."

Why was he always like this? You thought as you made yourself comfortable on the pillow, placing your hands gently on his thighs for support.

"Thank you".

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge at his crotch, and without thinking, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Beckman’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare display of vulnerability for a man with his reputation.

“Hey, big guy,” you gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, "it’s just me. Relax, okay? Just let yourself go…”

The tent in his pants seemed to complain within its prison, and you didn’t want to make him wait any longer. Slidding your hands down his knees, you spread his legs just enough to create space for your head.

"Who’s undoing the belt?" you asked tilting your head and looking up at him from beneath your long doe-eyed lashes.

"You." His tone struck you as the same one he used when handing out tasks on deck.

Your hands gripped the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, your fingers decisively pulling aside the layers of fabric that stood between you, lowering the waistband of his pants and finally freeing his painfully swollen cock.

Benn Beckman was a big man. And his dick matched him well. With a large, pinkish-red head and a prominent vein running up and down a thick shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, lips parted as you took a moment to prepare yourself.

"Darlin’,” Beckman said, taking the moment of silence as doubt on your part, “you can back out if—Hah~"

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you captured his swollen, mushroomed knob between your eager lips.

His taste was salty and strong in your mouth.

You, on the other hand, felt incredibly sweet on his cock.

Opening your mouth as wide as your jaw would allow, you slowly took him in, giving yourself a moment to breathe and adjust to him. You swallowed gradually more of his cock, eyes closed in concentration, hands anchored on his base for support, until you managed about two-thirds of his length.

He held his breath above you. His abdomen tightened with restraint when you looked up at him, your tongue pressing against the pulsing vein on his shaft, feeling the wild rush of blood running through it. Then his hand cupped your cheek, his lips curling into a smile as he traced with his thumb his own bulge inside you.

With your cheeks flushed by that smile, you began applying more pressure with your lips, rising back up to his large head, giving it a quick lick before taking him all the way down again.

"That's it... “ he sighed.

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers brushing your hair aside with care before settling there. You continued bobbing your head against his cock, making him groan with your upward and downward movements, trying to take as much of him as you could.

“Yeah, nice and slow princess…, just like that," he whispered, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin.

Encouraged by his sweet gesture, you decided to use your hands as well. One moved carefully up and down his hard cock, while the other dared to venture deeper into his pants. His balls felt heavy and tight between your fingers. The balls of a man who hadn’t known a partner' s warmth in a long time.

"So, so good, princess," the bulky man praised breathlessly, his eyes full of devotion as he watched your head bob sweetly between his legs.

His length twitched inside your mouth and you tasted a salty drop of precum as you ran your tongue through his slit. You smiled proudly on his cock, continuing to suck and bob, feeling sparks ignite between your thighs as your own arousal began to smolder in your core.

“Look at you... hah… so perfect… and takin’ me so damn well,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper and raspier than usual.

His sweet praises, coupled with the slow, sensual glide of his fingers along the nape of your neck, sent a sharp jolt of desire coursing through you. Your mouth continued working up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure and speed as you felt the weight of his darkened, dilated pupils staring at you.

“Princess, open your shirt for me," he uttered with an unsteady breath.

Arching your brow, you looked at him, holding his gaze with an alluring intensity as you slowly obeyed. Your fingers fumbled with your buttons as you undid them slowly, one by one. As soon as you finished, he tugged your shirt down, baring one of your shoulders.

“So goddamn beautiful…” he whispered, the back of his fingers grazing your soft, vulnerable skin, tracing an invisible line from your collarbone to the curve of your cleavage.

His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you frowned, fighting to control the raw, insistent desire building between your thighs. You continued to sweetly embrace his cock with your swollen lips, sucking him hard up and down, focused on how with each movement, his breaths grew more and more uneven.

"Ah~” he tilted his head back, his fingers pressing more tightly into the back of your neck, drawing your head closer to his crotch. "Let's go deeper, a'right, Doll? Show me what that pretty throat can do…"

You nodded obediently, exhaling through your nose as you took his cock further, slowly swallowing his entire length inch by inch.

“That’s it, such a good girl…” He praised you as his hands gently grabbed your head to guide you deeper into him.

His sweet words pushed you to swallow more than your throat could handle, and when his blunt head hit the back of your mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from choking.

"Hey, n-no," He huskily chastised you, giving you a little tap on the nose. Though he couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and rolling them back. "No gagging, okay? Good girls don’t gag”.

You nodded again, knitting your brows together in concentration, and let him guide you to take the rest of his cock.

“That’s it… breathe and relax for me, okay?”

You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the large tip pressed against your uvula, but once you managed the last few inches, you smiled proudly on his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed at you, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to avoid twitching over your tongue. “I knew you could take all of me…”

You continued moving your head, up and down, then down and up, always watching his reactions and listening to his breath to match the right pace. His throbs inside you became more frequent and desperate, and you began to fantasize about how his massive cock would stretch you to your limit.

The thought did little to ease the growing, unbearable thirst inside you. The damp fabric of your underwear clung uncomfortably to your swollen folds, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking any form of relief.

Burning with desire, you increased the pace. Obscene sucking sounds filled the air as you worked your way up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, making him grunt and curse above you in his frantic fight not to cum.

“G-good j-… -ahh such a pretty good girl…” he had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the pleasure flooding him. “I’m so close, princess... gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me and not let me make a mess on the floor?"

You don’t remember giving him an answer, but you do remember how your swollen pussy throbbed between your legs at his question.

You desperately wanted to touch you.

You desperately wanted him to touch you.

And your prayers were answered.

As you whimpered in frustration, you felt Beckman's large hand slip into your pants and slide under your underwear.

“Shh, I got you…,” he soothed in that deep voice of his, his expert fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling your perfect spot with astonishing ease. “Go on, princess.”

Gripping his hand you grounded your pelvis against it, desperately begging him to keep on those sweet circles that were taking you so quickly to the edge. He indulged, and in less than 30 seconds, he had you whimpering and mewling against his cock, eyes rolling and toes curling as you shoved his thick fingers into your clenching pussy.

Your pace bobbing your head decreased during your high, but the force increased. You hollowed your cheeks, raking him down with your mouth with so much fervor, that you had not yet come down from the crest of your orgasm when you felt his hands roughly grab your hair in firm handfuls, his cock throbbing against your palate and filling the bottom of your throat with his thick, salty load.

“Fuck, princess, sweetheart, -ngah!, you’re too good, too much -so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his cock deeper into your mouth, emptying himself so hard and so deep in your throat that you gagged on his knob again. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, but you continued bobbing your head against him, feeling his hand rest on your throat as if he wanted to feel your windpipe shift with each swallow of his overwhelming stream of cum.

Panting, and sweating, with your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed, you felt the last of his spend spill into your mouth. You pulled away from him, lifting your eyes and finding him as breathless and damp as you.

He smiled, and his hand ran through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure. But as he leaned toward you and his fingers grazed your cheek, his smile disappeared.

"Oh, Darlin’... No..." His voice cracked, his eyes following the tears as they slipped down your cheeks. “Forgive me... I’ve made you cry.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly and settling you onto his lap.

“Damn, I’m such a fucking brute…” he said, drawing you close against his chest.

“It’s alright, Becks,” you whispered as you pulled your face away, but his hand drew you closer once more.

His lips brushed softly against your cheeks, catching each tear with tender, almost apologetic kisses. You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slowly to allow him more access, and in doing so, your noses brushed together. Your eyes fluttered shut, and in that brief, unspoken moment, his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow, softer than you’d ever expected from that grumbling, broad-shouldered first mate. He had the calm and patience of someone who had waited for this moment for a long time, savoring every second as if your lips were a long-lost treasure. Sighing into the kiss, you allowing yourself to be carried away by the sweet, unhurried motion of his chin.

When you pulled back, your fingers brushed lightly against his cheek before your gaze met his deep gray eyes once again. They held something intense, familiar yet impossible to name.

A look he reserved only for you.

A look that was now hungrier than ever, as if he were staring at something that had always belonged to him.

“And?” you asked, straightening your back and raising an eyebrow.

“And?” he mimicked you, a smile grazing his lips as he looked lovingly at you. “Darlin’, you were… you are gorgeous.”

“No,” you giggled, your cheeks flushing as you gave him a light, teasing tap on his chest. “I meant if you can sleep now.”

“Ah, right… okay,” he frowned and cleared his throat. “The truth is… yeah, I think I can sleep now.”

With a genuine smile, you nodded and gave him another light tap on his chest. As you moved to stand, his large hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you firmly back into his embrace.

“Stay with me…” he whispered, his forehead coming to rest softly against yours.

“I can’t, Becks. I’ve got work to do,” you lovingly brushed your fingers along his stubbled chin.

“No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do,” you teased, crossing your arms playfuly over your chest. “And if I don’t, my first mate is gonna punish me.”

He lifted his forehead from yours.

"Oh, I see. That first mate of yours must be really mean."

“The meanest,” you leaned in, your voice low and almost conspiratorial.

He hummed in amusement.

“Is he?”

"You have no idea."

Clearly enjoying having you so close again, he tilted his chin towards you, grinning as he caught the way your eyes darted to his lips. But when you leaned away out of his reach once more, his smile faded.

"Maybe he's just a man," he said, his voice rough and barely a whisper, "who believes he doesn't deserve what he truly wants."

Your eyes darted between his. “And what is that?”

He cupped your cheek and his thumb traced slowly the line of your jaw.

"Stay with me, and I’ll tell you in the morning."

A smile played at the corner of your mouth as you closed your eyes, sighing before slowly nodding to him.

Before you could even catch your breath, he had you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bed.

The clothes scattered across the mattress were brushed aside as he gently laid you down, quickly straightening the wrinkled sheets to make sure you were comfortable. Smiling, he tossed his shirt aside and lay down behind you, drawing a giggle from you when the weight of his body made you roll toward him. His bandaged hand came to rest on your thigh, while the other slid beneath your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

"Besides..." you heard him whisper, his nose nudging the curve of your neck, "I gotta show you what this tired wreck can do after a few hours of sleep..."

Those were the last words he spoke before letting out a long, deep sigh, his body relaxing behind you as his steady breathing signaled he had finally drifted off.

Beckman slept soundly that night, his heartbeat calm and his brow relaxed, at last enjoying his well-deserved, soothing rest. You, however, couldn’t manage a single blink and endured what felt like the longest night of your life.

.......................................

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bumblesimagines · 10 months ago

Text

Ride or Die, Remember?

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Despite what happened between Karen and Frank, Lip can't let her go and (Y/N) begins growing tired of it. Another Gallagher sees an opportunity.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of teen-adult relationships (Kash-Ian, Karen-Jody), typical Shameless warnings, brothers best friend trope, some sexual content dontlookatme, minor violence at the end

Plot was too juicy to abandon

~~~

What was it about Karen fucking Jackson that had every guy losing their mind over her?

(Y/N) hardly understood why Lip tripped over himself chasing after a girl who looked like half the rest of the city's population. There were petite, skinny, blonde girls with raging daddy issues everywhere, and yet all he ever spoke about was her. Karen this, Karen that, Karen, Karen, Karen. He missed the old days before she sprung up in their lives, the days when they'd make a quick buck off struggling students and hang out with people apart from the whiny blonde.

Exhaling smoke from his lungs, he pressed the cigarette into the wooden railing of the porch and flicked it in a random direction, the distant sound of honking mixed with the muffled sound of children inside the house filling the air. He checked his phone for the sixth time and still found no new message from Lip. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and pushed himself off the railing, considering finding something better to do than standing around like a fool waiting for him.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Ian's voice greeted him, sweat dripping off his pale face from the sweltering heat of summer. Parts of his shirt had darkened in color from the sweat accumulated across his body, and (Y/N) had long discarded his own in favor of not walking around stinking like shit. Ian's eyes jumped down from (Y/N)'s face to not-so-subtly eye him before he mustered a polite smile. "Waiting for Lip?"

"Apparently." (Y/N) huffed. "He called and when I got here all I found was Debs with like forty kids and Fiona sleeping upstairs."

"You, uh... wanna wait in the pool? It's better than waiting inside with the kids or out here in the heat." Ian offered with a tilt of his head, his smile widening when (Y/N) nodded. Lounging around in water certainly sounded more appealing than melting on a porch waiting for Lip to show up.

Ian opened the front door and they stepped inside, maneuvering around the playing children while Debbie and Ethel tried keeping everyone in check. Ian shed his soaked shirt and tossed it aside into the laundry basket by the washing machine, briefly poking his head into the bathroom by the second staircase to grab two towels before he led (Y/N) outside into the backyard. (Y/N) slipped his shorts off, kicking off his shoes and socks as Ian did similarly.

The water had long been warmed by the sun but it still felt heavenly against his heated skin. Ian laughed at the sigh of relief that left him and hopped into the pool, the splash from his body colliding with the surface spraying over (Y/N). Ian resurfaced and grinned at him mischievously, wiggling his brows in a silent challenge. Arching one of his own, (Y/N) snatched one of the pool noodles floating about and snickered when Ian hurriedly paddled away to get the other one.

It felt nice being able to act like a child instead of having to scramble around pickpocketing or fighting to stay alive. It also felt nice to have someone to be a kid with instead of being dragged around by a pussy-whipped genius who only ever spoke or cared about one single topic. Splashing around and beating each other up with foam toys made (Y/N) reconsider if perhaps he'd chosen the wrong Gallagher to befriend.

Dipping one end of his pool noodle into the water, Ian waited a moment before he lifted it and pointed the end at (Y/N), pressing his lips to the other end and blowing into it to spurt water at him. (Y/N) turned away with a laugh and felt the water land along his back, his arm making a sweeping motion along the surface of the rocking water to return the gesture.

Immediately, another water fight began but it ended just as quickly when Ian grabbed his wrist and held them, a wide grin toying at his lips.

"Looks like all that wannabe soldier shit paid off." (Y/N) said as he wiggled his hands free from Ian's hold. West Point, or so he'd heard, was Ian's goal for the summer. Lip whined about it whenever Karen miraculously wasn't on his mind.

Ian's eyes lit up and he raised his arm out of the water to flex his developing bicep, droplets of water dripping off the muscle. "You think so?" He asked, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Yeah," (Y/N) snorted and smacked the back of his hand against Ian's stomach. "You've got abs now, kid. Congrats."

"Can't call me kid if you're only a year older, (Y/N)," Ian told him, dropping his arm back into the water and moving closer to press against the pool's wall. He placed his arms along the top and hooked his chin over one to watch him with those dark green eyes. The sun lightened them enough for (Y/N) to spot the way his pupils dilated the longer he stared at him.

"Whatever, Carrot Top." (Y/N) tore his gaze away from the ginger and focused on the rippling water. "Are you seriously going to apply? If you do Lip's probably going to end up going with you. He's worried about you. He thinks you're going to get yourself killed and shipped back in a coffin."

"Is that what you think, too?" Ian questioned quietly, a hint of disappointment in his tone. Lip had no doubt made his opinion of West Point and being a soldier loud and clear to his brother, likely numerous times. Lip never gained the ability to take a hint.

"I don't think about you as much as you think about me." (Y/N) flashed him a grin and chuckled when Ian scoffed at his words, his pale cheeks undeniably burning hot. He looked away from him for a moment and then something sparked in his eyes.

"I bet after today you'll think about me more often." Ian cooed, slipping one arm back into the water and reaching out to trace his fingertip over the waistband of (Y/N)'s briefs. A chill jolted down (Y/N)'s spine and he pushed Ian's hand away with an eye roll, some heat rushing to his face. "If you've known I liked you, why haven't you ever done anything about it?" Ian asked, shuffling closer.

"Because until a few months ago you had the face of a twelve-year-old. All cheeks and big eyes." (Y/N) grinned and pinched Ian's cheek, chuckling when he swatted at his hand and gave a soft huff. "Besides, you're Lip's brother, and the siblings of friends are always off-limits. Too much drama. It's not worth fighting or arguing over a quick fuck."

"I could be more than that," Ian argued softly.

(Y/N) hummed forcibly, feeling his body tense and heart squeeze in a less-than-comfortable way. The heat flooding his face and neck felt unbearable and every part of him wanted to snap at Ian to replace the feelings bubbling inside with something familiar. He glanced at the blazing sun over his shoulder, noticing the blue in the sky beginning to turn orange.

"I should get going. I'm not going to sit around waiting for Lip forever." (Y/N) forced out and propelled himself toward the ladder, quickly climbing out and grabbing one of the towels.

"Hey, wait, you can- you can stay for dinner if you want? You should take a shower, too. Nobody should be using it right now." Lip sputtered out, following him out of the pool and hopping down onto the grass beneath. He took the second towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, his brows slightly knitting.

"Fine, I'll take a shower but I don't want to hear shit about the water bill." (Y/N) said and retrieved the clothes on the ground, following Ian back inside where Debbie, Ethel, and Fiona were cleaning up the mess left behind by the children they babysat.

Fiona greeted him with a sweet smile and friendly shoulder squeeze before she returned to the living room and continued cleaning. They took the stairs by the kitchen and Ian checked the bathroom, giving a small nod. (Y/N) muttered a small 'thanks' and stepped inside, setting his clothes aside and turning the shower on. Before he could close the door, Ian pressed his hand against it.

"We, uh... we could save water by showering together, you know. It's a tight squeeze but we could make it work. It'd help with the bill, too." Ian's face reddened, almost matching the shade of his hair. (Y/N) blinked at him, unable to resist the amused smile from appearing on his face. He snorted and brought a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose and tilting his body so Ian could step inside the bathroom.

Ian's features comically brightened and he eagerly slipped inside, shutting the door behind him and letting out an airy, almost surprised laugh. (Y/N) rolled his soaked briefs off himself and tossed them aside, one hand reaching into the shower to feel the warmth of the water before he stepped inside, a sprinkle of smugness slipping through his veins when Ian's eyes tracked him.

The water felt nice against his cool skin and he dipped his head under the running water, feeling the water trickle down his face and chest. He almost flinched when the soap bar was pressed against his back, a gentle hand rubbing the soap against his skin and helping rinse it off with water.

(Y/N) smiled to himself and stepped forward slightly, turning around and tugging Ian under the water. He raised his hands to the short soft hair on his head and trekked his fingers through it, thoroughly washing his hair with a small grin.

"It's nice, right?" Ian asked, stepping back and wiping water off his face. His soapy hands reached down, rubbing along (Y/N)'s sides before his fingers dug into the muscles of his hips. (Y/N) arched a brow, managing to keep his attention focused on Ian's face despite the temptation to glance downward.

"What is?"

"Being taken care of," Ian answered, pulling him forward with ease and pressing his lips into the side of (Y/N)'s neck when their chests pressed together. (Y/N)'s fingers curled around whatever hair he could grasp, a soft sigh leaving him followed by a small chuckle. He felt Ian's arms coil around him, pressing him as close as possible and making both their breaths hitch briefly.

"Ian." (Y/N) murmured warningly, his free hand grabbing the ginger's shoulder and pushing on it weakly. "Lip will be pissed-"

"I don't care." Ian exhaled against his neck, pressing his lips against it again and suckling a light marking on it that made (Y/N) shudder and Ian grin. He trailed quick yet sweet kisses up his neck and jawline until he reached (Y/N)'s lips, lingering over them briefly before kissing him with need. (Y/N) let out a muffled grunt, unused to the feeling of being wanted outside of drunken hookups at parties, but he savored it. Ian knew how to keep a secret, anyway.

There was a mutual giddiness to it; kissing under the shower, touching new uncharted territory, whining and grunting in each other's mouths when one of them grounded their hips together. Ian gave in first, pulling away from (Y/N) with almost swollen lips and a trail of saliva connecting them. (Y/N) gaped at him when Ian lowered himself down onto the floor of the tub, the spray of the water mostly blocked by (Y/N)'s body. A rush of heat shot down to his lower belly and he felt himself flush again, his hand continuing to grip Ian's hair while the other planted itself against the cold tile wall.

Ian's hands roamed his thighs, the water slipping between his fingers as he squeezed whatever fat and muscle he could. He brushed his lips teasingly over his skin, leaving gentle nips behind that had goosebumps rising along his body.

A sharp curse left (Y/N) when Ian's soft lips wrapped around him, pleasure shooting up his spine and spreading through his veins like a wildfire threatening to consume his mind. Ian's eyes jumped up to his face, big and wide and full of mischief and desire. (Y/N) could hardly look at him, unusual for a guy used to things like hookups, but everything felt different with Ian. Too personal. Too emotional.

Part of (Y/N) wanted to reel away, to push Ian away despite the fact his hand pushed against the back of Ian's head and drew him closer. Ian's grip on his thighs tightened, his cheeks burning once again with a fiery red and eyes slowly turning glassy with tears. (Y/N) breathlessly chuckled at the sight and Ian's eyes narrowed, his tongue suddenly pressing flat against him and making (Y/N) curse again.

It was odd, (Y/N) had to admit, having Ian before him in such a state when he spent so much of his alone time with Lip lightheartedly poking fun at the boy's crush.

"How-" (Y/N) swallowed roughly when Ian drew his head back, only to move forward again faster than last time. "How many times have you dreamt about this, huh?"

Ian dug his fingertips into his skin hard enough to leave indents from his blunt nails in response before his hands continued exploring, squeezing and digging into everything they could find. Soft panting, cursing, and the occasional sound of gagging filled the small bathroom, mixing in with the sound of water; soft enough for the house to remain unaware but loud enough for Fiona to grab the door handle then jerk her hand back as if it'd burned her when the noise reached her ears.

It didn't take a while for (Y/N) to fall apart, his legs trembling slightly and his hand tearing itself from Ian's head to slam against the wall before he could topple over. Ian took him as well as he could, nose brushing against the fuzzy hairs growing at the base and eyes crinkled with pride and delight.

He remained there until satisfied and drew back fully, grinning widely at the string connecting his lips to (Y/N)'s most intimate body part. His tongue swiped over his lips and he used the edge of the tub to stand back up on wobbly legs, his knees red from his time kneeling.

"Jesus, Ian," (Y/N) murmured, watching Ian swallow happily before his mouth parted to catch the spraying water, using it to rinse his mouth. He tilted his head away and spat it back out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and leaning in to kiss him again. (Y/N) weakly returned it, one hand removing itself from the wall to grab Ian's hip.

His hazy mind slowly cleared, air properly returning to his lungs and allowing him to steady himself. Ian watched his face with a wide smile, one that disappeared when the hand on his hip cupped him. Ian's head dropped onto (Y/N)'s shoulder, his hips stuttering when fingers wrapped around him.

"Asshole," Ian hissed when (Y/N) gave him a teasing, experimental squeeze.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds." (Y/N) breathed in his ear and felt Ian twitch at his words, his whole body shuddering.

Ian clamped his teeth lightly on (Y/N)'s shoulder, his hands fumbling around the older teen's body desperate to find something to hold onto when (Y/N)'s hand slowly moved. He hardly had any of Ian's kindness; slowly taking his time and watching Ian easily crumble. Ian was surprisingly well-endowed, though he supposed the whole skinny guy joke held some truth to it. Ian's teeth dug harder into his skin when the pace quickened, his hips bucking along with the movements and a trickle of saliva escaping the corner of his mouth.

"Easy, Ian." (Y/N) cooed as Ian practically humped his hand, slowing down his pace and arching his brows at him.

"God, you're a dick." The ginger whined, finally releasing (Y/N)'s shoulder and instead burying his face into his neck, lips mouthing different curses as more whines and sighs escaped him. Once Ian's desperation subsided, (Y/N) returned to the quick pace abruptly and slung his other arm around Ian's waist to keep him from actually crumbling onto the tub. Whether Ian was sensitive to touch or simply sensitive to his touch, (Y/N) enjoyed watching him turn into a breathy, almost blabbering mess.

Ian pulled away from his neck to slam their lips together, teeth nearly clacking together from the force. He let a low, whiny-ish groan against him, his release coating (Y/N)'s thigh and slowly washing away with the water sliding down his body. (Y/N) laughed breathlessly and kept an arm around Ian until he grew steady again before he properly washed himself off and stepped out of the tub.

Tying the towel around his hips, he grabbed his clothes and stepped out of the bathroom, making brief eye contact with an amused Fiona down the hall before turning and entering the boys' shared bedroom. He rummaged through the underwear drawer until he found one of his old pairs and slipped them on, followed by his shorts and the shirt he'd previously tossed aside when he'd first arrived.

Ian slipped inside a moment later, drying himself off before sorting through his clothes and throwing them on while (Y/N) collapsed on his warm bed.

"We should hang out more often." Ian said with a grin, plopping down on the mattress beside him and leaning down to kiss him. "Especially without Lip."

As if on cue, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house. "(Y/N)? You here? I got caught up with somethin', I swear." Lip called out into the house, his voice also echoing and bouncing off the walls.

"Speaking of," (Y/N) sighed heavily and peeled himself from the bed, throwing the bedroom door open and making a sharp turn down the staircase into the kitchen.

Ian followed him, taking a sandwich Carl went to bite into and giving his little brother a grin right as he shoved half of it into his mouth and offered it back. (Y/N) snorted at the interaction and shook his head, peering into the living room to find the teen waiting by the first staircase.

"Yo!" Lip greeted without a speck of guilt on his face. It grinded (Y/N)'s gears. "I was thinkin' we should run a background check on Jody to see if any sketchy shit pops up. You know a guy who can do that, right? Anything we find, we show to Karen. He's got to have a couple arrests, maybe we'll get lucky with a restraining order- why are you looking at me like that?"

"'Cause I'm fucking exhausted of your bullshit, Lip." (Y/N) scoffed, shoving past Lip and slamming their shoulders together hard enough for Lip to stagger backward. Lip shot Ian a bewildered look and the two Gallaghers scrambled outside after him.

"What- What are you talking about? Listen, I know I'm a little late but I'll make it up to you, I promise, alright? I just need this favor, okay?" Lip's words only made his eyes roll, his jaw ticking and teeth grinding together. Lip grabbed his arm and stepped in front of him before he could fully leave the front yard, holding onto the sleeve of his shirt. He stared at him, his chest slightly heaving before his jaw clenched. Ever the short fuse. They were birds of a feather, the both of 'em. "Why can't you do this one thing for me, (Y/N)? Is it because of Karen? Because I'm in love with her and not you?"

(Y/N) nearly went jaw-slacked at his words, brows raising and eyes slightly widening. He could only stare at him in silence, the sneer he'd said it with feeling like a stab to the gut. It seemed as if all at once, the love, care, and awe he'd once held for the teen since the third day of first grade evaporated, replaced with bitterness and hurt. His brows dropped back into place and his head leaned back, a hum escaping his throat.

"Is that what it is? You're pissed I'll never like you like that? That- what? I'll never be the Kash to your Ian? I love Karen. It will always be Karen, and the second you get that through your fucking skull, shit will go back to normal." Lip released him roughly, regret seeping into his vibrant eyes already, but pride never allowed him to apologize, not to anyone.

"You..." (Y/N) laughed, and it felt as if a fog had lifted and the rose-tinted glasses had slipped off. "You are pathetic, Lip. Jesus Christ, you're a fucking loser. How come I never realized that shit? You're just a pussy whipped dickhead who acts like a dog in heat whenever Karen's around. I mean, shit. That's... that's so fucking depressing. You follow her around like a little kicked puppy, lapping up whatever seconds the guys at school and Jody leave for you. You're Karen's little bitch and you don't even realize it."

Lip's eyes lit ablaze. "And what the fuck does that make you, huh? Everyone already knows you're my bi-"

Before the words could leave his mouth, (Y/N)'s fist connected with his cheekbone, and he fell to the pavement with a groan. (Y/N)'s instincts told him to kick him next, to kick his stomach, his groin, his face. His genes begged for violence, urged him to get the job done by breaking a bone or leaving him bloody; and despite every part of him wanting to do so, he swallowed down the rage as best he could. He took a deep inhale and slammed his foot into Lip's side, the force pushing Lip back onto the grass and out of his way. It'd certainly leave a nasty bruise.

"Go fuck yourself, Phillip. You want to chase after some ran-through bitch for the rest of your life, be my guest. I don't need you fucking up my year and making me look like I give a shit about some pathetic little boy toy." (Y/N) spat down at him and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"I'll see you around?" He stopped at the sound of Ian's voice, tilting his head over his shoulder to look at him as he crouched down by Lip's withering body. Lip coughed and clutched his side, his brows furrowing and eyes flickering between the two. (Y/N) felt a fluttery feeling develop in his stomach.

"Yeah," He grinned. "Definitely."

1K notes · View notes

cheol-e-kat · 1 month ago

Text

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉, 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. 𝒌.𝒎𝒈

pairing: kim mingyu / f!reader

summary: y/n just wants to settle into the place she is subletting from soonyoung, but sadly, the sublet is for her and a roommate whom she hasn’t even met - soonyoung’s mysterious friend ‘mingyu’

but mingyu can’t even be bothered to show up for coffee, much less to pick a couch for their shared space

worse, she has to deal with an asshole at work when all she wants is some peace and quiet and her own bedroom

genre: roommates au, workplace au, unreliable narator

characters: porn actor!mingyu, bartender!mingyu, makeup artist!reader

word count: 2.9k

rating: 18+, mdni, explicit

warnings below cut

warnings: drinking, explicit language, penetrative sex, messy sex, slight noona kink, implied role play

she had given up texting ‘mingyu’ - she hadn’t even met him, so she felt like she could pretend he was barely a real person, especially since he was climbing the list of her worst roommates so far.

he was allegedly a friend of soonyoung’s and meant to be subletting his apartment with her, but so far, she’d literally seen nor heard from him. she was starting to think he was soonyoung’s alter ego, à la fight club.

but she really couldn’t be bothered to keep trying his mobile when she had work to do - a job she had agreed to take only after her friend begged her. she wasn’t really one for being on set for porn films, especially when it was crowded and there were so many dicks swinging freely. she generally worked on set for magazines where the dicks were at least covered to some degree or being shown off tastefully.

from what she could gather, it was a giant casting call - there were ‘stars’ and hopefuls all lining up to get photos taken, audition, and even to be filmed in a single day. it seemed more based on the fact that the location was only rented for two days than anything else.

she had been there for hours - her feet were tired - she was tired. and the guy in her chair was obviously tired since he kept nodding off.

she had glanced at the sheet he brought along - a short description of what needed doing. for him, they wanted a ‘dewy’ look with a very ‘rosy’ cock. she had seen ‘wet’ looks, and ‘grunge’ looks, but ‘dewy’ was certainly new. she wondered who picked these adjectives.

initially, she hoped to work around the fact that he was tired, but she finally gave him a gentle poke in the cheek. “hey, sleeping beauty, can you just sit up a bit for me?” she asked, trying to be gentle.

he sat up, shooting her an annoyed look as he did. she set about trying to capture ‘dewy.’ but he slumped again and caused her to streak foundation across his face.

she wanted to scream.

she shook his arm. “hey - seriously, i need you to sit up for this,” she said sternly as she started to clean up her mistake and try to salvage things within her timeframe.

he apparently used the time she was correcting things to stew because when she was kneeling down to attempt this whole ‘rosy’ cock business, he muttered something about her just being a makeup artist.

she shot him a sharp look. “right, i’m just the one in charge of making you and your cock look as good as possible on film so that maybe you get this job - so completely pointless, right?”

she rolled her eyes, wondering where some random guy at a casting call for ‘big dicks 19’ got off thinking he had any business commenting on anything she did. even if he was hot. and had a nice dick.

she had dealt with plenty of assholes and was in no mood. she was quick finishing, using a bit of glitter spray in strategic spots to highlight his natural build - she wasn’t going to half-ass anything just because he was a cunt. and then she was done and waving him along to whoever else he wanted to be an ass to that day.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

and after working her magic on what felt like a million sweaty bodies, she got to pack up and go home. she had the only key to the apartment right now. she hadn’t had the chance to put her bed together or really unpack, even - but she happily flopped on her makeshift bed, aka her mattress on the floor. she took a quick nap before waking up, ordering some dinner, and taking a fast shower while she waited for food to arrive.

she didn’t bother trying to catch up with mingyu again. she wasn’t that worried, especially since he was already paying his half of things. for all she cared, he could never move in - that would suit her just fine.

she did call soonyoung, though, to let him know his friend was still a no-show.

soonyoung had hummed, “i mean, i know where to find him - i would have thought he would have shown up by now - i know he hates his current roommate.” he sounded perplexed.

“i mean, i don’t hate having the place to myself,” she said with a laugh.

he sighed. “fair, but i’m leaving in a few days - you two should at least meet before i’m out of the country.” she could hear the not-so-subtle suggestion in his voice.

“i guess send me an address,” she groaned.

she had had no plans of going out. in fact, she had planned to enjoy being totally alone in a gorgeous apartment that she was so far only paying half the rent of.

instead, she was getting dressed for some bar - she had looked it up. there wasn’t a dress code, but it was on the fashionable side. she felt like she had an outfit that would work, actually - insanely high-waisted trousers, cute bralette, vintage leather jacket, platform heels, and chunky earrings.

she had maybe been rewatching killing eve and channeling the feels she had for villanelle’s wardrobe. she slicked her hair back a bit and was ready to meet her mysterioso roommate.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

she grabbed a cab and met soonyoung outside the bar. it had a hole-in-the-wall vibe, except for the fact that she noticed several people she had worked with, as in people who got in front of the camera. but soonyoung seemed to know how to skip the line, opting for going in through the backdoor.

inside, it was really busy and definitely cramped. it was poorly lit, as any good bar should be, and there was the warmth that came from too many people in too small a space. a girl was walking around offering to take polaroids - a cute touch. they managed to order drinks before anything.

she sighed, watching people wander by, flashing brilliant smiles as they went off to dance or whatever else one might get up to in a bathroom.

after two drinks and the day she had had, she was pulling soonyoung away from a conversation to ask where mingyu was in the crush of people around them. it was why she was there, after all.

“which one is he?” she all but shouted her question.

he glanced around and finally oriented himself enough to point towards the bar. “he’s the tall one with black hair and no tattoos.”

she glanced towards the bar and groaned at what felt like a sea of people separating her from it. she thought soonyoung was going to introduce them, but he was engrossed in catching up with a friend.

she was left to make her way through the crowd - to her, it was like taking the train, she leaned with the crowd so she didn’t get crushed by it.

and when she finally made it to the bar, she was relieved that there was only one tall guy with black hair and no tattoos. but when she made eye contact with him, her mood dropped through the floor.

mr. dewy-skin-rosy-cock.

he seemed to make the same connection, flushing and deftly swapping positions behind the bar with one of the other bartenders. which only worked to irk her. she might have been in shock, but to see him actively avoid her only worked to renew her irritation.

once again, she wondered, who the fuck was he? slinking away like some ridiculous little boy who had gotten caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

she was quick to glance around for something to get his attention. but not seeing anything fitting, she fished one of the very perfect oversized ice cubes out of her drink and threw it.

she watched it fly through the air, almost in slow motion. she bit her lip gently, knowing it would hit him - just not knowing how perfectly.

it hit him squarely in the back of the neck, just above his shirt collar.

she almost giggled at how good of a shot it was. instead, she quickly glanced down at her drink, stirring it innocently, before he had time to whip around and make eye contact with her.

she sipped her drink before slowly looking up to see him staring at her, a look of complete disbelief coloring his face.

his disbelief was replaced almost immediately. he looked like he possibly wanted to kill her. she smiled and gave a small wave, pointing to her drink for a refill.

it wasn’t like he could prove she had thrown the ice cube.

he stalked over, his eyes signaling rage despite his customer service smile.

and before he could even ask what her drink was or reprimand her, she was leaning across the bar and introducing herself.

“i’m y/n - you’re new roommate,” she held out her hand in greeting, offering her best smile.

she was sure she could see his soul briefly leave his body at the realization.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

she knew mingyu watched her sitting at the end of the bar.

it was cute, though, that he kept refilling her drink. maybe a bit annoying that he seemed to water it down more and more. she just ordered a second one to counter it.

she hung around, glad for her late nap she had taken. she was in the perfect mood to flirt with the other bartender, the one with tattoos and the aussie accent, especially as the crowd started to thin and he wasn’t as busy.

he didn’t water down her drinks like some mother hen.

and when she offered to show him a trick, he was game.

“bet,” he said with a laugh.

“bet what, though?” she asked cutely. “i know i can do it.”

he shook his head, “naur, love, i don’t believe you - you can’t tie a cherry stem with your tongue,” he watched her, his gorgeous eyes taking her in.

she nodded. “but i can.”

she smiled and popped the maraschino cherry between her lips, eating the fruit and holding onto the stem. he watched her, appraising the situation.

“instead of a bet, what if i get a prize for doing it?” she whispered teasingly - she was loving his accent - she could only guess he would dick her down like there was no tomorrow. his black tshirt and jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination.

she watched the cute smile that flitted across his lips, “yeah, love, anything you want.” he whispered, his voice low and sweet.

she was certain his words went straight to her pussy. still, she popped the cherry stem into her mouth and, after a few seconds of work, stuck her tongue out, the little knotted stem sitting perfectly on the tip of her tongue.

“no way,” he whispered, laughing softly, genuinely surprised.

she laughed and held it out to him, “aren’t you glad you didn’t bet?”

he smiled, giving a soft nod. “impressive,” he whispered, taking the knotted stem.

he glanced up at her and started to say something.

but mingyu stepped in.

“hey, can you cash out the tab at the other end? it’s yours,” he said flatly.

she pointedly watched him walk away before finally glancing at mingyu.

“go home,” he muttered.

she leaned on her hand, “why? i’m having fun.”

he was wiping the bar and shaking his head, “you’re just sticking around to bother me.”

“and why would i do that? i barely know you,” she pouted.

he shook his head again, “look, i’m sorry about earlier”—

“yesterday now, i think,” she interrupted.

he glared, “whatever,” he said in exasperation, “i’m sorry - i was tired and in a bad mood. i shouldn’t have been rude.”

“so you’re trying to cock block me because you’re sorry?” she was confused.

but she saw the flush in his face.

no, she smiled to herself, he was cock blocking her because he thought she was cute. so fucking cute, she thought.

“and what are you going to give me if i’m a good little girl and go home?”

he shook his head. “different game,” he muttered.

she laughed softly, “tired of that one after today?”

he nodded, barely glancing up from what he was doing.

she put her hands flat on the bar, leaning a bit closer. “you’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

she could see the way red crept back into his cheeks. she smiled softly, just a gentle curling of her lips, knowing she hit the right note.

she leaned closer, her fingertips brushing his, “want me to go home and wait for you, gorgeous boy?” she bit her lip gently, her voice syrupy, “so i can take care of you after your long day, baby.”

she watched the tiny nod he gave her.

“closer,” he responded, his voice barely audible. he kept his gaze trained on the bar.

she smiled. “you know where i am, at least.” she stood up to leave - she had already closed her tab.

she didn’t mind leaving. she was glad to walk outside and feel the rush of fresh air. she had no clue when she would see him.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was nice to be home again. even if she had fun, she was always tired after staying up past her bedtime.

she took another shower and cleaned her face and teeth. she had dressed in a tshirt and underwear - just in time for her to hear a soft knock on the door. she grabbed an oversized cardigan and went to open the door.

it was the first time she could genuinely look at him without the rush of anyone else’s schedule or their existence bothering her. she tilted her head, watching him. it wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed how he looked the day before - it’s that she had been noticing him in a way that she needed to for work - what to highlight, what to conceal (barely anything).

but now she could see that he looked tired. there was no customer service smile. just eyelids growing heavy, even as he was standing. she trailed her fingers gently along the door until she reached the handle and turned it slowly, quietly.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“did you take the bigger room?”

she glanced up from her phone, “maybe we can share,” she offered, sitting up. she watched him towel off - she smiled at the lazy way he let the towel drop to the ground. something about seeing him so easily expose himself was - she couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her lips.

she leaned back on the bed, opening her legs wide for him, dragging her fingers along her already slick pussy lips. “come here,” she whispered.

she bit her lip, watching him walk closer and drop to the bed. she grinned when he caught her thighs and pulled her down to him.

he kissed her more softly than she expected. she thought he would be urgent and hungry. but he was soft and needy.

when he finally pulled away, sighing softly, “sorry, i didn’t text sooner.”

he smiled as he said it. she shook her head, “liar.”

“but now i get you like this - all to myself - just you and me and your gorgeous cunt,” he teased.

she hadn’t known who he was the day before when she had given him a soft slap for being a bitch - she had loved the way he whined and pouted.

they were already supposed to meet.

she could feel his cock teasing her open. she pushed his shoulder. “lie back, let me fuck you.”

she straddled his hips and eased back slowly on his dick, moaning as she sank down, feeling his hands covering and squeezing her tits. her head dropped to the side - she knew she had done what she wanted, taking all of him.

her head swam. his dick was somewhere deep in her stomach, she was certain. and when she started to slowly move, she heard his soft moans - his cute whining. she reached down, tracing her finger along his lips. “so perfect,” she smiled, pressing her fingers into his mouth. riding him slowly while he licked and sucked her fingers was, fuck, she almost considered edging herself to make it last. she pulled her fingers away from him, loving that he whimpered for her.

she picked up her pace, though, riding him faster. bouncing on him - his fingers digging into her hips, leaving red marks.

“yes, noona,” he whispered, “just like that - make me come,” he gasped softly as she started fucking him faster, wanting them to both come.

she was breathless, “good, baby?” she could feel beads of sweat clinging to her skin.

he nodded, looking up at her dazedly, “harder,” he whined, guiding her hips downward, pushing her to take all of him. she cupped his cheek gently, nodding.

and with a moan, she reached for the wall behind him for leverage, “such a fucking brat,” she groaned in pleasure, loving the stretch she felt as she took his cock, even as her thighs were starting to burn.

but then she felt it - she felt him - the heat of him filling her, just as she dropped down completely, her pussy clenching around him as she came too.

and that was when he suddenly put her on her back, picking her thighs up, fucking into her fast and desperately.

“come again,” he rasped, looking at her like he was demanding it - demanding that she come for him.

he pounded into her until suddenly she was coming - she was coming. waves and waves of pleasure that were so delicious, she could practically taste it. and the lewd sounds coming from her pussy were the most perfect sounds.

he fell against her. she hugged him and petted him.

“so perfect, baby,” she whispered.

a/n: if you don't play bingo with me i have to make my own and it is idk kind of fun ...smhhhhhh sighhhhhhhhhh - i'm lying btw...

♡ kat

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l4ndoflove · 9 days ago

Text

the winner takes it all

TW suicide attempt (sleeping pills overdose), social media hate, mental health struggles, depression (lmk if i missed anything)

feat. lando norris

lyrics when oscar wins in bahrain, lando loses everything: credibility, respect... and almost his life, too

maddie i'm tired of people hating on lando for literally no reason, so i wrote about it

2045 words

The race had gone… good. Not great, but not necessarily bad either.

Sure, receiving a five-second penalty for overshooting his grid box at the start wasn’t exactly optimal, but Lando had still managed to get a podium, going from P6 to P3. And you really thought—you hoped—that would be enough for him.

But the moment you saw him stepping up there, you knew it wasn’t.

He did everything right, as if it was all part of a routine he’d learned to perform like some kind of circus monkey: wave, clap, smile. Repeat. He took his trophy, listened to the anthem, sprayed the champagne—turning his back to Oscar and going straight for Andrea.

Rookie mistake.

The media noticed. Of course they did. Had they ever missed anything when it came to Lando, after all?

Within minutes, the clip of him “ignoring” his teammate had gone viral, and suddenly, it was Hungary 2024 all over again. The usual criticism was quick to follow:

he is a good driver but actually so incredibly immature

grow up Lando, you win some and lose some

Piastri making strides 💪 Lando going backwards

It always ended up with people spitting venom at him at every given opportunity—even for something as stupid as this—so you didn’t give it much thought, praying that Lando would do the same.

When you scrolled down your Instagram page, however, your heart clenched at the sight of his post-race interview, already trending on every F1-related account. He was clearly disappointed with the result, the car… himself.

You opened the comments, expecting to find, if not sympathy, at least some basic human decency.

But you should’ve known better.

yes lando you aren’t good enought

This guy is not a world champion 😂😂

If you can’t handle your emotions, you’re not strong enough. Thats why he never wins a worldtitle

During his rookie days I’d have some sympathy but now he just looks like a whiney child

He will be 2nd driver soon

Tears clouded your vision as you clutched the phone so hard you thought it might break.

You wished it did.

Maybe that would’ve finally erased the cruelty, the hate, the insults people apparently liked to throw at a 25-year-old boy who was already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—a world that was ready to jump at his throat the moment he slipped up.

You needed to find him before something like that could happen again. So, you ran.

The cooldown room was still buzzing with electricity when you stormed in, the kind that lingers only after champagne-soaked celebrations and loud smiles. Your eyes searched every corner of it, looking for a curly head they didn’t find, landing on Oscar instead, drenched from head to toe and radiating happiness while he chatted with Zak.

“Hey,” he smiled warmly as soon as he spotted you, his expression shifting immediately when he noticed how tense yours was. “Something wrong?”

“Lando?” It wasn’t an answer, but you hoped Oscar would catch on either way.

You didn’t like how he frowned in confusion instead.

“He told me he was going back to the hotel with you,” he explained, brows furrowed.

Your stomach dropped, color draining from your face.

Panic.

The second he saw your reaction, it clicked in his head, too. “Wait, why would he…”

You didn’t let him finish—just turned around and left, sprinting out of the paddock like your life depended on it.

Because, even if yours didn’t, Lando’s might.

And you knew what Oscar was about to say. It was the same question that gnawed at you as you ran one red light after the other, your mind going faster than your car ever could.

Why would he lie about where he is?

The silence hit you like a slap in the face when you finally entered the hotel room.

Not welcoming. Not peaceful.

Empty.

Like something was missing.

There was no background music playing in the kitchen, no faint chattering coming from the TV you usually left on, no white noise of any sort… just eerie, deafening silence.

But your boyfriend didn’t do silence.

He hated it.

“Lando?” Your voice echoed off the walls. Too loud. Too scared. “Baby, it’s me.”

Still nothing.

You paced around the apartment like a ghost, looking for any sign of his presence in the shadows that crowded the place.

It was the bathroom light, bleeding through the darkness from beneath a half-open door, that ended up catching your attention. You reached for it like a moth to a flame, gaze dropping to the floor as soon as you found yourself in the doorway.

Your knees followed it.

He was there. Slumped against the wall, his head lolling sideways, fingers wrapped loosely around a bottle of sleeping pills.

When you took it from his hand to check it, there were only a few of them left.

You almost threw up.

“Lando. No, no, no, shit–Lando, wake up. Baby, please, wake up, don’t do this to me–” Tears streamed down your cheeks, his name falling out of your mouth like a plea as you gently cupped his jaw with your palms.

His eyelids fluttered open at the sound of your voice. Slow. Heavy. As if something so simple had suddenly become incredibly painful.

“That’s it, baby. Just keep your eyes open for me, okay? Stay awake, I’m here. I’m here.” You kept repeating that last sentence like a mantra, running one of your hands through his curls while you rushed to dial the emergency number with the other, your fingers shaking so much you only got it right on the third try.

You didn’t give the operator on the other end a chance to speak when they finally picked up, a river of disconnected sentences flowing out of your mouth—he’s barely conscious, he took some pills, I don’t know how many, please hurry up.

Then, just as you were about to hang up, his lips parted, a whisper so low you could’ve imagined it pushing past them.

“I fucked up.”

Yes, you fucked up, you wanted to scream, but the relief of finally hearing his voice, of knowing he could still breathe, only brought more tears to your eyes.

“You’re okay.” Lie. “You’re okay, and that’s all that matters. You hear me? Just–” you choked on your words. “Just stay with me, please.”

“M’tired.” His voice was hoarse, scraping his throat like he’d been screaming for hours. Maybe he had.

“I know, baby, I know,” you sobbed, pressing your forehead against his—raw, desperate, alive. “But hold on a little longer. Just a little, okay? Shit, Lan, I’m sorry....”

I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming.

The next few hours were a blur.

Red and blue lights. White gowns.

You refused to let go of Lando’s hand while the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance, holding it even tighter when they put needles into his arms and ran fluids through his veins, your fingers linked to his like a lifeline.

For him or yourself, you didn’t know anymore.

They told you he was lucky. That if you hadn’t found him and acted so quickly, he could’ve–

You didn’t want to think about it.

Which was hard when the only thing you could see was how frail your boyfriend looked on that bed, his skin as pale as the blanket he was tucked under, small and helpless like a child.

You didn’t leave his side for a second, caressing his face with the same gentleness and care of a mother while you lulled him softly—allowing yourself to pretend.

Pretend he’d just gone back to sleep after a bad dream.

Pretend he wasn’t surrounded by machines that lived for him after he stopped trying to.

Pretend you didn’t almost give up, too, when you saw him limp on the bathroom floor back at the hotel.

It was 3 a.m. when he finally gave the first signs of life.

A beep on the monitor. A sharp, weak inhale as he stirred.

He blinked.

“You’re awake,” you choked out a laugh, relief washing over you as you took his hand between your trembling ones and planted a kiss on his knuckles.

His skin beneath your lips felt warm, familiar.

The chuckle that left his, not so much.

“You’re surprised.”

Bitterness. Guilt. Shame.

You froze and glanced up at him, a chill running down your spine at the insinuation hidden behind his words.

He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Lando.”

He flinched, staring at the ceiling like he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing the reflection of his mistake on your face if he turned toward you instead.

As if it was easier to ignore you rather than acknowledge your concern.

“Lando, look at me. Please.”

You heard it before you saw it: his breath hitching when you begged him. Begged him to let you in, to show you the demons he’d been carrying alone for too long—so long that they’d almost taken over him.

Then, a single tear ran down his cheek.

And another.

Until he couldn’t stop them anymore, and they just kept spilling from his eyes, each one heavier than the one before.

Without a second thought, you crawled into bed beside him, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck as you muttered sweet nothings against his temple, fighting to hold yourself together and be strong for the both of you.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, violent sobs racking his chest. Your hands drew soothing paths down his back, and you wished that could be enough to stop his shoulders from shaking like there was an earthquake wrecking him from the inside.

“For what, baby?” you asked, voice laced with the kind of sadness that only witnessing the person you love trying to self-destroy himself could bring.

“For... being like this. I hate it. I fucking hate it. And I don’t–” he gasped, out of breath. “–shit, I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Because you don’t have to. There’s nothing to fix, Lan. I know people expect you to, but you’re not a robot. You’re a human being, and you’re allowed to break. Okay?”

“It hurts,” he sniffled, though you could feel the tension starting to leave his body under your touch.

He lay there for what felt like hours, curled into your side like a baby while you held him close to your heart, hoping he’d hear how fast it beat and realized that it only ached for him.

The first rays of light filtered through the small hospital window when Lando’s breathing finally slowed down, matching your own.

You almost thought he'd fallen asleep—peaceful, at last—but then you felt him shift against you, his brown locks tickling your throat when he pulled back slightly to look up at you.

His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, eyelashes sticking together, wet with tears, but still undeniably, utterly him.

“I didn’t want to die,” he whispered, realization dawning on him as soon as those words left him mouth.

You didn’t miss the flicker of fear in his gaze, either: it terrified him thinking about how close he’d been to ending it all—when he actually didn’t want to.

“I was just... tired, I guess.” He sighed deeply, almost to prove his point. He really did look exhausted. “And they were getting too loud.”

“Who? People online? You know I always tell you not to worry about what they sa–”

“The voices in my head.”

The way he said it, as if that was something he’d learned to live with the hard way, was like a punch to the gut.

“Then you scream louder. And I’ll scream with you until the only voices you can hear are yours and mine. Because it’s you who should have the power to silence them, not the other way around. Understood?”

He nodded, weak but trustful, his wide eyes a sea of blue and green as you stared into them.

“I love you,” you added, gently brushing your lips against his forehead. “Even when you think nobody does.”

“Promise?” he croaked, voice breaking as he nuzzled closer into the comforting heat of your chest.

“Promise.”

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